WIthin the Principality of Viennois, whi­lome there lived and ruled, as Daul­phin, a most renowned Prince, no lesse esteemed for his admired Wisdome, then highly honoured for his respected great­nesse; But so absolute was hee in Opi­nion, so perverse in disposition, and so severe in Government, that hee made his Will his GOD, and rigour his law. This Daulphin had but one onely Daughter, whose exquisite beauty was so beautified with rarest vertues, that men honoured Nature as a God in her perfections, and held her more then a Woman in her ver­tues. Amongst many Knights that then followed her Fa­thers Court, there was a most well deserving aged Knight (who was knowne to bee as sufficient, as he was sufficiently knowne) named Sir Jaques, who had but one onely Son called Paris, whose but budding yeares, deckt with Natures pride, and honoured with timely Knighthood, well cha­lenged Renowne for his right, Venus for his friend, and Fortune for his servant. But it fortuned (so Fortune would) that this young Knight casting casually his carelesse eye a­side in Court, espyed the young Princesse, the faire Vienna, (for so after the City was shee called) talking with her se­lected and [...]deered friend the Lady Izabella, whose graci­ous demeanour he so devoutly noted, and whose unparalel'd [Page 82]beauty hee so feelingly admired, that openly commending the one, he secretly affected the other. Many were the un­wonted thoughts that now troubled his troubled minde, and more then many were the unquiet and universuall cares that now attended his new entertained desires. Still hee gazed, and gazing sigh't, and sighing grieved that so he ga­zed, yet could hee not cease to feed his hungry eye, nor durst hee once be seene to looke on her, on whom he could not bur looke. For as commanding love did flatter his a spi­ring hope; so the remembrance of Phaetons fall, did dismay him with a deadly feare. And feare hee did, least that just disdaine would beget in her bitter revenge, and blacke re­venge should bring forth untimely deaths.

Thus in seeking to passe the meane, poore Paris dyed for being so meane, and in this disconsolation glad hee was to smother his sorrow to his greater griefe, nor daring to ac­quaint any but La-nova his second selfe, his companion in Armes, and the sole secreter of all his secrets. To him, and none but him, did hee in sorrow bewray his love, and in love bewayle his sorrow.

La-nova pittying his case, disswaded him from the danger of Ixions love, least with more repentance hee vainely with Apollo pursued Daphne. Heavens forbid (said hee) my Paris eye should with the Eagle sore against so bright a Sunne; or that your desire should with the Bee delight in such flo­wers, which being suckt, will yeeld more poyson then ho­ney. Ah Paris, Paris, seeke not to obtaine that with care, which you cannot keepe without danger. To desire to bee a King, is no just tytle of a Kingdome; and to say you love her, no sufficient desert to winne her. Desire not then be­yond thy reach, least thou fall in thy hope. Nay, admit that her chast conceits would entertaine Venus deceits, yet followes it not, that Ioves royall bird would prey on sil­ly Flies. Alexander would deale with none but Kings, nor Vienna with any but Princes; low shrubs wither ever at the Cedars roote. Beware Paris, least coveting with Iearus to soare above the Sunne, thou bee punished in his pride under the Sunne. Thy deserts are J confesse many, and meri­torious, [Page 3]but the state of her estate stands not with thy in­dignities; men are wey'd by the aboundance of their for­tunes, not by the worthinesse of their vertues. Then wade no further in this foord, but let Armours, nor Amours, bee the subject of thy thoughts, since the Campe affords ho­nours, and the Court such dangers.

Paris thus dehorted, resembled the Palme-tree, that the more it is prest downe, the more it striveth upwards, so the more his friend misliked of that hee desired; the more hee desired what so his friend misliked. Such was the unre­sistable force of his inlimitable affection, that in spite of rea­son hee was enforc'd to doe homage unto passion. For where Love is predominant, there all other affections attend on it. And therefore hee concluded still, and ever to love her; but still, and never to let it bee knowne to her. To approve which, hee requested La-nova's company that night secretly to give Vienna musicke, who seeing his unremoveable re­solution, vowed himselfe to his fortunes. The same night when quiet sleepe possest each weary eye, hee and La-nova taking eyther of them a well tuned Lute, went directly under Vienna's window, where sweetly striking their pleasant strings, Sir Paris thus chearefully warbled out his Ladies praise.

Vienna pleased with the tune, but more with her praise, was moved with desire to know who they were, that so sweetly sung, and so affectionately honoured her; but doe what shee could, she could not know them by any meanes, which much grieved, but more troubled her disquieted thoughts. Still shee conferred and talked with Izabella of that heavenly harmony, and ever she commended, whom she knew not to commend. For Paris having ended, where yet hee had not begun, conveyed himselfe away as privately as might be. But the next following night they went a­gaine with dolefull Recorders, on which they carefully sounded. Paris unknowne, thus plainly made his passion not his person knowne.

This sorrowfull Song ended, the Musicke ceased, and Paris returned to his Chamber. But Vienna who atten­tively had listned to this carefull Ditty, knew not well by his over-passionate conceite, and alluding and insinuating Song, that Love had made her a Mistris, and Fortune had sent her a servant. Yet could shee nor imagine who hee should be, but much she was discontented that so it should be, her Princely towring thoughts were not subject to Subjects fancies, nor would she admit of servill fervants. And therefore because she would punish their pride in their presumption, she went the next morning secretly to lier Father, and told him how that the two passed nights, there had beene some (not knowne to her) that had bestowed Mu­sick on her, under her Chamber window, and how that one of them the first night revealed his love in her praise; and the second night bewailed his affection in his owne griefe. And therefore she humbly requested him, that hee would command a privie Watch to be made that following night, [Page 6]that they might be discovered in their follies, and shee live acquitted of such vaine fancies.

The Daulphin discontent that any in his Province should so proudly presume to build his nest in the Sunne, gave in secret charge, that sixe of his Guard should watch as that night, to apprehend and bring them before him the next day. All which was done accordingly: And Sir Paris not misdeeming any crosse adventure, came as hee was wont with La-nova, to offer the sacrifice of his consecrated Mu­sicke to his devoted Saint. But they no sooner tuned, but they were neere over-turned. For the Watchmen fearing their escape, thought to make them sure by laying them on the ground. But Sir Paris, provided alwayes for all perils, seeing such rude entertainment, and holding them but for straglers, armed his whole endeavours to returne them con­digne thankes for their so unseasonable curtesies, in somuch that with La-nova's furthering ayde hee wounded most of their hands. So that being left alone, they easily recovered their Chamber, without being discovered of any, which so much incenst the Daulphin, that leaving the reynes of his unlimited anger to his then enraged will, hee commanded that secretly twenty men well appointed, should the next night lye in ambush to apprehend them.

Now Sir Paris holding that their late disturbance was rather casuall, then occasioned, went, in his unsatiable de­sire, the next night againe. But no sooner had they taken stand, but that they found themselves entrapped in the snare; which they finding unresistable, yeelded without re­sistance. The Watch glad of their apprehension, held them­selves so secure of them, that not regarding (the night be­ing darke) what they were, they carelesly went along to­wards the Castle, untill they came by a narrow Lane, that turned into the heart of the City, whereunto Sir Paris all suddenly thrusting La-nova forceably, tooke by force a Hal­berd out of the next Watchmans hands, and stepping into the Lane, kept the entrance from them all. The Watchmen now grew more furiously wrathfull, then advisedly bold, [Page 7]and so confusedly assaulted them, that Sir Paris laying the first three on the ground, the rest (over-hastily still pressing forwards) stumbled and fell upon their Companions, so many and so thick, that themselves bard themselves from the entrance, which advantaged Sir Paris and La-nova so much, that having time to turne them to the next turning, they got to their Chamber before they were descryed, or could bee well pursued. The Daulphin understanding the next morning of the uprore, and of their escape, was much male-contented in himselfe, the Court wondred at the acci­dent, but Vienna now recounting their undaunted coura­ges, with their noble qualities, conceived them to be men of high esteeme, and now more favourably, and affectio­nately did labour the knowledge of them, but never after durst they presume to venture the like adventure againe, which much grieved Vienna, and more incensed the Daul­phin, who being frustrated of his expectation politickly, yet plotted this devise.

First, he caused a Christall Shield, and a Chaplet of gold to bee made, both, passing faire, and rich, then delivering them to a Herald, he commanded him to take them, and to carie them throughout all the Citie, and by sound of Trum­pet proclaime a solemne Justs (free for all commers) to be kept 40. dayes after: And that he that should winne the ho­nour of the day, should by Viennas hand be crowned with the sayd Chaplet as Victor, and receive the sayd Shield as the best deserving Knight. By this meane meanes, the Daulphin thought to find out the unknowne Lover. For it was an Article of his beliefe, that in honour of his Daugh­ter, he would (as a Knight) make tryall of his fortune; and as a Lover disclose himselfe, in his devise; whereby ob­servance (the instrument of knowledge) might well disco­ver him. Great preparation there was made on all sides, and divers Knights and Barons of sundry Provinces, came as well to see the admired beauty of Vienna, as to winne re­nowne for renowned Chivalry. Amongst whom at last, though not least in worth, came Sir Paris, and La-nova; w [...]ll mounted on white fiery Steedes, suteable to theyr white [Page 8]plaine Armour, without either marke, or devise: For nei­ther, neither durst vse for feare of being discovered by them. But the day, and the Daulphin being come. Vienna was set (richly roabed in Arabian Besse) on a faire capistred scaffold, the Chaplet on her head; and the Christall Shield standing before her at her feete; so that she seemed another Pallas in a second Venus shape. Many Knights amazedly be­hold her, most desired her, all admired her. Thus when each hungry eye had fed, but not fill'd his covetous sight, the Herold standing up (after the summoning sound of Trum­per) bad every Knight doe his best devoyre. Then desire of honour, armed each martiall heart with double courage and every Knights courage was redoubled with hope of ho­nour and Vienna's favour: So that the Justs grew great, and both nobly did each Knight, especially La-nova bare him selfe. But Sir Paris whose unknowne prowis was not yet fully proved; seeing a Burgonian proudly brandishing his Launce before Vienna, for the honour which yet hee bare away from all, was so erraged with choller and jealousie, that fiercely spurring his hote ready Horse, he so forceably charged; and over-charged him in the encounter, that hee layd the Burgenians pride in the dust; which Vienna noting, noted him for the most redoubted, and best merriting Knight of them all. Still her eye followed his fortune, and still his fortune was remarkable, and pleasing to her eye. For never ceased he Justing, nor never Iusted, but he over­turned some one, in which performance he was applauded of every one. Such was his heroicall fortitude, and such his quicke delivery, and manly cariage of himselfe, that in the end there was left none, whom he had not overthrown, nor any overthrowne, that would re-assay to overthrow the overthrower. Thus stood unvanquished Sir Paris, like invincible Hercules expecting a charge; but in finding none he found his owne discharge. So that the Heralds (with Trumpets sounding his praise) brought him to the scaffold, where the fayrest fayre, and gracious Vienna graced his vi­ctory, with setting the Chaplet on his head, and giving him the Christall Shield, she blushing said: Receive noble [Page 9]Knight thy most well-deserving honour, and heavens make thee happy both in thy designes, and thy desires. Sir Paris more proud of her words, then of his reward, received them at her hands, with more pleasing content then Paphos Queene did the golden fruit, and humbling himselfe on his knee, hee obsequiously reverently, yet fearefully, kist her hand, and layd his other on his heart, in token that he was hers in all service; and so rising up hee made a low obey­sance, and both parting, both of them looked backe at one instant upon each other; a true record, that their liking hearts reioyced in the sight of either other. But Sir Paris being come to the rest of the Knights, departed with them, and as they rid each one towards his severall home, he and La-nova tooke an occasion to light to mend their Suddles, the rest passing carelesly on, which they seeing, tooke the next turning, and so were gotten away before they were mist, and mist before they were knowne. The Daulphin thus deceived by him he meant to deceive, was much agrie­ved; so were the Knights that they could not tell by whom they were vanquished; and so was Vienna, that she knew not by whom she was honoured. She thought and ever looked that he should haue discovered himselfe, that he might the better bee respected of her, and the world take further knowledge of him and his merit. But the clouding of him­selfe, assuredly assured her, that he, and none but he, was the man, that so sweetly (under her window) sang her praise; that so dolefully recorded the passion of his tor­menting love; and that so valiantly forc'd to flight her Fa­thers Guard; His secret departure, argued (she thought) so much; and his unvaluable valour shewed no lesse. Desire now, of she knew not what, made her loue she knew not whom: oft she wisht she knew him; still she talkt of him, and ever shee highly commended him; but her wishes were but vaine thoughts, and her words but as alluring windes.

During this their discontentments. The Duke of Van­doume (now called Vendosme) being brother to the issulesse [Page 10]King of France, a man so powerfull in meanes, and so po­pular in State, that nothing could make him unhappy, but the excesse of his happinesse: This Duke, I say, beeing the first Prince of the blood, was so transported with such an aspiring pride, and unlimitted desire of Rule, that he could not disgest a small expectation. His desire of Sove­raignty caried him so beyond the bounds of all respects, that neyther Wisedome could informe his minde, nor Ho­nour sway his actions. Nature nor Duty could prescribe him any law, though he were a Subject, subject to the law. How to gaine the Crowne was all his care: His glorious consideration thereof. made a continuall examination of all his thoughts, how he should be possest thereof. Ambition (the Nurse of disloyall plots and practises) sayd, The King must dye; and Resolution (the performer of all deeds) an­swered, Hee shall dye. But how, or by whom; hee know not. Young men (he sayd) are not ripe enough for such an action, and Old men are too timorous for so great an enter­prise. The rashnesse of the one, and the feare of the other, are the ruine of such businesse. To trust others then, is to deceive my selfe; For hope of reward (for the preservation of a King) will, I feare, betray my trust; And then I must conclude, that though a desire to steale, make not a Thiefe; yet my intent for treason, will make me a Traytor; and in the punishment thereof, I shall finde no distinction of per­sons. What resteth then but force and Armes? my sword must plead for possession, Rome could not resist Cesar, when he came to the gates, in the strength of his forces. I will therefore first fortifie my selfe with potent friends, dissem­ble for the time, my intent, and take counsell of three sorts of men of the Lawyer, that speakes not as he thinkes; of the Physitian, that doth not as he sayes; and of the Divine, which oftentimes teacheth better then himselfe leades, and alwayes better then the people follow. I know the least winde of the peoples favour will fill my sayles full; Their eyes are fixt upon my greatnesse, and they observe mee al­ready for my interest; The King hath no issue, and there­fore [Page 11]of lesse regard; his time is but short, and Respect one­ly waytes on posterity, that promiseth continuance of raigne. No sooner (sayes some) is a Collaterall heire known, but the Kings Testament is made; why then should he live to command me, that am borne to rule? He may live to bu­rie me, where then is my Crowne? I must and will raigne. Vpon these moveable sands (like a foolish Merchant, that adventures all his substance in a broken vessell) did this fond Duke build both his resolve, and his hope; And to give successe to his trust, he sent presently to the Daulphin of Viennois (whose principality was in manner equall with Kingly Royalty) to require his daughter, the faire Vienna; in marriage for his sonne. The haughty Daulphius minde, did well simpathize the Dukes nature; both their prides, and desires, were reciprocall: onely the Daulphin was more reserved, and ever better advised; but this motion did so attarch him with joy, to thinke that his daughter should in time be a Queene, that he covetously embrac'd the Dukes request, and wished that Commissioners on either side, might be nominated, and appointed, to conferre and con­clude thereof.

This consent of the Daulphin did so elevate and animate the Duke, that hee thought himselfe already an invested King. The incorporating of Daulpheny to his Dukedome, would (he knew) make him undoubtedly, redoubted great; and the uniting of both their powers with their adheres, would well enable him to affront the King, who now was fitter for a Cloyster (as hee thought) then for a Crowne. Thus we see that where men hath least reason, there they are aptest to beleeve any thing, that but flatters their desires. Men that fall into Treachery or misery, not knowne nor fore-seene, are worthy of some compassion; but they that wilfully runne into rebellion, or calamity, deserve no pitty, but shame and death. In all our attempts, justice, and dis­cretion, should be the plotters; and Honour, and Modera­tion, the Actors. A violent humour overthrowes the Master. Kings we know are made onely by God, either in [Page 12]Justice to execute his wrath upon a sinfull Nation; or in mercy, as well to preserve and set foorth his worship and glory, as to maintaine his people in righteousnes and peace. For neither Royall birth, succession, election, usurpation, conquest, nor right, can so establish, or perpetua to a Roy­alty; but that God when he pleaseth, can, and will translate it to others. But now the disloyall and deceitfull Duke (be­ing as farre from procrastination, as the Daulphin was gree­die of dispatch) sent his Commissioners for the recapitula­tion, and perfecting of such Articles, as should be proposed on either side. In briefe, they agreed on all points, and assigned a day for the young Prince of Vandoume to come to the Daulphins Court. This being divulged and made knowne to Sir Paris, did so excutiate all his thoughts, and so en­flame his perplexed heart, that hee was ready to expose himselfe to all dangers and hazards. In this distraction, La­nova found him, and knowing the cause of his distemper (for Rumour had possest all men with it) hee grie­ving, thus sadly said unto him. Let patience my Paris con­duct thee out of this stormy Sea into a more quiet Port. Fortune should have no power over fortitude and courage What thou never hadst, that thou dost not loose. Thy ina­bility, and imparity, could never promise thee any hope [...] and thy long nourished dispairo shall now finde a period, that in the end, would have brought thee to thy end. Let necessity then make thee now suffer constantly; and custome will make thy sufferance easie. Sir Paris who did heare, but not hearken to what his friend had so discreetly delivered, regarded him no more then a greedy Lawyer doth his im­poverished Clyent, but still deepely excogitating how hee might intercept, or pervert the intended match, at length he all sighing said: This Gordian knot must be cut a sunder, though I want an Alexanders sword. Iudustry, and Policie, oft effects unlikely things; and we should not judge that which is possible, nor that which seemes unpossible; as it is credible, or incredible to our capacities. The eternall wisedome hath (I know) a reserved power, and a secret in­tention, [Page 13]to bring things to passe, which the wisedome of man cannot conceive, nor see, till it happen, and be done. What though Vandoume be mighty? A small Rocke may ruinate a great Ship. I will not so loose Vienna, but where I want force to play the Lyon, there will I assay to gaine by fraud. La-nova he said welcome, thou comest in a usefull time, thou must secretly fit me with a gray beard, a payre of Beades, a Fryers Gowne, and Hood. I must turne Fryer, and Prophet all at once. It must be so, the plot is layd, and we must be Actors both in the play.

La-nova, knowing that his undaunted courage could ne­ver brooke a Corrivall, though he were never so great, did much feare that he intended some straragem, and therefore he told him, that unlesse he might know his purpose, he would make no such provision. Why said Sir Paris, my thoughts dwell in thy breast, and in thy heart, doth my love (next to Vienna) live. How then canst thou be a stranger to my purposes, that art the Treasuer of my secrets? Thou knowest La-nova how jealous the Daulphin is of his safety; His rigorous (I might say cruell) Nature hath taught him to feare many, whom many doth still feare. Thou knowest also that Kings are ever suspitious of their Successours: Ex­perience makes them to feare, least they should loose that which they, and many others seeke, with greatest dangers to obtaine. My project is, to make the King and the Daul­phin my instruments to breake the marriage; give me Pen, Inke, and Paper, and thou shalt see what a fearefull fire, I will kindle, to burne up all their matrimoniall hopes and agreements. But to give more life hereunto, thou must play thy part. Thy Vnkle is Steward to the Duke of Van­doume, and thou thy selfe art gracious in his presence. To him must thou post, in shew of love to see him, and in all duty to tender thy service; And when opportunity shall fit thy purpose, thou must take occasion to wonder, that so great a Prince hath his Armoury so ill stored, and by way of perswasion, thou must tell him, that no mans title is so right and just, but that it may finde worke upon their best [Page 14]advantages, and therefore it is a provident policie for his Highnesse to be presently furnished for all contingents. This La-nova, will so feed, and sway his ambition, that hee will make over-hasty and unadvised provision. The know­ledge whereof, will so prepare and fortifie the Kings jea­lousie, that it will crowne my device with beliefe and suc­cesse, La-nova glad to see him so well resolved, promised his best endeavours, and in the performance thereof had his wished successe. But before he went, he brought Pen, Inke, and Paper, whereupon Paris (more Prophetically then he thought) writ as followeth.

La-noua divining that this procreated conceit, would bring forth some good issue, could not but laugh thereat; and in that joy, he went immediatly to make provision both for himselfe, and his friend.

Now each Wednesday, in every weeke, the Daulphin (more for applause, then to doe good) received himselfe (as he went to heare Masse) all the Sutors Petitions; and in the afternoone viewed, and considered of them. Vpon this day, Paris having lapt vp his fraudulent Libell, like a plaine Petition, went to the Court well furnished for the purpose, where he did so well personate a holy Fryer, that Linxes eyes could not discover him. There did he vnsu­spected deliver it, and returned without perseverance. Asterwards the Daulphin upon the perusing of them, found and read (amongst the rest) Paris his threatning and suffoca­ting Prophesie, which did so poyson and swell him with suspitious thoughts, and most fearefull surmises, that in his irefull indignation, he cryed our with the King of Moab, How shall we avoid the deepe dissembling of Ehud? Plaine dealing I see is dead without issue; and all Honour and due [Page 15]respects are buried, in the insatiable desire of Rule. Surely this is no enigmaticall, nor promiscuous Oracle, but a plaine prediction sent by God, or some good man in zeale and fa­vour of Princes, and in tendernesse of our safeties. O most treacherous and perfideous Duke, that in the bonds of Al­liance, wouldst cut off the small remainder of our dayes; to worke thy further bloody ends.

My daughter shall not so be Queene by our death; Nor shall our Subjects be so slaine in his unnaturall and rebelli­ous Warre. I will not suffer the true Vine to be so displan­ted, nor shall my connivence traduce me for his impunity. For though wisedome permits not, that I detect him open­ly, for feare of making him my implacable enemy; yet will we send a private, and an unknowne Messenger secretly to his King, who shall (upon his Royall word for the con­cealement of our intelligence) discover, and lay open, Van­doumes most impious and pernitious intended Treason; and after shall he cast (by our instructions) such store of oyle up­on that jealous flame, that it shall (at least) burne up all Van­doumes hopes of further proceeding with us. Thus, did such hate proceed from feare that after a small respirati­on, hee sent accordingly to the King, who was no sooner possest thereof, but that his divided thoughts made such intestine warre within his breast, that he knew not what to say, or doe. His fraternall love made him weepe, to see Na­ture so monstrous and unkinde; and fearefull jealousies (a disease incident to Kings) called upon justice, and sayd, that corrected Treason was the life of a Prince.

Distrust now still dreamed upon Murther, and unquier feare could not be secured, but with execution: Then Af­fection tolde him, that then wee come nearest unto God, when we judge with pitty, and pardon in mercy.

In this doubtfull Combate of the minde, he sent for the Duke, who no sooner came, but that taking him alone into his private Chamber, he with a mild severiy, thus breathed out his griefe, and his just and loving rebuke.

It is our pleasure Vandoume (for so thy Soveraigne calls [Page 16]thee) that thou neither interrupt us while we speake, nor it our conclusion, make any answere or excuse; Then know, that if we were as ready to punish, as thou art ready to rebell; Thou shouldst now finde a sharpe censure in stead of a kinde brother; and wee should be freed from an incompatible Traytor, in lieu of a loyall Subject. God that potecteth Kings, hath now made thy implicite Treason transparent. Thy proclivity to rule; thy thirsting after po­pularity; thy subtill taxing of ou [...] Government: thy need­lesse provision for Armes in a well setled Peace: and thy disguised desire to match with the Daulphin, is not un­knowne to us; And thou that in pride, couldst not brooke a Superiour, art now by divine Justice, brought beneath the fortune of thy equals. It is now in our power to hum­ble thee, but not to make thee humble; Such is thy a spiring Ambition, that nothing but a Crowne can limit thy un­bounded desires. For neither the terrour of Law, the in­stinct of Nature, my binding dutie, nor the awe of thy due duty, could keepe, or confine thee, within the circumfe­rence and compasse of thy Alleageance. Knowest thou not that the jealousie of a King is death? and that a Prince is neither a kinne, nor allyed to a Traytor. Admit that thou hadst prevailed in thy most nefarious rebellion. What had beene thy Conquest? but terrour of conscience, daily doubt of Treason, nightly feare of murther, the shame of thy selfe, the hate of men, and the vengeance of God. O what bitter fruites shouldest thou so untimely have purchast. The usurpation of my Crowne (which a few dayes would peaceably give thee) could not Patronize thy fratricide, nor dispence with the murther of thy Soveraigne. How fond­ly, inhumane, maligne, and degenerate hast thou then she­wed thy selfe? Many are the probabilities that thou soughts my life, and more then many are the inducements why I should secure my selfe by thy death. And what mer­cie canst thou expect there, when thou didst intend no pit­tie. I grieve and blush to see such an Antipathy betwixt us. But it shall suffice, that to my glory, and thy shame, I give [Page 17]the now pledge of the vertue of my love, that thou may­est hereafter the better love me for my certue: For here I doe not onely freely pardon thee, but doe entertaine thee a­new to dwell ever in my dearest affection. A brothers frowne should set with the Sunne; and here shall be, the period of my wrathfull indign [...]tion. Then let this new birth beget in thee a new life; and let this make such a stable connexion of our loves, that wee both may hereafter con­tend, whether we with a better heart have given thee thy life; or that thou canst more affectionately retaliate our kindnesse. Onely thou shalt abjure the match with the Daulphin, and instantly write to him, that wee oppose and prohibite the same, And therefore shalt thou pray his pati­ence, and the continuance of his love; and alledge, that neither Subjects in matters of State, nor Princes of the blood in Marriages, can dispose of theyr wills, nor of them­selves, without the permission of their King. This was no sooner said, but that Vandoume (kissing his Soveraignes hands) with full falling teares (expressing both his griefe and shame) most willingly performed the same.

O most prudent Paris, with what prescience, caution, and facility, didst thou infatuate and delude these wise and great Princes; and how subtilly had thou made them thy deceived Agents, to worke upon each other, all onely to preserve thy weake hopes of faire Vienna. But though Paris now had thus dispierc'd these terrifying clouds that threat­ned shipwrack to his high desires, yet durst he not dreame after better fortunes, though he held the successe of his late fraudulent fiction very auspitious; But pleasing himselfe with what he had done, and affecting still his owne affecti­ons, he walked into the chamber of presence, where Vienna, Izabella, and other Ladyes, were playing at Cardes; Thi­ther hee went) under colour of attendance) to feast his eves, and to Paradise his heart with the beloved sight of his all-admired and affected Lady. O with what wonder, did he now observe her matchlesse beauty, her gracefull Maje­stie, her pleasing words, and her sweet delivery. And what a [Page 18]conflict was now growne betwixt his desire and dispaire: All his thoughts were extravayant, and at warre with each other. For as desire did finde content, with joy, to be in her presence; so Dispaire denyed him all hope, with distrust or any comfort. His heart now began to rebuke his eyes for soaring so neere the Sunne, and for gazing after impossibi­lities. But his eyes told his heart, that no disdaine could dwell in so rare a perfection. In this perturbation of mind did hee stand, untill Vienna being dry, called to him for a cup of wine, which he in the pride of that imployment ha­stily brought, but delivered it with great astonishment and stupidity (as being over-surprized both with joy, and feare) he all-shaking, flasht some of the wine over the cup, and so wet both theyr hands; which one of the Ladies perceiving, scornefully said; Sir Knight, you are over-bountifull, I am sure, my Ladies hand called for no wine. There is no of­fence (answered Vienna) at all; He knew my hand was dry. So Madame, said Izabella, is your foot. My foot, snee re­plyed, is further off from the burning Sunne, and receives moysture enough from the humide eaith. But neither, said Izabella, did neede any wine. We called, said Vienna, for it, being dry; And how could our body receive it, unlesse our hand had first taken it? A dry cup and a cleane hand, said another Lady, had beene more serviceable. Why said Vienna, cleane hands are often waslit, and dry cups quench­eth no thirst; Then must drynesse have inoysture, and hee hath freely given it us: but no more, we have lost our game in his defence. Paris, whose extasie had given way to these passages, recollecting himselfe, humbly said, What (most gracious Princes) you have lost in the game, that have you wonne by patience in your meeknesse; but how shall I worthily magnifie your great worth, that (notwith­standing these tart Ladies bitter provocations (hath shewed the fulnesse of all vertue in your goodnesse. Let your High­nesse but pardon my vnstayed hand, and you shall ever find me more ready to shed my dearest blood in your service, then I have beene either to wet your faire hand, or to spill [Page 19]your wine. Thankes good Knight, sayd Vienna, we desire no such satisfaction; your taken paines shall bee all your punishment. Paris being proud of this conceited favour, (though Vienna in her mild nature pleaded in his defence, onely to crosse the other Ladies derision, and to approve her owne acutenesse) withdrew himselfe to the next window, where with his Diamond hee thus writ.

But more considerately weighing his owne case, he en­tertained better thoughts, and therefore writ in the next stage of the window.

But now Fortune that wayted (though yet a farre off) on Paris unknowne merit, gave him a befitting occasion to doe Vienna (though still covertly) more pleasing and more glorious service. For there had lately falne out in the French Court a great contention, betwixt the native Ba­rons, and some severall noble Forraigners, that then for their pleasures, followed that Court in honour of the King. The controversie was, whether was most fairer or the more vertuous of these three Ladies; Valentia the great Duke of Burbons Daughter; Vienna, the Daulphins sole heyre of Viennois; or the Lady Margaret, sister to the King of Eng­land. Great was their debate, and many there were that maintained each severall Ladies beauty. Insomuch, as they fall from arguing to anger, from anger to blowes, and from blowes to wounds. The French King offended, with their offending uproare, and great neglect of their due respect to place and person, commanded peace upon their Alleage­ances: And after being pacified, and fully possest with the cause; hee held the occasion well worthy dispute, but their [Page 20]faulty courages, and our surious proceedings, punishable in the place: Yet fearing the further ill that might in ma­ny particulars well ensue thereof; out of his deepe insight, he pardoned their great over-sights, and calling them all before him (after some few reprehending words) hee thus with a milde majesty, briefely and wisely appeased them all.

First, he commanded that asolemne and royall Justs (in honour of the three Ladies) should be proclaimed through­out all his Kingdome to be holden in Paris, at Pente cost fol­lowing, free for all commers, and that she whose Knight should honour her, with the honour of the day, should bee ever had, and held, for the fairest of the three; and that his Queene should crowne her with a Crowne of white Lil­lyes, beset with precious stones, as Soveraigne Queene of most perfect beauty: This milde and pleasing shower, so kindly distilling from the King, so well allayed their stormy furies, that calming theyr over-enraged wills, in the shame of their amisse; they hunibly on bowed knees, craved par­don for their offences, and thanked the King for the grace and honour that he did them. Then sent the King his Am­bassad our to acquaint the English King; and specially Messen­gers to the Daulphin [...], and Duke; entreating the King, and willing both the other to honour him, and his Court, with their persons, his sister, and theyr two daughters at the as­signed day, and that each of them would be pleased, to pre­pare, and bring some beseeming prize of value, befitting both themselves, the cause, and the worth of the Victor. All which they promised in the word of a Prince, holding themselves no little honoured in so honorable a contention. Before the day (the day drawing neere) there came so ma­ny noble and well appointed Knights, that the French Kings Court seemed an Alexanders Campe. Great was theyr Feasting, and full Royall was all theyr entertainements. But the day of tryall being come. Aurora no sooner shewed her mornings blush, but that the French King ashamed of his sluggishnesse, rose, and [...] to see the three high Artifi­ciall [Page 21]Mounts, which hee had caused to be erected, and made for the three Ladies to sit on; who no sooner were come and placed, but that the Duke of Burbon came marching in, with a rich Garland made all of orient Pearle, hanging on a blew Banner, with his coate of Armes on the other side and placed it on the Mount belonging to Valentia, on her lest side.

Then followed the Daulphin of Viennois with a rich Coller of Esses, beset all over with Rubies, hanging on a white Banner, with his Arines displayed on the other side, and placed it on Vienna's Mount, on the right hand of his Daughter. Then came Englands royall King, with an impe­riall Crowne of burnishe gold, set with Indian Diamonds and blew Saphirs, supported betwixt two regall Lyons, hanging on a red Banner, and plac'd it on the middle Mount before his Sister the Lady Margaret: In the face of each severall Mount (some foure degrees under the Ladies) fate each severall Ladies Father, in a strange devised Seate, so curiously made, and so gloriously deckt, that each one see­med to be Apollo sitting in the Chariot of the Sunne. The Knights (whose rare Devises discovered theyr secret and severall fancies) as they were affected; so they betooke themselves to the Mount, whose honour they were to main­taine. The French King sitting in his rich Pavillion pow­dered with Flower-deluces, opposite to the Mounts, caused Proclamation to be made on paine of death, that none but the Knights Encounterers should stay, or enter into the Listes, and that no Knight unhorsed should Just againe, nor any make offer of Comba [...]e: This being done, the King of Armes stood up, and after a third sound, bade them goe too, and doe theyr best devoyres like valiant Knights: And no sooner had he ended his words; but that there came from Valentias Mount a Knight well mounted on a speedy Bay, his Armour, Bases, and all other his Furniture Azure, full of fiery flames, and on his shield he bare a Phoenlx, en­closed within a bright shining Sunne, and under it, a hand reaching towards it, with this under written Motto, O [...]uti­nam: [Page 22]Towards him came from the Lady Margaret's Mount, a greene Knight, full of eyes and bleeding Hearts, moun­ted on a fierce Blacke, bearing on his Shield an Armed Knight prostrated under a Ladies mercy, his Launce lying unbroken by him, with his Motto, All-ready conquered: These two Knights encountred with each other so furiously and forceably, that their Staves shivered in the ayre, and witnessed their courages in their fall, but in the counter­buffe, the knight of the Phoenix was borne to the ground, so that the greene Knight rode on, overthrowing twenty other Knights that came from both the other Mounts; the last of whom, bare in the Shield the Picture of Vienna most richly pourtracted with a vayle of lawne all over her, and from the dexter part of the Shield there was a Hand and an Arme comming forth of a Cloud; holding a faire Labell, whereon was written, Such an one, as such is none. Great was now the glory of the Lady Margaret, and all malecontented sate the other two Ladies, especially Vienna, who now seeing her shadowed selfe lying in the dust, mist, and wisht for her White and unknowne Knight; And as her wandering eye romed up and downe, still looking whether shee could espie him, shee suddainly both heard and saw a well proportioned Black Knight, rudely rushing from her Mount, who so fiercely saluted the Greene Knight, that hee made him pay tribute for his former ho­nour, in the overthrow of his fortune: Threescore other assayling Knights hee dismounted before Vienna, who now joying, wondred, and wondering, prayed that he might be her desired knight, that wonne her Christall Shield and Chaplet at her Fathers Court; and well shee prayed, that had so well her prayer, for it was Sir Paris indeed who knowing that Emulation hath many eyes, and that Obser­vation might easily discover him fearing to be knowne by his white Armour, had thus fadly arm'd himselfe sutable to his sable fortune; and therefore he bare nothing in his Shield but Blacknesse, for his Devise was still to be with­out Devise, only his sad Armour was covered all over with [Page 23]mourning Clouds. Many Knights there were overthrowne by La-nova, but more then many did Sir Paris foyle. For then, if ever 3. and if ever, then: did he shew the ver [...]o of his valour, in the strength of his courage. Now grew the hurly-burly great, and many, and great were the oncoun­ters made on each side, In so much, that there rested but unoverthrowne, one Valentia on the Lady Marga­rets part, on eitherside three; and all onely on Viennas, but one; which was the blacke clouded Knight, who now was deem'd hardly bestead, both in regard of his former tra­vailes, and the present advantage of the sixe fresh assailants, who bent all the [...]r forces first against him. Valentias hope was now a little revived, and the Lady Margarets proud ex­pectation fully answered Valentias hope. Onely doubtfull Vienna, neere dyed for feare, least that her beauty should now be eclipsed in the losse of her gotten fame, and that her fame should be buried in the dying renowne of her best esteemed beauty. For as she wondred hee had so long re­sisted, so shee held it unpossible hee should longer resist. But Sir Paris (onely weary, in that there were no more to be wearied by him) casting his eye (the messenger of his heart) on Vienna, and seeing the shining lights of her tran­sparent beauty, over-shadowed with sorrow and dismay. Desite so blew the fire of his new conceived rage, that like an unmercifull, and hunger-starved Lyon, (that runnes ra­ging for his prey) so he violently runne amongst them, that with one staffe he over [...]hrew the first three he met, and tur­ning his Horse, before Vienna could turne her dispaire, he charg'd the fourth so forceably, that hee sent both Horse and Man to the ground: At the sight whereof, tee people gave such applaudrng shoutes, that Vienna lifting up her sad eye (as waking from a carefull slumber) she saw her Knight returning in the glory of theyr overthrowes. So that hoping now for better hap, a better hap did befall her then she did, or could expect. For no sooner made hee his last returne, but hee returned againe from overturning of the other two. Who triumphed then but Vienna? Who [Page 42]now more sad then Valentia, or who more g [...]eved then the Lady Margaret? the Just thus ended, the French Queene cam [...]with a troope of attending Ladyes, carying before her the Crowne of Artificiall Lillies, richly stoned, and setting it on Viennas head, shee Crowned her for sole, and Sove­raigne Queene, of absolute, and matchlesse beauty.

Then came the King, and tooke Sir Paris by the hand, and lead him (all the other Knights and Barrons follow­ing them) wit [...] tryumphing honour, and sound of Trum­pets, to the three Mounts, where with his owne hand hee gave him the three Banners, with the three prizes on them, which Sir Paris reverently taking, re-delivered over to his friend La-nova, secretly to convay them away, while hee stayed the ending of all other the Ceremonies. All which being accomplished: The King the Daulphin, and Vienna (rendring Sir Paris thankes for his worthy and affectionate endeavours, and most renowned and fortunate atchieve­m [...]nts (requested him, in the name of Vienna, to discover himselfe, and tell unto whom they were all so much boun­den. But Sir Par [...] humbling himselfe in all duty, made re­verent shew of his unwillingnesse therein.; which the King noting, would not further importune him, nor could the Daulphin in any wise over-treat him, nor durst Vienna over­much presse him: So that he kissing her hand, held it long and after drawing his sword, sayd it at her feete, and taking it vp againe kist it likewise; and then holding it up, seemed to threaten the world in her behalfe, which added this Article to Viennas beleife, that he undoub [...]edly was her white Knight, and the same, and non but the same that first so melodiously sang under her Chamber window; and therefore her desires having now no end shee ever after though each houre an age, till she knew him. But Sir Pa­ris withdrawing himselfe to the rest of the Knights, reti­red with them, still giving backe, till he was the last of the troope, and then taking a crosse-way, separated and con­vayed himselfe from them, and suddenly disarming him­selfe, hee speedied to finde out the Bishop of St. Lawrence, [Page 17]with whom (of purpose to prevent all surmises) hee had a little before familiarized himselfe, and no sooner had hee espyed him, but that hee hasted to greet him, and still kept in his company, as if St. Marke had robb'd god Mars of a Martialist. Such was his holy shew of devout Religion, as that he made all men admire him, and his father to be in­wardly grieved at him.

But Vienna, who now had greater cause to love him, then meanes to know him, wondring at his valour, not to be va­lued; and valuing his vertues, by clouding the glory and value of his prowis, held now his love an honour to her af­fection, and vowed her affection a guerdon for his love. But when she heard of his secret departure, and that no one knew what he was, from whence he came; nor to what place he had ret red himselfe; Then impatient desire made her the child of passion, and feare to loose that she never had, made her feele what before, she neither knew, nor feared. And so much the more she held her selfe miserable, in that she knew not for whom she was so miserable, nor how to seeke an end, to end her misery.

As Viennas, sad conceit, thus overshaded the glory of her beautifull Conquest, so was Sir Iaques flattering hope made blacke with foule dispaire; For missing his sonne Sir Paris out of two so Royall and honorable Assemblies, where renowne eternized each deserving Knight, with never dy­ing fame, and seeing him still associating the Bishop; hee feared least his businesse of over-superstitious Zeale, had abandoned all desire and regard of Knightly Chivalry. And therefore hot in his repining conceit, hee hastened to find La-nova, unto whom in griefe, he manifested the cause of his griefe; Requesting and conjuring him by the sacred lawes, and name of friendship, and by the honour he owed to Arnies, to perswade his sonne to a more be [...]tting respect of his unregarded honour. La-nova hearing Sir Iaques wor­thy complaint, and seeing his frosted beard all bedewed with the teares of his sorrow, pittyed his lament, but durst not disclose the mistery of the truth; but commending his [Page 26]honourable care, hee comforted him with promise of assu­red and present remedy, and so left him better satisfied, then truely certified. And no sooner where they parted, but La-nova departed, to impart to Sir Paris, what his noble Father had so sorrowfully said to him: which so mooved his feeling consideration in a Sonnes regard, that partly to satisfie his Father from living so supposedly idle, and partly to forget (if so he could forget) the tormenting thoughts, that still troubled his enthralled minde.

He determined to goe (onely with La-nova) to the warrs of Florence. And craving, he obtained, willing leave of his glad Father; but before his departure, hee called his Mother a side, and delivering her the key of his Chamber, and Ora­tory, wherein were placed all his purchast Prizes, well co­vered over with Hangings of sky-coloured silke, embroy­dered with starres of gold, and shaded all over with blacke Cipres, that the dimmest eye might perceive the glory of the heavens, through the blacknesse of the cloud. Her he devoutly requested, and humbly conjured (as she tende­red his contentment, and following welfare) not to suffer any to enter therein, nor so much as looke therein her selfe. This was his request, and this did she protest religiously to performe: This done, hee craved and received their bles­sing, and so set forwards towards Florence; where in briefe; he atchieved so great honour in the Dukes Warres, as the bruit of his spreading fame, both famed, and inworthied him in the Daulphins Court, which much joyed the Daul­phin, and more rejoyced Sir Iaques.

Vienna all this while grew more pensive, and passionate then before, and still (as Pharaoh longed to know his dreame) so desired shee to know, and see him whom she lo­ved more then her selfe, Her vestall vertue was now no Diana's proofe, to withstand Vonus force; nor could her, chast conceit dispence with affectious thoughts. But the more shee sought to quench desire, the more shee burnt her­selfe within her owne fire. Many Princes became Petitio­ners and Prisoners to her beauty, and greatest Barous did [Page 27]homage to her vertues; But neyther Prince nor Baron could find favour in Beauty, nor love in vertue. So strange­ly, was her strange affection, estranged to all but to him that was so meere a stranger to her so flrange a passion. To him, and for him, had shee consecrated, and reserved her devoted heart; and to him, and none but him, would shee yeeld the conquest of her Maydens minde. And although disturbed reason affoorded her no hope, nor possibility of finding of enjoying him; Yet did the gracious aspect of her favoura­ble starres, yeeld her this meanes to know him. For Sir Jaques being greatly visited with sicknesse, was so gene­rally bewayled of all, and so particularly bemoaned of the Daulphin (in regard of his thrige noble service in the wars, and his wise directions in Counsell) that he sent the Daul­phinis his Lady to visite him; who taking Vienna and Jza­bella with her went attended with foure other Ladies, to see, and comfort his enfeebled estate. But finding him pre­tily amended (after some fashionable, and cheerefull chat:) The Daulphinis (led thereto, I know not by what desteny) was desirous to see hew well the house was contrived, how beautified, and how furnished; which the good old Lady in all humblenesse yeelded unto, conducting them into eve­ry place, untill they returning, came againe by Sir Paris his Chamber doore, which his Mother both going, and com­ming backe, purposely past by. But being demanded of the Daulphinis what Chamber, or Place that was; she durst not but tell; and telling, would have past away, which the Daul­phinis noting, merrily sayd; Nay Madame, I will not leave the Chamber of so worthy a Knight unseene. The good old Lady not knowing how to avoyd this counterbuffe, fearefully with a trembling hand, opened the doore, where­in they were no sooner entred, but that they saw all man­ner of Armours, and befitting furnitures for approoved good Knights, which made them commend the owner no little; and to hold him farre worthier of a better Armoury.

As this they viewed his severall Armours; Vienna happily sixt her eye on a white Armour not farre unlike unto that, [Page 20]which Sir Paris had on him, when first he won her Chap­le [...], and Christall Shield. The sight whereof, made Hope (the Harbinger of happinesse) to breath in her this plea­sing comfort; that as that Armour was none but the same: So Sir Paris (that renowned owner) must of necessity bee that secret Knight, that not daring to be knowne to love her, was (by her sacred vowes) to bee beloved of her. Thus Hope prosumed the best, and invited joy to gratulate her good successe. But doubt (curbing rashnesse with deli­beration) perswaded her to further tryall. For as her hope was ready to embrace the first shew of comfort, so was her desire most greedy of more perfect assurance. And the better to effect, what she affected, she fayned (and fayne she was to fayne) her selfe suddenly sicke, and after some shew of some extremity, she desired her Mother (the bet­ter to make better search) to leaue her alone, all only with Izabella, to rest her for a time on the bed, which they hold­ing convenient, consented to it. And no sooner were they gone, but that Vienna bolting the doore, began to make a wary search. At last, at the end of the Chamber she found a privie pertition, so well shadowed with the Hangings of the Chamber, that hardly could any perceive the same; within, and behind this, was the place wherein Sir Paris daily, sacrificed his prayers vnto his God, wherein they were no sooner entred, but that withdrawing a glorious clouding Curtaine, they discovered the three famous rich Prizes of Sir Paris victorious prowis, stately erected vpon the wall, and below them hanged the Christall Shield, and golden Chaplet, he first wonne at her Fathers Court. Op­posite to which, on the other side, stood his white and bl [...]cke clouded Armours; so fully, and liuely set vp, as they seemed as ready to defend the place, as their Master was willing to maintaine her beauty. Long looked Vienna on euery severall Prize, but longer looked shee on both the Armours; now blushing and sighing; then liniling and wondring at the stately and pleasing proportion of them, In this contentment, and admiration of her thoughts, shee [Page 21]would have dwelled still; but that casting her nimble eye a­fide, to see what Izabella did, she perceived these following verses to lye written on the Table.

[Page 30] These Verses well pleased Vienna, and all contentment now waited on her first liking conceit: But after shee had more consideratively weyed how poore Sir Paris was, that meane Man whom she wisht so much to see, and to whom she had devoted the honour of her love; her blush­ing bashfulnesse then rebak't her misliked kindnesse, and his muddy clouded affection, ecclipsed the sun-shine of her far more glorious worth. In this dislike, she silent sate her downe, and rising streight againe sayd; That promise is nefarious, that is to be accomplished by an ignoble deed; and it is more tollerable to violate an vnworthy vow foo­lishly made; then by keeping the same, to draw on my dis­gtace, and give just cause of offence to others: My fayth falls out a treason to my selfe, and the love I beare him, is the sield wherein I seeke to overthrow my renowne: But why should my rash judgement set a ranckling tooth in his vertuous side? Or why should I care for more honours then to content my selfe; Or for more riches, then to enjoy my selfe? Wee are all borne to love; and wee onely live, and love to be beloved: Then not to love, and thinke to be beloved, is like that foolish Virgin, that sought to light her Lampe at anothers Torch that was quite extinct. With that she began to recount the shining Glory of his spreading renowne, the full perfection of his many appro o­ved and admired vertues; the commendable regard of his secret and imprisoned love, with the dangerous and hono­rable approbation of the same; and how she was bound in honor to honor and love him, that had above the pride of all honour, so honorred her. Then, then began shee to be more sorry she could love him no better; then before she was ashamed she loved him so well: And therefore taking Jzabella by the hand, she vowed and swore, that she would live to love none but Sir Paris, not love to live longer [...]hen she might be beloved of her Sir Paris; For Fortune savd shee hath decreed it so; Love will have it so, and Vienna sweares it shall be so:

Izabella first vttering her mislike, in her complaining [Page 31]teares, and then drowning her teares in the griefe of her complaint, thus all sighing, shee sadly said: Ah Vienna, no more now Vienna, since Vienna hath lost her selfe; what is become of your Princely regard, befitting your state? where is your wonted wisedome, so admired of all? Your vertue giving light to others, and your modesty eternizing your beauty: Shall base conceit (ever attended on with re­penting follies) eclipse now, the honour and wonder of your Name? Are servile thoughts beseeming companions for your noble mind? or ignoble Subjects fit objects for Prin­ces eyes? If Vienna be so predominate over you, that Diana is quite forgotten of you; yet let me call you before the judgement of your owne ver [...]ue, and then tell me whether the unworthy worthinesse of his Degree, equalize the great greatnesse of your Dignity? Admit his deserts bee many, and promise much, yet are his possibilities of ad­vancement, no possessions of enrichment; nor are his noble deeds the deeds of a Noble man. Will you then lose an honour for an humour? Nay, rather performe a Regall office in a Prince-like nature; that being a Princesse in your selfe, become also Prince-like in your deeds. What will your Father say, nay all France, nay all the world? when they shall heare that Vienna, late scorning the Royall love of greatest Princes, is now subjected to the will of a meane Knight: Farre be it from my Lady so to doe, farre from any to thinke so, and farre from Izabella ever to see it so.

Vienna (whose setled affection) held her perswasive inversions odious, and whose resolved determination, thought her reprehension loathsome, with usuall eyes, arguing her discontent, shee all angry, thus sharply replyed; Were J (unkind, ungratefull, and unjust Izabella) as farre from affection, as thou are from reason and pitty; Yet would not the common care that Ladies of esteeme ought to have toward Knights of good regard, suffer mee to heare due deserts so disgrac [...]d by injurious tongu [...]s, nor true re­nowne so reproacht by malignant mouthes. Then know (and knowing grieve, that so thou knowest) that thy un­seasonable [Page 24]words hath wounded my desire, and my desire abandons thee in thy words: Thinkest thou that desire dreames once on Dignities? or that Cupid cares for Crownes, that never saw Gold: Seest not thou these Tro­phie [...] erected in his honor, and his honour shining in these Trophies? If I bee great, his great deeds answers my great estate, and my estate shall be made greater by his great deeds: For if ever any Knight merited renown for renow­ned Chivalry, it is my Paris; or if ever Knight followed his Lady with true love, loved her with honour, or honoured her with regard and remarkable services, it is my Paris: Then if ever well-deserving Knight tryumphed in the faith­full love of his Lady, it shall bee my Paris: For here J sweare by the eternall justice of the Highest, that none shall have Vienna but Paris, nor none love Paris so well as Vienna. Then leave to grieve me, and loade not my griefe with further displeasure, in gain-saying what J say againe, J will never gain-say: For in vaine it is to water the Plant, the roote being perished, or to seeke to perswade mee, that am so resolvedly perswaded.

Isabella seeing her so resolute in her passion, and so passio­nate in her resolution, thought it was in vaine to urge her further, and fearing her threatning displeasure, she thought it good thus to balme the wound she before had given. Let not my honourable Lady (she sayd) returne an imagined wrong, with an effectuall injury, but pardon the well wish­ing fault of your faultlesse friend, who (if offending) offen­ded in tender care of desiring your good, and not of pur­pose to contract you, or with will to discontent you, whom before all others I wish to content; for proofe whereof, I here vow repay to the debt of my error, with the interest of all my furthering indeavours, to advantage you in your Love. No sooner had she spoken the last word Love, but that Vienna in love, for love kist, and embrast her joying in her promise and availing aide; and protesting, that most gratefull guerdons should make full satisfaction for her offered kindnesse. In the meane time, she required [Page 33]secrecy, and fearing least their long stay might procure, ei­ther some feare, or suspition, in her Mother, shee thought good to depart as one well recovered of a suddaine hatch, but before they went, shee caused Jzabella to take, and se­cretly to conuey away: the Christall Shield, and Chaplet, the first and non records, both of her beauty, ank his prowis, and this she did of purpose, not so much for any desire wee had to have them, as to give him occasion to come to enquire after them.

In this processe of time, the Warres of Florence, were ended and Sir Paris being intelligenced of his Fathers sick­nesse (whose infeebled age he much feared) and beeing desi­rous to see Vienna, though dispaire of successe, the hearse of his supposed idle hopes, yet Desire (the nurse of perse­verance) g [...]ve [...] wings to make the more speed, so that La-nova, and hee, ost [...]ng homewards, happily came, and found Sir Jaques well amended, whose good recovery was no lesse joyfull to Sir Paris, then his returne was comforta­ble to his Father. After they had long discoursed of the occurrents, of these Warres, and of his many adventures and fort [...]nes. Sir Paris, longing to give his eye content­ment, by gazing on his I dolatrous Prizes, he tooke his Mo­ther by the hand, and walking towards his Chamber (like the Lapwing that flyeth farre from her nest) he enquired of Court affaires, but she being not able to satisfie the drift of his reach, he prest her no further, but being entred into his Chamber, he made a step into his Oratory, were sud­denly missing the first pride of his happy atchievements, the chiefe glory of his study, and the true testimony of Vi­ennas beauty, and bounty, being therewith, much appaled, and mooved at their remove, he all angerly came forth, and asked who had beene there, and there had taken away such things as [...]ee most esteemed. His Mother abashed at the question, but more grieved that thre was any thing wan­ting, not knowing hew, or by whom they should bee taken away, answered, that since his departure no one had beene there, but the Daulphinis, and her daughter the Lady Vienna, [Page 34]accompanied with other Ladyes that came to visite his Fa­ther in his sicknesse, and that shee desired amongst other Chambers to see that, which she (after some denying ex­cuses) durst not longer gaine-say, and how that shee her selfe was with them so long as they stayed. Saving that the Lady Vienna being suddenly surprised with sicknesse, re­quested for her better ease, to stay onely alone with Iza­bella, to rest her a while on your bed. Paris flattering him­selfe with his owne favourable construction, deemed (and truely deemed) that the cause of her alteration, grew by the unexpected fight of the Prizes, and the view of his verses, that hee had left on his Table; and that shee had taken them away eyther in her angry disdaine, or to see what account hee made of them, or whether hee would re-demand them. And therefore pleased, to adventure his Fortune upon the rocke of this hazard, hee shewed no further mislike that hee mist them. But afterwards, shadowing his desire to see Vienna, under the borrowed vayle of duty, to see, and to attend the Daulphin: he went to the Court, where the Daulphin, glorying in the lustre of his Subjects renowne, because it gave a splendour to his Greatnesse; hee kindly re­ceived him, with more familiar embracements, and loving respects, then his austere nature, did usually afford: by this his unwonted curtesie and grace, he made Sir Paris thoughts (more obligatory) to his favours; and fashioned his favours (more complementory) to Sir Paris fortunes: for curtesie, they say, in Majesty, binds ever affection in duty. As Sir Paris stood before the Daulphin (relating the honour, and issue of the Florentine Warres) hee glaunc'd, and fearefully glaunc'd many times on Vienna but checking his eyes, that still rebuked him, hee left to looke, on whom not daring to looke, hee could not but looke. But Vienna, whose late kindled love, was now growne into a flame, having tedi­ously before expected him, could not now seeing him, feast her ravisht eyes at full, but gazing still on his ample per­fections (for now hee seemed more then exquisite) and taking pleasure in the sweet harmony of his well tuned [Page 35]words; stree [...] sooner rejoyced, joying in her owne de­sires; but that straight she desired the enjoying. And tur­ning towards [...]billa, she all blushing smised, and smiling blusht againe, because she smiled, and then asked her, whe­ther she saw not bashfull leare, and doubtfull discontent­ment, [...] on the face of his troubled countenance, for the losse of his Frizes, and the discouery of his affection; and whether she were not happy in her Choyse, and more then happy in his loue. All which, Gnathonizing Jabella prodi­gally confirmed, and demanded, how shee would doe, to enfeoffe him with her affection, that durse not be knowne of his owne Loste. Which Vienna well ruminating in her mind, at length (woman-like) found our this device.

She faigned her selfe, for some three dayes, very sicke; and in the distemper of her wounding offences, fearefull of her sinnel; but after when shee was better enabled [...] in body, and minde; she desired leave of her Mo [...]er, to goe the next day (for the more quieting and confirming of her conscience, and to giue God praise for her recovery) to the Bishop of St. Lawrence, to confesse herselfe, and to receiue the Sacrament within the sacred Temple of God; which hee Mother liking, yeelded vnto, rejoycing no little to see her so well amended; and so devoutly and piously devoted. In the interim, Vienna caused Izabella to send to Sir Paris in the Bishops name, to come and speake with him in the Cathe­drall Church, at time of the clocke the next morning; which Sir Paris promising, performed accordingly. For at the ap­pointed houre [...] came, and being come, saw (and wonde­red that so he saw) the Princesse Vienna conferring with the Bishop, whose loysure, he willingly attended; and walked a little aside, wearying his fancie with wishes; and punish­ing his concest with fearefull imaginations: Long hee had not walked, but that Vienna espying him, applauded her fortune; and armed with her owne desires, shee gaue her selfe countenance, vnder the pretext of employment; and called to Sir Paris, telling the Bishop that shee had matters of imployment in forraigne affaires, to impare vnto him [Page 36]from her Mother; And therefore shes requested the Bi­shop (if he had any occasion with him) to walke a while a­side, till shee had performed her Mothers command, and then shee would leaue them both to their pleasures. The Bishop being glad to see the Princesse so fanctified, com­mended her [...]eale, and lost her to the discharge of her duty, blindly supposing that the Daulphinis would send Sir Paris in message to some of her forraigne friends. But Vienna fin­ding her selfe alone with him, in whom shee joyed alone; she pleasantly demanded what hee made there, or whether he had any suit to her, or to any other, wherein shee might accominodate him; If it be so (so it be convenient) Sir Pa­ris shall finde a friend, if Sir Paris be found a friend. This pleasing and preludious demand, and Enigmaticall conclusi­on, made Sir Paris, somewhat fearefull how to answer. But Hope the comfortable Counsailour of Loue shap'd, in him this bold and short reply. My businesse (thrice worthy La­dy) is the Bishops will; my suit, your service; your ser­vice my chiefe desire, and my desire your fauourable counte­nance; And longer may not Paris liue, then he rests hum­bly thankefull to Vienna; and if not offenssiue, a faithfull seruant to my Lady. Thankes (said Vienna) good Sir Paris, your suit shall not bee non suit, if you shoot at Honours ayme. But tell me, and truly tell me, whether your suit (and your discontentment; which I see, [...]bours in your eyes) be not for your Prizes which I tooke away, when at­tending my Mother, I was at your Fathers house, [...] If so it be, (be it so, or not so) you shall have them againe, if againe you will returne with me. Paris proud of her presence, held himselfe more deified; then dignified, by her favours, and humbling himselfe; he vowed, that they, himselfe, and all in all, were at her Honours command. Then must I (Vi­enna said) command, and conjure you to tell me, whether it were your selfe, that so sweetly sung vnder my Chamber window; and so friendly gaue me Musicke; that did wound and beate my Fathers Guard; that wonne, and bare away my Christall Shield, and Chaplet, in the Tournament [Page 37]at my Fathers Court; and that carried away the Honour and the three Banners, with their Prizes, from all the Ba­rons and Knights at Paris.

Paris astonished at her demand, durst neither confesse, for foare of disdaine; nor yet dissemble, for offending her, whom in no wise he would offend; which perceived by Vi­enna, shee familiarly prest him to acknowledge the trueth, which manifested; shee with a pleasing and pleasant coun­tenance merrily said, why then doth Sir Paris affectionately love us? Sir Paris whose enticing fault had earst control'd, but now condemned, his over-clyming thoughts, was so amated in himselfe, and so transported from himselfe, that silence, in bashfull signes; blusht out a dumbe reply. But Vienna (ballancing his cold conceit, by the alteration of his countenanes) allowed the weight, and, animated in her owne affection, shee commanded him boldly to avene, what shee her selfe inferr'd, by such his troubled silence. Paris seeing the cloud of his care dispierced, gloried the more in the brightnesse of his Sunne; the beames where­of hee found for comfortable, that hee proudly confest his love, and that hee had long done secret, and humble ho­mage, to Venus vnder her so rare a beauty. Vienna surfeit­ting in the pride of her full content, kindly entertained his so affectionate a conceit, with as friend [...] a receive, and briefly, assuredly assured him; that none but Paris should enjoy Vienna it none but Vienna should joy in Paris.

This cordiall conclusion, being Sealed [...] protestation of perseverance, and by confirmation of oathes, they knit two hearts in one, and parted one will in two, and so depar­ted. During these Haltion dayes, commanding Love, wrought ensuing cares: For Vienna sitting-but in the shad­dow of to ye, thought the fruites of affection over-long in ripening and therefore presuming (in her c [...]ing ayme) that her Father in her favour would tie his consent to her choyse, and her, love to his liking. She importuned Sir Pa­ris to request his Father to acquaint the Daulphin with her affection, and humbly pray his consent in favour of his [Page 38]Daughter: Which Sir Jaques advisedly at the first de [...]yed, as unwilling to wakes a sleeping Lyon; or to seeke for Fish in a dry Poole. But Paternall love (the assination of reason) and shattering hope (the hu [...]le of deceit) so transported himselfe; from himselfe, that most vnlike himselfe, be (vainely dreaming after pomb [...]ie) yeelded to sayle in a Ship without a Ste [...]ne, and to gather honey out of Stones. But the [...] (whose repugnane humour scorn'd so servile a motion, and whose abured kindnesse, now begat in him most spitefull rage) so [...]refully boyled in his d [...]daine full furquedry, [...] bitierly thecking Sir Jaques, he fearefully thundred out his threatning indignation, in exiling poore Sir Paris.

Paris though cheekt, yet not mated; shewed now the vertue of his co [...]age in the celipse of his fortune. For being preswaded by La [...]nova, to make presently away; He notwithstanding the danger of tyran [...]all authoritie, resol­ved to see his Lady before he lost his Countrey: And therefore as one desperate in dispaire, he hastily (yet se­cretly) went to participate his engrieved state with hap­lesse Vienna who hearing thereof, was so consounded of her lesse; as she was sull of sorrow for being vnable to re [...]eue him, as she was voyd of all meanes to helpe herselfe. Their samentations payed now large tribute to their griefes; and their desires that before had no end, did now, by dispaire, end endlesse things in their first niotion: But after that the flood of their seares was growne to an ebbe, (ad [...]itting the necessitie of time) they concluded, euer to live to none, but to each other; though they neuer saw agaide one another. And so Sir Parie fainting in his fare­well, was depriued of his welfare: Which (all [...]ouing and impatient [...]ennd not brooking, so to be deposed from him, in whom she wholly reposed her selfe, reeall'd him againe, and enfolding him within her fainting armes, she vowed to pertake with him in all his fortunes: ever remembring him, that the chast roote of her true affection was Vertue, clad in constant loves desire: Shee therefore advised him [Page 39]secretly to conceale himselfe, and to provide for shipping, and at the houre of Twelve, the third night following, she would disguised (with stored Gold and Jewels) meet him in the Pouch of Saint Anthonies Church, and so depart with him whither soever. Sir Par [...] kissing, her oft, (for in waine kissing is some pleasure) found now his purgatory, to bee hit Paradice; Joy myu [...]pht in his eyes, and comfort lodg'd in his heart; and in this haven of happinesse hee would have [...]wimmed still, but that danger of delay told him, that growing Trees have their fall, aswell as their springs, and that apprenension would dissolve all their harmony: Hee therefore (being borne away with the hasty ty [...]e of smal­lost leasure) rode presently into Prevence; where happily meeting with Monsiour de la M [...]tt, a Ship-Master of his acquaintance, hoe privately told him, that h [...] had flaine a Man of account, and that he must for a [...]me leave his Coun­trey, and therefore prayed him (for his gold) speedny and s [...]ctly to Ship him and his two Friends away into some other Coast; which Monsieur la Mott promising, sent one away incontinent to Saint Victor, where his Ship lay, to make all things in readinesse, and returned himselfe with Sir Paris, to ass [...]t and direct him in all his needfull dispatches.

Now Vicuna and Jeabella, at the time and place appointed met with Sir, Paris (according to their agreement) in mens apparell, dispencing with needlesse salutations; add [...]est them­selves to speedy journeyes: And do long they poasting, ridde out of all High-wayes, that being be [...]ghted; they were glad to crave harbour of a Presite, who lodging them, placed Vienna and Jzabella in one Chamber, and Sir Paris and Monsteur de la Mott in another. In the morning, their earely desires so hastened their speedy departures that being timely up, and quickly horsed, Sir Paris and La Mois, rude apace before, to view the River, whose over-flowed bankes were so over-runne, by the pride of a late swelling flood, that the Foard was not passable, which made Sir Paris so impa­tient, so to bee frastrated of his attending Ship (the am­rance of his Usery) that Monsiour de la Mort over venturous [Page 40]to venter over the passage, was in searching the Foard, most unfortunately drowned in the mercilesse Flood. Sir Paris daunted at that so fatall a sight, sighed, and sighing, grew to a prodigious Prognosticator of his owne ensuing harmes. But fearing least the knowledge thereof might appale his faire Friend, hee suddainly returned to their religious Host, where hee had left the two Ladyes, when he went to find the Foard, and to try the passage; and shadowing now his tormenting griefe with a forced smile, hee demaunded of Vienna how shee fared, who answered, as my Love fares, so fares thy Love, happie in my selfe; because happie in thee. And long may (sayd Paris) my Love live to love, that loves to live onely for my love. Scarce had Sir Paris pronounced his last word, when one came running to tell the Priest, that there were many Knights in he next Towne, that came in quest; and searched for Vienna and Sir Paris: Which Vienna understanding, was so surprized with griefe and feare, that being altogether disheartned in her hope, shee held her selfe more than undone in her disturbed expectation: But after she had bathed the beauty of her eyes, in the sorrow of of her teares, fearing most in this present perill, least death should arrest her beloved Friend: She with a much more re­solved mind, and [...]n assured Countenance, then befitted ey­ther the time, or was incident to her Sex, thus exhillerated her astonished Friend.

My Paris, (shee sayd) Time admits not there many words, where danger still knocks at the doore: In extre­mities, the winning of time, is the purchase both of life and love: Let not violent passions (that never removes any ill, but betrayes our secret imperfections) now sway the ver­tue of thy thoughts: nor the forti [...]ude of thy heart; but carry thou in thy Lyons looke, a Lyons minde; and like the Sunne shew thy fayrest face, in thy lowest fall. Load not my sorrowes with thy griefe, nor kill thou thy selfe, for feare of death; But in the wonted courage of thy never-daunted Spirit, get thee to some other more safer shore; where let Vertue hee thy Governour, my remembrance [Page 41]thy Love; thy loue my comfort, and my comfort thy sole contentment. Thou hast conquered men in loue, and Loue in me; and both in worth and wisedome; and never shall I deeme my selfe happy, but when I shall see thee happy, for whom I now am so vnhappy: As thou leavest me, so shalt thou finde me; be but thou as constant a Friend to my Minde, as thou shalt be a Possessor of my Heart; and I shall have as much cause of joy, as thou no cause of doubt. If thou continue loyall, successe (thou shalt see) will blesse thee well, and all good fortune will waite on thy just merits. This Diamond which here I giue thee shall be a true remai­ning record of my sincere loue to thee: Onely, let me heare of thy aboad; and so I leaue thee to the guide of Vertue, and seruice of Fortune. Sir Paris thus discomforted, comforted; weighing the danger of delay, by his imminent perill, and forced to set vp his sayles in this so insupportable and threat­ning a tempest; and there sealing vp the vow of his faith, in the silent griefe of a departing kisse, he posted to the Ri­uer side againe; where Dispaire made Feare so valiant, that ere he found cause of feare, hee was past all feare: For ha­uing past he knew not how the River, he was got before he wist into the Ship: wherein being Cabined, hee told of La Mot his fatall accident, and forced them to put to sea, sayling himselfe with as many contrary thoughts, as Eolus sent out windes vpon the Trojan Fleet: At length he arrived at Genoa, where he rested his restlesse selfe, and where he liued, wanting but little, because not desiring much. But such was his disconsolate solitary life, that the Citizens (though strangers) affecting the man in his man­ners, pittied much his distresse, in the shew of his discon­tentment. In the meane while, the Daulphin wasting him­selfe, in his owne implacable, and vnlimited wrath, vio­lently, and suddainly seazed, and confiscated, all Sir Iaques Lands and Goods into his hands; Imprisoning both him, and his Lady, as Fauters, Abetters, Confederates, and Ad­juters thereunto. Thus gets Outrage, ever the sharpest edge upon the first advantage; And in this distemper of [Page 42]his ill disposed minde, he commanded that naught but bread and water should be giuen them. For, said he, where the offence is greater then the service, there Iustice chan­geth the bond of recompence into due punishment. During this their faultlesse imprisonment, the questing Knights re­turned with Vienna, and the Hospitalious Parson, her Host; who being brought before the angry Daulphin (her enra­ged Father) shee saw the cloud a farre off, before the storme fell, and therefore prostrating her selfe at his Feete, shee required pardon for her offence, and prayed that he would not make her sinne deadly, which was but veniall; pleading ignorance for the Prelate, and vnresistable loue for her selfe; swearing and assuring him, by sacrament of so­lemne oath, and the testimonie of her Host, that shee was as honest in her flight, as she was in her birth, and that her vnspotted thoughts were neuer stayned, with any vnchast deed or desire. The noble followers of the obdurate Daul­phin, seeing the Princesse washing her repentance in her owne teares, humbly besought him to forget, and to for­giue her amisse, since the frailty of her offence, was rather a sore, then a sinne; and wounds were to be healed and not hurt. This submission, strengthened by such generall en­treaties, somewhat quencht the burning heate of his enfla­med [...]re: And though his severe Iustice told him, that not to punish an evill, was to allow of an evill; yet mercy hee knew pardons them oft, that deserues it not, and judge­ment in nature, should be next a kin to fauour. Vpon this calme construction (after many sharpe rebukes, and protest­ed threats, hee vowed that determinate, and inevitable con­demnation should punish her next offence) and so he pardo­ned her vpon promise of more regardfull duty.

Now Sir Paris had not long sojourned in Genoa, but that mindfull of his charge; he writ to Vienna, and enclosed it in another writ to La-nova, wherein hee excused his vnkind departure without his priuity, and conjured him by the sa­cred lawes of true amity; to attend and follow his Lady, in all seruice and fast friendship. La-nova glad of such glad [Page 43]tydings, went in the height of his joy to Vienna, and (after some complementall salutes) asked her, what she would give to heare of her Paris. Vienna great with child with the expectation of her friends welfare, longed to be delivered with the notice of his health; and said, that the whole world afforded not sufficient worth to answer her liberall heart therein. La-nova joying in the constancy of her love, shew­ed her the letter, which shee hastily snatching, as hastily read, re-read, and many times, more then many times over­read, the pleasing contents as followeth.

Vienna well certified, but not fully satisfied, commanded La-nova to return a speedy answer, with charge that Pa­ris should not depart Genoa, but that he should there so­journ, till better times afforded better turnes: And that he should beare himselfe, as himselfe, and her favorite. To maintaine which, she delivered to La-nova tenne thousand Crownes, which he sent immediately: Sir Paris receiving now so pleasing a pledge of her persevered constancie, tri­umphed no little in her so agreeable affection. And as she required, so set hee up the maine sayle of his obscured glory in the wind of her will, by taking a great house, and by maintaining so great a Port, that his Majesticall magna­nimity well manifested, that his former sinister fortune was nothing suteable to his birth and education.

Whiles Sir Paris thus Courted it out in some content, Vienna was solicited by many great Lords. But the seed which they sowed in the sands, was washt away with the first flood of the Tyde; so that all their hoped Harvests, was nought but crops of growing cares. The Daulphin (whose climing thoughts looked ever upon greatest starres) kept the beame of her ballance straight, without gaine-say­ing this Sutor, or disgracing that. But to prevent all distaste that might come by deniall, he speedily sent speciall Mes­sengers [Page 45]to his fast friend, the Earle of Flanders, requesting his best labours and endeavours, to move, and make (if so he might) a marriage, betwixt his daughter Vienna, and the Duke of Burbon his sonne. Such was his couetous desire, in lieu of the Burbons possessions, not to be valued; and such his conceit of his sonnes valour, not then (as hee thought) to be equalled; so as his pride, could, nor would, admit of any other sonne in law, but this great and matchlesse Prince. The Earle of Flanders glad that occasion offered it selfe, that he might both gratifie the Daulphin his friend, and in­terest himselfe in the loue and greatnesse of the Burbon Duke, which he had long desired; was now as willing as the Phy­sitian, that is euer ready to pleasure another, to profit him selfe. And knowing, that he that sleepeth, catcheth no Fish; he went instantly to the Duke, who no sooner heard of the motion, but glorying in the hope of such vnexpected advancement, he entertained the Earle with all the state, that either greatnesse could performe, or desire require. In conclusion, the Burbon Duke sent his sonne, in the greatest pride of proudest state, to the Daulphins Court, where he did proportion his carriage answerable to the eminencie of his place; his merits being such, and so many, that (set­ting onely aside his pride of heart) Envie her selfe, could not detract from his worth. But before he came to the Ci­tie, the Daulphin hearing of his neere approach, went to his daughter, and told her what tender care he had of her good, how hee had laboured to make the Burbon Prince, her glorious Groome. and how happy she might thinke her selfe, to bee bestowed on so great and famous a Lord. One, whom the world admires for his heroicall fortitude; feares of his greatnesse; and loues for his deserts. A Prince incomparable by title and birth: A person beautified by Nature; And a man inricht with wisedome, wealth, and worthinesse. Then let my Choyse be thy content, and in thy full consent see that thou entertaine him with all vertuous favours. This said, he commanded to horse, not staying her answer, and so rid forth royally attended, and [Page 46]appointed, to receiue the young Prince. And farre he had not rid, but that he met, and encountred with his long de­sired, and now expected ghest. The young Prince first a­lighting from his Horse, gaue the Daulphin occasion to dis­mount himselfe, who being on foote, stayed till the Prince came unto him; where they greeted, re-greeted, and em­braced each other, and then remounting themselves, they rid Marshalled in right good equipage to the Pallace, where all the Ladies (saving Vienna) gave a second salute, to the greater content of the Burbon Prince. But the Daul­phin missing Vienna, misliked much her absence, yet seemed to take no notice of it, but smoothing the angry furrowes of his discontentment, he (with an inforced cheerefulnes) brought the Prince to his lodging, and there leaving him to his private repose; hee hastily went to Viennas Cham­ber, where all sad, and solitary, he found her sitting in the seate of sorrow, or rather in the shade of death, for feare of her fathers provoked ire; whose violent, and peremp­tory disposition, would (she knew) transport him beyond all the bounds of Natures tendernesse. Of her, he deman­ded, why contrary to his command, shee had absented her selfe in the requisite entertainement of so great a Lord, and so worthy a friend.

Vienna rising from her sorrowfull seate, but not from her sorrow, with fearefull erected hands, and pitty plead­ing eyes, humbled her selfe at his feete, and told him, that for shame of her first flying fault, she had vowed her cha­stity to Diana; and sworne her selfe, a Vestall, to Vesta. And therefore had she so separated her selfe a side, because she would not give fire to his fancie, nor wrong his better deserts with forlorne desires. In consideration whereof she humbly prayed, that none but her selfe might enioy her selfe, since none but her selfe could, or should content her selfe. The Daulphin perceiving light though a small crevis, began in milde pollicy, by gentle entreaties, and rich perswasions, to weane her from her will; telling her, that vnlawfull vowes were to be violated; since the first cause [Page 47]ceasing and a new succeeding, both might be altered; nei­ther had she any such power in her selfe, that was not to be disposed of by a Father; And to honour, and obey Parents. is the first Commandement that hath any reward promi­sed on earth. Besides, it is an enuious wrong to Nature, to suffer her fairest worke (like a sweet fragrant odoriferous Rose) to dye upon the stocke; that being pluckt in the bloome, might yeeld both pleasure, and profit to others: therefore renounce this beliefe, if thou meanest to be sa­ued, or to haue any fauour. For by course of kinde all thinges were made to increase; and by increase to benefit another; and she is a Divell amongst men, that profiteth no man. This did the Daulphin thinke by his smooth words, to build a Castle in the ayre, that had no hope of foundation on the earth. For Viennas vnremoueable resolution, being bent to shoote at her first marke, could not be wonne to le­uell at another ayme; which made the Daulphin, (failing (like a Foxe) to deceiue with kindnesse) to play now the Lyon by compulsion; And therefore gnashing his teeth to­gether for anger (like the Sea that waxeth mad, when the windes doe rage) he commanded both her and Izabella to close prison.

The young Prince meruailing beyond all measure, that he could not see amiable Vienna, the eye of France, the mi­racle of her sex, the wonder of time, and the pride of Na­ture; demanded of her Father, what ominous cloud sha­dowed the brightnesse of France his second Sunne, that she appeared not in her all-admired glory. The Daulphin fea­ring least he should distast the Prince, by vnderstanding the matter; framed, and faigned this excuse. That sicknesse had attached her, and made her a prisoner to her bed, and there­fore prayed his patience a while, till her hoped recouery might better please his fancy. The young Prince holding his words for Oracles, held himselfe contented, and thought to weare and weary out the wearinesse of time, with other Courtly, and more Knightly sports; wherein hee was so fortunate, that Fame was the Herauld of his Heroicall [Page 48]deedes This did so enflame the love of the Daulphin to­wards him, that no eye-water could ever after quench the same; Desert did now double his desire; and his desire had no end, in gayning his daughters consent, which he againe now vainely laboured: Sometimes laying before her the Riches, Glory, and Dignities of Iuno: sometimes painting forth the Honour, Respect, and Happinesse, shee should re­ceiue by such another Hector; and then pleading the sweet content, that growes by enjoying so pleasing and compleat a Prince. But when he found his wasted wordes dye in their owne sound, and all his hopes vtterly ship-wrackt; his better consideration was then forfeited further to hate, and rancour; then either nature, or pitty, could redeeme it. Then began he to thunder out fearefull threats, cruell chastisements, and most insupportable miseries. Commanding the Keeper (in his ouer-awfull justice) that sad solitarinesse should onely attend her imprisonment, and that eager hun­ger should daily waite on her Table, and so he departed, hopelesse of reclayming her, and therefore resolued to cha­sten her obstinacie, with all severity. But

The young Prince hauing now-spent many dayes, and not seene her, whom onely he came to visite; importuned the Daulphin, that he might but visite her both to comfort her in her malady, and somewhat to satisfie his starved eyes, in their more then greedy desires. But the doubling Dalphin pleaded her mislike so to be seene; assuring him, that shee daily requested, that he (whom she onely vpon sole re­port entirely affected (should not in any case see her so sore impaired. So great (said hee) is her care to seeme pleasing unto you, such her shamefastnesse at first so to bee seene of you. And therefore let me entreat your further patience, for your willing returne, vntill her better health, may bet­ter countervalle your taken paines; which once recovered, [Page 49]you shall be speedily informed. In the meane time salute in my name, your thrice noble royall Father, and tell him, that J hold my selfe so much honoured, in his desired affini­ty, that my selfe, and what is the Daulphinis, rests wholly at his pleasure: and further, pray him that the lawfull cause of this unwilling stay; may stand for satisfaction till better payment. The young Prince thus smoothed up with words of fairest dye, held himselfe well appeased, though not throughly pleased; and holding the Daulphins words for written verity, hee implored the firme continuance of his found favours, and protested kindnesses; and so commen­ding himselfe to the good grace of his adored Lady; he hum­bly and friendly tooke his leave, and returned to Burbon. The Prince departed: The Daulphin, who had no more re­morce then the cruell Judge hath mercy; gave in charge, that no one should visite, or repaire to his Daughter, but onely Mounsieur Maux, a right Saturnist by nature, and an unrelenting Tyrant in life; him hee commanded (under paine of death) to give her nothing but Bread, and the worst wine, twice a day; which this enemy of vertue, and staine of all mankind, so barbarously performed, that his cruell usage too soone impared poore Vienna, and distressed Izabella, who had unkindly; and untimely pined; and perished in that loathsome solitary Prison, had not La-nova found out a meanes (as hereafter shall bee showne) to succour, and re­lieve them.

But now the Daulphinis, who had many times washed her aged face in the teares of her consuming griefe for her afflicted Child, having neither knowledge of any meanes to relieve her, nor hope of her delivery: knowing the Daulphin, to be as resolute in his rigur, as he was absolute in opinion: Advised with her nearest friends, and obliged dependants, what was to be done in so desperate and grie­vous a case. Where by the concurrance of advises, it was concluded, that she should send unto the Delphian Oracle, there to learne what should be done, and become of her enthralled Daughter. This Counsell being imbraced, and [Page 50]the journey undertaken, the winds gave speed, and the Messenger arrived at Delphar, where after all Ceremonies were religiously performed, hee received a scrowle to carry unto the Daulphinis, with charge not to looke therein. The Daulphinis, whose feare made her thinke all good to be too good for her; thought yet each houre an age, till his re­turne: Misfortune so blindeth those, wee will overthrow, as that she gives their desires wings to draw on; and hasten their owne decayes. At last hee came, and humbly delivered the scrowle, importing this much.

The Daulphinis, whose ever sad surcharged heart was unable to disgest such heavie and bitter Cates; found this sawce too sharpe for her dyet. For it was no sooner read, but that finding (as she thought) all the gates of comfort shut up with vntricate threats and impossibilities, (being too weake a [...] stell (to beare so sharpe a liquor) she shrunke under the weight of her sad burthen, and fell suddenly dead; and so left the Daulphin a eruell Father, and a care­lesse Widower.

This mournfull accident rather exasperated his irefull displeasure towards his Daughter (in making her disobedi­ence the originall cause of her death) then in any wise exte­nuated his execrable resolution, against her determined en­durance. But hee had not lived many dayes in dolour, but that burying the remembrance of his dearest Spouse, in the [Page 51]hope of future happinesse; his obdurate heart became as unsenceable of her losse, as of his Daughters misery. Love found love, and the madnesse of age made him such a slave unto his slave, that before one yeares period, he married one of his Wives meanest Attendants; One (who knowing her owne unworthinesse,) having neither Vertue to strengthen her fortune, nor good nature to incite her to pit­tie or goodnesse, nor any merit to winne applause was not­withstanding so potent over him, that she guided the sterne of his flinty and unpennitrable heart: And though she feared the scorne of abject basenesse, yet to maintaine the stolne pride of her enhansed heart, shee cunningly gave fewell to her Husbands enraged will, and covertly blew still the coales of his displeasure. For feare shee did least that her Daughters liberty should (in the aspect of true honour) could both her swelling conceited glory, and de­tract from her proud insulting greatnesse: To frustrate which, she cautely one day, leaning on his brest, and stro­king his frosted beard, thus sadly sayd.

When (my deerest Lord) I looke upon the breach of the Princesse, your Daughters obligation; I finde the penaltie you take, to be most just (though severe;) Since the just Judger of all, did for the sole disobedience of onely one, cast both him, and all his Posteritie out of Paradice: How like unto him you shew your selfe herein, your unpartiall Justice well demonstrates, who rightfully punisheth the sinne of disobedience in your owne members, as God did in his owne creatures. Justice is the badge of vertue, the state of peace, and maintenance of honour; and the will of a Father should be a religious law unto the Child: And they that preferre theyr owne lustes before theyr Parents pleasures, looseth the benefit both of natures right, and a Fathers regard: For reason would not we should respect those that forsake us: The Husband man cuttes and loppes off all unkindly Branches from the good Vine: Iove held his Children part of his substance, of whom hee did and might dispose; and the noble Romans deprived their Sonnes [Page 52]of life, that infringed but theyr commaunds. I alleadge not this (most worthy Lord) to aggravate your Daughters foule offence, whose other deserts I honour, whose well­fare I affect, and whose merited punishment I condole; Nor yet to detract from the worth of your thrice worthy chasticement, which all men commend, and justice allowes. But feare (of I know what) and the love of your safety enforceth me in love and duty, to manifest what I feare, and to prevent what I doubt. Vienna (you know) my endeered Lady, is the immediate apparent Heyre to this Principali­tie, and the unjust desires that waite upon a Crowne, begets oft most inhumane, unnaturall, and unlawfull Acts: Nature in that expectation, looseth her sight. Vertue her strength, Dutie her obedience, and Love her respect: Nothing can out-ballance ambitious desire, either in the reach of dignity, or revenge; Nor is there any limitation in the adventurers. Her restraint is (I feare) like fire raked up in embers, that covertly will kindle, and openly burst foorth into a flame; For the harder she deemes her selfe handled, the more will she seeke after her release, if not after revenge; Nor can she want instigators thereunto: Since all men like and preferre the rysing of the Moone before the setting of the Sunne: And to win advancement in that hope they will contrive; practise, and execute whatsoever, and howsoever: Such oc­casions gives fire to corrupt Humorists; and such grounds sets repugnant Malecontents a worke. I would my death might free you from such dangerous intendments, or that my life could acquit you from such heavie accidents. And therewithall (her heart having taught her eye to weepe) she threw her selfe into his bosome, the more to endeere her selfe unto him, and without any sorrow, she sighing; said. Ah what shall become of me, when I shall loose my loving Lord?

[Page 53] Thus to nourish debate, after she had fedde on slander, and instil'd in his eates a fearefull jealousie, which over-cre­dulous mindes easily apprehends, and covetously enter­taines. The better to acquit her selfe from all suppose of malice or detraction: She weeping, told him, That the night before, her Mothers Ghost appeared unto her, all in white, her unsmoothed haire displayed about her shoul­ders. her ruefull falne face pale, her eyes hollow, and in eyther hand a Taper burning dimme; which so affrighted her, that had she not comfortably spoken to me, when I had no power to call to you; I had awaked you, and cryed for helpe: But sodainely, with a feeble voyce, she mildly said; Feare not my Daughter, to looke upon thy Mothers harmelesse Ghost, who in tender care of thee, and espou­sed Lord, have left my bed of rest, to come to premonish thee of your ensuing [...]ll. Treason doth threaten the Daulphin; Subjects mislikes, workes upon Viennas discontentments: Her liberty will be his death, and in his destruction shalt thou finde thy grave: Now thou knowest it, looke to it, and so farewell. With that she gave a wimpe, darkenesse possest the place, and I lay wounded and affrighted with remembrance, both of her sight and of her words. This Apparision, the happy Angell of our God, (for visions are cleere revelations, where dreames are but delusions) hath moved me, out of an affectionate feare of you, to deliver what I saw, heard, and have said; which otherwise in my love to your Princely Daughter, I would willingly have concealed. And therewithall she wept againe; and kissing him said, O hardest of happes, but most unhappy onely I, that she, to whom I owe all love, and from whom I can­not withdraw my devoted affections, should by my meanes be the more afflicted. But in my Lords love and welfare, doe I onely live, and will bury all other affects and considera­tions. The guiled Daulphin, whose undisgested displeasure, and over-jealous prejudicating heart, gave way to every suspitious thought, so procreated by false conceite, and so confirmed by her mellefluous and deceitfull tongue; be­gan [Page 54]now to conceive much more, then he did see or per­ceive. Feare and dislike so shipwrackt his judgement upon his Wives clouded reckes, that what before seemed to him by conjecture but probable; that he holds now as an Ora­cle. And therefore imbracing her, he kist her oft, and oft did wipe her forced bedewed eyes, and then did kisse againe, and thanked her for her provident care; and pre­serving love; assuring her that thus warned, hee would be ever armed, and that in his daughters wedded miseries, they would build vp both their securities. And thereupon com­manded that a strickt Watch should ever guard the prison doore, that no one (but Monsicur Maux (should come, or send unto her.

But La-nova understanding of the Daulphins Decree, and finding the venomous drift, and impoysoned minde, of this Serpentine mother; having Land adjoyning to the Castle, did erect (after a great, and strickt shew of holines) a Chap­pell in honour of our Lady wherein he made a close parti­tion; In the one part to heare publique Masse, and in the other (which adjoyned to his Castle) to prostrate himselfe before his God, and to powre forth his more private pray­ers for his secret sinnes. In this part, hee digged in the night so long, and many nights so long; that at length hee made a secret way, that ascended up to the place of their a­bode, and pausing there a while, to rest his over-wearied self, he heard Vienna and Izabella carefully, and interchange­ably, sing this contentious Ditty.

No sooner had they made an end of their Song, but La­nova, found an end of his worke, and going forth of his darke passage, hee softly, yet cherefully entred, and saluted Vienna, who though amazed, yet animated at his sight, runne and fell upon his breast, and in the fall of her many teares, ask'd him; What newes of her Paris, and whether hee lived, and living, lived to his first Enone; or stragling, had found, and made a second choyse. Say, La-nova, say, [Page 56]hath any Hellen wonne my Trojane from his betrothed Nimph, or hath Adonis forgotten his Venus, and become amorous of another Lady. If so, say so, and tell me, how thou cam'st hither. For J wonder at thy presence, and feare thy hazard. Your Knight (most constantly (vertuous, and renowned Lady) said La-nova) lives I hope, and no doubt wholly yours: But never since the receite of this Letter, heard I any tydings of him. Onely my care of your good (the summe of Sir Paris charge) hath plotted, and effected, this poore shift, to relieve and comfort your grace. And so he told her how, and shewed her the way, the top where­of he advised her to cover well, least it should be discryed, he undone and she unsuccoured. Vienna re-embracing him for his kinde and tender regard to her, and for his true, and fast love to them both; gave him many thankes, and ear­nestly entreated him, to make privie enquiry of the Genua Merchants, whether they knew, or had heard of Sir Pa­ris, and how he spent his dayes and so fearing the detested Keepers comming. La-nava left her, to make provision for her.

Now the Daulphin, whose diseased minde could not bee cured, but by the match of the Burbon Prince; thought him­selfe still endangered, so long as she lived unmarried, and imprisoned: His wicked wily wife, had cast such an erroni­ous myst over his bewitched eyes, and so drowned his heart in fearefull doubts, that he durst not trust his owne safety; unlesse his harmelesse daughter were either made away at home, or married away farre from home. To give peace vnto these his disturbed thoughts, he went unto the Castle to see whether that weakening dyet, and tedious thraldome, had well reduced her seduced minde; and made her of a disobedient childe, the daughter of his will. In tryall whereof, he demanded, whether in the high, and sa­cred preheminence of a Father, he should finde yet the ob­liged duty of a Child; the which if she would in repen­tance acknowledge, and in performance willingly accom­plish his will. She should be restored to her former estate, [Page 57]his wonted favour, and her preeminent dignities. Vienna on humble [...]ees, falling at his [...], required his blessing, and saide, that [...] wes had so mor [...]fied all thoughts of affection, that onely griefe was growne to bee pleasing to miserable creatures; and that custome had made her content to lye in her bed of woe, and to water her couch with tea [...]es: onely she prayed, that the just God might ap­pease his [...] against unjust men. But how ( [...] shee) shall my selfe, perswade my selfe, that you meane me any good, that not onely have so hardly inticated mee, and so vnnatu­rally imprisoned your sole childe, but most vnjustly and cruelly have put in prison poore Sir Jaques, that hath spent all his happiest dayes in your unrewarded [...]ervice. It is the true properity of a Prince, to reser [...]ble God, in vertue, bounty, and mercy: and not the Lyon in force, rigour, and cruelty. Mercy pardoneth those that deserve it not; and the interpretation of the strictest law, should rather tend to mercy, then cruelty; since rigorous lawes were first, made more to terrifie all, then to torment any. The doubtfull Daulphin finding his amisse, but not his remedie; somewhat to perswade his daughter of his repenting rigour, and inten­ded good commanded that Sir Jaques should be see at liber­ty and restored to his Pristine estate; which greatly con­tented Vienna for her Paris sake, and no little joyed good La-nova, that secretly had [...]ucc [...]red him. But these showes of favour, and promises of preferment, nothing advantaged the Daulphin: For Vienna (strengthned in the expectation of forrow) nor obstinately, but constantly tolde her father, that the Burbons, love, was like a Spiders webbe, fit to bee swept away; and that her Virgins vowe, should eternize her chastity after death. This resolve, raised againe the storme of his allayed sury; in the rage whereof he left her, discovering by his threats and malitious words, the ill of his heart, as Vienna sorrowfull sigher shewed the hurt of her heart.

La- [...]va weighing [...] [...]yranny of the time, and finding no hope of better [...]ap, presently writ to Sir Paris the truth of [Page 58]all such accidents as had befalne, this Father Vienna, and himselfe; since the receipt of his Letter, which gave so fresh and so sharpe, an affault, to his already over-surcharged heart, that vertue was no Armour of proofe against such affliction, but raging in the tempest of discontentment, ra­ther like an unkennelled Cerberus then any distracted A­jax, hee blasphemously belched and breathed out cruell oathes, vengeance, daring threates, and most foarefull words against Time, Love, Gods, and Men.

O Time, said hee, Traytor unto Love: O Love abused by Time: O Gods unjust to men: O Men too subject to the Gods. O that your Deities were essentiall, visible, and mor­tall, that I might hew vengeance out of your wrongs, and write Tragedies on your lives. O heavens I challenge your Throanes, and deny your powers. Your swift motions I will stay with my hand, and your revolutions. I will drowne in the Sea: I will unloose the bonds of Orion, and stop the course of each constellation. The straying Starres I will plucke from theyr Spheares, and with their influences will I kill all the Tyrants on the earth. Time I will consume with my breath, and burne up Love with the Sunne. The world I will cut a sunder with my Sword, and make a new Land in the ayre. The Waters I will swallow up, and bury the windes in the Moone. Ixion I will remove front his mo­ving and tormenting seate, and set the Daulphin on his tur­ning wheele, where hunger-staryed Vipours shall gnaw on his hatefull heart, and pyning Tautalas give him all his food. Vienna shall be sole Queene of h [...]ave [...], and onely rule the glorious Globe. And I will raigne in Iupiters stead, and throw downe fire and lightning on the cursed Castle that enthralls my love: I will beate that cruell Daulphin to pow­der with thunder: that I may be revenged on Time, Love, Gods, Men, the World, the Daulphin, and all for the Daul­phin. Thus distract in his madding moode hee, all enraged, raged he knew not now, and said he knew not what pulling the Letter in pieces with, his teeth, [...]enting his Hangings, earing his Cloathes, and, breaking his bed, Board, and [Page 59]Stooles, with such violence, that his amazed servants durst not come neere him.

At this vnwonted passion, theyr hearts were possest with wonder, and their eyes floodded with teares; his bounty causing the one, and his wisedome the other. But igno­rance is the mother of admiration. They knew not where his shooe did pinch him, nor could they toll th [...] to helpe him. At last (as one breathlesse in his w [...]sted fury) hee fell upon his bed; which they seeing, hastily stept to him; and uniting their strengthes, kept him downe, making silence theyr preparative, to quit his [...] thoughts. Then darkning the Chamber; one of th [...] tooke a deepe base sil­ver stranged Band [...]a, whereupon hee played so sweetly, and so dolefull, that Sir Paris hearing or it lent a listning to it, which brought him into such a sall melancholly: Muse, that be began to slumber, and after fell into a heavy sleepe, which so well appea [...]ed the storme of his disturbed sences, that af­ter three houres enjoying reposedrest; he waked, and wal­ked, perfected in his minde, and ashamed that he had so de­fac'd the Image of vart [...]e, and abused his owne knowledge. Consideration made him now hold himselfe the sole spight of Fortune, and the very scorne of time, and men. Detracti­on threatned his disgrace, Derision proclaimed his folly, and the guilt of his owne ill, made him privately, and se­cretly, to leave Genoa, and to wander whether his shame should not follow him, nor any heare of his being. But be­fore he departed, he both rewarded, and discharged all his servants, and paying all duties whatsoever; hee lastly writ to La-nova and to his Father as followeth.

La-nova, having read his owne sorrow in his Friends griefe, could not refraine from shedding most bitter [...]es: and having long bewailed the unt [...]ly losse of his so wor­thy a Friend, he speedi [...]d himselfe to [...] Sir Jaquae unto whom hee delivered his Sennes Letter, importing thus much.

Sir Jaques having read the sad contents of his Sonnes resolved last fare-will, fainted under the burden of his so un­supportable griefe, but revived and comforted by La-nova, that was himselfe to be comforted, he [...] betooke himselfe unto his carefull bed; where though his attached tongue could pay no tribute to his dumbe sorrow, yet did his silent woes, shew his speaking griefe. Such was his, woe, that it was a woe, to see his woe: In so much, that La-nova, swol [...] with his owne griefe, was ready to burst, to, see his sorrow; And therefore, having neither temperance to cover the one, nor a heart to looke upon the other; bee returned to his erected Chappell, where he pierc' [...] the very Heavens for the presemtation of his Friend and powred forth his Prayers for his returne. This done, he held himselfe undone, in so mestinable a losse: And af­ter a long and sod meditating with himselfe hee fearefull, [...] went to [...] all their sorrowes might be [Page 62]compleat at once: Her he found all persive and heavie, as one presaging her further mishap; and no sooner she saw him, but that drawing forth the true portractiue of sor­row, out of his carefull countenance, she hastily, yet feare­fully, demanded what newes? The Heavens Madam (sayd La-nova) grant you patience, and more comfortable newes. Vienna agast, gastly asked, if Pari [...] then were dead? Not dead he sayd, and yet departed. Departed, [...] said Vienna, how, whether, or to whom? from life to death, or from me to a causlesse change? If dead, why live I then? If a­live, why then dead to me? Say, say La-nova, where lives, or lyes my Paris? Paris (said La-nova) lives in his sor­row, and dyes in your griefe: But where, a [...]usse I know not; for mad in your affliction, hee is gone in his fury, to dye else-where for his fancy. Vienna, whose eyes over-flowed with teares, and, whose heart was wounded with his words, stood like a second Ni [...]; and then falling suddainly into a deadly trance, she no sooner came to herselfe againe, but that againe she lost her selfe. But after her full recovery, her remembrance then recording, how all her nourished wees had begot many crosses, that miserably fell upon her like halle-stones, that strives to overtake one another; she could not reframe, but thus bewayled herselfe.

What fault of mine, cruell and unkind, hath caused thus thy causlesse slight? Is this, ah this, and woe is me in this, the hoped harvest of devoted Love? Deserves my endured miseries, this ingratefull guerdon? O Paris, Paris, thy love comforted me in my cares, but thy losse hath con­founded me in my Love. O that J had never sea [...] thee, whom yet J wish to see; or seeing there, had never affected thee, whom ever I most affect: My hap is hard, that can neither have, nor hope; and the fault J find in my selfe, followes wee still, while death doth follow me. All La­virva, what now avayles thy doubtfull diligence to dry Friend? under the realous shew of thy [...] sancti­tude? To what end now intends my pining imprisonment the due chastisement of my neglected duty? Am J now be­come [Page 63]the onely Daughter of sorrow, and the cashiered Childe of disgrace? O happie Pertia, thy dead sad woes are all buried in my long liv'd griefes; and Heccubaes teares are all drowned in the [...] of my sorrow. Why then doe I live longer in dolour, since my preordinate life is predesti­nate to a dolent death? I will cruciare my esfamished Bodie? and satiare the angry Fates, with my mortall and tragicall end: The end of my woe, shall be the woefull and of my life; and the life of my laments, shall be the wounds of my death: And therefore leave me La-nova, leave me; that at last, I may honour the Carthagenian Queene by breathing out my lost.

These last wordes, so sore appased La-nova, that jealous of her, weaknesse (her enfeebled estate, being unable to support her oppressing and confounding sorrowes) hee much feared (least overcome with griefe and passion) shee should yeeld to mischiefe her misery: To prevent which, he buried, for the time, all his owne griefe, in the heedfull care of he safety; and closely, wiping his bedewed eyes, he began. Pastor-like, to Preach patience, Faith, Hope, and Comfort, to her sad dismayed Soule. Let not (said he, I beseech your Excellence) any sinister crosse chance, or mun­daine affaires, overthrow, or oppresse, the lively force of your requisite Faith; Nor lot any pusalimity weaken the wonted, courage of your, prudent minde; but build your Faith and hope on him, who as Roy, royall, rules and over­rules all chances and accidents, that befalls humane Crea­tures: Then embrace not a mischiefe, to prevent an ill: since God sends good for evill, as he made light out of darkenosse, Joseph was in prison, before he could be Go­vernor of Egypt; and the Jsraelites were in bond age, before they could come into Can [...]an: You see your soare, but not your salve: Though with Job you lye, now in ashes, yet when with; Job, you be tryed, there shall be no more sor­rowes left to afflict you, then there were sores left to tor­ment him: For as the power of God is above our capaci­ties; So doth his succors and comforts, come quite contra­rie [Page 64]to our hopes: To hi [...] therefore [...] all things, and in him onely repose your selfe; and be you a [...]ited, that in the assurance of your better [...]ust, you shall finde conuo [...] unexpected, and hope w [...]ll rewarded. Grosses (your Grace knowes) are but touch-stones, to try our pati [...]ce; and patience is both a vertue and the true Physitian of distresse▪ And in managing of affection and affliction, is the [...] propse of discretion: To overcome another, is the guist of For [...]; but to vanquish our owne wills, is the true proof [...] of wile courage, and a glory proper to our selves,

I confesse (said Vienna,) that Patience is a Vertue, but a poore one; and that Hope is a heavenly thing, but long hopes consume patience, and water a faire oft, doth [...]ver quench fire at hand; And when two, [...] toge­ther, Death may fall before Summer. Yet [...] (sayd L [...] ­nova) heales griefes, by killing of tat [...], [...]ay, Time (shee replyed) is rather a devourer of our exp [...]tions, then a Chyrurgion to heale our loares: For all men takes pleasure to common theyr journyes [...]nd before they be wearie; and our reeping hopes, would ever be [...] of a gracious Birth. Yet be you Madame (he re-answered) as you should be, if not as you would be, since is will be as it is; and with some sweete deceit, exile these soy [...]er cenceits. Alasse, (sayd Wie [...]na) [...]ow, can soy [...]e conceite, entertaine sweet deceits? since present deceite [...], are still my fowrest con­ce [...]es: Your Physicke La-nova, is good, but my disease is desperate: For patience without comfort, brings perill of consunpt [...]; and they are alwayes unpatient Martyrs, that are punished unjustly: my griefe was at the highest before, and now like swelling Nilus, it disdameth bo [...]nds. Deceive not your selfe, said La-nova, his endeered Lo [...]e, not broe­king your misery; and not his fraud, never knowne to any; with his killing [...]pay [...] (the bloody butcher of all hopes contentments) hath forced thus his su [...]er flight▪ And for probation thereof, [...]de kee [...]e his Let [...] which he sent me; and doubt you not Madame, but when after- [...] shall make him finde the error of his amisse, and that his [Page 65]wounded hope shall bee healed with better thoughts; that then (finding with the sicke man, that the shifting of his Bod, alters not his disease) hee will then, J say, returne in his repentance, and make inquisition after your welfare.

Vienna taking and perusing the Letter, and swallowing up the contents, with contentment, was overcome a smuch, with kind, and affectionate griefe, as before shee was sur­prized with cold care and distast, of his supposed flying san­cie: Insomuch, that washing a new her face, in the balmy drops of her love-distilling reares, shee layd her hands on his shoulder, and sighing sayd; O pardon, La-nova, my offensive offenc [...]. Sweet Faris, where so-ere thou art, par­don my amisse: J was, J am, and will be still the same, and ever thine. Thus having surfeited in her owne sorrow, she purged her jealous conceit, and in the comfort of his con­stant love, she layd her downe on her weeping bed, where La-nova left her, to rest her restlesse thoughts.

By this time, the Moone seven times had showne her ful­lest face, and as many times lost the splendor of her light. When the Prince of Burbon, desirous to see the Emperious Mistresse of his enthralled heart, taking humble leave of his Father, secretly poasted to Vienna, where the Daulphin enknowledged of his comming, went to receive him at his outermost gate. The young Prince, greeted, entertained, and feasted, of some, of many, of all; amongst them all, mist the fairest of them all, the faire Vienua, the admired Princesse of all pulcretude, of whose wished welfare, he as­ked her Father: Who like a subtle Mercurist (cunning in Cautels) soberly sayd; that as yet she had not recovered her health. The young Prince, discomforted in so linge­ring a sicknesse, importuned the Daulphin, that hee might visit her, and so somewhat satisfie his hungry minde, al­most famished with desire. The Daulphin (whose sences held now a Synode) was driven to such a exigent, that not knowing how to avoyde the Cheque without a Mate, he was perforce forced to confesse the trueth. So that taking him aside [...]he swore by Sacrament of solemne Oath, that his [Page 66]whose drift, and desire was, to bestowe his Daughter on none but him; and that he had banished ambitious and au­datious Sir Paris for his over-proud and persumptious love. But such (said he) hath beene, and is still, her perma­nent frowardnesse, and most obstinate disobedience therein, that in injustice, I have justly unprisoned her, not so much for her degenerate breach of duty, (though not to restraine an ill, is to maintaine an ill) as to bring her to yeeld to your fancy: But over-hardened in her wilfull conceit, shee rests no lesse carelesse of her endurance, then resolved in her wil­fulnesse; for which, I also have deprived her offier glory, and comfort; sworne her continuall thraldome, and pray the cont nuance of your good opinion, and amitie.

The young Prince astonished at the strangenesse of the case, wondred greatly at the cause: Yet flattering him­selfe, with selfe-conceite of his worthy worthynesse; He earnestly intreated the Daulphin, that he might make some tryall, what himselfe could doe for himselfe. The Daulphin granting his request, he presently cloathed him­selfe, in the richest Ornaments of Pride and State; and Princely attended, went with more speed, then successe to the Prison; the Doore whereof had but onely a small hole cut forth, to take ayre in, and to receive such leane and slender Sustenance, as was most sparingly allowed her.

Vienns foretold of his comming, had before, gotten by La-uova's meanes, a Capon, whose dismembred Legges; she closely had tyed under the holes of her naked Armes, that there, with heate putrifying, they might the soone [...] cor­rupt, and insavery, smell the stronger. The young Prince comming to the doore, knockt, and demanded for Vienna, Who comming and seeing him so richly clad, and in so glorious an estate, blusht out such beauty, that her very Eves seem'd a fayre Temple wherein Love and Beauty sea­ted themselves: Yet dissembling her knowledge of him she asked what he was, and would. Viennas Friend, (hee sayd) and Viennas Love I would. My Friend, (layd she) oh Friendlesse, name I Friend? that live exempt from [Page 67]Friends: My Love, why name J Love? that onely love to live here unbeloved.

The young Prince (whose listening eares, were well plea­sed with the sweet harmony of her well tuned words; and whose liking Eyes, were ravislied with the sight of her per­fections) was so perplexed betwixt new conceived desires, and disdaine to bee disdained; that not knowing what to say, hee stood like one that had lost himselfe; not reall in sence, but as a faire Flower, nipt with the morning frost, hanging downe his head, as most sorry, for his declining glory: In this dispaire, the remembrance of his owne great­nesse, and the conceit of his owne merits, gave such quick­ning life to his mortified thoughts, and such freedome to his imprisoned tongue, that boldly, and plainely, hee told her, who hee was, why, and for what he came. Ʋienna pleading ignorance for the errour of her carelesse regard, humbled her selfe, with thankfull acknowledgement of his more worthy worthinesse: But such (sayd she) is the obli­gation of my decreed chastity, that nought but death shall breake the bond.

Why Madame (replyed the Prince) in so doing, you wrong Nature, in clouding the brightnesse of her Suone, deprive the world of more glorious light, neglect your duty, in disassenting from your Fathers will, wound my desires with forlorne hopes, and rob your selfe, both of propagating plea­sure, sweetest content, and greatest glory: Then leave these injurious walls, and change your Prison (unfitting your Per­son) for a Pallace prepared for a Princesse; In assurance whereof, accept most renowned Lady, this pledge of my Faith, wherein is charactered the Life of my Love, and the Love of my Soule; and therewith,

This was so Artifieially made and cut; that the falling drops and seeme to mourne, and plead for pitty, and un­derneath [Page 68]them, was engraven; Vie [...]mas helpe. This he gave, and this she gave againe; saying, that by guilts, we make our selves Lords; but by taking slaves: J will not make a Prince servile, not can you make a Prisoner proud: Affe­ction is a meere stranger to affection; and Jewels of price doe not befir a miserable thrall. Then let your owne guift (replyed the Prince) make you a Queene, and me your slave. My foruines (sayd Vieuna) admits of no such Soveraignty; and your Greatnesse is too potent for a Vassaile. J am too poore to give; and it stands not with a Lord to begge; then be you still a King in your owne thoughts, and I will rest content with my Fate. Why, Kings (answered the Prince) have no priviledge in Love: and the Gods themselves were subject to beauty. Vieuna constant in her chaste pretence, seeing his earnest prosecution, and being wearied with re­sistance, because loathing such conference, held it good pol­lity to prevent his further importunity. And therefore she briefely and plainely told him, that she way not for his ho­nour, nor his honour of her humour. For know (shee wee­ping said.) that the long cold and grievous imprisonment, which indurable. I have yet endured, hath so corrupted and putrified my impared body; that the very stench thereof offendeth; and endangereth the small (yet tedious) remain­der of my loathed life. For proofe whereof, shee bearing her breasts, bad him feele, what infectious sent her ulcera­ted and dying flesh yeelded; which he no sooner did but that hee was neere stifled with the smell. The enslamed Prince, thus cooled in his hot pursuites, found his thoughts now freer from affection, then hee deemed his body sound from infection. Such was the choaking savour, that so of­fended his queasie stomacke, that comforting her for fashi­on sake, [...]ee made a briefe conclusion, and there left both her, and his love, that earst would have dyed for love. Vienna well appayed in acquitting her selfe of so trouble­some, and hurtfull a suitor, returned to Jzabella; and sighing out a smile, tolde her, how shee had deceived the Prince; whereat she joyed no little▪ and concluded thereby, that [Page 69]womens pregnant wits, in all cases of sodaine extremities, pre-excelled mens most sapler [...] heads. The Prince thus la­tisfied; acquainted the Doulphin with the circumstance of the matter; which nothing mooved his Tygars heart; which the Prince condemning, held it no security to stay with a Tyrant: and therefore striking sayle, in so threatning a tempest, he tooke his thankefull farewell of him, and all his Knights, and so returned to Burbon.

Now Sir Paris had by this time, recovered the bounds of Turky, where fearing the innate, and inveterated malice of those barbarous Infidels against Christians. To dispietce that threatning cloud, that might shower downe mischiefe on his harmelesse head; Hee made pollicy his gayde, and craft his Councellour; And being a great Artist, and well learned in the secrets of Nature; He cast an Artificiall black­nesse all over him, and transnominated his name by turning his name backeward, he Christned himselfe Sirap, an Arthi­opian borne.

Thus with indefatigable paines he travailed, unregarded of all, and not suspected of any, unto Constantinople; where having knowledge of the Greeke tongue; he conversed with the meanest of estate, the hetter to preserve his owne estate. And it happened, (and happly happened) that For­tune, Fortune-like of his foe, became his friend. For walk­ing one day into the fields; accompanied with none, but with his owne troubled thoughts, hee encountred by adventure with the Sultans chiefs Faulkner, who returning from Hawking, bare on his hand a goodly fayre Fausedn; so dangerously hurt, that there rested no hope of hel [...]. Scrap (for so now must we call him) seeing the Hawke hang her bruised wings and all blooded o [...] her flattered Breast, bring Artificially cunning, and natu [...] [...]ffecting the game pit­tied th [...] [...]hance, and boldly [...] to him, ask [...] [Page 70]how it happened. The Faulkener, neere dead, to see his Hawke almost dead; sadly told him, that flying a [...] the Ri­ver, his Hawke lying at height of highest pitch, made so forceable a stouping on the rising Fowle, that in her stone­like fall, shee nere gorg'd her selfe on a broken bough, that grew amongst other branches, upon the Grovie banke. Such sayd Sirap, is the fortune of the Field; but what will you give, if J recover your Hawke; any thing (said the Faulkner) for that Solimon the great Sultan, doth prize her for her high slying, before any City in Greece: Then Sinap undertaking it, gathered certaine powerfull hearbes, of inward and unknowne vertue, and bought other A­pothecary materials; and so carefully applyed his expert skill, that in short time hee healed, and perfected the so en­dangered Hawke. The Faulkener admiring at his skill (for ignorance is the mother of admiration) in the joy of his thoughts, went and brought his recovered Hawke unto Solimon, and recounted unto him; how that a stranger, an Athiopian borne, that called himselfe Sirap, had effected that cunning Cure; and that he was a man so exquisite in all proportion, and of so goodly and Majesticall a presence, that hee seemed not onely to bee of an Heroicall heart, but also promised more then was usually in a man. The Sultan joy­our of his Hawke, and well pleased with his description, held his requisite cunning in great regard; and his service more necessary then others: And therefore hee instantly sent for him; who no sooner came, but that liking his per­son, hee graced him with his good countenance, and deman­ded what he was, and what occasion brought him into that Region. Sirap, whole Courtly demeanour, might well warrant his behaviour, and in whose face, was stampt the true Character of honour, with humble boldnesse told him, that hee was of no great lineage, nor lively-hood, yet gentle borne; but so subject to the Destinies displeasure, that not brooking his fatall infelicity, hee secretly had left the ut­most South of Aethiopia adjoyning to the Deserts of Libia, his Native soyle, to [...] content else-where in forraigne [Page 71]Nations; And after, said Sirap, I had long with tedious tra­vaile past the hote, and whole Clymate of Affricke, having no other companion then my minde, nor no other lervant then my tongue: I was at length by the guide of Fortune, conducted into this part of Greece, where my thoughts wing [...]d with desire, to see the most great, and mightiest Monarch on the earth, brought me to this your Imperiall seate. The Sultan pleased, with his pleasing and well cou­ched words (grew desirous of his service) and therefore according to the nature of his pride (appropriating to him­selfe authority over all) he Imperiously commanded him to attend his Person: To which, though Sirap knew, that de­nials to such absolute Potentates, were held for capitall of­fences: yet he thus reverently and boldly answered. If, said he, any poore endeavours of mine (most high and mighty Emperour) may be but pleasing to your Greatnesse, I shall then thinke my selfe most happy, when I shall find my selfe able to doo you any agreeable service. But if in any wise your unmatchable Maiesty, seeke so to tye me to your will; that of necessity I must follow your fancy: Then diust I (not offending your magnificence) deeme both your highest Highnesse, unjust; and hold your Law, no Law; because grounded on necessity. The Saltan wondring at his bold and discreet answere, and liking his noble and generous spirit, highly estimated him, according to the vertue of his courage; that could, and dirst with such prudent bold­nesse, and circumspect feare, except against his never con­troled pleasure: And therefore allowing his reasons for rea­son; hee freely graunted him more then the full prehemi­nence of a free priviledged Travailer; and setting greatnesse and the law of his will aside; he gently entreated him, but to make some stay in his Court, and hee would moun [...] his fortunes, by his extended favours.

[Page 72] For Sirap, being thus rarely, and royally intreated, and entertained with the Sultans unknowne, and unusuall favors and requests; wholly humbled himselfe at his command; and said, that albeit, he had vowed continuall Pilgrimage to sundry Regions; yet would he in some sort, yeeld obedi­ence to his will, and dispence for a time with his conscience, because he would not oppose, not resist the pleasure of his will, nor the command of his potent power. The Sultan glad of his grant; gave one of his [...]ashaes in charge, that he should be provided for at his dispenses; who presently placed him next to the house, where the Tartarian Ambas­sadour, but newly arrived, was lodged.

Now amongst the Ambassadours followers, there was one that farre exceeded all the rest in huge height, incompara­ble strength, and great proportion, insomuch that the Turkes did with wonder admire his stature, and deemed his Sampson-like force, beyond the power of men. This grim and insatiating Tartar (whe serv'd no other God, but his will: nor observ'd no other law, but his lust) being one day left behind, to manage some affaires in the house, when the rest were gone to the Court: suddainly, and most rudely seazed upon a young Damosell, that as unfortunatly as unadvisedly, was come to see the provision, and manner of these Strangers. Her (without any shew of good en­treaty, or kind usage) with a facile force he carried into a Chamber, and disvirginated her; notwithstanding her sh [...]ll [...]yes, that call'd in many (but too late) to her ayd. This untamed beast, or rather infernall Devill, fiding himselfe oprest with multitudes, grew so [...]aged, that his wrath had no meane, neither did his interrupted fury, admit of any consideration, but dreadlesse both of Law and danger, place, and people: hee threw all to the earth, that came neere to him, endeavouring still to retaine his prey, which made the out-cryes of all so great: That Serap being in his Chamber, at the [...]use thereof, rushed in with his peacea­ble sword, and finding him carrying the [...] Mayd, in an unmannerly manner from them, [...] [Page 73]Chamber, hee so powerfully smote him on the face with his displeased hand, that force, perforce, hee was forc'd to leave his hold, and betake him to his angry Semitar, with which hee furionsly assaulted him. But Sirap (who held it a great fault, not to doe a good thing well) readily returned him vnwelcome interest, for his so willing leave. Long did they worke on each other, like tempests on a Shippe, and the bloud of both, did well shew, that neither of them were well pleased: None durst come neere them, till that Killer Aga, Captaine of the Janizaries, heating of this tumultu­ous and debatefull strife, came in, and stayed the fight.

The Damosels Father, and friends, (standing upon theyr strength of restimony) pursued the outrage, by way of com­plain [...] against the Tartar, and required of Solymon the bene­sit of Law. The Tarter (countenancing himselfe under the protection of Potency and Ambassagie) pleaded the privi­ledge of his place, and said, That he was not lyable to theyr ordinances; nor subject to any but his owne Lord, the Em­perour: who in Majesty, might, and merit, farre surmounted all other Potentates of the world, and thereupon offered in open Court Combat, thundring out defiance against all, that but durst averre the contrary.

Solim [...]n much distasting his ungoverned pride, and worse dis-jesting his barbarous outrage, and offensive contempt: did in wardly fret that no one durst attempt to quench, nor allay the prodigall heate of his foolish fire; and not know­ing how otherwise to correct his insolence, since Kings should ever shew themselves rather just, then great: and the law of Nations (which is the state of Peace, and mainte­hance of Honour) did warrant his tryall by Combat; hee (at last thus deliberately concluded: That the [...] day follow­ing, he should be ready Armed at all assayes, and mounted like a Knight, to make that good with his sword, which hee so arrogantly and over-audaciously had delivered [...]ith his tongue. And if there came not any one then to chastise his stily, and correct him for his bruish, and injurious at­teu [...]pts, that th [...] he should be free from touch, both of law [Page 74]and life. This being rumoured abroad, came to Siraps eares, who grieving to loose opportunity, as one that thirsted after occasion, both to shew his courage in honourable revenge, and to doe Solimon some commendable service: though his resolution was a sufficient Armour for the encounter, yet knowing that naked valour, could promise no successe where Armed force did assaile: his greatest feare was, least for want of Armour, and furniture, others would out the grasse from under his feete, and so deprive him both of favour and fortune. But this couragious feare, was ac­quitted by the timorous feare of all others, that feelingly feared such desperate and deadly attempts, as promised nei­ther hap, nor hope of good successe. At length the day be­ing come, and all things in order, came Solimon with his Sultanesse, attended with his Vice-royes; Beglerbegs, and Bas­shaes in great Royalty, and 2000. Armed men for his Guard, and in the place ofteyall assigned, he seated himselfe and his Sultanesse upon a glorious Throane within his Im [...]eriall Pa­villion; great was the presse, and many the people, that wayted on the issue hereof: when suddainly the sound of Trumpet shewed the neere approach of the Tartar: who (in honour of his earthly God, the sonne of the light, the terrour of men, and for the repute of his Country) came with his sword drawine, accompanied with the Ambassador and all his followers, most richly furnished. The Appel­lant himselfe being mounted on a couragious Horse, his Caparisons, and other his furniture, all of purple Sattin, embroydered with gold all over, with dismembred heads, armes and savered legges of slaughtered men, besprinkled all with blood.) And in his Shield hee over-gloriously ba [...] his owne picture naked; holding a Combiting Lyon, stisled by the throat with his hand, and vnderaeath was written, WHAT NOT: In this terrifying equiqage, he stayed at the Barriers of the Lysts, untill the Officers ap­poynted for that service, demanded what he was and wher­fore he came; who answered, that hee was Turbident the fierce, the invincible Tartar, that came to proove by his [Page 75]sword, that he being onely subject to the greatest Monarch on earth (who had no equall) ought not to vndergoe the censure of any other inferiour power, and thereupon de­manded entrance; which being permitted, hee put vp his sword, and was conducted to the vpper end of the Lysts, where lighting, he was seated in a rich Chaire, suitable to his Basses, to repole himselfe in: Neere vnto which, was pitch'd a most stately Tent for the Ambassador, and his Trayne. Then the Herauld was commanded to summon the Defendant by sound of Trumpet, but no one appeared, which made Solimon featefull of disgrace. Then he soun­ded the second time, but no one presented himselfe: which made the proud Tartar (in arrogancie or his redoubted pu­issance) to stand vp, and drawing his terrified sword, hee brandished i [...] ouer his head, in such tryumphing and da­ring manner, that the great Sultan seeing his insulting pride, could scarce containe himselfe within himselfe, Then as the Herauld sounded his last summons, a lowly Hermit, clad all in gray, leaning on a staffe of Ebony, stayed him with his other hand, and required; that hee might speake with Solimon the Emperour, who being brought before him, bowed himselfe, thrice before him, and then prayed in zeale of justice, and for the honour of the Turkish-Empire, he might haue Horse, and Armour, to tame that vncivill and vntutored Tartar, whose pride; hee said, was not so high, but that Vengeance did sit above it.

The Sultan glad that any one durst, and would in his ho­nour undertake, so great and fearefull a hazard; comman­ded that presently he should be with-drawne, and brought to his Armoury, and there at his choyse be Arm'd, and moun­ted as his proper Champion; which was no sooner said, but that the Hermit being attended on thither, tooke (vp­on the view of all) one of the largest and one that fitted his owne conceit best: wherewith being Armed; and moun­ted, he shewed himselfe at the Barriers end of the Lyst, in a bright Azure Armour, like vnto the skie, with a halfe Moone in the midst, both before, and behinde: His Basses, [Page 76]Caparizons, and other furniture waved like a Sea, full of silver Fishes, that seemed as he rid, to stirre; and play under so bright a Planet. On his Shield hee had a Ship, stayed (in the midst of a Sea) by a little Fish, called Remora; and his impresse was, Vertue, not force. As thus hee stood looking for entrance, The appointed Officers, demaunded what he was, and wherefore hee came, who answered, that he was a Man of peace, a devout Hermite, and one of the least of the most humblest Servants of Great Solimon; Who for the love of Honour, and to honour his Lord, came to ap­proove that the Sultan of Turkie, was a greater and a more Emperiall, and a more magnificant Monarch, then the Tar­tarian Emperour, and much more renowned in his person; And that Turbulents shämefull, and criminall offence, was punishable (by all Nationall lawes) where the fault was committed; and this he would make good on his body, and desired to enter the Lyks. Vpon this, all the Turkes gave a great showt, and cryed God, and Mahamet for the Hermit: And so putting up his Sword, hee was conducted by one of the Bacshaes to the other end of the Lysts, where dismoun­ting himselfe, hee was seated in a rich Chayre of State, curi­ously wrought with halfe Moones in silver, and set with pre­tious Stones. During theyr small repose, the elected Offi­cers viewed theyr Armes; and theyr Armours, to see whe­ther they were of equall length, and that there were no wrong done to Chivalry: and then the chiefe Herauld pro­claimed, that no one vnder paine of death should enter the Lysts, but the Officers appoynted to the strvice, and that no one should cast any thing into the Lysts, nor use any words, nor signe to discourage, or encourage other party.

This done, he bade the Combatants to rise, and mount themselves, and at the sound of Trumpet to begin the as­sault. At the setting foorth it could not be discerned who was first. The Tartar, bearing his Mast-like Staffe over high, carried away part of the Hermites Plume; But the Hermite (unto whom Judgement and custome gave an advantage) bare himselfe so evenly in his winged Course, th [...] he hir the Tartar so forceable on the brest, that though the good­nesse [Page 77]of his [...] donyed e [...]trance, yet did is make him doe homage to the strength of the blow: For Turbulent keeping his [...], wo [...] notwithstanding, by the breaking of all his Girthes, for on the ground, with his Saddle betwixt his legges. This not onely moved great laughter, but stroke all men with such a wonder, that where before they could not harbour the least hope, now then began to looke after good [...]op. The Tartar swelling with [...]efull [...] (like unto the disturbed Ocean) breathed out direfull revenge; and furiously drawing foorth his dreadfull Sword, called soo him, (who needed no summons at all) threatning death and d [...]struction, not onely to him, but to all [...]. But the Hermit, whose undismayed codrage, could nor be silsken with any boysterous windes; upon his stopage, [...]ur [...]ed his Horse, and seeing him on foote, (scorning the advan­tage) alighted, and [...] bathing his correcting [...], ad­visedly came towards the Tartar, who rudbly [...] him, with so magntie a blow, that notwithstanding his full war [...], with his Shield h [...]e was forced to stagger a little; whereby hee knew the unresistable strength [...], and more warily stood after, rather upon motion, then war­ding: Yet did his superlative valour, equall the others in­comparable strength: But the Hermit, in guerdon of Tur­bulents cold curtesie, returned him such [...], as made his dazeled eyes ready to start out of his: dis [...]bed head. This interchange of puissant stroakes (ench [...]ing like the C [...]lops blowe, upon their fiery Anviles) beg [...] such sp [...]full disdaine, and hal [...]inous rage in both, that the [...] pe [...]tuous futie of theyr stormy blower came like [...], to the amazement of the beholders: The gleat [...] unres [...]stable strength of the one, shewing both might and courage; and the unmatchable valour, and practive skill of the other, shewing [...] prow is and [...], madde with hatefull and ang [...] [...] one should or could, so stand against him ( [...]ing to his to [...] favling strength) layden such loade on the magn [...]ous Her [...]ite, as all men wondered how he could keepe hi [...] stan­ding, [Page 78]or standing, durst once stand [...]o withstand him: But the bold haughtie Hermite, whole watchfull care, and vsed skill, had made him export in such threatning tempests, gaue some way vnto that stormie shower, avoyding the danger, sometimes by motion of his Bodie, and sometimes by strong and warie wardes; ne [...]er loosing any aduantage to offend, hot giuing ground in his defence.

In the [...], finding the Tartars wasting fury to consume it selfe; In the abatement thereof, he so redoubled his re­newed blowes, which like hayle-stones, stroue to ouertake each other before they fell, that Turbulent knew not how to auoide the greatnesse of the storme. Now was there se­uerall Armonts broken, bruiled, and mangled in many pla­ces, and the blood that issued from thour both, made the dyed Earth a witnesse of their implacable rage. But the Tartar, that had lost most bloed, finding his strength to a­bate, vnited all his forces together, and mote the Hermite so forceable oh his Burgonet, that notwithstanding his Shield, which then he cloue asunder, he brought him on his knees maugro both his warde and his might; but such was his quicke deliuerie, and inuincible courage, that he was no soone [...] downe, then he was vp againe [...]; and seeing himselfe [...] of the best part of his defence, he was so overcome with scornefull anger, that he had beene brought so lo [...]; that he began to renew the Fight, more furiously, and with much more puissant and insupportable blowes, then before [...] and finding (by his euerwatching eye) that the Val [...]b [...]sse was broken, and falne from the Tartars Cu­ [...], and that he was willing his aduantage [...] taking his threatning and wrathfull Sword in both his hands, hee hit him so full and so strongly on his disarmed Arme, that hee severed it from his oursed Bodie, so that Arme, and harmeful sword fell [...] to the ground. The Tultar, and all the [...] onder [...] wonditing at the greatnesse of the blow [...] of so terrible a combate, admired who that valiant Hermite should be that with such vnwearied force, and such approued skill, had sh [...] ­ed [Page 79]such prowesse, as the like was neverr seene.

The losse of the Tartars arme made him curse heaven, and earth, and frothing at his mouth like a wilde chaffed Bull, he bellowing out wrath, and vengeance in such a [...]dding manner, that (being as ignorant of his Fate, as he was impu­dently mad in the maintainance of his ignominious wrong) he desperately runne headlong on the Hermit; thinking so to beare him over. But advised experience, and wary cir­cumspection, which had ever arm'd the Hermit for all acci­dents and assaults, made him unwilling of such unkind embracement: And therefore made stopage by a most for­tunate thrust, which finding entrance under his bruised Ta­ses, runne upwards and made quicke inquisition after his death. Thus was the pride of Goliah turned into confusion, and thus fell the redoubted Tartar, like a great Towre upon the earth, to the amazed griefe of the Ambassadour, and all his Traine; and to the admiring joyes of the Sultan and his Turkes. But the Hermit, who ever held, that to destroy mercifully, was to save; stept to him, and pulling off his head-piece, with his sword he smote off his fearefull head, and holding it up on high, Cryed, God save Solimon, the invincible Sultan, and mightiest Emperour, and greatest Po­tentate on earth.

This being done, the Trumpets tryumphantly sounded forth the joy of most pleasing victory, and all the people made such rejoycing Cryes, that their applauding shouts pierc't the lower Region, to witnesse their glory on the earth. But silence being made, the heroicall victorious Hermit (arm'd with glorious conquest) was betwixt two Beglerbegges (the chiefest of the Turkish Nobility) brought with sounding Trumpets unto the Sullan, who commen­ding his great strength, his surmounting prowesse, and most invincible courage, commanded him to put off his Helmet, that he might know who had so much honoured him, that according to his great, merit, hee might dese [...] ­vedly advance him. To which the humble Hermit answe­red, that all his Actions did ayme at Honour, not at advance­ment; [Page 80]and that the favours he had already found and recei­ved of so great a Prince, was all-sufficient in it selfe, to en­able a weaker arme to performe a greater worke; besides his desire (he sayd) did carry him beyond all meanes, and ability; to doe him a more pleasing service; And there­withall taking off his Helmet, in all humility he bowed his body (according to the Turkish manner) thrice unto him. But when Solimon saw that he was Sirap, his neer affected and entertained friend, laying aside all State and regard of greatnesse, he came to him, and embracing him, said: How shall the Turkish Sultan requite the honourable love of so praise-worthy a friend, but in the renowned hazard of his invaluable life, hath both preserved, and dignified my name, and the fame of my Empire. But more bentting times shall shew us respectfully gratefull, and affectionately mindfull, of so vertuous a friend, so famous a Champion, and so glo­rious an act. In the interim, hee commanded that three of his chiefe Bashaes should ride before Sirap, and that the first should carry the Tartars louped arme and Sword: the second his unweldy Speare, and massie Shield; and the third, his grim and terrible severed Head; and that after should follow the monstrous and headlesse trunke of that huge boasting Goliah; after whom would march the disgraced Ambassadour, and all his discontented traine: And that Si­rap mounted on his Courser, all alone, with his naked blou­died sword in his hand, like a Conquerour should follow; and after him, he himselfe, the Sultanesse, and all his royall Attendants should ride, and so passe through the City, to his Pallace. This he did to honour his friend; And out of this honour, did Fugenia his Sultanesse more affectionately looke upon the merit of Sirap. His carriage seemed now more majesticall; his colour though blacke, shee deemed lovely; and the noblenesse of his spirit, deserved (shee thought) the favour of the greatest Empresse. This liking begot longing, and she desired how to enjoy, what she was enjoyned not to affect. The remembrance of her place, and the terrour of their law, qualified, but not quench'd her [Page 79]sired fancie; which she seeking to smother in the embers, burst out after into a greater, and more shamefull flame.

But Sirap, during his repose, for the healing of his wounds, entering into consideration of his crosse fortunes, seeing his admired victories applauded with open joyes, honour, and tryumphes; and his dejected and enthralled heart, still clad in blacke woe, and accompanyed onely with secret griefe, and tormenting passions. To feed his distaste of rejoycing, with some sad conceites. He suitably compo­sed these few following reverst, and returning verses; which being read either forward or backward, are still the same in sence both wayes; and either way, end in meeter.

Thus did he shewe himselfe to be ever one, as constant in his woes as he was unremoveable in his love; And thus ever in his houres of leasure, did either his tongue com­plaine, or his penne manifest his sorrow. But when loathed time had healed his honoured wounds. The grand Sultan to give his solitarinesse some sollace, sent unto him, that the next day hee should be in befitting readinesse to attend him to the chase of the wilde Boare, in the neere adjoyning for­rest; And commanded one of his Basshaes to see that Sirap should be well mounted, and furnished accordingly. For still it bare him in minde (seeing the map of Majesty in his eyes, and finding the vertue of true Nobility in his thoughts) that he was extract from Royall bloud; And by this meanes, hee thought he should (by his observance) make a further tryall thereof. The next morning Phoebus had no sooner rent the sable Clouds, and wash'd his face with the dew of the earth, but that the winding of base and bugle hornes, [Page 80]summoned the Sultan to his Silvan sports, and Sirap to his attendance.

And long it was not, but that each one was in full readi­nesse, and being horsed, rid to the Forrest, where separa­ting themselves, they tooke divers wayes, the sooner to finde theyr game, but still Sirap attended the Sultan, whose fortune was to espie the Boare, whetting of his angry Tushes in the mouth of his denne, as though hee had fore­seene his pretended pursuit, and meant to wound his pursu­ing foes. The Sultan proud of such successe, gave spurres to his flying Horse, and with carelesse eagernesse unlodging the beast, pursued him so swiftly, that none but Sirap could come neere vnto him. The Boare seeing himselfe pursued, fled by decreed desteny towards the middest of the Desart; where the Turke fast following, was sodainly seazed on by a great, fell and hideous Dragon.

Sirap seeing the Sultan so embraced within the murthe­ring armes of death, (knowing no feare to make a pawse) set spurres to his Horse, and so furiously runne at him with his Boare-speare, that he happily wounded him under the left wing. The fierce Dragon feeling the smart of his hurt, left his vnkind hold, and smote with his wings so violent­ly at Sirap, that he brake his Speare all to pieces. Then drew Sirap his Semiter, which the Sultan had that morning given him, and freshly assaulted that dreadfull Beast with such advised heedfulnesse, that hardly could that enra­ged Monster fasten on him; so quicke in agility, so ready in dexterity, and so watchfull hee was at all times. But in the end he smote Sirap so forceably with his Serpentine tayle, that maugre all his might and strength, he was constrained to fall on the ground: when the wrathfull Dragon advancing his threatning wings, and opening his infernall mouth, made offer as she would devoure him at once. But Sirap see­ing the danger, carried so vigilant an eye, and so ready a hand, that the Dragon no sooner stooped to feaze on him, but that, as hee lay vpright on the ground, hee so strongly thrust his well steeled Semiter into his almost unpenitrable [Page 81]brest, that piercing his heart, hee sodainly prevented death by death. Now the frighted Sultan, who onely was but pinched a little with his clawes; was no sooner free from that murthering Beast, but that creeping amazedly into a thicke bushy Grove, he fearefully hid himselfe there, scarce daring to lend his eyes, to behold that vncouth and peril­lous Combat. But when he saw Sirap on his feete, striking off that gastly and monstrous head; and elivating it on the point of his Semiter, and turning himselfe, called for his Lord. Then, then, came he forth in the admiration of his thoughts; and kneeling downe, first gaue thankes to Ma­homet, and then to him, for his so redeemed and preserued life. But Sirap yeelding the heauens onely thankes, bad him ascribe the onely glory thereof to God, and not to him a sinfull man, or to any other surmized power; since none but God had armed his humble heart with vndaunted courage; and none but God could haue giuen his weake hand such a happie Conquest. As thus they sacrificed their thankes. One of the Bashawes, that had lost himselfe in the pursuit, came straying in by chance, unto whom the Sultan recoun­ted all the accident: with such admiring wonder of Siraps worthy valour, that both the Sultan, and his Basha, estee­med him as another Mahomet. In this height of Solimons joy for his secured life; hee commanded the Bassha himselfe to carry the Dragons head before Sirap into the Citie, and that his man should poast before to publish that thrice re­nowned deed, that the Citizens might tryumph in their Lords escape, and honour Sirap for his purchased life. And no sooner it was revealed, but that the Citizens first amazed with wonder, and after ravished with joy, wholly went to meet their earthly God; whom once reveren [...]ed, they guarded to the City gate; where the Caliph (the Primate of their superstition) to celebrate the happinesse of Solimons preservation, accompanied with all the order of their cere­monious Priests, received him, and brought him after their Hereticall, or rather Heathenish manner to his Pallace. The next day hee caused the Dragons head to be set on his [Page 82]Pallace gate, that all men beholding it, might know their Lords danger, and Siraps valour. Then he a stembled all his Basshaes, and in their presence would have created him one of his Visiers; which with all thankfull humility hee reve­rently refused, as not capable yet of that dignity, and there­fore humbly requested his Greatnesse, that hee would for a time pardon his deniall, untill the infancy of his weake merit, were growne stronger in better deserts, which well pleased Solimon; because Solimon would not displease Sirap. Then began he to feast, and to make tryumphes in his Court. Where Sirap honoured Knighthood in those Justs, and gra­ced those Justs in honour of the Sultan. Such was his Knight­ly carriage, such his unresistable courage; so well could hee manage his furious Steed, and so redoubted was hee in all his encounters, that all men rather deemed him the God of Armes, then a man in Armes. For there was neither Turke, nor Sarazen, that could withstand his puissant force: nor was there any dismounted, that held himselfe dishonoured. So highly did they estimate his unequalled valour, that they held his power rather divine then humane. As for the vulgar sort they flock'd about to see him, with such applauding shoutes, as though Mars had left his hea­venly Spheare, and discended amongst them, to sport him­selfe on earth.

These Heroicall deeds of famous Chivalry, begot admi­ration in all, but brought forth such unresistable affection in the faultfull Sultanesse, that what before shee held deadly, now she deemed it not to bee veniall: Lascivious love dis­solved the bonds of all respects, and her mind being set on desire nothing could limit her adventures. For though lust cary ruine behind her, yet must the Queene of love enjoy the God of Warre: yea, though Vulcan frame and lay his subtill nets for their discovery. How to make Argoes sleepe, was all her unquiet care; the eyes of the Eunuches must bee made: blind, eyther with Gold, or guile; which shee put in practice by calling these watching Attendants, or rather jealous Jaylors unto her; unto whom shee told, that the [Page 83]day following, Hirena another of the Sultans Wives, had secretly appoynted a Grecian Hero to come to solace with her; for as that day, the Sultan himself, his Visters, Basshaes, and Martiall Commanders, would sit in the Divano, there to consult and conclude, for the invading of Christendome; And if they would stand as faithfull Sentinels in such a place as she would covertly appoynt them to, and carefully make their prying eyes full witnesses of her sportfull abuses, that then she would guild their labours over with Gold, en­rich their estates, and make them more pleasing in the Sul­tans eyes, for that regardfull service, The Eunuches, whose offices stood upon such employments, embraced the offer, and promised theyr best endeavoure.

The Sultanasse proudly glad, that she should by this de­ceitfull meanes, be freed from these preventing and inter­rupting Spirits, made now no question of opportunity; and therefore no doubt of the fruition of her desire; To hasten which she called unto her Mentiga, one of her attendants, whom she before had fashioned to her purpose, and gave her in secret charge, that she should that evening following, disguise her selfe in Mans apparell, and goe to the victori­ous Aethiopian, and warily deliver him that Letter, and crave his answer. Glad was Mentiga of this imployment, it fitted her nature well; and hope of reward gaue speed to her desires, to doe her Mistresse some pleasing service. The evening being come, this mindfull Montiga (sinnes packhorse) that had tyred many a Man, now attired her selfe like a Man; and going, found Sirap alone in his Cham­ber; vnto whom, humbling her solio, she delivered her carnall Letter, which thus pleaded in her Misteisses behalfe.

Sirap having read this with amazement, stood abashed, not that overpowerfull Love had given her such bold coun­tenance; but that licentious Lust had armed her with such Impudency. Hee now found that the dry Earth, the Grave, and a wicked Woman, were three unsatiable things: But her alluring sollies could not win him nor her attractive of­fers weine him from the constant resolve of his vertuous dispose; For though Fortunes gates were set wide open for him to enter, yet hee well knew, that asmuch would hurt the ill that hee should find as the good that he should loose: Though Lawrell (he said) hee of high esteeme yet who so tasteth it shall find it bitter. Vices may vanish but their effects can not perish: and therefore he chose rather with the Bee, to extract Honey from every weed, then with the [Page 85]Spider to gather poyson of the fayrest slower. Viennas love was a rich rocke of defence against all Siren songs, nor would the binding benefits he had received of the Sultan suffer him to blast his benefactors Vine, nor make him mud the fountaine that gave him drinke: A perpetuall repenting sorrow, he could not buy, for so golden and glorious see­ming a solace: For what profiteth it to touch, nay have the Crowne? and after to be smitten downe with the Scepter. Dignities aggravate the offence against him, that is bound not to offend; and such pleasures ever contaminate those that imbrace them. False disloyaltie could not corrupt him nor could poverty infect him. As these considerations made him resolute in the refusall so doubtfull, feare made him carefull, least his denyall should beget disdaine, and dis­daine bring forth direfull revenge; for vnjust Women, doe never appease their wrathfull ires against just Men. To sayle betwixt these threatning Gulphes, was dangerous, yet like a wise Pilot, he turned himselfe to the stearne of his best, providencie; and taking Pen and Inke, hee no lesse subtilly then suddainly, writ her such an answere, as (being left of purpose unpointed) might sensibly be read, either to sute her desire, or to excuse his denyall. This Letter he sealed, and delivered it to the Protean Messenger, with excuse of the necessity of his Religious observation, to celebrate his Nativitie the next day, and that he would couetously attend, and joyfully embrace the benefit of the next Tyde. By this colourable delay, he freed himselfe from all hazard, and by winning of time, he hoped to avoyde all dangers. But Eugenia receiving the Letter, read it as followes.

THe awe of Majestie, and bond of oblieging honestie I re­gard, not the consideration of so glorious Loue, shall make me yours; the greatnesse of your merit J acknowledge, and will affect as I ought; respectiuely I honour the estimate of your Place, and Greatnesse; your Loue I will affectionately em­brace neuer; Eugenia for me, shall fayle of her desire, and Sirap will euer liue freely; yours in all service,

[Page 86] Disdaine of contempt, and rancorous despight for refu­sed favours, would scarce let her read out the last word, but that throwing it away in a most distastfull rage, shee vowed that his life should answer the disgrace: which Mentiga hearing, grieved that her labours had brought forth no better fruit, and finding her Paradiz'd hopes cast downe, shee in a most scornefull manner tooke up the Let­ter, and happily road it the other contrary way, and there­withall humbling her selfe, be sought her Majesty to take a better view thereof, and not to contemne him, that gave her such ample and pleasing content. Content, nay con­tempt sayd Engenia, thou wouldst say. Thinkest thou that I cannot see reade, nor understand what he hath done? what madnesse moves thee to perswade mee to unpossibilities. Thy idle words cannot make my constant eye, a Traytor to my perfect judgement. See here witlesse woman, that hast either lost thy fight, or thy sences. Reade, reade, and let every word winne thy assistance to my just, and cruell re­venge. It shall (most potent Empresse) answered Mentiga, so that in your owne milder nature, and more temperate dispose, you will but vouchsafe to see with patience, what I shall most truly and directly reade. I will sayd Eugenia on that condition, and thereupon Mentiga read the same againe, and as shee read it, she poynted, it with her finger, as followeth now poynted.

[Page 87] Now most meritorious Lady (sayd Mentiga) and wor­thyest of Princes, what mislike can you gather from so full a consent of love? Or what could you expect more from him, then to be wholly yours? with adventure of life, he offers love, and not regarding danger he devotes himself to your pleasure. O happy Lady, Soveraign Queen of Fortune, and sole com­mander of contentment; that out of your own fancy can tri­umph over others affections, and at your own pleasure enjoy your desires with wished delights. Eugenia amazed, and con­founded with wonder, knew not what to say, or thinke of her selfe: Sure shee was that she read it directly o­therwise, and as assuredly she found it now to bee other­wise.

In this silent confused study she punished all her thoughts with variety of hinking, and stood like a fair livelesse picture, made to life; but wanting life, vntil fatall Mentiga awaked her wandring spirits, and thus merrily cheered her.

Nay, most mighty Empress (she sayd) confess your error, and your pardon shall be granted: heer is nothing metamor­phosed; only you may see, that there is nothing well done, that is ill construed. Your fear to loose what you wished to have; made you think as you doubted; beleeve what you feared; and read as you deemed. But that cloud being dispierced, look now with comfort upon the glory of the Sun, and with joy receive the benefit of his sweet influence, and therewithall she read, and re-read it, with such plain and direct pointing of it, that the Sultanesse (being easily made apt to embrace what she desired) acknowledged her over sight, and never after sought to read it in any other manner, or to any other sense.

To ratifie which, Mentiga told her, that he sorrowfully craved pardon for his next days attendance. For that it being his birth day, he was tyed both by his Countries custom, and by his oblieged observance, religiously to celebrate it, in a sacred sort according to their wonted and hallowed manner. This was somewhat cordiall unto her wounded heart, though not so comfortable as she desired. And yet it did (because it must) [Page 88]satisfie for the time: which time, was all, surprized Sirap sought to gain: For in the delay of dayes he hoped to prevent that threatning evill, which so dangerously (like a prodigious, though bright Comet) proclaimed and prognosticated his destruction. In the mean time he left the pleasing and entising sports of the court (for pleasures are no pastimes for male-con­tented and disconsolated men) and purposely walked all alone into the fields (the freer to enjoy his own thoughts) where sud­denly making a stand in his melancholy pause, he writ in the sand with the point of his sword as follows.

No sooner had he writ the last Letter, but with his discon­tented foot he buried them all in their own Sepulchers, and smoothing he place againe, stampt out this new inscripti­on.

But then calling to remembrance his enthralled Lady, ly­ing hopelesse, haplesse, and heartlesse: in his losse, in her love, and in her selfe. And finding himselfe exiled from Prince, Parents, and possessions, wandering like a fugitive, from for­raign places, to places still unknown. Then, then, drowning the late flowing streame of his gotten glory, in the full Sea of present hard haps; he began thus to ease his oppressing griefe, by pleading, and publishing to the winds his case, and cause of grievous care.

O false Fortune (said he) constant only in inconstancy, how hast thou made me a mirror of thy many mutabilities.

First, thou flatteredst my clyming thoughts with impe­riall conceits, and promisedst successe to my aspiring hopes, [Page 89]and then, even then, thou punishest my desires with di­strusting favours. After thou didst erect rich and glorious Trophses, for my renowned Victoryes; and in thy greatest grace, disgrace my fortunes, and eclipse my honour, with most obscure and clouded Conquests. Then in thy fraudulent smiles, thou wingedst my hope with beauties con­sent, and madest me flye in the heaven of my blisfull con­tentment. But after (like a cruell Tyrant, thou thrust my heart out of Paradise, and like a Thief, robbed my desires of his purchased Prey. And now rather to shew thy stay­lesse state, then to salve any wound thou gavest; thou gir­dest me with pleasing glory, and unaffected favours in Greece, and feedest my mated mind with unseasonable joyes; when alas my excruciated thoughts cannot but live, as strangers in forraign delights.

O sweet Vienna, in thee only have I lost the beauty of the world, the pride of all joys, the sweetest fruit of best content, and the highest mark of true loves ambition: And for thee only all these remonstrances of love, joy, mirth, solace, and triumphs, seem unto me but as the rich spoils of a vanquished Kingdom, in the eye of a Captive Prince; which as they are, but as unbrea­dings of his losse; so are these, but as sharp whetstones to my continuated sorrows.

O how these Barbarian, and Turkish times of comfort, sound in my eares, like the Israelites bemoaning Musicke, upon the Babylonian bankes: And how the Sultan, and his Emperesses affording graces, seem unto me but as the gly­stering sparkes of a broken Diamond, and the Pictures of dead and decayed beauties; fair signes, not salves, of my lost felicity; and true memorials, not medicines, of my pur­chast calamity. O Vienna, Vienna, as thou art the food of my thoughts, the relief of my wishes, and the onely life, and repasse of all my desires, so is thy love to me a continu­all hunger; and thy absence an extream famine. Then par­don my enforced flight in my stormy fury, driver there­unto by my angry Pates; and let my faith live still in thy fan­cy, which is nor to be controlled by any Fortune. But ala [...], [Page 90]thou livest thy self, a Captive Prince to thy will; and a most de­solate prisoner to thy abused constancy.

O cruell Dolphin, Tiger-hearted Father, and most unnatu­rall, and unrelenting Parent; the smallest drops will soften the hardest stones, but natures greatest tears, cannot supple thy flo­ny heart: thy justice without pitty, is as cruell as pitty, without justice is foolish. If wrath were not by mercy to be appeased, no flesh should be saved.

O would—and thus as he would have floated further in the Sea of his sorrow, he was interrupted and driven out of his Sa­turnall humor, by a certain messenger of worth, that the Turk had sent to seek him, with whom he returned, shadowing his grief, with the borrowed vail of seeming pleasant; and arming his patience with noble resolution, to give way to all occurrents, and to withstand all sinister accidents.

No sooner was he come into the Sultans sight, but that he cheerfully called him, and briefly told him, that he meant to in­vade Christendome: And that for his approved Prowes, and for the love he bare him, he meant to grace him with the con­ducting of his Army, and make him Generall over all his for­ces. This said he is our will, and this your charge; Then see that your performance answer our expectation, and that our love be guerdoned with your victories. Sirap wounded with these words, knew not how to lay a plaister on this sore, yet resolved in his Countries good he humbly prostrating himself, yeelded all reverend thanks, for such his great esteem and gracefull res­pect.

But such (said he, pardon me, most victorious, and most mightiest, of most mightiest Princes) is my unpractized know­ledge in Marshalling of Troops, and ranging of Battels, that I should rather eclipse the feared honour of your name, by my overthrow; then eternize your gotten same by my Con­quests. Besides know (most great Commander) that though I be a mortall enemy to the Crosse of Christ, and an inhe­rent foe to all Christians; yet for some private causes (best knowne to my selfe) I vowed long since never to tread on Christian ground, nor come where any worship that Mes­sias [Page 91]for their God. Then let (I humbly intreat your Imperi­all Majesty) some other in worth more worthier; supply my defects in their better deserts, and bury not your living re­nown in my so probable ignorance, and unexperienced disci­pline.

The Su'tan weying the danger of an unpractised Gene­rall, allowed the rather his devout objections; and consi­dering the religiousnesse of his vowes, (though he held it superstitious in it self) yet would he not violate his conse­crated promise; but yeelding to his request, he made Mu­stapha, Basha, his Generall; and the preparation for him was so great that the bruit thereof piercing, the Western clyme, came to the knowledge of the French King; who as the grea­test Christian Prince, assembled his wisest counsellours, and noble Peers, praying also in ayd of all his allyes, and Princely confederates about him, to confer, and conclude somewhat, for the honour and preservation of Christendome; Amongst whom, the Dolphin of Viennois was there as the sole Solon, and onely wisest (though too severe a Cato) of his Coun­try.

But such was his over weening conceit, such the elevation of his high stirring spirit, and such his proud estimation of his al­lowed wisedome; that halled on (I know not by what destiny) he voluntary offered, secretly, and Pilgrim like to go to Con­stantinople, there to espy, and learn, the strength, intention, course and preparation then intended, meant, and made for Christendome.

This being applauded by the whole assembly, so tickled the flattering humor of his vain glory the ecclipse of his ma­ture wisedom) that poysoned with their praises; he sayled to look into the consideration of so doubtfull, and threatning an enterprise, Pride made him forget both his place and his yeares, and Glory would not permit him, neither to take coun­self of Time; nor make a provident delay; which well shewes that they that are transported with their own desires; have no true scope of judgement lest them, to looke with perfec [...] eyes into their designes; otherwise actions so uncertaine [Page 92]had been better not undertaken, then unfortunately hazar­ded: But he ever hasteth to repent that rashly enterpriseth: He was most resolute in his determination, nothing could dis­may him, nor no man could disswade him: doubt he held to be the bane of all hopefull endeavours, and if his fate were cer­tain, he said it would profit him little to take heed; and if uncer­tain, it would be more then mear foolishnes, to fear what he was ignorant of would happen.

In this resolute resolve, he called for the Lord Vran Espe­rance, (a man whose care and providence, was the life of that State,) unto his wisedome and trust did he leave the whole government of his Principallity, till his returne; commanding him upon his allegiance, to martiall, and ma­nage the whole State, as best should stand with Justice, Law, and equity; and that he would neither in pitty, du­ty, nor favour (such was his perseverant rigour) release, comfort, nor give countenance to the Princesse Vienna, o­therwise then was by him already censured, allowed, and accustomed: That her obstinate and degenerate disobedi­ence (she being a Traytor to true Generation) might eter­nize his un partiall Iustice, make her miserable, in being an example to others, and that his Title and right, might in his absence be the better secured by her imprisonment. And so taking his leave, he privately departed, accompanied with none but with Mal Fiance, his affected and learned ser­vant.

After their Land-travell, they Shipt themselves and lan­ched into the Ocean; where after some dayes sayling, they were by force of wrathfull and sinister winds (by the com­mand of Nep [...]une) driven into the Egyptian Sea and so cast on the Bay of Alexan Iria, where he had not rested full three dayes, but that a subtile Mercurian, a Merchant of Ba­bilon, that then lay in Traffique there, observing more heedfully the eminent M [...] jus [...]iy and uncontrolled counte­nance of the Dolphin, supposed ther [...]by that he was of no mean Estate. His Complexion and attire made him a Chri­stian; and his commanding eyes (the true image of the [Page 93]mind) shewed him to be of an high Spirit.

This Lynx, this Blood-hound to mischief, hunted after opportunity, to resolve this doubt, and by fortune encoun­tred with Mal Fiance in the Market-place, whither the Dolphin his Lord had sent him to buy some necessaries; Vnto whom in Latine (as the most generall Tongue, best known to all) the politique Merchant gave many kind salutes, offering him secretly for the love he bare to Christ, and Christians, all the best Offices he might perform, wish­ing withall, (to gaine the more credit) not to make himselfe known in so dangerous and impious a place. Mal Fiance (being better Learned then travelled) finding himself so kindly intreated by a stranger, returned thanks, and joyfully embrac'd his courtesie. The Merchant glad that hee understood him, requested his acceptance of a cuppe of their Country-Wine, which Mal Fiance (as one proud of such unexpected friendship in so strange a place, and that he had met with one of knowledge to conferre withall,) willingly assented un­to.

The Marchant, having waded thus farre into the depth of his awaked intention, thought good to sound the Foord at full by undermining their projects: And therefore in the curtesie of their Bacchonizing cups, he gave him some few pieces of Gold, wishing him to make his wants known, with the distresse of his Companion, that he might privately relieve them, and se­cretly give them comfort and directions for their more securi­ty.

This false fire (the seeming shew of good regard) burnt up all Mal Fiances fear of distrust; the strength of hot wines, consu­med all due consideration, and the joy he took in finding so good a Christian amongst unbeleeving Infidels, made him unadvisedly tell the Merchant who he was, whom he ser­oed, and where his Lord the Prince was. This Machivilian Marchant, being now fully enformed of what he desired, the better to mature his ill design, spake to the Master of the House in the Slavonian Tongue, (a Language much used amongst the Turks) that he should stay that Stranger, un­till [Page 94]his return from the Sanzake, the Turkes Governour of Alexandria, which he did, to no lesse admiration, then dis­may of confounded Mal Fiance: For now too late he found that Christall is like a pretious stone, till it come to hame­ring; that his betraying tongue was guilty of his own evill, and that in the least danger, is ever some eminent perill. But this se­ducing Marchant (the son of deceit, born of hate, fed with mis­chief, and maintained with others losses) being now armed with all the apparances of Truth, that might fit and further his purpose, went instantly to the dreadlesse Dolphin, and in his corrupt Latine (sutable to his ulcerated heart) he thus greeted him.

THE Saviour of the faithfull, the comfortable Sonne of the most Righteous, all-Seeing, and Everliving GOD, make your Excellency most happy in all your intendments, and guard your person from the know­ledge and malice of cruell Miscreants. To testifie my Faith by my Workes, and to preserve the living Plants of Christs Vineyard, from the bloody handes of the destroyer. I am come, most noble Prince, to save thy thrice worthy Christian life; from the Tyranny of murdering Infidels: In assurance whereof, let this suffice, that your attendant Mal Fiance is apprehended, and that for fear, he hath confest that you are a French Prince, and Dolphin of Viennois; and that as a wily Vlis­ses, you are selected, and come to pry into the Turkish State, and to discover their projects; which being made known to the Sauzake, your Highnesse shall be sent a Prisoner to Constantinople, where that cursed sinfull Sul­tan will make you dye a most cruell death. To prevent which, I have posted unto you, and will for our Saviours sake, convey you from his slavish and barbarous cruelty. For know; most gracious Prince, that in heart I am a re­all Christian, though in shew a Mahometitian, and have given addition of Life to many, by private intelligence, secret relief, speedy prevention, and by close protecti­on, [Page 95]and unknowne transporting them to their Native homes; And this and all this I do in some satisfaction for my Sins, and to save my soul, for which the Lord of Life lost his dearest life. This loathed habite of mine, gives me safety, and warrants my vowed endeavours for Christian supports: Vnto which saving service, I have dedicated both the length of my days, and the fullnesse of my means. Nor do I leave Gosh [...]n to dwell in the Tents of Kedar; Nor defire I with Lot to stay in Sodom; nor would I for my possessions here, establish my inheritance (with the Children of Ruben) in the Land of Gilead; But I live in Alexandria, for perfor­mance of my sacred vowes, and to preserve the Flock of Christ, from these Band-dogs of Satan, that otherwise would be devoured by them. And therefore if you love this your life go with me, and passe over the Foard now the waters are low, least by your dangerous delay you be destroyed in the Flood: And to prevent the instant search, I will bring you out of the Lyons den; and free you from the snare of the Hunter. Fraud you know goes beyond force, and preventi­on helps, what repentance cannot redresse. I will not use many words, (Protestation is the Mother of Jealousie) but when time shall promise better security, I will at my owne charge convey you to France. In the mean time, you shal want nothing that my mony can procure, or my Labours obtain.

Thus did this subtile Sinon (who had the voyce of Iacob, but the hands of Esau) guild over his poysoned Pilles, and weave the Webbe of the Dolphin's woe; who finding cause of fear in that hee was so apparently knowne, did willingly feed on poyson, and rashly commend his wel­fare, to his betraying trust; praising God, that hee had sent him such a Shield of defence, and had so preserved him from the terror of shamefull death: But this comfort in danger, was but like the ho [...]y that Sampson found in the Lyons Jawes, or like lightning in a foggy night: Time would [Page 96]not permit neither of better consideration, nor of further com­plement.

The perfideous Marchants fear (for still he seemed fearfully to fear) haled him away to his chamber, where he closely kept him with respect, untill the next day; against which time he had provided two swift Dromidaries well furnished, to carry them to Babilm, there to make present of so great and strange a Prince unto the Soldan his King, promising himself, either a great share in his ransome, or no small reward for his so wor­thy a Prize.

The long travail of the Dolphin, made him give way to all suspitious thoughts: His journies were greater then stood with ease or liking; Yet what he could not avoid he learned to bear; necessity enforced him a constant patience. But being come to Babylon, he was presented to the Soldan and like a Captive (in tryumph) he was led through the City to prison. The dejected Dolphin (whose French Fortunes were but erst the Ministers of his wil) was now so controled, and deprived of all dignity, that hopelesse of his life, he had no other comfort, then to be voyd of all comfort: Sometimes he would invey against the detestable treachery of his deceitfull Servant, and condemn his own cre­dulity in beleeving an Unbeleever. Then would he curse his over-glorious desire of Popularity, the ground of his grief in seeking applause with danger, and hazarding his person to give liking to others, But after when humble misery had appea­sed his discontented thoughts, hee then cast off his Adders­skinne; and soft Pitty did enter in at an Iron gate: and fin­ding then his own cruell Tyranny, in anothers long digested misery, he let fall some relenting teares, and passionately he thus bewayled his Daughters endurance, in his owne thral­dome.

Ah poor Vienna, too poor for Vienna: Rich art thou in Feature, but more then poor by thy Father, Nature hath honoured thee in thy Birth, Bea [...]ty hath eterniz'd thee in thy Person, and Vertue hath renowned thee in thy Life. Onely I, yea I onely, thy haplesse Sn [...], have made thee in­fortunate, to be the more infortunate my selfe: The ri­gour [Page 97]of my Injustice, is in true Justice, now punished in my self with rigour; and the remembrance of thy long injurious endured miseries, is as a living hell to my dying soul. O that thy sorrows (my thoughts tormentors) might end with my life, or that thy life (my lives honour) might be preserved by my death; so should I dye more contented, and thou live bet­ter regarded and comforted. But alas thou untimely dyest, to live in thy renown, and I shamefully live, to dye in my re­proach.

O cruell Father, unhappy Dolphin: O forlorn Vienna, but most distressed daughter. The Heathens make my death their Heaven, and my neerest friends account my life their hell. The earth now disdains to bear me, and yet the heavens deny to receive me. Men scorne me in my fall, and God re­fuseth me in my sin: So shall I dye disdayned of most, bewayled of none, and unregarded of all. Thus did misery, and sorrow (the kind sisters of mercy, and true wakers of compassion) ex­tract tears and sighs from stony cruelty; as strokes do force fire out of hardest Flints.

But leaving him to his more deserved dolours; Let us re­turn to the great Sultan of Turky, who hearing of the Dolphin's apprehension, and that he was a prisoner at Baby­lon; wrote instantly to the Soldan, that in no wise he should release him: In the Interim, he joying wondred, and won­dring enjoyned, that Bonefires, Feasts, and Tryumphs, should be made throughout the City. In such high ac­count and fearfull regard, did they hold him for his ju­dicious discipline, practise pollicies, turbulent spirit, Martiall provocation, approved directions, and rare stratagems, that now taken, they held (in this presage) the Conquest, certain. But Sirap understanding the cause of these rejoy­cings, was astonished at the newes. Report could not make him beleeve what reason shewed was false. His greatnesse he thought denyed all private exployts, and his yeares gain­said such tedious travaile. The places were too farre re­mote; and there was no combination of Christian Princes, to undertake a generall Warre. Traffique stood not with [Page 98]his dignity, and pleasure could not draw his age to perill. His command at home, would not suffer him to go from home: Nor durst he trust the faith of a Subject, nor the strength of his Foes: He had no Son, and therefore most subject to his neigh­bour invasions. He was wise, and more feared then beloved; And therefore he had cause to fear many, whom many did fear. These, and other reasons, perswaded him to the falsity thereof.

But the Sultan discoursing of the truth, and the manner thereof wounded him with wonder, and made belief subscribe to his relation. Now grief arrested his loyall heart, and made his dutifull regard, a prisoner to his pensive thoughts. His for­saken Country, was now forsaken, and made a pray for the avaricious Forraigner. His distressed Lady destitute of his help, when she had most need of his ayd.

This was his greatest grief, and this commanded his return: But judgment told him, that her right failed, while the Dol­phin lived, that the Nature of Justice was to render to every one his own, and that that he was bound for Vienna's sake, and as a Subject, to industriate himself for his delivery: And though his exile awaked Revenge, yet Charity, he knew, requi­red forgetfulness of evill deeds. His Countries hazard, he dee­med lesse then his Lords losse. The miscarrying of the one, might be holpen by the recovery of the other: but the destru­ction of the Prince would beget both forraign and intestine broyls.

In this perswasion, he secretly vowed his best endeavours for his infranchisement; and secretly smothered his sorrow, ne­ver taking notice of the accident, nor making enquiry after fur­ther occurrants. In the expiration of few days, being in the Court, he found the Sultan alone, in the mildness of his unu­suall mood, both pleasing and pleasant: In that happy hour he took opportunity by the fore-part, and (imprisoning his worthy resolution within the Close [...] of his secret thoughts) he in all subjected humblenesse, requested his favourable con­sent for the accomplishment of his obliging vow, that tyed his engaged soul, amongst other Cities of famous name, to see Ba­bylon, [Page 99]both for the antiquity and worthinesse of the same: And that he would be pleased to grant him his Imperiall Warrant under his Silver Seal, for his better security in travail; and fur­ther grace him, with his commendatory Letter to the Soldan, that he might find favour in his sight, and respect with his Highnesse.

The Sultan unwilling to leave him; in that he both loved him affectionatly, and intended to make a profitable use of his great, and unequalled valour, perswaded him to stay still with him, and he should command in Turkie, dwell in his grace, and live in height of honour. But Sirap pleading ne­cessity to go, promised speedy return; and that in lieu of his favours, he would bestow all his remaining dayes in his service. This pleased the Turk so well, that he yeelded to his request, and to his encouragement for his back repair: He gave him Princely Robes (as Ornaments of Honour) to countenance him; rich Jewels to shew his Dignity; and great Treasure to defray his answerable dispence.

He surnished him with Attendants, especially with one of knowledge in the Chaldean tongue, to be his Interpreter.

He also writ unto the Soldan, to receive him, as one most compleat in all worth, worthy all honour, honoured by Soli­mon the great, his especiall Favourite, and the God of Wars chiefest Champion; and therefore he entreated him to receive him with all Royall regard, and to give him what content­ment he might; and the rather, in that he purposely came to see his magnificency, and the state, both of his Court, and City. This no little availed Sirat, in his intendments, and these Prince­ly favours, and furthering means made him no lesse joyfull for his proud hopes; then most humbly thankfull for the Sul­tans so gracious a respect.

And so taking a submissive leave for that time; He would needs for his pleasure go to Pera, a City distant but a mile from Constantinople: And as he crossed Thracius Basforus, (a water that only divideth the two Cities:) he fortunately e­spied amongst the Gally-slaves that rowed him, a French-man no otherwise known to him, then the Cloath to the List: [Page 100]For though seven yeares slavish Captivity had made him a Grecian in his tongue; and dyed his Sunne-burnt skinne more blacker, then his Native hue; yet did his making, and manner of his speech, proclaim him a French man. Of him in Greek, he demanded what was his name, and Na­tion: who answered France is my Country; Bonfoy my name, which pleased him well. Then (without discovering himselfe, or taking further knowledge of him) he asked, Whether he would for his Liberty, faithfully and truely serve, and follow him, and his fortunes: and he would after sometime, send him into his own Country, wheresoever it was.

Bonfoy to gain that happy freedom, and to be free from that miserable and base slavery; swore by the Son of God, who was made man, that men might be made the sonnes of God; that he would truly, and faithfully (during his pleasure) tye himself, and all his endeavours, to his command. Whereupon Sirap begg'd him of the Captain, that durst not deny him any thing, and ever after most kindly used him, and loved him, because hee would be, not only served but beloved of him: That forth of that love hee might the better trust him, and be the better inte­rested in him. For where love hath supremacy, there all affec­tions attend on it, and all other passions are overswayed by it.

But now the sensuall Sultanesse hearing of Siraps hasty provision for his suddain departure to Babylon, grew more then impatient in her discontented feares; and beyond all consideration of her state, deplored the hardnesse of her hap. Her lustfull hopes were now wounded in the expecta­sion of he rlascivious desires, and unbounded love so op­prest her unchast thoughts, that finding her infected affec­tion frustrated of conceived joyes, she fainted under the burthen of her unexpected vows. In this sad alteration she threw her selfe on the humble floore, where her dumbe sorrowes uttered nought but bemoaning teares, and com­playning sighes: Which Mentiga ruefully beholding, and well weying that this unwelcome event would deprive her [Page 101]of enriching favours, and of promised preferments, she sum­moned her wits together, and set them all on the rack of in­vention, to find out means of some redress.

At last, after a sad and serious pause, she said; Take com­fort most mighty Empress, and my most gracious Soveraign, let this suddain lightning dye in his abortiye birth, and listen to your most submissive Handmaid, who desires no longer life, then she may do your Highness acceptable service. Your Knight is no doubt, enfore'd (by the Sultans employment) to this unliked journey, and your remembrance will not only be a plea for his disparch; but his controling affection will also give speed to his return.

In the mean time, I will undertake to bring him this night to your bed, where you may make your desired delights, do homage to your wills, pay tribute to your sufferance, and bind him over to accomplish your further pleasure.

Then raise your better thoughts, this base floor (but your foot-stool) is no bed for Majesty: Nor stands it with the re­splendant Queen of ASIA, to prostrate her self so low, as to lie in the dust of the earth. Eugenia thus rowzed, rose (with an erected heart) from her seat of sorrow, and carefully looking on her, said; Ah, Montiga, Mentiga, can it be that Physick hath any Cordiall Receipt for so desperate a Disease? Is there any mollifying salve can cure my tormenting sore? or canst thou give a healing plaister, to my wounded mind. Speak thou hap­lesse, or most happy woman: When, where, or how, canst thou effect so great, and sweet a work; and please thy Lady without perceivance? The glorious Sun (thou know'st) is ever remarkable, when mean Stars are seldom gazed on. Pale Joa­lousie is a subtile spie; and invincible Envie hath murthering eyes. Danger waits on dignities, and Beauty is ever guarded with observance. The light (I fear) is a blab, and darknesse but a Traytor: These walls have eares, then be silent Men­tiga, least the Ayr whilper, and betray thy intention, and enter­prise.

Thus had Eugenia (when it came to it) many Eyes, to see into many Evils, but they were all blind to prevent any. [Page 102]Misfortune so blindeth those she will overthrow, that nothing can cleer their understandings, nor limit their adventures; which made Mentiga answer that she had a Charm to close up Argoes eyes, and that deceit should lull danger a sleep, when Beauty should feast with love. And this she sayd it is, and must be.

The Sultan, you know (either to refresh himself with ease or to make his pleasures more compleat by change) doth the two last nights of every week, abstain both from your bed and Chamber; And this ensuing night being the first of the two, when your Eunuches be at supper, wee will in my cham­ber secretly change our attyres, and so give life to our device, you must as Mentiga bring me as Emperesse to your bed, where leaving me, you shall depart into my Chamber next ad­joyning, where fastening the door you must attend the hour of midnight, and then putting on my Night-gown, you must as silently as may be go down the staires into the Garden, and thereopening the postern gate, (the key whereof shall be preprovided for you) you shall receive your disguised Knight and bringing him up the staires to my Chamber, you both may safely entertain your stoln delights; and give both your desires all fulness of content.

But how (said Eugenia) shall he return undiscovered. Early in the morning replied Mentiga, before the day shall descry your dalliances, will I rise and come unattyred unto you to my chamber, when you shal leave my blest and beautified bed, and returne to your owne chamber in such manner as I came. And then will I cloathe your Knight in the re­ligious habite of the Hozes, the same I used, when I went to him. And so hee may depart, when the Sunne (the eye of the world) shall not discover him. For clouded Rocks deceive Marriners; A justifiable cloake ever hides a treacherous fraude, and they ever may do the most wrong of whom least is looked for. And because we will not procrastinate our designes, lest our projects bee com­municated. I will presently put on my Protean shape, and like a holy Father, go to Sirap, unto whom I will unfold [Page 103]all that we have determined, and both enjoyn and entreat him i [...] your name, and for your love, that he will not fayl his hour, at that place, but come to take Loves farewell, and leave a set­led possession of his purchased favours.

This enticing plot, promised more to Eugonia then a pos­sibility. Her lawlesse love saw no exception, nor could her wan­tonizing thoughts dream of any interception: Her transported desires were so drowned in her over-amorous passion, that she entertained the least conceit, that might but help her foolish fancy. Her flattering hopes held good correspondency with all likelihoods; and in the confidence of her supposed assurance she bad her go, and after called her back again. Her presaging heart did fayl her, and she began to fear she knew not what. A sudden trembling possessed her in every part, and what be­fore she but carelesly dreaded, now she did more then fearing doubt. In this distraction, and fear of misadventure she sayd; It is better to be in love most miserable, then through love to be guilty of our owne manifest confusion. Why should we then Mentiga for our lovingfolies weave the web of our own woes? Violent streams being once run out the mud will appear in the bottom. The indignation of a Prince is death; and the love of a stranger as inconstant, as a Travellers mind is wandring. He is but mean, and puddles are not for Princes to drink at: Let him be as he is, that I may be as I am. O Eugenia! hadst thou been as provident to shun the cause of thy fall; as thou was foolishly wise to apprehend thy fall:

For she being drawn by a wilfull folly, unto that whereunto she was destinate, no sooner had uttered what she misliked, but straight she misliked what she had uttered. Shall idle doubt (said she) the hearse of our desires, deprive me of my wished delights? Is base [Page 104]fear (the badge and terror of Peasants) a befitting Counsellour for a commauding Emperesse? or is love tyed to equality, honour, or majesty, that knowes no difference of persons? Must greatest Queens want their wills, and the drosie of Damosels enjoy their pleasures? Where then is our dignityes, our prero­gatives, and our priviledges? To command others, and be slaves to our selves, is worse then subjection. I will be my self, my af­fections shall bow to my will, and my fancy shall command my pleasures.

Necessity hath no law, and where there is no law, there is no breach. Here Mentiga take this purse, and happily get thee gone, & fortunately return. This concluding command gave her speed, and being come before him, she thus in his privat chamber all alone salutes him,

Eugenia, the great Emperiall Sultanesse, Soveraign Queene of Queens, and only Mirror of Beauty and Boun­ty, by me her trusty Hand-maid greetes thee well, and wisheth thee (O thou happiest of men, and blest Sonne of Fortune) all the joyes that thy heart can wish, or her affec­tion can afford. She grieves that thou art bound for Ba­bylon; and she entreats thee, that disguised this night, at the hour of twelve, when darknesse hath put on her blackest robe, thou wilt come to the Postern-gate of the Garden Wall, where she will in person receive thee, and safely bring thee, where thou mayest Bathe thy self, in Beauties most de­lightfull Fountaine, and feast thy best Fortunes, with all the pleasures that true Love, or proud State can yeeld. Nor mayest thou doubt of hazard herein, since thy security is thus carefully and certainly assured. And therewithall she related to him the whole plot of their device; which she said was onely intended, that by your incorporated sarewels, you both might seal such an infringeable deed of your cove­nanted Loves, that nought but death should breake the same.

Sirap being thus surprized, when least he looked for such an assault wished himself in Babilon. His vertuous dis­pose, did contemne such shamefull treachery: Nor would [Page 105]he violate his plighted faith to Vienna, for all the proud for­tunes and Favours of Asia, and Affrick: Yet fearing, least his refusall should crosse his departure, he smoothly set a scarletdy, on his rough and course conceit, and like Iove himself when he entred Danaes Tower, he seemed both pleasant and pleasing to Mentiga; which made her more apt to beleeve what he ne­ver meant.

Return (sayd he) unto the brightest Star, and greatest Glory of Turkie, and present in all humble humblenesse, my true ser­vice unto her, and say; That in the entercourse of Affection, my Love surmounts hers, and that neither danger nor death shall al­ter, or hinder, the wished fruition of my fancy, so fortified by a Princes favour: To take my farewell is my thirsting desire and to seal the deed of my purchased favour, is the Gor­dian knot that I most wish to unloose; Be true to thy Queen, wise to thy self, give thy thoughts no tongue, nor my name no record.

Thus did he in another meaning satisfie blinded Mentiga; who proud of her surmized successe, that ravished with joy, that taking a compendious farewell, she posted (in the conceit of her happy endeavours) to feast Eugenia with her glad ty­dings.

And no sooner was she gone, but that Sirap falling on his knees, besought God to guard his innocency, from all Barba­rian perils, and to free his chaste thoughts from those temp­ting Syrens, those ruinating Follies, and those lascivious and nefarious Assaults; and that he would so direct him in his wisedome, and so defend him by his power, that he might safely (without interruption) go to Babylon, and for the good of his Sanctuary, remove that Piller of his Church out of the house of Dagon, and bring him home to be a Glory to his temple. This saerifice was his safeguard; His vertuous deter mination, and constant resolution, merited well; but his firme affiance in his God, and dependancy on Divine perfection, shielded him, no doubt, from par­taking of that adherent mischiefe that fell fatally upon the Sultanesse, and Mentiga: Yet in seeking to avoyd Scylla, he [Page 106]feared to fall into Charibdis: His non-appearance, would make his fraud apparant; and his delusion, might draw on his secret destruction.

But Mentiga comming to her Soveraign Lady (who long had expected her before she came, though she came long before reason could expect her) chearfully recounted unto her, what Sirap (in truth but not truly) had protestingly delivered unto her; how pleasing her message was to him; how joyfully he entertained the Name of Love; how feelingly he entred into comparison for his affection; and how comfortably he embra­ced the remembrance of his desired Fare-well.

These, and other demonstrances of Passion, sheso full and pleasantly related, that Eugenia drowning all thoughts of dan­ger in the conceit of her approaching happinesse, she dreamed of nought but Loves Embracements, Venus Delights, and wan­tonizing Sports; building a Pallace of Pleasure in her mind, wherein she meant to feast all her Amorous desires, and crown her thoughts with sweet content.

To this end, she gave Mentiga in charge, that nothing should be wanting, that should be requifite to further their de­signes; Whilst interrupted Sirap (being thus chequ'd by a Queen) lay studying how he might drive it to a Stall, and not receive the Mate but give speed to his departure.

Resolved he was, not to touch the forbidden Fruit, nor to drink on Circes Cup; he would not with the Spider suck poy­son out of a fair Flower, nor spot his true-love with the dregs of Majesty.

Proud bewitching pleasure could not intice him to Folly, nor rich alluring Treasures corrupt his constant integrity: He scorned to sell his Loyalty for Lucre, or Love for Silver: True wisdom made his vertuous mind to bend, rather to that which was good in it self, then to that, which by evill minds might be judged good.

In brief, his conclusion was, to excuse his not comming, by expresse command from the Sultan, that as that night, he should consult with his Visiers, concerning his Negotiation in Babylon.

[Page 107] But this false colour need no allowance, Displeased Justice took away all exception, and sealed him pardon before any accusation: For the dismall night being come, Vengeance at­tended her fatall hour; which approaching, she accordingly changed her attire with Mentiga, and brought her as her Hand­maid to her Royall Bed, and after went to Mentiga's Cham­ber, where she waking, wayted for the appointed hour; which come, she casting on Mentigaes Night-gown, with a bold heart (beyond the resolve of her weak Sex) she paced down the stairs that led into the Garden; Into which, she no sooner entred, but that she saw the angry Heavens (then clad all in black) throwing down with violence, a fiery threatning Star over-crosse the Garden, forbidding her farther passage, not­withstanding the sable Skies lent not then an other Light.

This prodigious Sign, and fearfull premonition, might well have appaled and back'd a more-redoubted heart, but that the voluptuousnesse of her thoughts, extinguished the light of her mind. Love gave her boldnesse, and unlimited Lust directed her (according to her sinister and destinated Fate) unto the Po­stern gate, which she with nimble facility opened, and there made her fearless stand.

O imperious and impious Love, thou deluding Traytor, how rightly did the Poets and Painters, paint thee blind, and na­ked? Since thou hast no eyes to see into how many dangers thou leadest thy servants; and like thy self, makest them both blind and naked, disrobeing them of all their vertuous abili­ments, that their naked shame may appear in their found pur­suits.

Who seeketh thee, findeth deceit; and whosoever followes thee, seeketh reproach, and obtaineth repentance. Care, is thy Court; Tyranny, thy Raign; Slaves, thy Subjects; Polly, thy attendance; Lust, thy Law; Sin, thy service; and Repentance, thy wages. But this mighty Sultanesse, whose wretched folly, was cloathed in danger, had not long waited for her own woe, but that there came a base Sarazen towards her, who of pur­pose did straggle that way, to seize upon some prey; the fall of whose steps, gave the found Sultanesse such hope of Siraps [Page 108]then comming, that over rashly running upon him; holding for certain that it was he; she said, Come, come my best beloved and go with me, where I will lodge thy love in pleasures lap, and guerdon thy labours with fulnesse of gold; And therewith­all she kist him, more then oft, deeming that his rough habit had been but the cloak of his craft. For the Prince and the Peasant differeth but in the flaece, not in the flesh. But the subtile Sara­zen being capable of his own good, apprehended the errour, and in hope of gain adventured the successe. Thus did the mounting Kite, seize on a homely prey, and in her blindnesse, preser a greasie lamp, before a bright and mighty Star; and throwing her Mantle upon him, led him towards her last prepa­red bed, where he fearing to be discovered, disvested himself of his homely habite and rough shirt.

And in this surfeit of pleasure did they cloy themselves till themselves had wholly spent themselves. When wearied with delights, they both were summoned by leaden Morpheus to banquet with bloud and death. For the Sul­tan (by divine decree) dreaming that night, that the roofe of Eugenias Chamber did renting part it self in two, and was open; and that hee saw descending downe from a black Cloud; a grim swarty man, cloathed in a short ill fa­voured garment, all to be rent, holding a broad rusty sword, dyed with Vermillion red in his besmeared hand. Who falling on the tapestred floore, stood not long; but that Eugenia came smiling all in white, besprinkled thick with blood, and put on him a scarlet robe, set her Diadem on his shaggy head; kissed, and embraced him oft, and then taking him by the soyled hand, led him towards her royall bed; which the Sultan seeming to see, cryed out, and sayd: [Page 109]Stay villain, stay; The Eagle made not her nest for the Owle to lye in; The Batte hath no eyes to looke upon the Sunne, nor may the Kestrell make her pearch within her beams.

And therewithall, grasping for his Semitar he amazedly a­waked, and finding it but a dream, smiled, yet was wounded with no little wonder at the strangenesse of the same. His thoughts still were troubled and his heart (led thereunto by the force of Fate) gave him such a present desire to go offer incense to Venus, in Engenia's shrine, that sodainly taking his night robe, his Semitary, and his key, (which pur posely he had made for his sole and private passage at all times into her Chamber) he went to perform his wanton Sacrifice: and being entred fin­cing by the dawn of day (for the night began to east off her black Mantle) that all things as he thought were well, he joyed at the illusion of his phantasticall dream, and in the contentment thereof, withdrawing a little the curtain, he care­lesly laid him, down by Mentigaes side: who upon his en­trance awaked, and finding her self intangled in her own de­vice, grew fearefull of the issue, and kept her selfe as close as might be. The Sultans kind entreaties, found no resistance, nor yet any pleasing entertainment. The fear of her death, took away all delight of dalliance; and those pleasures which before she made her Paradise, she now deemed them a mortall punishment. Faine would she have killed her selfe, for feare of death, but death gave her no means of death. In this deadly terrour she lay so distrac­ted, that every member began so to tremble and shake, that the Sultan in tendernesse of her health, (fearing sicknesse suddain attachment) hastily took her in his armes, and kissing her many times, asked her how she fared, but receiving no answer (for suddaine surprized Treason hath no tongue) he bare her towards the light, to give her better ayr, when seeing who she was, and on whom he had spent his enfor­ced pleasures; missing Eugenia, and remembring his pro­voking dream; all enraged, he cast her to the floor, and treading on her throate, bee tooke his Semitar, and thrust it [Page 110]quite through her heart, and then violently running at the door that opened into Mentigaes Chamber, he burst it open: The noise whereof awaked the sturdy slave, that he might see his own death; who seeing one enter with his sword drawn, not knowing who he was, nor where himself was, leap'd out of his banefull bed, and snatching a bed-staffe in his hand, fiercely rushed upon his vnknown Lord, got within him, and being the stronger, had him down, and so liberally belaboured him, that the bloud running down his face, well witnessed that the slave alone, now lesse respected and feared him; then many Nations, mightiest Armies, and greatest Prin­ces, that onely had trembled at his sight. Which made the Snltan in his dismay, cry; Treason, treason; at the hearing whereof came running in two Janizaries that were of his Guard, whose allotment was that day amongst many others to attend.

They seeing this strange accident, pulled the rascall off the Sultan, and hewed him all to pieces. But the Sulianesse thus surprized with shame, with fear, and with amazement, was more confounded at the base sight of her reproachfull deceit, then at the bloody summons of pale death; and because she would not see her owne shame, nor looke murther in the face, she crept over the head into the bed, crying fearefully, No Moor, no Moor; because she saw, she had not layn with the Moor. Which made Solimon suppose, that she cried that he should stay his hand and do no more; which distastfull conceit, exasperated his anger, and added more fewell to his enflamed fire, and in the heat of his irefull indignation, he step'd to her a­dulterous bed, and like a tempestuous storm he fell upon her, gi­ving her stab upon stab, saying oft withall; Nay, thus much more and more: And the more he said so, the more he thrust his Se­mitar (not yet dryed with the bloud of the Sarazen) into her body.

This speedy and suddain execution, was Siraps preservati­on. For it took away all further knowledge of the cause. The Court was now all in combustion, and the City hearing that the Sultan was slain, instantly did rise, and confusedly [Page 111]did run to the Pallace, bearing all down before them in such a distract sort, that the Turks Guard was glad to shut the Gares against them, and to entreat the Sultan to shew him­self out of the Casement unto them, which so well appeased them, that they quietly returned to their houses.

Then was inquisition made after the knowledge of the Sa­razene apparell, which, was so base, that all men wondered not only that he was there, but how he came there: His mangled body kept him unknown, and his mean habit made him no ap­pertenant to the Court.

When no notice could be had neither of the one, nor of the other, the appeased Sultan sent for the Eunuches that attended his Emperess, and caused two Mutes to strangle them in his sight. After, he caused all the dead bodies, with the two beds, and all their Apparell, to be carryed forth of the City, and to be burned all together; and further, gave in charge, that the two Chambers should be converted into houses of base use, and that no one under pain of death should after speak thereof.

Now Sirap, who during these tempestuous storms, lay at anchor in his own private Harbour, as one that knew well, that great men ever envying the glory and fortune of strangers, would in these tumults be ready to stab at the bosome of merit; and that Mischief (the cursed Captain always of the unruly Commons,) might in a disturbed uproar indanger his safety; hearing now that the sight of the Sultan had allayed the win­dy Allarum of his rumoured death, and that the present mur­ther of the Sultanesse, with her Maid and unknown Paramor, was the occasion of such disorder rising; He grew jealous of the Cause, suspicious of the Firour, and timorous of his wend fare.

For, though gliarded with innocency, yet was he fearfull, lest Mentiga had cast some scandalizing aspersion upon his un­spoiled honesty.

In this fearfull doubt, he kept himself within himself, untill report had further manifested not only the manner of all their Deaths, but the ignorance of the Cause. This dis­pierced all Clouds of care, and made him a perfect Judge [Page 112]both of the error and the event. Then lifting up his erected heart, he said: O Vienna, thy love I see now hath given me a se­cond life, and my constant loyalty hath kept me from the grave, Instice hath preserved the guiltless, and righteousness hath found mercy in judgement,

Now praised be my God my strong defence: For he hath co­vered me under the wings of his protection, and kept me from the death of the wicked. He hath cast down lightning and burnt up the Daughters of Babell, that I might be safe in their suddain destruction. The storm is past, and these cloudy oc­currants threaten another tempest. The Sea cannot be so calm in Summer, but that it may swell again with the rage of wrathfull winter; There is more wisedom in prerenting then in redressing a mischief; Security lives not in tyranny. For though the Tyger hide his clawes, yet in the end will he shew his Rapine. Revenge hath now smoothed the Sultans angry brow, and Time hath given some peace to his displea­sure.

The tide serves me, and my prophane aboad with the heathen is displeasing to the heavens. My captived Lord calls me away and Vienna says, I am too slow; my mark is set, and I levell streight, I will comend my aim, and therewithall casting off all further deliberation, he went to the Court to take his leave of Solimon, who seeing him stand upon his departure, after some private conference and protestations, that he would crown his return with highest honours advancement, he vouchsafed graci­ously to embrace him, and so bad him farewell.

The next morning Sirap having before caused all things to be in readinesse, the winds summoning him to Sea, he took shipping, and sayling by the Islands, scituate in part of the Mediteranean Sea, he landed at Sidon a Port Town in Syria and there taking Horse, he posted through the Country, and part of the Desarts of Arabia, and so came to Babylon. Where we will leave him to look into France, and see how Vienna brookes her continued thraldome, which was not so grievous unto her, as the tormenting suppose of Sir Paris losse. Great was her sorrow in fear of him, and ma­ny [Page 113]her bernoanings for not hearing from him. Insomuch, that La-nova seeing the increase of her growing cares, thus sadly spake unto her.

Madam, these ruthlesse Walls neither melt with your tears, nor yet shake, nor shrink with your sighes. Com­fort dwels not in restraint, nor lives remedy in Lamentations. Though your Father be absent, yet hath he left a jealous Kee­per: You may ever weep and bewayl your estate, and ly still in the bed of sorrow: If you never seek after redresse, you shall o­ver find your self a Prisoner: You know the scorer way I made to relieve you: If so you please, I will convey you through the same, to some private place, where Metamorphosed we will either hunt in quest after Sir Paris, or you shall rest unknown in some Forraign Nation, till either my travell shall gain knowledge of his aboad, or that the death of the Dolphin shall leave (you for your right) to the tryell of your friends,

Then cast off these mortif [...]ing dumps, and leave now your sor­row to the Governors, as a pawn for your return, and let us stand upon our fortunes; hope lives in industry, and my adven­tures shall ever wayt on your pleasure.

This kind offer did move her much, but could not remove her at all; Liberty she said was sweet to that life, that might take the pleasures of this life: But to a dejected heart whose ba­nisht content could promise no wished delight; there a close prison was better then a glorious Pallace. To travail (she said) to my Paris; would be more pleasing then painfull to Vienna; but not knowing where he is, I might perhaps extravagantly go further from him then I am, that a [...]n already further off then I would b [...] here for his love was I made a Prisoner, and here wil I still rest a Prisoner for his love. If he be living and loving, here shall I soonest hear from him; and if he be neither in Love nor in life, here will I end both my Love and life; Onely take thanks for thy loving care, and kind respect, and be still a true friend to Paris, that Vienna may ever have comfort in La-nova.

[Page 114] Upon this conclusion he parted, and Isabella strewed the rusl [...]es over the private way that gave him entrance: But no soo­ner was it done, but that one of the Keepers Gentlemen (that seemeel ever most serviceable unto her) came in, whom the de­villish Dolphinis had before fashioned to her purpose, for she wrought upon his wants as knowing well, that poverty betray­eth vertue, and that wealth bewitcheth wit; Corruption having made him her creature she had instructed him how to traine Vienna to her destruction; for nought but: death could satis­fie her disdainfull fear: Her malicious and unbounded pride, looked into the danger of her Lords return: If the Dolphin fell, then must Vienna (though now a Prisoner) be So­veraign.

This made her heart-burning hate to prosecute her over­throw: And though she had no cause to fear her, (for occasion never yet made her her enemy) yet could she not indure to think that she should be subject to another, that now was most eminent in her self.

To have the Regent was all her ambitious desire, and no­thing did let but Vienna's right; To frustrate which, she with fulnesse of Gold, and promites of preferment had as aforesaid seduced this mettle-minded Servant, to deceive and to destroy her by such subtile and obscure meanes, as both gave least shew of mistrust, and most likelihood of execution; And this it was.

Don Poltron (for so was he rightly named) bringing Vienna's mornings repast to her, with a bemoaning tongue, and a sighing heart, complained much against Nature, and envyed more against Fortune, that had made beauty so miserable and vertue so unhappy, as to entomb the glory of the one and the efficacy of the other, in so unprofitable, and so un­comfortable place. My eyes (said he) cannot endure to sec Dignity so disgraced; nor can my Eares entertain the killing sound of your laments: I must, and will leave my service, that at length I may be a Stranger to sorrow, least my grief fo [...] your griefe, make [...]ny revived woes as great as your grief.

[Page 115] Vienna liking his generous nature, judged by his discreet and relenting discourse that he was well bred, and pleasing witty; and therefore required him to tell what was his name, and where he was born: who answered, Don Poltron am I called, and in Spain was my birth; my education was better then my fortune, and this my servile Place bears now record of my sinister fate.

Why, said Vienna, if thou be infortunate, keep still thy sta­tion, here is a place of woe and thou hast a Princess to associate thee in thy sorrows: Hast thou cause to bewail thy mishaps? Let us know thy crosses, and we will ease thee with our grief; For it is a comfort to find a companion in misery.

Then say Poltron (for thy Nature agrees better with us, then thy Name) and story to us the life of thy Fortune, that we may also recreate our mind, by listening to thy griefs.

Poltron having pleased her with this sugered Bayt, cast out his hidden Hook, and told her that he was a rich Merchants Son in Spain, left so well Treasured, that he swayed the world a [...] will, untill imperious Love made him of a free Lord, a Bond slave to Molloflora.

Unto her (said he) I sued long for obtained grace; which had, I held my self more fortunately happy, then Paris did in the fruition of his Love. Paris, said Vienna, what Paris? Paris (said he) of Troy, that enjoyed the Beauty of Greece, and made his Pleasure a Plague to his Country.

But in the height of my joyes, and hope of highest happi­ness, Death deprived me of my Paradised Bliss, and not only made my broken heart the sad habitation of woe, but also tur­ned my mind (which before was a Kingdom to me) into a Hell of tormenting thoughts.

The place of my birth grew (by her loss) so hatefull to me, that I was necessitated to forgo the ground that yielded me no other Harvest but grief.

In brief, for better portage, I turned all my Substance into Jewels of estimate, and travelled to Naples, where I spent more of my wealth, then I did of my woes.

Th [...]n Repentance made me leave that wastfull Nation, and [Page 116]so I came unfortunately into France. Thus he drew on her at­tention with a faigned tale, that he might without all suspition and with better gain of belief, give more fewell to her desire, for his further betraying discourse.

And to blind all jealous thoughts, he purposely seemed by his abrupt end, to be unwilling to proceed further. But Vienna (whose crossed affection delighted to hear of semblable for­tunes) would needs know what other mishaps waited on his lost love.

Alas Madame, said Poltron, the small remainder of my broken state I brought with me into France, to maintein the length of my days; but in my passage, I was set on by four Theeves, that stript me of all I had, and wounded me sore, and would no doubt have taken my life, but that by chance there came by a poor Hermite, who seeing their violence, without all dread of their number, or fear of his own feebleness, cast off his peacefull Gown, and drawing out a hidden sword out of his staffe, he so fiercely assaulted them, that in the end he slew three of them, whilest the fourth run away with the prey, the danger of my wounds made him then as far to surmount him­self in pitty, as he had excelled the other in valour: And in the tenderness of his relenting mind, he brought me to his Cell, where on a bed of moss he laid me; and binding up my wounds with a piece of his shirt (for other linnens he had none) he af­terwards applyed the juyce of hearbs so oft unto them, that they healed, and I began to grow strong.

With him had I continued still, but that during the stay of my recovery, I could not endure to see this good Chyrurgion, and noble minded Hermite, that had so well preserved and cherished me, sit so oft sighing, and many times exclaiming a­gainst unjust rigour; & unnaturall injustice; that half distraught, he would often confusedly say; Doth the Sea nourish a more cruell fish then the Dolphin? Is not Vienna the fairest City of the world? And lived there ever a more unfortunate man then Paris. Then would he bewayl destroyed Troy, and blame Love that fired Illion; and by and by curse that wretched Knight that overthrew so fair a Creature, and so glorious a Ci­ty. [Page 117]Then would he sit in a dolefull dump, and after suddain­ly start up as one affrighted, and accuse his offending tongue of treachery, for wronging the divine name of love, since he was so highly beloved, as his mean fortune merited not the glory thereof.

But leaving him (with my Prayers) both to his Cave, and to his Cell; after many thanks, I left that wofull and worthy Hermit, and came to Viennois, where necessity compelled me to seek this service. And this most vertuous Princesse is the Map of my misery; and so he seemed to end before he had be­gun; that the Fish might bite the more eagerly, when the bayt was pulled away: But oh, said Vienna (for now she had swal­lowed the hidden, and hurtfull hook) didst thou not perceive the cause of his so secret and so great a grief? Yes, Noble Lady, said Poltron. Time and Occasion gave me meanes to know the same; then good Poltron, let me intreat thee she said, to relate the full discourse thereof. For such subjects of woe best fitteth wofull minds, and causes of dolor and calamity, are ever most pleasing to perplexed persons. Poltron thus halled on, to set the trap, that should ensnare her life, thus cunningly gave fire to her tinder.

Though, said he, I am unwilling to ingrieve my thoughts with the sad remembrance of my friends over-grievous sor­rows; yet since it is your pleasure, your will commands my obe­dience.

Then know, most fairest of fair Ladyes, that after I had ma­ny times observed the frenzy of his passions: and wondring, had noted his broken and disconsonant complaints he being at other times most advisedly wise, and most humbly (though sad­ly) patient; As we were sitting at the mouth of his Cave, chat­ting on the miseries of this life, and the crosses of this uncertain world, I requested him in favour of my desire, to recount unto me, the cause of his so often passionate laments. In answer wher­of he said.

Though my grief be already such as there can be no addi­tion to so great an extream; and though my wounds can­not be healed, because they may not be searched, yet to [Page 118]give thee some content, know that not far from Tolledo in Spain, I served not long since a great and mighty Lord, called Don Daulphinatus; who had one only Daughter named Pa­ris-enna, whose beauty was far fairer then the Evening Star, and whose vertue was more powerfull then the greatest con­stellation.

By her sweet influence did I only live and breath; and though my mean fortune durst not gaze on so bright a Planet, yet did her gracious aspect both so ennoble, and inable my towring thoughts, that unknown, I atchieved in honour of her name, many admired exploits.

After some season, both my acts, and my love, were acciden­tally made known to her, who in time made me (though most unworthy) the Master of her desires, that was, and still am, a servant to her will. Our mutuall minds thus combined, was like the Garden of Eden, wherein grew more delights, then ei­ther Nature now affords, or Art can express. Our hearts fed on pleasures, our eyes beheld the bliss of each other, and in the full comfort of all content, did we sleep in love; and wake, and walk, in all fulness of joy. From this Paradise, were we driven by felonious Fortune, who envying our happiness, would not suffer that we should make this Earth our Heaven, that was be­fore curst for our sins.

My Lord, her Father, had hnowledge thereof, who finding my indignity not worthy of such soveraignty, was so carryed away with disdainfull scorn, and irefull displeasure, that he doo­med me to death, if ever I were found within the precinct of his command.

This separation (for now I was put to my flight) was such a corasive to both our confounded soules, that she staid to en­dure a greater misery, the deprivation of life, and I wande­red in unknown paths, to seek after a wished death.

Long was my travail and manifold my fortunes: But nei­ther distance of place, continuance of travail, happinesse of fortune, nor tract of time, could free my fancy, nor weary ine from my constant affection. At last, being both wearied and nighted, I came to this harmlesse Ceill; where in love [Page 119]of Solitariness and in contempt of the world, I vowed to spend the unspent sorrowes of my Life, and keepe my selfe from the knowledge of Men: and thereupon he devoutly swore me that I should not make his private aboad known unto any Man.

Whereat the wounded Princesse, in her apprehension, sigh­ed, and watered the floore with her baulmy Tear [...]s; as know­ing by the amplyfied and conjoyned Names, and by the con­currence and circumstance of the matter, that he was most as­suredly her beloved Paris, and thereupon she demanded what was his Name? Sans Lieure (replyed Poltron) did be call himself. Sans Lieure, said she? Oh how rightly did the Destinies Christen him: and how truely doth his Name ex­presse his fate; for grief hath but a dead heart, and hapless love none at all. But where is that place of plaint, that so confines sorrow in it self, and makes woe a habitation for so miserable a Man? Tell me, oh tell me, that I may send some sanctified person to comfort him, and wean him from so wretched a life.

My Oath (answered Poltron,) will not admit, that any man by my means should know thereof. Then would I were (she said) with him my self, for by his Name (I now remem­ber) he is that Divining Man that hath revealed Wonders, and can tell what shall befall every one: Oft have I heard of him, and strange things by him foretold have come to passe.

Thus did they both disguise their minds, and with untem­pered Morter daub uptheir severall concealed meanings, and hidden intentions, that they might both the better work out their Advantages. But Poltron seeing his venomous Plot had (without all suspect) thus poyfoned her belief; boldly told her, That as she was no Man, she was not within the Condition of his Bond, and therefore (if so she pleased) he would not onely give her full Liberty, but also bring her unknown to that haplesse Hermite, whom she desired so much to see, provided that she should give him Gold, to bring him after to his Native Home, and also be directed by him, both for the [Page 120]means and the manner of their escape and travail. To this, she answered that prisons were no Treasure-houses, and that she had no Mint to answer her mind; onely some reserved Iewels she had, which she would give him.

It shall (said he) suffice; Pitty pleads in your behalf, your merit claims redresse, and my feeling grief to see a Princesse so distrest, commands the hazard of my life. Be you but silent and secret, and you shall see, that I will deceive the waking eyes of encharged wisedome, and overthrow the heedfull care of re­posed trust: And thus it must be: By the print of the keys (which I will make in Wax) will I make other like keys, by which all the doors shall congee to your will, and give passage to your pleasure.

Then will I have you for your better security homely atti­red, with a box under your arm, and Bone-lace hanging out of it, a pair of shears tied to your Girdle, and a yard in your hand, that you may seem to be not what you are, but what in appea­rance I would have you shew to be. And I will with a Ped­lars pack on my back, well suited thereunto, travell along with you as your husband: So shall we both better escape and avoid suspition,

But how, said Vienna, shall Izabella bestow her self? She, said Poltron, must stay behind in prison, to take away the knowledge of our flight; For after our departure she must lock the door again, keep your bed with the Curtaines drawn, and lay your clothes by, most in sight; and when any comes into her, she must carefully say, that you are not well, and that you are laid down to sleep So shall we gain time to pre­vent our hasty pursuits, and she may after at her will repair to some private friend, in such disguise as I will provide for her.

That (said Vienna) may not be; for I will never leave her, that hath never forsaken me; nor will I without her, venture up­on any such adventure.

Poltron seeing it would not otherwise bee, yeelded, though unwilling thereunto, and like Sinnes Sollicitour, moved, that Izabella would play the Pedlar, and he would [Page 121]become a Tinker, with his Budget on his back, a leathern couloured Apron before him, a Hammer under his Girdle, and a Brazen ladle in one of his hands; And thus with his face besmeared, would he go a pretty way before them, as none of their company, and yet guide them in the way. So gallant a Bonelace-seller, so proud a Pedlet, and so stout a Tin­ker, all France will not pattern; But thus it must be, if you Madam, will have your desire; Nor may you scorn that means that promiseth assurance of Liberty, and hope of better hap.

The Gods to have their wils, disdained not the shape of beasts, and we must with the cunning Fowler, cloath our selves in Feathers, if we will deceive wily birds. It is a Soare, no sinne, to betray Tyranny; but a shift, no shame; to get Li­berty.

These guilefull enticing words of his, and the betraying instructions of the deepe deceitefull Dolphinis, were (without any semblance of other reach) so smoothly, and passionately delivered, by this damnable and perfideous Villain, that all his wily words were held as Oracles, and the further he seemed to be from her, the neerer still he tou­ched her to the quick: In so much, that Vienna being blind­ly led in her over-affectionate desire, beyond the limit of all due consideration, yeelded to referre her self to his trust, and to fashion themselves according to his directi­on.

Alasse Vienna, where disloyall Treason threatens thy shipwrack, and where remorcelesse murder is thy plot; there assured danger must be thy Harbour, and reproachfull de­struction thy host: Implacable malice pursues thee; invisi­ble fraud bettayes thee, and too late repentance, will I fear, learn thee, that they are most miserable, that make themselves wretched examples to others. But how should Love (the child of Folly) looke into a plot of pollicy, when unseduced wit cannot see it, nor untainted wise­dome find it. The appearance of Truth, and the shew of Pitty, and simplicity, hath in all deceitfull Practises, sub­verted [Page 122]Cities, deposed Kings, defrauded Subjects of their rights, and taken away the guiltlesse lives of Innocents. How then poor Princess, couldst thou a voyd thy running upon the Sands, though armies of objections did rise against thy doubtfull ha­zard; yet cannot thy good, though free intention, make thee faul­ty, though thy over-credulity in entertaining of conjectures made thee erre. Thy chast thoughts shine still. I see, in thy vertue; and thy vertue (by divine providence) must shield thee both from abusive shame, and from unexpected slaugh­ter.

But now Poltron had provided at Vienxa's cost all materi­ala; and the Ladies disrobeing themselves, hid their attyres, and to cast a mist before the eyes of ignorance, they clothed them to the purpose, and at supper time, the night being dark, upon Pol­trons watch-word, who then stood centinell, they came forth, pulling the door after them; For lock it, Vienna would not because it should appear which way they came forth, least up­on further rearch they might find out La-nova's private way, and so bring him into trouble, who at the time was in Flan­ders enquiring after his lost friend.

The next morning their escape was discovered, the City was searched, Poltron mist, and every way was full of inquisi­tors. But that nights travell, and their unsuspected disguise (be­ing the usuall habit of such wandring professours) brought them safe unto a great wood, that stood at the foot of a high hill in Langnedoc, where he perswaded them the Hermit had his Cell.

At the entrance whereof, Vienna stumbled; the dull earth for­bidding thereby her further passage; and Izabella's eyes were suddenly for the time strucken blind; as though the feet of the one, were unwilling to bring their Mislris into perill: and the eyes of the other were ashamed to see such intended villany. But no presage can forestall desire, love looks altogether after their own fancies, & consters all things acccording to her affections This helhound, (the Divels Agent) seeing Vienna ready to fall, stept to her, and taking her by the arm, in shew to support her, led her into the thickest of the wood, where suddenly as one [Page 123]transformed, this seeming dove shewed himself a villture; and like cruelty her self, with imbossed mouth and staring eyes, he drew his short sword that hung by his lustfull side, and gashly swore, that if either of them made any noise, he would forthwith kill them both: whereat the weak and wearied Ladies, were so amazed, that all their sences were sencelesse, their tongues were bound to the peace by iustice fear; they could not speak, nor durst not cry.

Now Lust, the (execrable parent of murther) seeing her a­bashed beauty shine like the sun through a Cloud, had so fiered his fancy, that where before it was but kindled by her looks, now having her within his power it did violently burn by the touch. Death must now forbear, and attend his pleasure for his pleasure; and nothing could satisfie this covetuous Fox, but after the stealing of the grapes he meant to forrage the vine.

To effect which, he turned Isabella's face to a tree, and bound her arms round about the same, and notwithstanding flatteringly promised them both their lives, if Vienna would but consent to his wanton wil; If not, he then prodigally swore, that in dispight of all he would gather the fruit, now it was ripe, and after leave their slain bodyes a prey unto the beasts ofthe field. Vienna having recovered some spirit, and seeing the pre­sent danger, with elevated eys, erected hands, and bowed knees, she besought him not to sport in her misery, nor to spot his soul with the repenting pleasure of uncleannes. Remember sayd she, that I am a Princesse, save but my honour, as thou art my mothers son, and I will freely forgive thee my death, as I am my fathers daughter.

I seek not life, but the honour of my life; for my long liv'd grief, makes me hate life, and despise death, but in the losse of my chiefest cherished care, my curses shall poyson thy salva­tion; and the wildfire of thy lust, shall burn up all thy worldly welfare, and make thee a speedy prey to speedy destruction. O let then my Chast teares quench the flame of thy sinfull Concupiscence; biast not the beauty of the Lilly in the bud; deprive not the Rose of the fairness of the [Page 124]bloom; nor brand not thy self with the cursed name of a hate­full villain. The fiercest Lyon hath no cruelty to hurt a Royall Virgine; Man was made to help not to hurt a silly maid; and the Lord of Hosts, hath countlesse Plagues to punish such o­fenders. Thy carnall regard is but momentary, but thy shamse will be everlasting, and thy punishment eternall; For repentance follows fruition; and the reward of sin is death. Thus did she pray, plead, and entreat, and thus would she have disswaded him from doing evill, that never yet knew good, but his unruly passion, and thirst of blood, could brook neither intercession, nor interruption.

His hot untarned desires prayd in ayd of force, which made her shreek, & call ful loud on Gods Justice for helpful revenge; when suddenly the angry heavens began to make war against him, and to threaten him with a terrible voyce, and sen­ding forth such fearfull thunder, lightning, and powerfull stormes, that force perforce he was enforced to desist for the time.

But as the wofull Ladyes continued still their shouting cryes; It fortuned that two Peasants that had Pomage in the wood, had been seeking of their swine, who by violence of the distur­bed Skies, and wrathfull Elements, had taken shelter under a Tree. As thus they silent stood, praying for preservation, they heard their dismall cries, and hasting (for so their good Angels would) toward the place of plaint, they found the obdurate Traytor attempting a fresh assault; which made, the swifter Man comming in with his Batte, to make him loose his lascivi­ous hold.

This happy accident revived the dying heart of Vienna and the guilty dread of Poliron, fearing to be taken, made him so desperate, that he both wounded and grounded the gentle Peasant; and as he endeavoured to take away his life, the other comming in, knockt out his brarnes. This speedy dispatch gave the Divell his due, and freed the Dol­phinis of all suspect, who otherwise had by Drugge taken order for his perp [...] concealments. The Ladies thus succoured, freed, and comforted praysed God for their deli­verance, [Page 125]and thanked the poor Men for their assistance; And in guerdon of their so happy service, [...]ot knowing o­therwise how to requite so great a good, they wished (concea­ling themselves) that they would bring them to the Governor of Viennois, who they knew would bountifully reward them.

The uncapable Peasants, smiling thereat, told them, that they would not for Jasons labour, seek after Coridons hyre: for per­sons (said they) so unremarkable can neither pleasure nor profit greatnesse of State. To which, the Princesse answered, that by her means they should deliver into his hands the two Ladyes that were committed to his charge, and that lately conveyed themselves out of prison.

This golden hope did win their consents, and not only re­freshed them in their travel, but also gave speed to their journy: Only it contented Vienna, that she should by this meanes re­quite her preservers, though thereby she made her self a thrall to time and tyranny. Liberty could give her no comfort, nor could she tell how better to dispose of her loathed life, then to make her self a prisoner to Love and Fortune: the care she had of Isabella made her the more sensitive of her wrongs; and ther­fore turning toward her, she softly said; Though the fruit of the O life tree come late, yet is the liquor both good and whole­some.

The tyde now serveth, my dear Isabella, take thou the bene­fit thereof, and at last free thy self from participating of my fur­ther woes: Fortune hath bound my life prentise to her frowns, and I am resolved to serve out my time; then leave me to my fate, and get thee to some more happy place, where my pray­ers, and thy more fortunate friends, may purchase thee more content.

Isabella's impearled teares did publish her mislike, and in her griefe she said, that love never thought that time too long, that did hang on desert; and that sorrowes growne to a custome, were pleasing to miserable Creatures; Then what should separate my attendance from your Grace, since without you I cannot live, and with you I mean to [Page 126]dye. Vienna thanking her, joyed no little in her constant sel­lowship: For Friendship is ever most sweetest, when, Fortune is most sowrest.

Thus as they chatted, they came to Viennois, where she ad­vised their two good conductors, to wait for the Governours going to the Church, and then boldly to step to him, and secret­ly to proffer him the delivery of the Princesse and her Compa­nion; which done you shall privately bring us unto him, un­to whom we will present what we have promised

The Peasants promise (having done according to instruction) made the Governor to rejoyce so at the newes, that he return­ed back to his house, and sent one of them for the Princesse, who yet was not knowne to be the Princesse. Upon their re­turn, Vienna with shew of Majesty, thus greeted the Gover­nour.

Let not my Lord Vray Esperance wonder at our disguise, nor question the cause: it may suffice, you have your Prisoners, and we are content with our alotments: Reward well these ho­nest persons, that with hazard of their lives, have not onely preserved our honors and lives, but also freed you from many cares, and saved you perhaps from dangerous troubles. This is all our desires, we know your charge, and willingly yeeld to your dispose.

The Governor baring (in due reverence) his aged head with more tears of pitty then of joy, respectively saluted them, and giving the Peasants store of Crowns, humbly and courteously he brought the Ladyes to their carefull Chamber, where we will leave them to learn of Sirap, what success waited on his Babylonian endeavours.

Now had time, and travell, brought Sirap (whom we left in his journey) unto Babylon; where the Soldan (to gra­tifie the Turk, and to shew his love to Vertue, and his esti­mation of merit) entertained him with all magnificence, and variety of Kingly delights. But after they had feasted, and spent some dayes in Courtly sports: Sirap being mindfull of his Lord, desired to see the City, with such Monu­ments and Antiquityes, as were therein; which so well [Page 127]pleased the Soldan, that to honour him the more, he accom­panied him in person, still shewing him by his interpreter, all such places of note and worth, as then were there remaining: At length they past by, (for so their passage lay) the Castle where­in the Dolphin was imprisoned.

Which Sir Sirap long viewing, commended, and in his praise thereof demanded by his Interpreter, what Castle or Pal­lace that was, that was so well scituated, so stately built, and of such strength. And they told him that it was Mount Seme­rian, built of old by Semiramis, Queen unto the first great King of the Assyrian Monarchy, and that as then, there lay as Prisoner one of the greatest Princes of France in the Western clime; known by the name of the Dolphin of Vien­nois.

Sirap seemed much to wonder both at the name and coun­try, as unheard of before, and therefore was desirous to see the stature, favour, carriage and manner of those men; and to learn, if he could, the nature, law, religion, custom, and state of the coun­try; which stood so well with the Soldans liking, that both in one desire, went to the Castle to see, and to confer with the Dolphin,

Now Sirap building on Bonsoyes fidelity, as having some­what possest him with his purpose, and wrought him to his wil; did use him as Interpreter betwixt him and the Dolphin: For he would not altogether, yet discover himself to Bonsoy, and therefore speaking to him in Greek, he commanded that he should salute the Dolphin in his name, and tell him that as a stranger he was come to see him, and of meat humanity to vi­sit him; which the Dolphin kindly accepting, as kindly regree­ted, and entertained him with all the gracious remonstrances he could.

Sirap bad him then ask what his country was, howgreat; by what lawes they were governed, under what title they were subjected, what Religion they observed and what God they chiefly adored, unto which the Dolphin thus briefly an­swered.

France he said is my native nest, both most populous and [Page 128]spacious, as having in it 27 thousand Parish Churches; It is most fertile; and abounds in all plentifulness of fruits, wines, salt, corn, fish and wild fowl; There are many Vniversities famous therein (the nursing mothers of all vertue) out of whose breasts, youth draws out the knowledge of all arts; It hath many large Provinces; and divers bordering Principallityes owe ho­mage thereunto: The Cityes are great and many; rich in trea­sure, and fair, and uniforme in building; the chief where­of is Paris, famous for beauty and bignesse: the usuall re­sidence of the King, and great trassique of all kind of Merchan­dize.

Our Lawes are termed the civill Lawes, wherein Justice is tempered, and qualified by equity and conscience; and equity and conscience are garded and maintained with Justice. Our Monarch is entituled a King, the most Christian King of France, under, whose protection his people live secure, injoying their own, and under whose Greatnesse, his Subjects rest fearlesse of forraign foes.

Our Religion is built upon Gods sacred word; Truth is the root thereof, Charity the branch, and good works the fruit. Our Pastors are our Teachers, who like Lamps consume themselves to enlighten others; their Doctrine is examined by the twelve Apostles: Our prayers by Christ taught six Petitions: Our Faith by the generall Greed; and our lives by Gods tenne Commandements. And where the tongue of Aaron cannot perswade, there the rod of Moses doth correct, and com­pell,

We serve and worship one onely God in persons three, not confused, nor divided; but distinct: of one and the same divine Essence, eternity, power, and quality. God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Ghost. The father being the first, chief, and originall cause of all things; The Sun his word and eternall wisedom: and the Holy Ghost his power, vortue, and efficacy. This is that God, that by his Word made the glorious Globe his seat, and the massie earth his footstoole; that fed his ser­vants (the unprovided Israelites) with food from Heaven, forty yeares in the Wildernesse; that divided the Waters, [Page 129]and brought them dry-foot through the Red-Sea, and drencht proud Pharoh therein, that purlued them with a murdering heart. To him we offer no burnt-offerings, nor sa­crifice of blood, but the sweet intercession of devout prayers. For those ceremonies ceased at the comming of Christ, by whom we are called Christians; and we are received into his Church by baptisme, and continued and fed therein by the other Sacra­ment of his last Supper,

And such is our Country, these our Lawes, such our King, this our Religion, and this the God we onely serve, love, fear and adore. Sirap thanked him for his good description, and seem­ed to take pleasure in the knowledge thereof. Then he de­manded how he brookt his Captivity, and he answered like a Prince, and therefore like himself; as one subject to chance, and resolved in the change. Then he bad him ask whether he had any children, and he all sighing said, but one onely daughter. Then Sirap caused him to ask why he then so sighed; and he replying said, that his sole souls grief consisted in her memory, and so made manifest his hard, cruell, and unnaturall dealing toward her; and how he had left her a prisoner to his tyranny, and therefore by divine justice made himself a prisoner to Ty­ranny.

Sirap being thus certified, was well pleased that Vienna yet living, lived his permanent friend; and though he grieved much for her endurance, yet did he smother up his conceived sorrow in the recordation of her love. The thought of his exile, and Vienna's thraldome, awaked Hatred and Anger (the ready Officers of Revenge) to hasten his death: but in the eye of his milder consideration, knowing him to be his Lord, and Vienna's father; his relenting heart checked his repining humor, and blew the coals of his hotter desire, to seek, and to effect his speedy de­liverance.

To compasse which he seeming (seemed of purpose) to take pleasure in him, and understanding of his Countries customes, commodityes, and government. And therefore he request­ed the Soldan for the continuance of his contentment, and for his further knowledge of forraign affairs, to admit [...], [Page 130]and tollerate his thither repair, that he might hereafter (if cause so required) reduce his learning to practice; which the Soldan granting, gave in charge for his free accesse, and so they depar­ted; the one glad in that he had, or could gratifie so worthy a friend: the other proud, in that he had laid a foundation where­on to build.

The two next dayes Sirap spent in covertly revealing, wher­in his expertnesse, and carriage, did both win respect, and gave delight. The third following day, he with his Interpretour went to parley with the Dolphin, who despairing of life, they sound expecting death. But after they had greeted, and regree­ted each other, with kind salutes, Sirap told him by his Inter­preter, that as a man he bewailed his fortune; and as he was a Prince, he lamented his fall.

Yet dismay not noble Lord, said he, since all corporall da­mages, that happen to mortall men, are either by means reme­died, by reason suffered, by time cured, or by death ended. Ma­licious and violent storms may for the time cleave the bark from the tree, and rent the branches of his body; yet for all the furious blasts of wrathfull winds, it cannot be pluckt up by the root. If there be a power above the capacity of men then may there come comfort, contrary to the conceit of men. Expectation in a weak mind, makes an evil greater, and a good lesse: but the resolved mind digests an evill being come, and makes a future good present before it come; Then ex­pect the best, since you know the worst at the worst, will have an end.

The Dolphin conceiting the civill demeanour, the Phi­losophicall discourse, and the pious mind of the supposed impious and barbarous Moor, honoured his mild inclina­tion, wondered at his regular admonitions, ond thanked him for his human comforts and tender regard. My mind, mindfull (said Sirap) of Fortunes ficklenesse, affects (I know not how, nor wherefore) your deliverance: what then will the Dolphin give, if I affect the same? The Dolphin, whose smallest sayles of hope, the least winds did blow, offered the third part of his Principallity, when he should [Page 131]come to Viennois. Promises, said Sirap, of advancement, are no assurances of enrichment, and he hath a wit too short of dis­cretion, that will lose certain favours, for uncertain fortunes.

Notwithstanding, if you will but swear unto me by that same God, which you serve and adore, to grant me one request, that I shall make when I come to Viennois, I will indanger my life to free your life from danger; and leave, and lose my honours in Babylon, and Greece, to seal and seat my self with you in France; more you cannot desire, lesse (my Country-Gods ayding me) I will not accomplish.

The Dolphin, whose flattering hope, suddainly gave him a present assay of future happinesse, though at the first he was ve­ry credulous in entertaining such favourable conjectures, yet hardly could he ground any firm belief, since knowing him to be but a Stranger, he thought that such deep wounds could not be searched with such shallow Instruments.

But at the last, referring all things to God, and to the Will and Wisdom of the supposed Moor, he wholly embraced his kind offer, and anchored all his hopes, in his provident indu­stry: unto whom, preferring life before livelyhood, he devoutly sware by his Fathers. God, the onely one true God, and God of all Gods, in whom he chiefly, and only trusted; that whatsoe­ver he would demand, should be freely, absolutely, and willing­ly given him, In further consideration whereof, he gave him a rich Diamond, and his Interpretour a hundred French crowns; which for his use, if need required, he had closely hid betwixt the lyning of the coller of his doublet. Sirap holding himself sa­tisfied, said, it sufficed.

Only he required his continual prayers for his better success, and so left him, to feast his hopefull heart with the expectation of desired success. The next day, Sirap taking occasion to walk to Euphrates, that famous River that runs by Babylon, there to view the variety of strange and severall small ships, he casually met, and secretly compounded with an ava­rous Pylot, whose corruption being gilded over with gold; he was to bring him down the River through the Persian [Page 132]gulfe to the next Port town upon the Affrick shore: the fifth following night he appointed to come aboard, attended onely with two men, and therefore gave him in charge, not onely to be most secret therein, but also that he should make full provi­sion of all requisites.

This done, he presently gave forth that he would shortly depart, and return to Constantinople: and the better to ac­complish his desire without misdeem: he determined (under colour of preparation, and fitly furnishing himself) to lye some few dayes in the City, before he would embarque him­self.

All which he presently imparted to the Soldan, and humbly with prodigall thanks took his leave, saying, that his period of time, pleaded now his promised return, which in no wise he would violate with the high Commander of his thoughts, the great and Emperiall Turk, unto whom he owed all obliged love, and most reverend respect. And therefore, if so it pleased his Majesty to conmand his ready service in ought, he would willingly attend his pleasure, and by his Graces imployments, hold himself more then graced.

The Soldan seeing he would depart, presented him with many rich gifts of Royall estimate, holding himself no little bounden to his Gods, in that they had interested him in so no­ble & meritorious a friend, so blinded was he with Siraps civill demeanour, and so dusked with Solimans powerful commends, that he could not with Palamedes, pry into the profundity of Vlysses; and therefore requesting him to take in worth those small remembrances of his fast sealed love, he friendly bad him farewell, and so left him,

Sirap whose thoughts travelled now in quest after the Dol­phins deliverance, got himself into the City, where he cham­bered himself in a Merchants house of great and good regard, where being once left and seated, he began to call his wits to account, how best he might best deceive the Dolphins Kee­per.

For providence preventeth misfortunes, and gives life to our future actions; And therefore he was neither carelesly, nor over­timerously [Page 133]suspitious of that, which might sinisterly and sud­denly succeed; but jealous, and heedfull in the hazard, least any over-sight might crosse his endeavours, and so leave his Lord helpless, and himself hapless. But after he had stretcht and ten­tred his wit, and set al possibilities on the rack of his invention; at length his desire carrying him beyond all doubt of danger; he armed his determination with steeled resolution, and setting his chance on the dice, he thus at tempted, and assayed his for­tune.

The day before his departure, he went unto the Castle, where gently greeting the Keeper, he told him that he was to return to Constantinople, and therefore finding himself en­gaged to him for his willing paines, and already shew­ed kindnesses, he was come of purpose in person to invite him, and all his followers (unto whom he had been trouble­some) to sup with him that night, that he thereby might acknowledge his thankfulness, and they have cause to re­member his love, and his person: And because (he said) my Chamber is no receit, and that I am unwilling to be trouble­some, or offensive to the Master of the house, let me entreat the use of the Castle, and so make you my Host, and Guest at once.

The Keeper blinded with his former bounty, secured by the Soldan, and now drawne on, by the pleasing shew of kind courtesie; knowing him (whom yet he never knew) to be of a vertuous dispose, of great estimate, and highly favoured of the King; did freely, and gratefully offer himself, his service, and the Castle at his command. The great unknown distance, betwixt the Dolphins and the Moors country climes, with their ad­miration of each other, and the difference of their tongues could not make the gul'd keeper suspitious, nor can cause him once to dream of deceitfull guile.

This illusion gave Sirap hope of happy success, and therefore manifesting his thankfulness with a rich Iewell, that he (giving) required that he would wear it for his sake, he left him, and pro­digally provided, what either his purse could procure, or the time would afford; hee also gave further charge to his atten­dents, [Page 134]that the Table should be still and ever fully furnished with many repleat cups of Greekish Wine. For (said he) the cost is ill spared; that is spared for cost; and the beauty of the banquet is there ecclips'd, where Iupiter raines not down full showres of Nectar.

As himself, he had carefully and secretly before provided sleeping Poppy, heavy Darnell, and the mortifiing juyce of life-bereaving Mandrake; with other powerfull powders, a small quantity whereof taken in drink would make the recei­ver fall into a most sudden and deadly sleep. This did he so secretly, and so frankly bestow amongst all the flaggon pots but one (which Bonfoy had in trusty charge reserved by mark, for himself and his Lord) that every one had in ful measure his dormative full waight.

These poysoned pots he closely kept for the middle of the banquet; and supper being served in, Sirap seated every one in their due places, to the contentment of each one; & then he be­gan to feast, and chear his gladsome guests, and like a pleasant Idolist, merrily cheered his feasted friends. But in the end (they having no end in drinking) he seeing them so devoutly sacrifi­cing to Bacchus, he to honor their Religion, added then more fatall fewell to their drunken fire.

Their overdrawn cups were still replenished with the pow­dered Wines, and ever he plyed them with cups, till their cups had over-plyed them: That drunk in their drowsie devotion, they falling into a leaden slumber, began to sleep out all living consideration.

Now Sirap seeing his hope honoured with some perfection thought it fit to do homage to opportunity; for in deferring of time, many times, it is both the losse of life, and occasion: And therefore adding execution to time, he instantly went to make all such as were in the Castle sure; which done, he came back, and taking the keyes from the Keeper, (whom with the rest of both their servants, we will leave where they silent lay) he hastily went down to the Dolphins lodging, where they found him prostrate on the ground, moystening the earth, with his repenting teares, and piercing the heavens with [Page 135]his prayers for the supposed Moors good successe; but before he could make an end of his prayers, Sirap came to end his prayers, and Purgatory at once; and releasing him from his oppressing Irons, brought him up to view Morphens Come­dy, which that dull God (with his ayd) had made, and prepared for his pleasure.

Now Time struck his lock before, and it fitted not to argue what was done; or what was to be done, least they themselves might be undone; but giving praise to God in their severall shewed kinds, they presently buckled up their spirits with their legs, like Bees, that having suckt the juyce of forraign Gardens, make wing to their own hives, that they may make merry with the fraught of their adventures. So did they hast to the back gate of the Castle, which they prizing open, went to the Rivers side, where the hired Pylot courteously attended their comming: In a small vessell they imbarqued themselves, and sayled to the Persian Gulfe, and so a long to the Affrick Sea: Upon the entry whereof, there crost them a great Pyrate of Arabia, whose uncheckt fortunes, and uncontrouled strength still crown'd his hardest attempts with victory.

But his pride was now like a vapour, that ascending high, soon turneth into smoak. For he no sooner saw their small Fri­got, but counting it his purchase, he hastily made towards them, and looking for no resistance, he grapled with them, and com­manded them to yeeld.

But Sirap being unwilling to loose the rich benefit of his high adventure, having no acquaintance with fear, and being e­ver accustomed to conquer, drew forth his sleeping Semitar, which his enraged fury whetted so sharp; that he clove the first opposer down to the back, and sent the head of the next, as an Ambassadour, to plead for peace amongst the monsters of the Sea. The Dolphin seeing such great chips cut out of [Page 136]such rough timber, wondered at his force, and admired his va­lour; Death seemed now to hold a Sessions in the Ship, and Sirap still gave the summons for their appearance. For fea­ring left their entry into his ship, should endanger the Dolphin; he to prevent that, hazarded himself the more, by leaping in among his enemies, where his magnanimious mind, ar­med with the arm of puissance, so disheartned his foes, that the Captain fearing least any more should come to assist him, caused the ships to be ungrapled: And no sooner were they separated, but that the timerous Pilot wherein the Dolphin was, seeing himselfe severed from perill, began to turn the stern of his ship, and with a side wind to sayl back; which Bonfoy espying, thought it better to dy in adven­ture of his liberty, then to become a Captive again to mise­ry.

Despair therefore made him valiant, and necessity did adde to his courage, which made him to exceed himself in might and to go beyond all hope in successe: For suddenly running the Pilot thorow with his sword, he wounded the next to him so sore, that he could not offend. The Dolphin seeing the suc­cesse of his bold attempt, raised his faln courage to the height of noble resolution; and unsheathing his quiet sword, that Sirap had given him, he gave him such assistance, as his weak abillity could afford.

In the end, fear made them valiant, and their valour freed them from fear. The assaulted Saylers (being weapon­lesse) fell in their bloud; and in their overthrowes, did the survivours submit themselves to the mercy of their swords. Force now over-awed them, and they were compelled by Bonfoy to make towards the other Ship, wherein Sirap was making an end of an unequall battell. For having at the first slain their redoubted Captain, he wrested his approved broad shield from him, under which shelter, his encrea­sing valour made such slaughter, as of sixteen persons, he left but three alive, which as Bonfoy came in, were pro­strate on their knees for pardon. But when Sirap saw them, and understood of their interaccident, he was more [Page 137]glad of their safeties, then he was of his own victory. The Dol­phin stood amazed when he saw the Ship embost with scatter­ed heads, divided arms, and dismembred legs; And in his admi­ration said if he be but a man how this? If more then a man, why this? Such forceable blowes, shewes a power beyond all human power, and yet I see he is but a man, though he hath done much more then many men.

This estimate of his valour and worth, made him over after respect him more for his incomparable prowesse, then he did before for his deliverance. Bonfoy now thought himself hap­py in such a Master, and Sirap grew proud of such a ser­vant.

Lovi (the joy of nature) now sat in triumph for their securities, and the wrathfull God of War, being wearied with destructi­on, laid him down in the bed of peace: with these two ships they securely sayled, with winds suitable to their wills all along the coasts of Magadoxa in Aethlopia, and so by Guine, where meeting with a Portugall Marchant, they hired the Pilot to bring them to Marselles.

Thus did the inscrutable providence of God, from injurious and bad causes, produce good effects; making the banishment of the one to save the life of the other, and the love of liberty, to give liberty to love. The change that change of fortune wrought in them all, made their minds more then pleasing Paradises of unspeokable pleasures.

The Dolphin dreamd of naught but Majesty and Digni­ties; Bonfoy of freedom and preferment; and Sirap his rich hopes promised him now golden fortunes: yet durst he not unmask himself, left he should deprive Conceit of his new Christendome, and betray Pollicy of his chiefest pre­tence; but still holding the borrowed habite and artificiall colour of a black Moor, he still spake unto the Dolphin by Bonfoy his Interpreter, by whom he discoursed of many things: and again, and again, and still again, enquired of such affaires, as most neerest did concern him; wherein he took double delight, in not onely gaining knowledge of the assumace of Viennois life and love: but in deceiving [Page 138]the Dolphin, that the Dolphin might thereby be the more de­ceived. In this clouded communication we will leave them a while, to see what befell Mal Fiance, whom we left detained in the Tavern, ignorant of his Lords surprise, though not inno­cent of the cause.

Ten dayes did the Vintner keep him close, still expect­ing that either the Marchant should return, or that the San­zake should send for his restrained guest. But when he could neither hear of the one, nor the other; he began to grow jea­lous of the matter, and premeditating thereon, at last, fastned on this belief; That the Marchant (like a subtile Mercurian) had cheated the Stranger, and after left him, not onely to pay for the wine, but also made him a stale to convey himself away under the face of honesty. For otherwise he thought, that if there had been cause of taxation, complaint, or examinati­on; there would no doubt have been hasty inquisition made af­ter him.

In this perswasion he set Mal Fiance at liberty, who now found his repenting errour, in the losse of his Lord; Shame rebuk't his tongue, Grief attach'd his heart, and Fear afflicted all his thoughts, at this deer rate he purchas'd wit; which taught him to labour more advisedly in the fearfull search of the Dol­phin; His enquiring eyes did still pry into every corner of all his carefull and wandring wayes; and in all assemblies, he sought whom he could not find. But when neither weary time, nor wary search could give him any knowledge of him. Then happily meeting with a Flemming, that was rea­dy bound for Zeland, he went a Shipboard with him, hoping that either he should find his Lord returned to Viennois, or give them cause to follow him in better quest.

After many days sayling they happily arrived at Middle­burgh, where in an old decayed Burgamasters house, they lod­ged Mal Fiance, who finding the a ged jealousie of his aged Host, cunningly carryed himself in a strict shew of purity; that under that deceit he might the better deceive. This suspitious Syre, having not onely a beautifull daughter, but a young fair [Page 139]wife whom he lately espoused, was so fearfully jealous of them both, that he confined them within the limit of his house; and if either of them were but out of his sight, he straight supposed she was in action; A service which none can digest, that may not themselves perform. But to take away all means that did help (not heal) his misdeems; he caused his daughter to lye in a low bed within his Chamber, and made the door to be lockt each night.

Now it fell out that there was a great and secret love be­twixt his Daughter; and one Haunce; the sonne of a rich Tanner, that dwelt not farre from him, who by appointment came presently after supper time to her Chamber window, that lookt into the Garden, where he so passionately pleaded for the Harvest of his amorous desires, that she (being made of flesh, not flint) granted that he should reap the full fruition of his love, if he would but adventure the venture of it. For so (said she) it is, that over and besides my fathers watchfull fear, and ever waking jealousie, I do lye neer unto him, within his cham­ber, where though I may easily give you entrance, yet to entertain you without his perceivance, stands not with my be­lief.

That matters not said Haunce, I will not leave the ven­ture, for any adventure; leave the managing thereof to me, who will for thy sake attempt the height of the hazard. Love fears no danger; and pleasure without shew of perill, looseth the vigour of her sweetnesse: I will with fear so deceive his fear. Onely be not thou afraid at any thing that thou shalt hear, or see, and so farewel, and expect my com­ming.

All this wanton discourse did Mal-Fiance listning heare, as by chance he leaned in his Chamber window, which was but the breadth of a post from her window; who like a true Venerian (knowing their carnall conclusion) resolved to take the benefit of the match, though she were more then his match, and to put into the Mediterrancan Sea, when the wind should serve, in that pleasant pinnace, wherein [Page 140]enhaunced Haunte hoped solely to sayl with joy through the Magellan straights.

To affect which, he sate in counsell with all his thoughts, how he might best deceive not only hopefull Haunce, but al­so her jealous Father, and overamorous mother; who being sick of old ages tedious, and overlong induring debilityes, had ma­ny times by her alluring eyes, stoln glances, and other enticing dem cancurs, lookt for Physick at his hands. At last device advised him, that there was no way to bind jealousie to the peace, and to keep himself from interruption, but onely by hor­rour of fear, to make him loose himself, and sencelesse of all other fear: In proof whereof, that night, at the dead hour of heavy and leaden sleep, he took one of his bed-sheets, and tying a knot on the top, threw it over him, and like a troubled ghost, with doubtfull paces went into the Burga­masters Chamber; who being kept waking by his decrepit griefs, heard the fall of his steps, and being so dark that he could not see, he gastly askt who was there? None but I, said his watching sensuall daughter, supposing it had been Haunce.

Is the door lockt said he? yes, quoth she, you heard me lock it your self, and so she did, but without the staple. Mal-Fiance being thus Plannet-strucken, curst old Saturn, for being now so opposite to Venus, and in his pawse of doubt­full stay, he light on this subtile shift; presently he crept stealingly, under his bed, where finding a pair of bellowes, that [...]lesly had been thrown, and left there; hee took them up, and softly rising by the beds head, he blew many sudden and short blasts upon him, and then falling down again, he set his back to the middle of the bed-cords; where with all his force he lifted the bed up as high as he could, and then would let it softly fall, and then raising it up again, would af­ter let it fall suddenly; and then would he blast with the bel­lowes againe, which so amazed and frighted the poore Burg [...]master; that he could not speak, but fearfully crept over the head into the bed, and layd such fast (though sho [...] ­king) hands, on his wife, that he awaked her; who being [Page 141]held over-hard, demanded what so appaled him: who answe­red in a low voyce, that there was some tormenting spirit in the Chamber. Alas sweet (sayd she) thinking it to be but the disease of his jealousie, you do but dream, there is no such thing, give me leave to sleep, since you cannot keep me wa [...] king.

The Daughter whose lustfull attendance, waked after venercall copulation, hearing this, and knowing the falla­cy; could not but laugh at her fathers deceiving, and be­traying fear, and in the pride of her naked strength, she prepared her selfe (being then most ready, when shee was most unready) both to assay and allay that troublesome spi­rit.

Mal-Fiance having thus secured their stirring, by delu­ding their hearing, went boldly to the daughters bed, (the wished port, where he desired to arrive) where finding no opposition; she stil deeming him to be Haunce, he cast anchor, that his barque might ride at full Sea: At which time Mars and Venus being in conjunction, produced such strange effects, that the bed wherein they lay, did both shake and rock; which her mother-in-law hearing, began to be half afraid, having heard nothing before: yet out of wonted holdness (which was great in bodily adventures) she called to her daughter and asked her how she did; I do (q [...]she) well, and as well as any woman can do.

It is the better for you, replyed the mother, but do you not heare, nor feel any thing? I hear nothing (said she) that is ill, and most assured I am; I feel no hurt. Well daughter, said the Mother, blesse you, and crosse you from all evill spi­rits.

Nay mother (quoth she) my faith herein hath ever been so great, and so good, that I neither fear the Devill, nor think any man is present that endangers me. All this while the poor Bur­gamaster lay over the head in the sweat of his false fear, which and so tyrantize over his weaknesse, that he durstily no longer, but hastily calling up his man, he had him light a candle: for he would rise, and go fetch his ghostly Father Fryer Br [...]erick to [Page 142]come to blesse his Chamber, and sprinkle it all over with holy water.

His wife could not divert him from it, and his daughter and her unknown Paramour were ready to betray themselves with laughter: yet was Mal Fiance glad to hide himself in the bed, whilst to prevent suspition, the daughter rose, and took upon her to unlock the unlocked doors, by which time the man came with a light, and getting his Master up, hee holpe to array him, and after went with a Lanthorne with him to seeke the Fryer.

No sooner were they gone, but in comes lascivious Haunce in the heat of his desire, like the Prince of darknesse, cloathed in a Bulls-hide, with the horns on his head, (for it much behoo­ved him to have borns, that must leave horns behind him) who finding the doors open, made no stay till he came to the daugh­ters bed, where hearing two breath, he softly shrunk back, sup­posing it was the Fathers bed, and stumbling after by hap on the other bed, where the wife lay all alone, he holding down his head softly said; Fear not my Love, it is I, and so dismantling himself, laid him down by her, who conceiting that it was Mal Fiance, that had taken the benefit of her husbands going forth, resisted not, but entertained him with all the full favours, that wanton love could afford: (Thus doe Womens light thoughts many times make their husbands to have heavie heads.)

But in this amorous combat, the very bed proclaimed their forceable encounters, and the fall of bedstaves well witnessed their fresh assaults, which the daughter hearing, deemed that her restlesse mother was tormented with some terrour of fear: and therefore calling to her, she wished her to have a good litart, and not to yeeld to idle conceits, which but troubled the mind with deceiving imaginations. The mother perceiving that something was perceived, and that they were heard, took upon her to be affrighted, and said: Alas daughter, something, I know, hath been upon me, and if spirits have any substances, it is surely one. Cover your self well, said the daughter.

By this enterchange of chatte, Haunce knew that he had [Page 143]travailed in a by-path, which so distasted him, that his teeth gnashed together for anger, and Mal Fiance lay loughing at the knowledge thereof, who remembring now, that Haunce would come in some fearfull shape, to make way for his plea­sure he thought to work further on him, and to beat him with his own weapon; And to give life to his device, he stole up, and creeping along the beds side, wherein euchaffed Haunce did [...]ly he sought by feeling, and by feeling sound the hairy hide, which by handling thereof, he knew well was a garment of his Fathers, and as he threw it over him, with intent to frighten Haunce, he heard his Host and the Frier coming into the house; who came sooner then they were expected: Then he was forc'd to run behind the door, thinking by his hell-like habite, to terrifie them all; and so got unknown to his Cham­ber.

Now Haunce perceiving light through the door (for as yet the Fryer durst not come in, till he had said divers Pater no­sters, and besprinkled the door with his holy water sprinkle) leap'd hastily out of his disliked bed, and failing to find his de­vills coat, he pul'd the higher sheet out of the bed, and shrowd­ing himself therein, went like a ghost to the other side of the dore, thinking likewise so suddenly to fright them, that undis­covered he might escape. But the tardy-taken-women, that now were more afraid of shame, then they were before of sin, were driven to such an exigent, that they knew not how to a­void, neither rebuke not reproach: their scarlet blushes accused them, and the holy Church was at the dore ready to condemn them.

In this hell they lay, fearing to bee seene, untill the light which most they feared, freed them from those they most feared. For the new transformed Devill, and the late meta­morphosed ghost, suddainly seeing each other by the light of the Candle, upon the opening of the dore, were so agast at the fearefull sight of either others terrifying, and un­knowne shapes, that they verily thought, that the Devill, or some other ill spirit were purposely come from hell to carry them away, for their sinfull assuming their damned [Page 144]formes to such wicked and forbidden ends. In this fear and fearful thought, they made such hast to run away the one from the other, that they both rusht at once so forceably through the door, that they bear the old Burgamaster down, and turned the poor Fryer over and over; in which fall he pittifully brake his face on the housecill, and half drowned the Burga­master with the Holy-water that he brought and shed upon him.

The carefull women though they were thus cleared of dis­grace, yet were they so danted at the sight of these incarnall devills, that they wofully cryed, and shrieked out; the servant with the Lanthorn as one distract; run out of doors; Mal Fi­ance as fearfully fled to his chamber; and heartless Haunce most amazedly run into the street after the servant; who loo­king for fear behind him, saw this spirit P. running (as he thought) after him; which made him cry out, help, help, a spirit, a ghost; a ghost, a spirit.

The Watchmen comming, and hearing him, thought the man was stark mad; but looking about, they saw this affrigh­ted frightning ghost comming towards them, which put them all into such amazed fear, that they threw down their weapons and run away. The coast being thus cleared, unhappy Haunce got into his Fathers house.

But now the next neighbours that had heard the wretched womans shrieking cries, were risen, and having gotten lights speedily came to see, and know the cause of their out­cryes, And finding the Master of the house and the Fryer (whom fear had entranced) half dead on the floor, and the Frier all bloudied by his fall, they supposing, that they were slain, instantly cried out, Murther, murther; The dismay­ed women (that all this while lay over their heads, in the bath of their sweating feare, doing pennance for their stolne pleasures) having their fear both renewed, and redoubled by these their cries; cryed out as fast, the Devill, the Devill, at the hearing whereof, all the neighbours runne out of the house again, and Mal Fiance grew upon this dreadfull al­lanim, so fearfully timerous, that hee durst not moove [Page 145]though he were more then moved. In this agony of terrour, did they all lye till break of day, when light (the comfort of dark dismay) emboldned the chief Officer (who of purpose was sent for) to enter into this house of horrour, where raising them from the place of purgatory; they found upon examination that the devill had been there, and was the cause of all their di­sturbances.

But Mal Fiance who now had made peace with his di­stracted thoughts; not onely found his own error, but easily ap­prehended the shift, and enforced subtilty of the other. For remembring he had disfurnished Haunce of his black Mantle, and so prevented him of his infernal shape, he conceited that he had no other means to free himself, then by taking one of the sheets, and so by appearing like a ghost to make way for him­self. In the belief of this conceit, he vowed that Haunce should wel pay both for terrifying him, and for his planting in anothers Vineyard.

And to this end, he seeking found him, and told him, that he had a very good Bulls hide to sell him. Haunce knowing well where he lay was much astonisht thereat, and thanking him said, he had no need of any. Then (quoth Mal Fiance) shall my Host have it to make him a Night-gown; but you shall pay for the horns, though you were so liberall, as free­ly to give them. For in brief Mr. Tanner, the abuse that you have offered mine Host, and the scandall that you have raised on his house is so injuriously great, and so shamefully injurious, that unlesse you will give me ten pounds, I will unease the Devill, and both reveal his adulterous dealing, and tell of your ghostly escape Haunce seeing he was discovered bought his concealment with his coin: which made Mal Fiance so wan­son, that being so well silver-shod for travell he discharged all his debts, and in the innocency of his thought, not dreaming af­ter any danger, he made more hast then good speed to Vien­nois.

And no sooner was he come, and known to be i [...] Vienna, but that the Lord Vray Esperance sent for him, & demanded where his Soveraign Lord the Dolphin was; who being unable [Page 146]to answer thereunto, was presently deemed, either to have mur­thered him, or to have betrayed him to his enemies: For it is a rule by observation true: that they that fear not to be thought faulty, will neither be afraid to commit the fault, nor ashamed to be seen after the fact. His leaving (howsoever) of his Liege Lord, was held worthy of death. And therefore was he sent bound hand and foot to prison, till rigour of ju­stice should by speedy sentence award him condigne punnish­ment.

But the bruit hereof begat such tumultuous uproares, and brought forth such mischievous factions both in Court and Ci­ty, that hardly could the tempest be allayed without the utter subversion of the State. For how should the low shrubs stand in rebellion, when the high Cedar was thought to be blown down by treason? In this combustion, some stood for the in­dubitate heir the Princesse Vieuna, whose liberty they proudly required amongst whom, Sir Iaques, and La-nova were most forward.

Some for the malicious ano proud Dolphinis, whose Regen­cy many affected; but all malecontents, repugnant, humorists, disordered men decaied persons, & servile Peasants (that thrive best in mutation of States, and live by others falling, as swine do by the dropping of Acorns) flocked about Monsieur Ma­ligne, the reputed bastard of the Delphin, who ambitiously would needs (according to the wicked disposition of illegeti­mates) deprive others by ruin and rapine of their rights, and ap­propriate to himself the Crown.

The fired factions began to break out into flaming sedition and masked Rebellion wayted but on time and advantage, to use open force against each other; The Common-Weale did well to see her destruction in this triumviry; Among these bri­ers and brambles; that sought to over-top the stately Oak; awfull Justice had no powerfull place: Law was of no force, and authority lost all command. For where alteration threatens Warre, there the sword maketh all things law­full.

But when the Lord Vray Esperance. who was an Anthony [Page 147]in clemency, a Trajan in bounty, and another Augustus in wisdom, beloved of most and respected of all; saw this triper­tite and dissentious division growing to such monstious heads: and hearing that many of the giddy-headed multitude were already assembled together in the Market place in a most con­fused manner according to the mutinous natures of the muta­ble Commons, fearing their aptness to innovation, and the sad effects of civill broyls, or some sudden overture, leaving (because wanting) all time of further consideration: even in the assurance of his vertue, and strength of his zeal to his Country, he sudden­ly went to the Market-place, where all men (notwithstanding their distemperatures) gave way to his merit, and in love fol­lowed after him.

So powerfull was he in popular affection, which he percei­ving, stayed; and turning himself towards them, with tears in his eyes and his Hat in his hands, more like an humble Suppli­ant, then a regall Ruler, he made a sign for audience; which granted, he mildly after some few sighs said,

What moves my fast friends, loving favourites, and more then dear Counntry-men, to this threatning mutiny? What di­sturbs your quiet peace, or what seek you by the hurtfull Arms? Do you want a Prince? Why the Dolphin, your liege Lord (for ought any knows) liveth, and the Princess his apparent Heir is not dead.

Doth any usurp your rights, or oppress you with wrongs? Why Justice shall give to every one his own, and I am here ready to shed my bloud in your behalfs. Or doth the bare sup­pose of your Soveraigns death, thus untimely move you to create, and invest a new, because Mal-Fiance is returned with­out his Lord? A project, trust me, that will bring forth some notable deceitfull design.

If needs he must be dead, because none can hear tell that he is alive; Why then should he not be as well living, because here no one knows that he is dead? But admit, that our sins have (which God forbid) deprived us of him, doth it follow, that the ambitious Dolphin's, or that degenerat [Page 148]Bastard Maligne, should succeed him? What though Vienua be a prisoner to her Fathers will, and my faith must keep her still a thrall to his severity? yet the Father dying, the Daugh­ters bonds are broken, I discharged, and you tyed, to inthronize her for your lawfull Princess.

Why then should there be any such disparity of minds, or diversity of affections amongst you, since you are all subjects born to one end, and Viennonians sworn to one right? What shall become of this Principality, when those that should u­nite themselves to maintain the Weal-publique; do thus divide themselves, to overthrow the Publique-Weal? Know you not, that by thus banding your selves, you do altogether aban­don your selves?

Will not your insulting, and incroaching Neighbours (the proud Savonians) our inveterate and irreconciliable enemies, take advantage of your weakning of your own strengths, enter forcibly upon your rights, dispossesse you of your Habitations, and make you Aliens to your Inheritances? Yes, yes, be you assured, that hatred amongst friends, gives ever succour to stran­gers; and that Civill Wars within you, will bring Forraign Wars upon you.

Look on the Dolphinis, of whom I am loath to speak ill, yet in this, I know not how to speak well. Doth not her unwa­sted corruption, and pride show, that she loves a P [...]llace better then her Paradise? that thinks by shamefull rebellion, to make her self a sinfull Queen?

Know you not, that they that are so greedy, so unlawfully to get, will be ever as ready to do wrong? What colour of claim can she have, that is neither royalized by propagation, nor extract from Princely or Noble bloud? She had no au­thority given her in his Highness rule; nor hath she any left her at his departure.

It is, I see, only her pride, that can suffer no equall; and Ma­lignes ambition, that can brook no Superiour: two Fire-brands that burnt up Romes most glorious Monarchy O let them both then fall in their pride, that seek so unjustly to fly, before they have wings; and wash not your eyes, and hands, like Envy [Page 149]in one anothers fall. In persisting to maintain evill, Maligno doth condemn himself; otherwise, he would not seek to ob­tain that with bloud and shame, which he can neither get, nor keep, without sinne and death. In all the Scriptures, there was but one sole Bastard (only Jephtha) that did come to any good; and yet he had the mark of the Curse: for his all-onely Daughter was most sorrowfully sacrificed for her great Fathers offence; And this was but to shew, that there is no perpetuity, nor long prosperity, in hatefull and condemned bastardy. And will you then make the corrupt and cursed seed, and excrement of sinne, your unlawfull Prince? that by all divine, nature, and nationall Laws, hath no inheritance on Earth, and whom the Jews counted as no part of their Congregation.

If the Father be an Adulterer, and the Mother a Fornicator, the Son must in reason be a bad liver, and a wicked Gover­nour.

For he that is born in double sinne, must of likelyhood in nature, be both subject to many faults, and guilty of many of­fences. And how can polluted hands make foul Vessels clean? or how can he that is but the Son of the People, be the Son of the Dolphin? The Mothers acknowledgment, and protestati­on, is no proof; that ever fathers them on those that can best maintain them. She cannot be true to one, that is untrue to her self; Corruption will still break out there, where it is once feste­red, How then can you affect the Son of shame, or without shame, yield your selves subject to the Son of a strumpet? If his desire be beyond his merit and reach, let him fall besides his hopes, and receive just guerdon for his deserts.

As for the vertuous Princess, whose right I reverence, and whose worth I admire▪ Let her yet remain (though with better respect) where she is,

For it is not good over-suddainly to open a wound, that hath bin long closed up.

The greatest right, may do the most wrong, and the omis­sion of a good action, is no sinne; when it cannot be done without committing of sinne. I have sworn to her Father, and would be found faithfull to my Lord; I affect not go­vernment: [Page 150]For in this, I am but like the Sun that carryes his Lan horn for others, and not for himself. It is better to be doubtfull, then over-credulous; and the uncertainty of his death is no warrant for my discharge, nor your disobedience. There is time for all things, and the Moon that is not yet risen, may rise, and shine in full glory, though now she be eclipsed. What more would you have, or what further (O you fond Vienno­nians) do you endeavour to affect? Will you turn Traytors to your Lord, rip up your own bowels, make your wives wi­dows, and your children fatherless, and helpless? Will you put fire to your own houses, possess your foes with your wives, and wealths, see your daughters deflowred, and make an utter devastation of your Country?

Alass! I see your wilfulness betrayes your wits, and draws on your overthrows into your Enemies tryumphs; and grief makes me to shed tears of bloud for your own purchased de­structions.

Let me at last, O let me in love, and tender care of your welfares, dehort you from wounding of your selves, and leave these ill presaging jars amongst you; and like birds of one flock fly together: Maintain your sacred Oaths, for preservation of your Soveraigns right, till better assurance acquit you from your obliged faiths. To hasten the knowledge whereof, I will wing many Messengers with speed, to enquire, and learn what is become of our Soveraign Lord; with that the tears did trickle down his face, which struck such a compassionate regard in all their hearts, that being before made sensitive of their errours, and now fully satisfied, and reclaimed by his tongue of perswasion, they joyfully threw up their Hats, and some lifting him up, cryed, God save the Dolphin, and the Lord Vray Esperance, under whose Government we will only live.

Thus did his pleasing words, powerfull authority, mild be­haviour, refined and probable reasons and subtilized distinction allay the force of he approaching storm, and gave such con­tentment to all, that every one departing in love, brought home peace to their Neighbours.

[Page 151] Thus did this noble Governour (like a good and skilfull Musicianer put all this jarring discord, in a good and true tune; which so crost the hatefull hopes of malicious Maligne, that failing of native strength and rebellious forces; to dignifie his in­dignities; he suddenly fled unto the Savoy Duke, to require forraign aid to royallize his proud basenesse. Such was his aspiring wrath, that it had no mean, and such his Treason that it [...]ad no end.

Fear now made him doubt the rigour of law, that before would have been subject to no law: and therefore did he in such unstable waters, and threatning winds, seeke for more powerfull eares; which the subtile Duke well perceiving, thought to feed on him, as Pharohs leane Kine did on the fat.

But before he went, he advised thereof with his politick and sworn confederate friend, Monsieur Meschant, whose false semblable minds, ever made such a full connexion of wills be­twixt them, as what the one perniciously contrived, the other most traiterously put in practise.

And therefore Moschant seeing him already over the shooes in danger, perswaded him to wade up to the chin: For, said he, there can never be any perill in the adventure, where the Foord promiseth so good a passage. Danger now only dwels at home, and the Savoy Duke may both fortifie your hope, and raise your fortunes. Offer him but interest in the Dolphin, and you shall find that his avarice and pride, will in that hope greedily work on our broken and disturbed state. So then hap­pily with speed, and most powerfully and successively; may you return; and as prevailent may your successe be, as your go­ing is most pertinent. And therewithal, he took a sheet of clean paper, and laying both sides straight together, he cut di­vers rowes through them both; and after cutting them a sun­der, he kept the one halfe himself, and gave the other, say­ing:

By this, and through this, shall you (without either dan­ger to me, or perceivance of any other) still know what is here done, and what I would have you further to do. For [Page 152]though I writ my Letters directly, and most distastfully against your Apostacy, and combination with the publique foe, and advise you to betray that noble Duke, (which for safety I must still do, lest in the portage or otherwise, my Letters should miscarry) yet shall you at all times unmask my in­tended intelligence, and find out both my fallacy, and true instructions, if you but take this your cut pattern, and lay it on my Letter, where you shall plainly, and formally read through the same, no more, then what I purposely in truth do write unto you, and would willingly enfeoffe you with. In like manner (as I will teach you) may you safely by the same illusion, certifie me of all your projects and designs.

Maligne thanked him, prayed his remembrance thereof, and so bad him farewell. For fear sent him post away, and hope gave him such speed, and in short time he came to the Dukes Court, where after he had most respectively saluted him he related how that the Dophin his father was dead, and that the L. Vray Esperance affecting government, most ambitious­ly sought to retain his usurped rule.

That the Princesse Vienna was in prison unregarded o [...] all; and that he had himself many strong and assured favou­rites, that would stand for his fortune. In furtherance whereof he was come to pray his assistance, and for guerdon thereof, he would interest him in that half of Dolphin, thet lay next unto him.

Thus did he seek his own ruine with great labour, and buy repentance with bloudy cost. Thus did he make himself a bridg for the incroaching Duke to enter upon his Country: and this gap did he open that the Savonian forces might like an inun­dationsubmerg and overwhelm both himself, and the whole bo­dy of the State,

For the Duke, who ever wayted on opportunity, and still watched how the Market went, finding now the Mine disco­vered; he thought good to make profit thereof, and to take the benefit of the Tide, while the floud served. And therefore he embraced the person, for the occasion, and premising [Page 153]him help (but with Iudas subtilty to make himself rich) he lea­vyed forty thousand men well appointed, with whom, with all affected expedition, he instantly in person, went to fish in Vi­eanois troubled water, without making a Conscience of thrust­ing his Sickle into anothers Harvest. The opinion of possibility so redoubled his unbounded desires, that he thought that time too long; that he spent in going. But it had been better for him with the Tertoise, to have kept his head within his own shell, then by seeking so abroad to raise his fortunes out of anothers ruines.

For that carefull Shepheard, the ever watchfull Governour) being now summoned by wastfull Warre, to defend both his Flock and his Fold, stood not like a doubtfull Chyrurgion, to consult of the ripenesse of the sore; but like an expert Captain (that at the first) would prevent fury by force) he suddenly raised 3000. men, whom in pride of his aged age he himself led into Dolphin to encounter with the injurious and intruding Duke.

Now Mescant hearing that the Duke and Maligne, were entred into Dolphin, and seeing the present preparation, and ha­sty march that the governour now made against them; He in­stantly writ unto Maligne thereof, and thus deceitfully dis­guised his subtile intelligences.

Thus in a fair cup of gold did this pestiferous Meschant utter his hidden poyson; And under the apparent shew of ho­nest loyalty, did he give both treacherous intelligence, and dan­gerous instructions to the hostile enemy. For Maligne upon the receit of this Letter, laid his patern thereon, and so read his subtil and cloked advertisements through the same, as by laying down, and covering this his Letter, with this exampled pattern, you may plainly perceive.

By this time had the Dolphin, and Sir Sirap (after teadi­ous travail) recovered Marcolles in Prevince, through [Page 155]which they past unknown into Dolphin; where the Dolphin finding his Country, in his declining days, covered over with Campes, Carriages, barbed Horses, and armed Souldiers; he amazedly asked, and asking learned, the unexpected cause ther­of; which made him beway his sinister fortunes, and envy no little against that impious abject, his accussed supposed Sonne. Grief now made him weep at his Countries calamity, and fear made him doubt his own deprivation. The Harvest of his sins, yielded him now more increase of woes; then the lusts of his youth afforded him pleasures. But how should (said the sor­rowfull Dolphin) he that is begotten in my full sin, and born in his own shame; live without doing villany, or dy without making mischief? If his being be from me, why then should he seek to take from me my being?

And if he be none of mine, what then hath he to do with it, which is mine? but he is not mine, but the Son of iniquity, and scorn of nature; and therefore knows neither his shameless self, nor his [...]full father.

I nourished him (as a Snake) in the bosome of my love, and now he would sting me to death, in the poyson of his hate.

O how just are the judgments of God, that pays our amiss, in the amiss of our offences, and makes our wicked pleasures our just punishments!

In this bemoaning fury, did he call for vengeance to be powred down on Maligne; which Sirap seeing, could not but grieve at his sad lamentations, though otherwise he rejoyced, that occasion presented unto him both a means to shew there his prowess; and a way to make his Country indebted to his valour. For (as a stranger) he knew he should win honour, and after gain (being made known) more respect. The wruth of War he did not fear, nor made he any doubt of his Countries safety.

And therefore he chearfully commanded Boufoy to comfort the distressed Dolphin, and to assure him, that the God of the Viennoians had brought him thither, in justice, both to punish the treachery of his degenerate Son; and also to correct the in­sulting [Page 156]pride of the intruding Duke; in both whose ambitious blouds, he vowed to bath his revengefull Sword, and by force of the Viennontan forces, to overthrow all the Savonians, Only entreat him to take up the heat of his indignation in the embers, and to keep himself unknown that thereby he might receive a true try all of his subjects forces, and fidelities; and the easier escape, and support himself after, with forraign sup­plyes, if the Viennonians should unhappily bee van­quisht.

As for himself, he would (when they were hottest in battell) suddenly thrust himself amongst them, where he would write such Tragedles in his enemies blood, that weeping repen­tance should teach them, what it is, to invade anothers right, and to displant the true Vine. His Highnesse and Bonfoy, I would have them like two peaceable Pilgrims, to stand safely aloof, and to view the hazard of the game, till the last chance be cast, and then secretly to convey themselves to some cave in the near adjoyning Wood, whither in the darke of night I will un­descryed repaire, and further consult what after will bee done.

To this the animated Dolphin subscribed. For in his vertuous valour, and practive knowledge did he build his new raised hope; and on his unresistable force, and most fortunate a [...]chieve­ments did his comfort depend.

Now Sirap having about him his never failing Semitar, wherewith he vanquisht Turbuleut the fierce, and being fur­nished with the Shield, and armour, that he forceably took from the Captaine of the Pyrats in the Affrick Seas; he made all things in readinesse, and instantly sent Bonsoy to the next Town with his Shield, to cause a Painter to draw on it a di­sturbed waved Sea, and in the middest thereof a crowned Dol­phin, driving other Fishes before him, and striking many under the waves with his tayl, with this Impresse under. Crowned to Conquer.

Thus did the Dolphins unknowne Knight, in honour of the Dolphin, make himself the Knight of the Dolphin. But by this time the two Armies, marching both on, [...]ffron­ted [Page 157]each other in sight, which made the Savoy Duke to make a stand, and to set his men in good array of battell, which he divided into two parts. The first were his troops of Horse, which he assigned to be conducted by the Bastard Maligne. The other, consisting of Foot, he led himself.

In this equipage he soberly marcht, till he came to a spaci­ous Plain, neer to Andre, where he preparedly stay'd the com­ming on of the Viennonians, who being well marshelled in one mean Battell, Cressat-wise, with two wings of Horse on either side, came on apace, by the Command of their good Ge­nerall the Lord Vray Esperance; unto whom, honour gave spurs; his place, faithfulness; and the love of his Country, cou­rage.

Maligne hearthed on the Duke with the false assurance of the Viennonians revolt, and the hope to incorporate that Prin­cipality to his own, haled him on the more to that bloudy bar­gain. For the charge being given, Desire and Revenge encoun­tred each other with such fury, that the Battell was long in sus­pence, Victory inclining to neither side, till at last, the Troop of the Savonian Horses disranked both the Wings of the Vien­nonians, and brake in upon the Squadron of the Foot, with such violence, that they began to staggerand give back. When the all-valorous, and invincible Sirap, the Knight of the Dolphin, came fortunatly in, who finding where danger dwelled most, there he opposed himself, and like to a suddain Tempest, bare down all before him. His desire to approve himself in his coun­tries defence, and his implacable wrath against those, that sought to defeat Vienna of her right, and to defraud him of the comfort of his hope, made his blows fall like thunder, and his sword to cut like the Executioners Ax.

None could stand before him, nor durst there any come neer him; which so encouraged the disheartned remainder of the Viennonian Cavality, that they ranked themselves again, and came up to second him.

This fresh, and new assault, disordered and dismayed the Savonian troops, who now fought fearfully and confusedly; [Page 158]which Maligne perceiving, purposely, and fatally brought up all his forces, and begirt him round, thinking so to end the bat­tell by making ann end of him, that both had ended so many of their lives, and onely maintained the battell. In this danger, did the undanted Knight of the Dolphin fight so long, that his horse was slain under him, which he with great agillity wel and quickly avoyded, and being on foot, perceived his other self; his entire deer friend La-nova (whom he knew by his coat­armor) to lye in the dust.

This sight was such an alarum to waken revenge, that he grew now more suriously wrathfull, and more irefully impati­ent then before, and being desirous to recover his body, he des­perately strid over him, and like valiant Hector amidst the be­gir [...]ing Myrmidons, he stood to withstand all assaylers. La­nova being thus freed from the smothering feet of his enemies, having had time of breathing, came to himself (for he was not mortally wounded) and began to stirre, which being found and perceived by the Knight of the Dolphin (maugre all the force of his swarming and pressing foes, hee tooke him up, and bare him to the Lord Vray Esperance, unto whom, kissing him of in manifestation of his love, he delivered him with many speaking signes, that he should be sent safely a­way.

The Generall who had seen with the eyes of admiration, the incomprehensible force, and unvaluable valour of this un­known Knight, respectively received him, and accordingly sent him to the next Town, and then having already brought up his strength of foot, of purpose to succour the Dolphin-Knight, he followed him in his bloudy passage, with intent to horse him again, lest he should miscarry in that perill: In this desire, he came on so furiously fast, that the Savoy Duke, seeing the rage of this tempestuous floud, to over-bear Malignes forces, advanced his main battell, and like a terrible storm, fell up­on the Viennonians. But this lightning lasted not long, for the Knight of the Dolphin perceiving that now the dice was cast, and that they both were to avoid their last chance, sum­moned all his strength together, and in the vigour of his dis­pleased [Page 159]courage, meeting with Maligne, he smote him so on his Burganet, that he fell'd him sore wounded to the earth, where being no respite for reseue, he was smothered, and troden to death.

Now notwithstanding, the withstanding Savonians, the Knight of the Dolphin took Malignes Horse, and in despite of all interruption, he lightly mounted on him, and with his con­founding sword he made such a slaughter, that he found little resistance.

This remarkable act, gave not only fresh hope, but new life to Esperance, who wondred not so much at who he was, as at what he did, and yet he thought he must be more then a man, that did more then a man could doe. But the doubtfull Dolphin standing all this while aloof, joyfully beholding the heroicall deeds of his second Saviour, said to Bonfoy, that Siraps valour was beyond all apprehension, his courage above all conceit, his puissance more then humane, and his deeds surmounting all o­pinion.

By him, said he, I have my second being; and by him I see, I shall be still a Prince; O would, and as he would have pro­ceeded further, he made a stay to behold the distempered Duke, who seeing his men discomfited and slain, most by this alone Knight, came in with a troop of reserve, whom he had comman­ded to unite all their forces together, and bend themselves whol­ly for the taking or killing of this unknown Hercules, the most redoubted Knight of the Dolphin; but costly experience made them loath to come so near him, as to hurt him, least breaking the rule of pitty, they should be guilty of their owne deaths.

Yet in some presumption both of their number and Armour, they faintly assaulted him to their repenting detriments.

In this fresh conflict the Knight of the Dolphins Beaver was broken, and fell downe, which much more advantaged [Page 160]then endammaged, or endangered him. For the Enemies see­ing his black hew, and his wrathfull eyes (being then kindled a new with anger) shining like fire, were suddainly appaled with such dread and fearfull amazement, that (holding him ra­ther an infernall spirit, then a mortall man) they began to recoil and to fly from him like a great Covy of frighted Partridges, from the first pursuit of a fierce Faulcon; whereupon he flou­rished his Conquering sword, and cried out in Greek, Victory, Victory, and then followed them with such raging fury, that he hewed out his way in blood, till he encountred that proud invading Duke, whom he knew by his rich Armour, and thin­king now to make an end of both him and the battel at once, he lifted up his controuling and quelling arm, and so enragedly smote him on the side of his helmet, that neither the steel, nor the temper, could secure him from that fatal and inevitable blow but as all men fall, that seek to build their fortunes upon others ruines; so fell he now (in the height of his hope) breathlesse to to the ground. Then began the Savonians to fly on all hands, and light unharnessed legs were better then wel approved arms. Most of them were slain, few escaped, the rest were taken pri­soners,

Night drawing on the Generall, the Lord Vray Esperance commanded to sound the Retrait. But the Knight of the Dol­phin purposely pursued the Chase, that in the darknesse of night he might the better convay himself away, and undiscove­red go (as he did) to the Wood, where the Dolphin joyfully attended him: And no sooner did he see him, but that with teares of joy, that in tryumph, trickled down his cheeks, he ha­sted to embrace him, and impalling him within the circuit of his armes, he held him fast, his tongue failing to be messenger of his thankfull heart, For in this passion,

[Page 161] But after his full heart had a little enjoyed it self, and som­what digested his surfeit of joy. Then, then, his tongue was enabled to applaud his victory; and he both crowned his prowesse with loud resounding praises, and gave him more then many thanks for his most glorious and happy labours; And now with more regard, did he not onely industriate himself to do him all the kind Offices of love, but also humbly offered to unarm him, which in no wise Sirap would per­mit, but wearied with that dayes travell, he betook himself to his rest; where his restlesse thoughts began a new Warre betwixt his desire and determination: fain would he haue seen her, whom he loved more then his life, and yet to delibe­rate well on things profitable, he held to be a most provident delay.

At last he resolved to keep himself, and them unknown for some few dayes, that the Country might be setled in peace, and he see what course would be hold both for Vienna and for the government. In the interim he might the better conclude with himself about his own affairs. O noble, noble Paris, more noble then those that are enabled with flattering, and fading titles. How loving art thou true? How truly wise, and vertu­ous; that not onely canst without pride conquer thy foes; but also without folly (beyond nature) command to own and deerest affections,

If that wanton Trojan had had the like sympathy of mind and the same stable fincerity of heart, as he had the likeness and unity of thy name, Troy had been unconquered, and he had li­ved longer, & in greater glory. But let us return to the Lord Vray Esperance, who after the overthrow and ejectment of the Sa­vonians, had posting news brought him, that the malicious and imperious Dolphinis, upon notice of the victory, fell suddenly dead. She could live no longer, that had no hope to rule any longer; Her pride and Soveraignty could neither brook subjecti­on, nor endure controlement; Besides the guilt of her own evil, proclaimed her death; and the fear of loosing her life, was the losse of her life.

Such is the nature of greatnesse, that but crost in their am­bitious [Page 162]courses, they shrink under the weight of their owne burthenous pride.

But her remove, moved not so much the good Governor, as the misse of their glorious preserver, that invincible & all admi­rable Knight of the Dolphin, that to their amazement had so oft relieved their weakned forces, rescued their fainting endangered friends, repuls'd their oppressing enemies, slain most of their best Corumanders, danted the whole army, and at two blows, over­thrown and killed the Malignant Maligne, and the proud am­bitious Duke, that potent Generall.

Then he caused inquisition to be made throughout all his Territories after him, and rich rewards promised to him, that could or should give knowledge of him: but no one could shew what he was or where he was: only some declared, that his Beaver being broken in battell, they saw his sace as black as darknesse, and his eyes as bright as fire; which made the Go­vernour doubtfull whether he were a man, that did more then many men; or no man that could not be subdued by an hoast of men; or that the all-mercifull God in fayour of their di­stressed right, had fent some of his correcting Ministers, to chaston, and powre vengeance on the hatefull heads of their un­just soes.

But the War being thus ended, peace called a councell for the further establishing of tranquillity; And the consideration of these bloody jars cordemned poor Mal-Firance to dy, not only for leaving his Lord, and being unable to give an account of his Soveraigns life; but also for being the first cause of pertur­banon in the State, and after of forraign invasion.

The loss of so many of their lives, made them all thirst after his; To hasten which, they brought him the next day to the place of execution, where happily the Dolphin, and Sirap, with his man Bonfoy, came by all in Pilgrims gownes, as they were (by agreement) going to the City; who seeing and understan­ding the cause of that Assembly, withdrew themselves, and upon short consideration, they sent Bonsoy to the Gover­nour (who needs would be there to hear his latest Con­fession) that he might learn somewhat concerning his belo­ved [Page 163]Lord. Of him did Bonfoy, (knowing now the cause) in the name of his Master, the Knight of the Dolphin, require that Mal Fiance should be delivered unto him; which gran­ted, he would undertake to bring them to the Dol­phin.

In assurance whereof, he (unfolding his Gown) tendered the honor of his Masters shield, as a pledge for his performance which when the Lord Vray Esperance saw, he knew it by the devise thereon, to be the same, that the Knight of the Doiphin carried in btatell, and therefore he joyfully took it, and kisting it reverently, said; That that remarkable badge of his? all-vertu­ous, and most glorious worth, (besides the glad tidings he deli­vered of their gracious Lord) was more then sufficient, to redeem a world of lives; And therefore presenting Mal Piance unto him, he prayed that they might both see the Dolphin, and the Dolphin Knight, whom next to the Dolphin, both he, and all the Viennonians, did, and would ever honour, as their sole and only preserving Patron; And then taking his Chain from about his neck, he gave it him, saying: Let this be a witnes of my grate­sulnos, and truly tel thee with what true joy I entertain, thy wel­come tydings.

Bonfoy humbly thanked his honour, and requested him, that he would be pleased to see how he bestowed Mal Fiance, whom he brought unto the other two Pilgrims, that were wal­king a little a side from them, But when the Dolphin, had disco­vered himself unto him, Mal Fiance fell down at his feet for mercy, & rising, threw up his Hat into the ayr, and cryed aloud, the Dolphin, the Dolphin, God save my Lord the Dol­phin.

This unexpected, and most fortunate accident, made all the company at the hearing thereof, to showt for joy: And the good Vray Esperance hastily lighting from his Horse, fell upon his knee, and kissing his hand sayd; Long may my Liege Lord the Dolphin live. Whereat the Dolphin ray­sing him, embraced him, and told him, that as his loyalty, was crowned with renown, so would he adde honour, and reward to his vertues. But forget not, sayd he, my Lord, [Page 164]to welcome this noble and heroicall Moor, the thrice worthy Knight of the Dolphin, that both hath preserved me from death and thraldom, and delivered you and my Country, from our oppresling foes. O with what joy, and astonishment, did then this loyall rejoycing Lord hasten to kneel unto him: For though he held him lesse then a God, yet he thought he could not be, but more then a man: Sirap staying him, greeted him with all the demonstrations of love, and reverent re­spect.

This done, they mounted both the Dolphin and this magni­ficent Moor, who needs would ride bare-fac'd in their Pilgrim-Gowns through the city; Mal-Fiance waited on the Dolphins stirop, and Bonfoy manly carried his Masters Shield before him, and after went the L. Vray Esperance, with all the rest of their retinue.

Now their approach was no sooner known in Vienna, but that they knew their welcomes by their rejoycing bels, stately bone-fires, and triumphing hearts.

Hardly could they passe for presse of people, still they came running to see them, especially the Knight of the Dolphin, whom they admired for his fame, honored for his great atchievements and lov'd for their protection. Sirap seemed much to ad­mire the French, whom the French themselves did more then ad­mire.

But in viewing the whole Troop, his observing eye, light, by chance on his fast friend La-nova, at which sight, he sighed, yet thought himself happy in the sight. Thus rode they one trium­phant in themselves, and honoured of all, At length they came to the Pallace gate, where dismounting themselves, the Dolphin now happy in being the Dolphin, could not but shed swel­ling teares, in tender remembrance of his too well beloved wife.

But as the Generall of an Army, buries all the remembrance of his friend. in the pride and tryumph of his Conquest: so did the Dolphin's freedom from many perills, and the attain­ment to his near lost principallity, extinguish all sorrow and memory of the dead Dolphinis. So that wiping his [Page 165]eyes, he turned himself towards Sirap, and embracing him, said,

Most worthy Knight and my dearest friend, welcome to my Court, to my self, and all that is mine: This Pallace, my Coun­try, and I, are all at your dispose; For so in my particular obli­gation, and by your meritorious and pleading deserts, am I bound unto you: And longer may I not enjoy, what I now possesse, then you shall find my promises full laden with rich performance. And be further assured, that as I onely live by your love, and reigne altogether by your valour, so will I ever owe you fealty for my life, and still doe you homage for my Crown.

Sirap understanding thus much by Bonfoy, returned him humble thanks for his so gratefull and high esteem, both of him­selfe, and his poore endevours, with protestation that hee never wished, nor expected so great and undeserved guerdons; but still held himself most indebted unto his own desires, to do him all further possible service.

This interchange of kindnesses, gave contentment to them both, and was most pleasing to the Dolphin, who yet fed so on his fresh feeling happinesse, that he gave in charge that all his Subjects should honour Sirap as himself, and hold his will, as the will of their Lord; For so (he said) is your Lords will, that next to the Lord of Hoasts, holds his life and living of him.

Then told he them, how, and with what hazard of his life, he had redeemed him from most base bondage, and cruell death: How he had left many Heathen honours, to honour him, then greatly dishonoured; and how he had protected him at Sea from danger of Pyrats: and lastly established him in his Regal­ty, in despight of his foes. And therefore many, and sundry were the Tryumphs that now were ordained for him: but more then many, were the severall thoughts that afflicted his doubtfull mind: Vienna he thought had cause to condemne him, since affection ever thinkes all times of stay too long, that hangs on desert: Lainova he knew would rebuke him for violating the sacred lawes of friendship in his conceale­ment: [Page 166]and his reverend Father might well question his breach of love and duty, that so refused to shew himself a son. One while he was ready to embrace Lainova, another time to run to Vienna, and by and by he was ready prest to fal on his knees to Sir Jaques.

Now did he pitty distressed Vienna (who in all these altera­tions was neither moved nor removed,) Then did he fear her liberty, since her Father had no feeling of her calamity. Thus dubiously perplexed in mind, he sadly sate, unregarding regar­ding, the continuing and maintaining justs, untill the Dolphin, judging of his stormy thoughts, by his clouded countenance, thus awaked him by his interpreter.

What think'st, said he, my best worthy friend of our French Knights? and how stands our Court sports with your liking? Sirap, whose Martiall mind was now mollify'd with milder and calmer thoughts, by his man thus answered. As Knights of of good regard, I regard your Knights; and as noble befitting sports, I commend your Heroicall pastimes. All doth well, and well doth it stand with your Highnesse that hath Knights that can do so well.

But the justs being ended, the Dolphin that had read his dis­contentment in the deep characters of his face (for the counte­nance oft shewes the affects and passions of the heart) took him by the hand, and privately led him into a fair tapistred gal­lery, hanged with most artificiall pictures of greatest Monarchs, where he thus againe assayed to find the cause of his distur­bance.

Let not (said he any doubt dismay my lifes preserver, nor let any remembrance of your last and lost honours work in you a­ny repenting humour, since Viennues Dolphin is both willing and ready, both to accomplish your demand, and to honour you with all Dginities. What pleaseth Sirap, pleaseth the Dolphin, and nothing shall content the Dolphin, but what shall well like Sirap. Then ask my Lord, and be Lord of your asking. Si­rap thus kindly intreated and encouraged, lowly humbled him­self, and by Bonfoy thus replyed.

Know most renowned, and thrice worthy Prince, that [Page 167]doubtfull suspition harbours not in noble hearts: nor think I once of honours change. Your covenanted promise exiles that doubt, and the effect of my request, is the honour that best will please my mind.

Then let me shew, and shewing crave, both what troubleth your servant, and what he now (in all humility) demands for his conditioned gift, not affecting honours, the worlds fading glory: nor coveting riches, mans pleasing evill; but seeking contentment in loves felicity, I aske, claime, and require, your daughter my Lord, for my wife, and a wife for my reward. The renown of her attractive vertues, and the vertue of her moving perfections, hath by report so captivated my freest thoughts since my comming to Viennois, that wondring at her Fame, I am wounded with Fancy, and my desire is to see and ap­plaud her excellencies. Then let it not seem strange unto you, that unseen perfections have thus wrought unknown passions, since the ear is as well subject to conceit, as the eye is pliant to affection.

The Dolphin, whose unnaturall and impenitrable heart felt no longer remorce of her endured misery, then whilest hee was himself in misery; and who was no sooner free, but that he freed his remorced thoughts, from all thought of re­morce: In so much, that looking neither after her imprison­ment, nor his own posterity, he in his ever over awfulnesse shewed himself now rather an unrelenting Tyrant, then a cha­stising Father. But now thus urged by Sirap (whose warran­ted demand, and highest deserts, might well challenge an ab­solute grant) he herein (still discontented) thus contented Si­rap.

Nothing I see (right noble, valiant, and most meritori­ous Moore) seemeth worse to love. then to preferre any thing before it selfe; For cloathe Desire in plates of bur­nish'd Gold, and Desire will shiver all for colde; and fill affections purse with treasure, and fancy wanting content­ment will starve for hunger: so that nothing can satisfie Love, but love. Your deserts might well have challenged my Principallity for your due, my Dignities for your right, [Page 168]and all my treasure for your own. But all these I see suffice not, because they satisfie not; And to ask you why, is to ask one half pyned why he is hungry.

You love my Lord, you love but whom? my daughter; yea that is my grief; Not that you love her, unworthy your love but that I cannot give you her more then worthy her. For such I swear (by the eternall and my all-preserving God) hath been and yet is, the undutifulll, and most obstinate will of my too disobedient and degenerate daughter, that never yet, nor yet ever could I, or shall I (I fear) perswade, intreat, or enforce her to consent to any, in royall rank, worth or Majesty suitable to herself.

For many times many powerfull Princes, that sued for her favour, she hath both carelesly disrespected, and scornfully refu­sed; And as many times, many times, hath she therein my will disobeyed, and contemned. Not regarding her renown, shining in their glory Nor respecting my contentment nor progeny, eclipsed both in her, neglect of me, and in her afforded favour to her far inferiours, which caused me in justice to punish her hatefull disobedience with imprisonment, and yet in nature to bewail her imprisonment, though enforced by Justice, Where I left her, there (so you please) may you find her, a prisoner to her will, that will not yet submit her self to my will; and there­fore by my will; worthily chastised without offence to na­ture.

For where nature, offendeth law, there law may justly be executed on Nature. Assay her (most worthy of all worth) and put in ballance your fortune with your fancy, and if your hap may drown her favor, you shall redouble the smal remain­der of my aged dayes, and well satisfie the justice of my dis­pleasure, with the honour of your desired affinity. All my right is yours; your demand, my consent, and my consent a full fathers grant. Sirap acknowledging this his so great bounty, gave him more thankes then if he had presently inti­tuled and invested him in the Principallity of Viennois: Yet said he, it seems not over-strange to me, nor should it be so of­fensive to your Highnesse, that one so enriched by Na­ture, [Page 169]so admired for vertue, and so endowed by fortune, should herein against all nature, so resist the law of nature; since fancy is altogether guided by Destiny; and Love is neither subject to duty nor reason. Then seeing that love yeeldeth neither reason of choise nor change; I wil leave to reason further of it, and ad­venture once to carry up a dish to Venus table, that never yet served in her Court.

The Dolphin, glad that his demand, was of no greater con­sequence, secretly smiled at his simplicity, that neglecting ho­nours highest advancements, onely contented himself with the naked hope of impossible savors.

But Sir Sirap being more assured then the Dolphin did as­sure himself, rested thankfully contented with the same; And the next morning in the pride of his secret joy he went unto the Castle where (having the Dolphin's signet, for his warrant) he called for Vienna, who fearing some sudden stratagem, (for all her hope of welfare was dead) fearefully came to the door, to know the end of her punishment. But when Sirap saw the alteration, that vertuous constancy had wrougnt in her impri­sonment, grief so attach'd him, that he was more mottified at the sight, then he was Moorefied in sight; yet after some secret digested sighes, he cheared up his ingrieved spirit, with the joy he had to see her, and thus by his interpreter he saluted her.

Our Gods of all happiness make fair Vienna happy in her desires, and more fortunate in her life. The same Vi [...]nna (Vi­enua sayd) yeelds you hearty thanks, and prayes that the like content may countervail your well wishing. Then shall (said he) my love be made immortal in your liberty, and your liber­ty be purchased by my love. Vienna abash'd at his reyly, repli­ed [...]; that grief had no harbor for love, nor love any ac­q [...]tance with distressed Vienna,

Anoble cause, said Sirap may yet help to heale a grie­vous case; Then leave these forlorn walls, and let not your will make you a prisoner, that may live in my love a Princesse. For know (Madam) that your Father being a prisoner in Ba­bylon, and allotted there to a most base and cruell death; I [Page 170]though by kind an unpassionate Moor, yet (much more then any Moor) pittying the miseryes of others, had such com­passion on your Fathers distresse, that growing carelesse of my estate (being there then entertained with greatest state) I adventured with great adventure, to acquit him of shame­full bondage, and more cruell death; Conditionally, that upon my arrivall with him in this Country; hee should grant me, without all exception, one gift, that then I should require; which he then ratified by oath in sight of his God, and now hath confirmed it, by will in the presehce of his peo­ple.

Now Madam, hearing the well worthy renowne of your renowned beauty, though being by Nature fierce, yet subject to affection, I could not but in that frailty, yeeld to human condition. And therefore prizing my content be­fore a Crown, I required your Ladyship for my Wife, which your Father by an Oath hath granted, which you in duty should yeeld unto, and which I in love (if love can merit such happinesse) do deserve, and yet most humbly do request. Vienna thus moved, removed thus his flat­tering and aspiring hope. If, said she, my Father enjoy a se­cond life by your conditionall adventure, you may Presse him to the performance, so farre, as it is in his power to accomplish; more you cannot ask, lesse hee will not per­form.

But know Sir Knight, that love knowes no such paternall law, that never yet was subject to any law. The Father hath but a consent not the choise, in the daughters affections; his free thoughts have no feeling of her conceit; and his mettle mind, and corrupted humors, are oft unpleasing to his childs fancy; Neither stands it with any reason, that he cannot govern his own passions, should command othere affections. Then must you of necessity, excuse his impossibility, and admit onely of his willingnesse; that can give nought but consent for his lar­ges.

Yet Madam, by your favour (said Sirap) stands the daughter bound for her Fathers good, and the guerdon is [Page 171]but ungratefull, that is required in contempt. True, said Vienna, but every good must not be rewarded with the best, lest the best want fit requitall for due desert. Let it then suffice, that with thanks I acknowledge your great good, and in any other things will be ready to pleasure you.

Only in this, pardon me my Lord, for in loves infirmities I have no affinity, A troubled soul onely in tears, her comfort seeks. It is a heavy comfort, said Sirap, that in mourning stands, yet, said she, doth the custome of sorrow lessen the grief, and it is some comfort to be void of all comfort. Dispair, said Sirap, is mother to death, and death not fit companion for beauty. My beauty, said she (poor as it is) hath already bin my bane, and made me most unfortunate in my most fortunate­nesse.

Why Madam, quoth he, hath your Grace bin deceived? So said she, say they that told me so. But truth, he replyed, stands not on the tongues of men; True, she said, and that is the cause why we are deceived by men: you mistake me much, said Sirap: Nay said she, not mistaken, but overtaken you in the truth, and so she bad him farewell, leaving him tormented in mind, in that he gest by her last words, that some one to ad­vantage himself, or in malice to him, had wronged him in words: yet could he not but smile, to think how his conceit was her deceit.

But leaving her, whom he meant not so to leave, but to re­assay her again, he returned to the Dolphin, and told him of his haplesse successe. Who smothering his inward joy, made such shew of discontentment, that the angry Oceanswel'd not as he seem'd to storm.

But Sirap neither waying his anger, nor her answer, all smi­ling, said, that once more he would with Ixion, assay to em­brace Juno, and see whether in shuffling again of the Cards' Fortune would deal him a better game. For he would owe her himself, and try whether in his own language he could wean, and win her to his will, which moved great laughter, and mi­nistred further occasion of pleasant talk. Thus they passed for the rest of the day, untill Supper, which ended, Sirap [Page 172]giving them the good night, went to his Chamber, where cal­ling to mind Vienna's words, which in his suppose, argued to report of his disloyalty, which grieved him much that her grief would be redoubled by his never intended falsity, and that he should bee so wronged by unwronged, and unknowne men.

But after he had a little fed his sad humor with this decei­ving conceit, he determined darkly that dark night to shew his conceit thereon, and to remove that vail of misdeem that so sha­dowed the assurance of his faithfulnesse. And therefore furni­shing himself with a well tuned lute, in the dead of night, he went alone to the Castle, where close shrowding himself under her window, he sweetly sounding, thus chanted out this irefull song.

Vienna hearing this jarring Ditty, wondered what he should be, or what he should mean by this his wrathfull song,

At last, she supposed it was Lainova, that in Paris behalf thus excused his long silence & absence so condemned by her; but neither discrying him, nor receiving any answer from him, she then imagined that he was some other, that carryed away with grief & wrong had amongst other dolefull places, there eased himself of his wofull burthen, by breathing and oppres­sing out his secret sorrowes.

For it is some comfort to find either a companion in grief, or a sad befitting wretched place, to lament and manifest his grief. But greatly disallowing his uncharitable mind, she all sighing said

Sirap perceiving that his song rather renewed, then re­linquished her of her causelesse grief, and perswading himself, that her step-mother both in envy of her glory, and in disdain of him, had at the first so hardned the heart of her father, that he now altogether forgot (in conrinuing his rigor) that he was a father; He thought to warble out a more pleasing note, and to lull her a sleep with more comfortable musick, And there­fore turning his voyce, he chearfully recorded this liking Dit­ty.

Vienna pleased with the tune, amazed at the voyce, but more then ravished with the words, hastily put her head out of the window, and said, Whatsoever thou art take thanks of a di­stressed Lady, and heaven comfort thee, as thou hast, I know not how, recomforted me. And so turning her self to Izabella, she ask'd whether she had heard that voyce before, who reply­ing, said, That if her memory failed her not, it was the same or much like: if not the same that they heard first in Court under her Chamber window.

Ah Izabella, said Vienna. thou harpest too well to be so well: yet if my mind divine aright, (God grant it may divine) I shall heare some tidings of my Paris, so perswades my heart, so grant our God. But say Izabella, say, what shall poor Vi­enna say to this moralized Moor, whose civill condition, Ma­jesticall presence, and sugred tongue, differs so much from his rude and barbarous nation. Is not his black hue full of sweet favour, and his favour sufficient to command Beauties proudest favour, Now trust me Izabella, the gentle Moor, more and more would gain interest in my affection, but the more I think he is a Moor, the more (for my Paris sake) I scorn to love the Moor.

[Page 176] And therefore resolved to live to none but Paris (though Paris hath forgotten Vienna:) how shall I non-suit his im­portunity, whose proud hope promiseth love, and whose love is warranted by my Fathers Oath. Izabella most carefully to acquit her of that care (though it was the least care of her care) told her, that her old putrified policy, would easily prevent that mischief; and therefore having a ready Capon in the Castle, they presently dismembring the body, took the two legs, and bidding them under her arm-holes, where the heat of her body might soonest corrupt them, she preparedly expected his com­ming the next day.

When Sirap clad in his richest array, strangely fashioned, came accompanied with many, that of purpose (being made ac­quainted with his intention) came to recreate themselves with his so supposed unusuall courting.

For he being as they thought, not to be understood by his tongue, nor to be satisfied by his ear; They vainly imagined, that he either would woe her with gifts or with his countenance, or with variety of gestures. But he no sooner came to the Castle (but frustrating their expectation) he requested them by Bonfoy to [...]lay, and stand a while aside. When winged with the hope of Loves assurance, he instantly, boldly, and all onely, entered, saluted, and in French thus courteously assaulted his fair and friendly foe.

How fares, said he, the imperious Mistress of my inthralled heart? As a Prisoner, not like a Princess, she said, fares the Mi­ [...]ress of a thralled and wofull heart. But how came you, Sir Knight, so frenchify'd, that erst was so strangefy'd? Love, sweet Love, he said, hath made my tongue your Country-man, and my heart your servant: Then hath Love (she replyed) wrought a wonder in you, and an admiration in me. Such (said Sirap) is the divine power of Loves Diety, such the vettuous force of your heavenly beauty, and such the happy issue of our decreed destiny. Therefore, yield Vienna, Vienna yield, to that, which the Gods have decreed, Love commands, thy beauty requires, our Fortune allots, thy Father wills, and I thy friend request. Vienna thus charged, could not tell how to discharge her self [Page 177]of him, but by having a recourse to her wonted and hidden po­licy; And therfore uncloathing her Ivory breasts, she all sighing said, Alas Sir Knight, thy commendable demeanor, and Prince­ly worth, well merits favour; and thy inticing tongue is suffi­cient to intrap a well-advised mind, and a far more stayeder conceit. But know, most noble, and most magnificent Moor, that I am far worse then I seem, and much better then I would be. For behold (she bared her breasts that he might behold) the untimely corruption of my blasted beauty, look on the loath­some fruit of my long and grievous imprisonment, and but feel; O feel not the filthy scent of my ulcered and rotting bo­dy; and then tell me, whether I am not rather to be loathed, then loved; sled from, then followed. Sirap astonished at her words, but beyond all amazement, danted with the smell, neer fainted thereat; such was his insufferable sorrow for her, that he curst himself for her; And yet such was the constancy of his never dying love, that encouraging himself, the better to cheer her up, he with a joyfull countenance, said; Be it Madam so, or worse then so, or what so you will; it shall not matter, I rest wholly yours, if for yours, you will accept of me, that am none but yours.

For know, most constant, and my endeared Lady, that Pa­ris (if Paris be not forgotten) pleadeth now in person for him­self, and here offereth his life, and service for your love. In con­firmation whereof, see here the happy seal of your love, and the sole comfort of my absence, the loyall, and unvaluable Ring, your Highness gave me, when first being perused by your Fa­thers Knights, I departed from you, like a hungry Infant pulled from his Nurses breast, or a thirsty Hart chased from a sweet Fountain. Then, then in the pride of your perfections, you para­diz'd me in the heaven of your love; and now in the decay of your glory will I wed my everliving constancy, to your never dying loyalty.

Look, nay look not on me so strangely; my black hue is but an artificiall vizour, and my borrowed countenance, but the as­surance of my safety.

Vienna not able on the suddain to entertain so great a joy, [Page 178]shrunk down, deprived of her vitall spirits, but chafed revived, and enabled by Izabella, she with tears of joy distilling down here heeks, sadly said. Ah Paris, Paris, thy love made me a con­tented prisoner, but thy long absence hath made my prison a tormenting hell. But now, O happy now; thy thrice happy return makes my prison seem a Paradise, and my hell a most glorious heaven; with that falling on his brest, and enclosing him within her fainting arms, she often redoubled, her double doubled kisses. Paris being likewise surprized with fulness of joy, lost himself in her armes, but being acquitted of that extasie, he payd her large interest for her kindnesse, pleaded sorrow for her martirdome, and meer necessity for his ab­sence.

Cease Paris she sayd, my Paris surcease these needlesse ex­cuses of faultlesse injurie, since to over fortifie innocency, is to breed suspition. There is none but I, that have (if offended) of­fended. As first in being cause of thy exile, then of thy dangerous travells, and now in rejecting thy love; but impute the first two to my Fathers severity, not to my love, and the last of my igno­rance, not to my inconstancy.

For proof whereof see here, (here shewed she the Capons legs) the triall of my truth, which but in pollicy I used in all ex­tremities, to wirhstand importunate Suters, and all only to love none but thee, earst the sole hope of my life; but now the only life of my soul.

Thus pleaded she to please him, and thus it pleased him, to praise her, and both of them still joying, in that they enjoyed each other. Then turning to Izabella, he kist her many times, and vowed, that out of his best fortunes he would be thankfull to her, for her love to him, but especially for her comfort to Vienna,

And taking them both by the hands he told them how, and by what means, the Dolphin her Father had freely, and absolutely given her to him. And therefore he requested them to conceal their knowledge of him, and to go along with him, for that he meant to have her father to deliver her to him; [Page 179]all which they both so willingly, and cheerfully did, that the Gent. attendiag his leisure, no little marvelled to see him lead them so familiarly by the hands, and so pleasantly talking with Vienna in a privat manner.

But when they were come before the Dolphin, Paris (for now is Sirap turned again to returned Paris) holding her by the hand, humbly requested, in the presence of his daughter and Barons, to ratifie his vowed gift. Which the Dolph [...]n, both mis­liking, and admiring; demanded of her, whether her liking and consent, stood to that black irreligious Moor, that had so often refused so many Potent Lords, and most accomplished Prin­ces.

To which she in all reverence, (praying pardon) said. That the black smeared Smith was most pleasing to the Queen of beauty; That that constant colour unfadable in it self, well argu­ed constancy in the person. That his barbarous nature, was hoth reclaimed, and refined by his more civill education; and that his Religion would easily be conformable to their profes­sion, But howsoever, it sufficeth, that I love him, and love yeelds no reason of choise, nor hath any respect of persons. His blind deity, blinds our fancies; and fancy lives not in deserr but in de­sire. We love altogether by liking, not for honours; and our will connot command our affections, that are not in our pow­ers.

Then vouchsafe my Soveraign Lord and most gracious Father, of my destinied desire. and admit of his well-merited demand, and let me with your free consent enjoy him for my Husband that hath so well purchased me for his Wife: so shall you honour your selfe in doing him right: reward his services, enworthy your posterity, and repair my decayed glo­ry. The Dolphin seeing that it wrs but in vaine to resist Ce­lestiall influence, preordinate by Providence divine. and that he could neither in honour, nor conscience, infringe his obliging Oath, nor reject his pleading and glorious worth; shewed a vertue in necessity, and freely gave, and delivered her unto him,

[Page 180] Now Paris being thus possest of his desire, cast off his ar­tificiall mask, and lowly on his knees, shewed and presented himself, the humble and thankfull servant of his Lord.

The Dolphin finding himself thus deceived by him, that hap­pily deceived the Soldan, and his Keepers for him; could not but commend his loyall love, and love him for his saving service. His superlative valour, and unvaluable vertue, shewed that his great fortunes were but Ministers to his will.

And therefore he cheerfully said. In France was I honoured by Paris, In Babylon unthralled by Sirap, And at home, both I, my Country, and People, were protected by the Knight of the Dolphin.

To Paris therefore I return my love, To Sirap I give my Daughter, And to the Knight of the Dolphin I yield my Prin­cipality.

Then my beloved and renowned Son give me thy hand, and let me embrace thee with thy valour. And here I swear by the all-ever-living-God, that if I were sole Monarch of the whole Universe, thou onely shouldst rule for me, and after me: More I cannot give thee for thy Asian lost honours, lesse thou shalt not have then my whole Europian dignities.

To confirm which, he presently caused him to be proclaim­ed his Son in law, and the next lawfull and immediate Heir to all his Royall Territoties. Great was now the wonder of all men, great the preparation to solemnize their Nuptials, and more then great, the joy and tryumphs made, and ordained for them. But amongst them all, there was none (Vienna excepted) that rejoyced more then old Sir Jaques, whose silver beard, was all embossed with pearls of swelling tears, for the joy of this so fa­mous found Son.

As for his endeared friend La-nova, his glad heart shewed the tryumphs of joy, and all his thoughts were ravished with delights and contentments. To him (after many embraces) did Paris give infinite thanks for his comfortable friendship, and carefull regard of Vienna, and his Father.

Thus lived they long happy in each other, untill the Dol­phin summoned by death, paid Nature his due; and old Sir [Page 181] Jaques wasted by age, yielded to death. Then was Sir Paris created Dolphin of Vienna, who enjoyned La-nova to mar­ry Izabella, unto whom he gave all his Fathers Lands, and Bonfoy he made his Steward. And so they fortunatly raign'd, and lived together many years, with great comfort, and full contentment, in Princely state, and height of terrestiall Digni­ty.