[...]peror Claudius, a noble Duke whose name was Sappho [...]ke of Mantona, who as well, through his owne magna­ [...]itie and valiaunce, as otherwise through his greate poli­ [...]ie and experience in Marciall affaires, had atchiued many no­table victories, in the behalfe of the Emperour against the Turke, whiche made hym bothe famous to the worlde, and feared of his enemies, but moste entirely beloued of the Em­perour Claudius▪ But the Warres beyng once finished and brought to an ende, so that the Empire remained in tranqui­litie and peace: Souldiors were forgotten, Captaines were [...] cared for, such as had profered themselues to fight for the [...] of their Countrie, were now shaken of, and suche were preferred in their romes, as had any facultie in them tēding to pleasure and delight, as Daūcers, Pipers, Fidlers, Min­striles, Singers, Parisites, Flatterers, Iesters, Rimers, Talebearers, Newes cariers, Loue makers, suche as can de­ [...]ise to please women, with newe fangles, str [...]unge fashions, [...] of their beauties, when sometymes it is scarce [...] by commendyng of their mani [...]olde vertues, when God knowes they haue fewe or none at all. But see I praie you how farre my wittes beginne to square, I pretended but to penne certaine pleasant discourses, for the onely pleasure of Gentlewomen, and euen at the the very fir [...] [...]ntry, [...] am [...]alne frō a reasonable tale to a railyng rage, as it maie seeme. But I pray you Gentilwomen beare with my weakenesse, and as the Preacher in the Pulpit, when he is out of his Text▪ will sai [...] [...]or excuse: Good, people, though this bee somethyng de­gressyng from my matter, yet it maie very well serue at this present: Take this I praie you for my excuse in like case.

And now to my purpose where I left of before this noble [...]ke Sappho, had no skill in Courting tr [...]e: his hed which [...] been accustomed to beare y^e loftie Helme, had now quite [...]orgotten to weare the waueryng Plumes, ready to blow a­ [...]aie with euery winde. His bodie moste ineured to weare a [...]ate of steele, could not be brought in fashiō with this qu [...]in [...] [...] nice araie. His necke he thought more fitly to pa [...]se the [...] Targe, then to be hanged with Gemines or Chaines [Page] of gold: his fingers commonly practised to graspe the [...] or Launce, could not be brought in frame to strike the Virg [...] nall or Lute: his voyce serued him better to cheare his Soul­diers in the field, then either to faine or sing ditties in a ladies Chamber: His tongue had more vsed to speake simplie and plaine, then to dissemble with his freend, or to flatter with his foe: His legges had better skill to march after dubbe a dubbe a dubbe, then to mince it with a Minion, tracyng a Pauion or Galliarde vppon the Rushes: what should I saie farther, this noble Duke had no maner of skill in Carpet trade: But thus it fel out that Parasites and Flatterers, hauing once entered credite with the Emperour (as surely it is almost a common infirmitie, aswell amongst Princes, as other superiour Offi­cers, to bee seduced by Flatterers, Pickthankes, and Tale­bearers) this noble Emperour likewise, by the instigation of suche as were about hym, who perceiuyng the Duke to bee none of their flatteryng fraternitie, and enueighing the great reputation wherein the Emperour helde hym, had so incense [...] the Emperour against hym, that now his likyng was [...] uerted into loathyng, and his greate loue tourned to a me [...] hate, that in the end the poore Duke was brought to answere vnto many forged articles surmised against hym, who neither in consideration of his former seruice dooen for his Countrie, neither in respect of the innocencie of his cause, could other­wise bee dispensed withall, then to be banished into exile, hym self, Messilina his wife, Aurelianus his soonne, with Phylene his daughter: And although the common sorte of people held hym in greate honour, and muche lamented his case, yet it could not bee h [...]lpen, but the Emperous decree openly pro­nounced, must needes take place.

I beseech you Gentlewomen, yet to comfort your selues, I knowe your gentle hartes, can not endure to heare of such vngentle partes, but these are but the frumpes of ordina [...] Fortune, not priuate to Duke Sappho alone, but commo [...] [...] al men that be of the like profession, for what happened bet [...] to the moste noble Captaines of the worlde, or what other, [...] compence receiued either Caesar, Scipio, Haniball, or [...] [Page] [...], who hauing honoured their Countries, with sondrie [...]umphes, and many notable Victories, when the Warres were ended, and that there was no more need of them, finished their daies in suche pitifull plight, as I will keepe to my self, because right courteous Gentlewomen, I rather desire to drawe you into delightes, then to drowne you in dumphes, by reuealyng of suche vnnaturall factes, as I know your gentle Natures is not able to digest.

Thus you haue heard how this noble Duke, with his wife and children, by sentence from the Emperour, were banished from out their natiue Countrie, as also from any other Real­mes, Cities, Tounes, or territories, beyng within the Empe­rours Dominions. There resteth now for the Duke to make such poore prouision for his furnishyng, as his habilitie might any waies serue hym, the whiche GOD knoweth, fell out so meane and skante, as it scarcely serueth hym to defraie his charges, to carrie hym from out those places, from whence he was prohibited: and takyng his course towardes the partes of [...]acedonia, after a long and wearie iourney, he arriued at a Towne called Tariffa, where beeyng lodged in a meane and simple house, his money now being at the last cast, wherewith to beare his charges, his poore Wife and children altogether wearied, with their long and troublesome trauaile, and hym self all ashamed to be knowne what he was. Now it fell out, that the Hoste of the house many tymes vewyng, and castyng his eyes vpon the Duchesse of Messilina, who notwithstāding she dissembled her estate and degree, cōtented to leaue her ho­nourable dignitie, and to perticipate such equall fortune with her housbande and children, as their hard happes had conduc­ted them vnto, yet her beautie (whiche could not be blemished with meane and homely garmentes) had so entangled her ar­rant Hoste, that he could not be merie when he was out of her [...]weete sight, and now though he perceiued his ghest beganne [...] waxe slacke in his paiment, and not able to disburse for his [...]inarie expences, yet for the loue he bare to his wife, he was [...] [...]ntented to chalke vp the charges behinde the doore, hoping [...] end to haue cleared the skores to his better content, and [Page] as time and conuenience might serue him, he spared not [...] the Duchesse vnderstande his great likyng towardes her, a [...] ­suryng her, that the courtesie that he vsed towardes her hous­bande, was onely for her sake, and that if he were assured his good will might bee acceptable in her sight, she might assure her self of suche a freend of him, as would be as carefull of her as her housbande, to whom she was maried.

This Ladie now hauyng well pondered the woordes of her amourous Hoste, who would not thinke but that she was muche perplexed in her mynd, that she who had been borne of honourable Parentage, espoused to a noble Duke, whose di­gnitie in tymes past, surmounted all the rest, whose trainyng vp had euer béen amongst those of the highest degrée, and now that her honourable estate, was not onely eclipsed by crooked Destinie, but also to haue her Chastitie assailed, by suche a simple coisterell, whom she durst not so sharpely shake of, as her harte would very well haue serued, for that she knewe [...] Duke her housbande was runne in his debt, neither could [...] tel by what meanes he was able to discharge it, she was [...] fore constrained with faire speeches, to shift him of from [...] to tyme, the whiche the knaue perceiuing very well, began [...] to thinke with hymself, that it was but her housbandes pr [...]sence, that hindered hym of his purpose, and therefore deter­mined to finde a present remedie.

And now commyng to his ghest, beganne to recken with hym, and to call hym to accoumpt for the charges wherein he was behinde, tellying hym, that at that very instaunt, he had occasion to occupie money, which made him not onely to seek vp suche small sommes as were due vnto hym, but also to trie his freendes otherwise to serue his tourne, and that helpyng hym now at his present neede, he might then begin againe [...] newe score, and would beare with hym a muche longer tyme [...]

The poore Duke then inforced to seeke out an old [...] for an newe Sore, whiche is to praie when he was not [...] paie, with very courteous speeches, desired his Hoste to be [...] with his inabilitie, assuring him that when time should [...] he would so throughly recompence hym, as he should [...] [Page] [...] to holde hym well contented.

But what praiers maie preuaile, where pitie is cleane exi­ [...]d, or what gentlenesse is to be looked for, to come from such [...] vngentle chorle, whose mynde was onely set vppon Rape and Rauine, who had premeditated before the drift (whiche as he presupposed) was now sorted out as he looked for.

Wherefore (as it were) half in a furie, he vttered forth these wordes: My freend content your self, and take this for a reso­lute aunswere, the money whiche now resteth in your hands, although I might very ill forbeare it, as my case standeth, yet for that it is not myne ease, to runne into any farther char­ges, without a better assuraunce, then either woordes or pro­mises, I am notwistandyng contented to beare with you for that which is alreadie past, myndyng from this daie forwards to giue no further credite, and for that you are altogether a straunger, vnto me vnknowne, both what you are, frō whence you come, whether you will, and where I should finde you, I purpose therefore for my better securitie, and the rather to [...] by that you alreadie doe owe me, to keepe your wife in [...]aune, whom I know is so dearely beloued vnto you, that for [...]er sake I shall the sooner heare from you againe, otherwise I knowe not where to inquire after you, nor how to come by that is my due, whiche I am not well able to forbeare, neither doe I mynde clearely to lose.

The poore afflicted Duke, hauyng neuer falne before into cutthrotes handes, perswaded in deede that the tenour of this Varlettes woordes, and the keepyng of his wife tended to no other end, but for his better assuraunce to come by his money, was constrained to make a vertue of necessitie, and was so [...]nuche the better pleased, for that his wife might still remaine free from farther trauaile, and thinkyng in tyme to settle him [...]elf, and to recouer his wife and children about hym: with this [...]esolution he began to relate vnto his wife, with what saluta­ [...]ons his gentle Host had greeted him withall, desiring her to [...]mfort her self for a season, assuring to doe his best indeuour, [...] so set vp his sailes to the prosperous gales of Fortune.

[...] his good Ladie, hearyng her housbandes discourse vn­certaine [Page] what to doe, wept bitterly, as well for greefe to [...] his presence, as for that she should bee left in the house of [...] ­arrant knaue her Hoste, but like a wise Ladie, hearyng the a [...]leadged reasons of her Lorde and housbande, did thinke it not for the best, to encrease his olde sorowe with a new greef, con­tented her self, vtteryng these wordes.

Deare housbande, knowyng all that you haue saied to be very iust and true, I am contented for a certaine tyme to force my will, in hope that hereafter we maie liue together, ioiyng our selues in the companie of our children, and this I would desire you, that so often as you can by conuenient and trustie messengers, to sende me word and intelligence of your health and estate, because the same should bryng greater contentati­on vnto me, then the welfare of myne owne self.

This saied, she imbracyng hym very louingly, and he kis­sing her with greate sorrowe and greefe, tooke his leaue, and badd his Ladie and spouse hartely farewell, leauyng with her Phylene her deare daughter.

Thus hymself with Aurelianus his little sonne, [...] from Tariffa, towards the famous Citie of Cayre, and [...] passed through a Wildernesse, hauyng lost their waie, [...]dering two or three daies without any maner of foode, sauing Hippes, Hawes, and Slowes, suche as thei could gather in the Desert, the poore childe being ouer come with faintnesse, not longer able to trauaile, beganne to complaine to his af­flicted Father, desiryng hym to sitte downe to rest hym self a tyme, the wofull Father tormented in his mynde, to see his poore distressed childe, sat hym doune vnder a Tree, where af­ter a while, recountyng to hymself his sonderie misfortunes beyng oppressed and wearied with trauaile, he fell into a soūd sleepe, the Childe after he had a while rested hymself, leauyng his Father a sleepe, beganne to seeke about for somethyng to s [...]ake his hunger, and as he was straiyng thus about the woo [...]des, it fortuned the Duke of Vasconia, hauyng lost his com [...]panie in the pursute of a Stag, where he had been a hunty [...] and as he was crossyng the nexte waie to goe to the Citie [...] Messyna, where he helde his Courte, hauyng in his comp [...] [Page] [...] the Lorde of Sura, with three or fower seruing men, he for­tuned to espie the childe runnyng in the bushes all alone, and callyng the childe vnto hym, he saied, alas my little boy, what makest thou in this place, art thou here alone, or how camest thou hether I praie thee tell me. Forsothe Godfather (ꝙ the childe) I came hether with my Father, who lyes a sleepe here by, and I was seekyng somethyng to eate, for by my trothe I am so a hongered, that I could eate worse meate then a peece of a rosted Pigge, and that with all my harte.

The Duke greatly pleasuryng to heare the pretie aun­swere of the childe, replied in this wise: How saiest thou my little knaue, wilt thou bee my boye and dwell with me, and I will giue thee good meate thy belly full, how saiest thou wilt thou goe with me.

Yea forsooth Godfather (ꝙ the Childe) on that condition you will giue me rost meate enough, I will goe with you, for I thinke I did not eate my bellie full of roste meate, this mo­neth and more.

[...] The Duke then commaunded one of his men to take vp the Childe, whom he caried awaie with hym, and now percei­uyng it to be bothe well fauoured, quicke witted, and very apt to learning, he brought it vp at Schoole, where he proued not onely wise and learned, but also in many other exercises, con­uenient and fitt for Gentlemen, he commonly excelled euery other man, and thus leauyng him at Schoole, I will conuert my tale to his wofull Father, who when he was awaked, and missed his pretie sonne, beganne to prie about in euery bushe, seekyng and callyng, what Aurelianus, Aurelianus, where be you Aurelianus: But in the end when he could no where finde hym, thinkyng assuredly that he had beene deuoured by some wild Beast, beganne with pitifull exclamation to crie out. O Fortune, Fortune more then fickle, who in a moment hoiste a man vp to the highest degree, and by and by, in lesse space then in the twincklyng of an eye, she throweth hym doune againe [...] lowe, as more miserie is prepared for hym in one daie, then [...]he aduaunced hym in an hundred yeres, whiche I now proue, [...]nd haue experience in my self, & so muche the more, the grea­ter [Page] is my greef, who haue been nourished delicately among [...] my freends, maintained stil in most prosperous estate, hoping for the full perfection of my felicities, by Marriyng a Noble Dame, with whom I pretended to spende the residue of my life, accordyng to the scope and lott appointed by the almigh­tie God, but now beholde all my enterprizes be quite pluckt backe, and my purposes tourned cleane topse torue, in suche wise, that from honourable estate, I am driuen to wander like a Vacabonde, driuen from Poste to Piller, from Countrie to Countrie, frō Region, to Region, to sequestrate my self from amongest my freendes, without any assured place where to make my abode. Oh frowarde fate, how canst thou bee so hard harted, and voyde of pitie, still to prosecute thy cruell pursute, first to depriue me of my honourable dignities, then to banish me from amongest my louyng freendes, thirdly to seperate me from Messilina, my well beloued wife, more deare vnto me then the balles of my vnhappie eyes, and not yet contented, but now to bereue me of my sweete Infant, my onely hope of comforte in my olde age. O Death Death, the [...] [...]rowes, and the beginner of felicities, now make sharpe thy Darte, and giue no longer delaie of life, dispatche, dispatch at once, the most infortunate man that liues this day on earth: for what auailes my life, if in the gulfe af sorrowe and greefe I droune the pleasures of the same: But ah I see right well, thou preseruest the same of purpose, but to delight in my grée­ues, and to triumph ouer my aduersities. And here withall the brinishe teares so streamed doune his chéekes, that he was not farther able to speake one woorde, but runnyng vp and doune the Woodes, sighing and sobbing in great anguish of mynd, and his bodie muche infeebled for want of foode and su­stenaunce: He fortuned to meete certain labouryng men, that dwelt in a poore Village not farre from the place, who percei­uing by his geasture, that he was passionated in his thoughts, thei beganne with suche courtesie, as thei had learned in the Countrie, to demaunde the occasion of his greefe.

But he knowing very well, how farre thei were vnable t [...] minister releefe to the least of his afflictions, could render [...] [Page] other aunswere, then piteous sighes and sobbes: but the poore Pesaunts, when thei had better behelde the talnesse of his sta­ture, the seemelinesse of his countenance, and the comelinesse of his personage, were greatly mooued with compassion to­wardes hym, and with suche badde eloquence as their skill would permit, beganne to perswade hym to walke with them to their Cabbins, where he might refresh hymself, with suche homely Iunckettes, as was prouided for their owne suppers. The Duke contented to yeelde to their requestes, walked a­long with them, where he remained all the night very pensiue and heauie in his harte, and beganne to thinke with hymself, that there was no more hope left for him to heare of his sonne, and therefore beganne to imagine, how he might render some reléef to his poore wife and daughter, whom he had left as you before haue heard.

Now there was dwellyng hard by the place, a noble man that was Lorde of the Village, who hauyng intelligence of this distressed Straunger, caused hym to bee sent for, before whom when the Duke was presented, after many questions debated betweene them, the Noble man demaunded of the Duke what Countrey man he was, and how he had béen trai­ned vp, & then if he could be contented to plaie the Seruyng­man, and would bee carefull and diligent in his Maisters af­faires, that then, he would bee contented to receiue hym into his seruice, and would rewarde hym accordyngly, as he was able to deserue.

The Duke all ashamed to bee knowne what he was, reue­rently made aunswere, that he was borne in the Countrey of Achaia: and that he had been trained vp in seruice with sonde­rie Noble men, and woud bee very well contented to doe his best indeuour, to serue hym with the best seruice he could doe.

Thus the poore Duke became a Seruyngman, whom we will leaue with his Maister, and returne to his wife, who was left in Hucsters handelyng (as you haue heard) remained in the house with this Verlette, who sought by sondrie assaies, to satisfie his villanous lust, and like an experte Souldier when [...] commeth to besiege a holde, first sendeth his Herauldes to [Page] summon the Forte, proferyng many large conditions, if they will quietly surrender, but if defiaunce be made, then present [...]ly he placeth his Batterie, thunderyng forthe his Canon shot against the walles, whiche if thei bee so well Rampered, that there will no breache be made, yet he ceaseth not with giftes and bribes to corrupte the Warders, not caryng how he con­quereth so he maie haue the spoyle.

This vilaine in likewise, sought first with piteous sighes, whiche saust with sugred woordes, did serue in steede of Ha­rauldes, to perswade her to yeeld vp the keyes of the fortresse, that with peaceable entrie, he might take possessiō at his plea­sure: but beyng by her repulsed, and the Flagge of defiaunce displaied vpon the Bulwarke, then with thunderyng threates he thinketh to make his Batterie, proferyng to cast her into prison, for the debt whiche was owing hym for her housbande and her self. Other whiles againe he would tempt her, and trie her with giftes, thinkyng that for the necessitie she was driuen into, she would haue made sale of that, whiche she pre­ferred before her owne life.

This noble Dame, perceiuyng her self so hardly beset on euery side, fearyng in the ende, the Verlet would woorke her some greater despight, so inforced her self, with Phyleno her little daughter to fall to worke, that with weauyng and knit­tyng of laces, and otherwise with their needles, thei had gai­ned so muche money, as she was able to set her self free, from out a knaues debt. And thinkyng with her self, that her hous­bande had remained about the Citie of Cayre, to the whiche he purposed to iourney when he departed from her: she deter­mined with all conuenient speede to repaire thether, as well to comforte her self with the companie of her Lorde and hous­bande, as otherwise with her yearnynges to helpe to releeue hym, but for that she had vnderstandyng that the passage by lande, was not onely troublesome, but also very inconuenient for her to trauaile, by reason it lay through Woodes and D [...]sertes, she gate inteligence of a small Barke that was bou [...] thether by Sea, whiche onely staied but for a winde to ser [...] her turne: herevpon she discharged her self from the Tow [...] [Page] of Taryffa, and when wether serued, agreeyng with the Mai­ster for her passage, her self with her daughter repaired aborde the Barke, whiche beyng put to Sea, was forced by the extre­mitie of a contrarie winde, to put them selues romer for the safetie of their liues, to a cleane contrarie place. And where thei ment to haue sailed to the Citie of Cayre, they were now ariued at the Citie of Cherona, where the Ladie commyng a shore, she ioyed nothyng so muche in the narrowe escape she had made with life, by reason of the tempest, as she sorrowed for beyng so farre driuen from her housbande, whose fellow­shippe she more desired, then either wealthe or worldly trea­sure. But for asmuche as both her self and her daughter, were very euill at ease, and greatly infeebled with sicknesse at the Sea, and bad liyng in the Shippe, she determined to make her abode still at Cherona, till she might conuaie letters to Taryffa, that should certifie her housbande of all that had hap­pened.

In the meane tyme, her housbande hauing receiued some small beneuolence of his Lorde and Maister, who had concei­ued some good likyng of hym, by reason of the skill that he had in the ridyng of Horse, very desirous to render his wife some portion of his good fortunes, who had been so long tyme partaker of his euill happes, crauyng leaue of his Lorde for a tyme, came to Taryffa, where when he missed his wife, whose letters were not yet come from Cherona, and therefore could get no inteligence, but that she was gone to Cayre, of purpose to seeke hym: in a greate perplexitie he traueiled towardes Cayre, where makyng greate inquirie could learne nothyng of her, from thence he posted from place to place, from Citie to Citie, from Towne to Towne, but beyng neuer the neare his purpose, he then began to double his dolours, and with bit­ter words to curse the celestiall Signes, and Planets, which raigned at the daie of his Natiuitie, and howre of his birthe, contented to yeeld hym self a captiue to mishappe, and to sur­render hymself a subiect to Fortunes frowarde frumpes.

Beyng thus turmoyled with greate anguishe of mynde, wanderyng to and fro, he was brought so lowe and bare, that [Page] he was readie to begge an almes from doore to doore, and cō ­myng to a poore Countrey Village, his penurie was suche, that he was glad to become a seruaunt to hym that was the Sexten of the Parishe, whom he had not serued long, but the olde Sexten his maister died, and for that he had now learned to ryng Belles, and had some cunnyng in the keepyng of a Clocke: the Parishoners were contented to place hym in his Maisters rome; the Duke thinkyng hymself more then thrise happie to gett so greate preferment, thanked Ladie Fortune that had so freendly dealt with hym, resoluyng hymself to cō ­tinue the office while he liued, but Fortune findyng hym so thankfull for a little, dealt more freendly with hym, as after you shall heart.

But I will first declare how it happened with his soonne Aurelianus, who was taken vp in the woodes by the Duke of Vasconya; as before you haue heard.

But here I muste firste remember you, that the Duke chaunged his name from Aurelianus to Siluanus, whiche name he gaue hym of purpose, for that he was founde in the Woodes.

Siluanus now hauyng been trained vp at Schoole, was come to mans estate, and besides that he had the knowledge of good letters, he was comely in his personage, and of very good proportion, and in all maner of actiuities, appertainyng to a Gentleman, he exceeded euery other that was in the Courte, besides in his demeanours he was so courteous and gentle, that he gained the good will and likyng, bothe of one and other, but especially of the Duke hym self, who alowed hym suche large expenses, whereby to maintaine hymself as braue as the best.

Now this noble Duke hauyng no other children but one onely daughter, whose name was Valeria, in whom it seemed that bothe Vertue and Beautie had heelde some greate con­tention, who should beare awaie the prise, for although that in beautie and good grace she exceeded euery other Dame yet her vertues and good conditions surmounted more he [...] beautie, then the finest golde surmounteth leade or drosse.

[Page] This Ladie now hauyng heard greate reporte of the no­blenesse of Siluanus, who was suspected to be but some poore mans sonne, by reason he was founde in the Woodes, began yet to beare hym very good countenaunce, whiche at the first proceeded but of the noble Nature, whiche euer was accusto­med to be fauourable to suche, in whom was founde any wor­thie desarte: but as the fishe whiche by little and little sucketh vppon the baite, till at the length she swalloweth doune the hooke, wherby she hangeth fast, not able to free her self, so this Lady Valerya, contemplating her self many tymes to behold that young Gentleman Siluanus, was so farre intangled with his sweete and pleasaunt, countenaunce, that now perforce her will, she was constrained to yeelde to Loue, and feelyng her self insnared, and bereued of former freedome, beeyng by her self alone, she began to complaine as followeth.

Alas (saieth she) is it possible, that now force perforce my mynde should bee so altered, that straiyng from the boundes and limites of vowed Chastitie: I should now become amou­rous, and subiect to a certaine vnacquainted lust, from whēce commeth this alteration? or how happeneth this vnaccusto­med hewe? ah Loue Loue, how hast thou tormented me, and taken awaie the healthe and soundnesse of my mynde, it beho­ueth me to shewe my self, as issued forthe of the noble house of Vasconya, and with the greater care I ought to take heede, how I degenerate from the noble bloud whereof I am des­cended, rather then to sette my mynde on a fondlyng vnkno­wen, vnto whom peraduenture if I discouer my fondnesse, will not let to mocke me for my labour, and for all the beautie or noblenesse of my birthe, will make me his iestyng stocke, and solace hymself with the fondnesse of my conceiptes. But staie staie vnhappie tongue, that thundereth forthe suche hate­full wordes against my beloued Siluanus. Oh thrise accursed wenche that can so vngently conceiue against hym, that in all his demeanours, doeth shewe hymself as noble as the best, but of what mettall are either Monarche, Kyng or Keiser framed of, otherwise then of naturall, and common earth, whereof o­ther men doe come? Or what maketh these differences, which [Page] by sottishe opinion we conceiue, either of gentle or vngentle▪ otherwise then the shew of vertue and good conditions. Then the partie whom I loue, is bothe vertuous, valiaunt, sage, of good grace, learned and wise. Vaunt thee then Valeria, that thou likest no inferiour fondlyng, vnworthie of thy loue, but a worthie Gentleman, indued with noble qualities, in whom bothe Heauen and Nature haue forgotten nothyng, to make hym equall to them that marche in formost ranke: It is Silua­nus whom I loue, and of hym I pretende to make a lawfull housband, for otherwise I detest to lead the filthie life of law­lesse lust, but thus the bonde of Mariage beyng made, I maie loue and liue without offence of conscience, neither shall I do any blot or blemishe to the greatnesse of my house. But if any bee so scrupulous, as to thinke by marriyng of hym, I should deminishe myne honour: It is the thyng that I doe least e­steeme, for what is honour worthe, where the mynde is voyde of contentation, and where the harte is bereued of his cheefest desire, the bodie remaineth restlesse, and the mynde is neuer in quiet. Siluanus therefore shall be my loyall housbande, mea­nyng thereby neither to offende God nor man.

And now from hence forwardes, she deuised with her self, how to make her loue knowne to Siluanus, not sparyng when she was out of his presence, before all men to praise his greate perfections, wherewith he was enriched, and in his owne pre­sence she vsed suche louyng countenaunce towardes him, that although Siluanus were but yong, and had neuer been trained vp in the Schoole of Loue, yet he perceiued very well, that those frendly glances were lent him of good liking, and those louing countenaunces were grounded of good will, and albe­it, he sawe the inequalitie and difference betweene them both, she beyng sorted out of royall race, and hymself altogether i­gnorant of his owne estate, and from whence he was sprong, yet beeyng now ledde by Loue, whose lawes haue no respect either to estate or dignitie, he determined to followe his For­tune, and to serue her, whiche so louyngly shewed her self, to requite hym with the like, and the more he called to mynde the diuine beautie of his Ladie, her graces, wisedome, behaui­our, [Page] and curtesie, so muche the more increased his desire, forti­fiyng hymself against all mishappes, and perilles that might succeede, and began to debate with hymself in this maner.

How is it possible that I should be so foolishe, to despise a duetie so rare and preciouse, and to set light by that which the noblest would pursue, with all reuerence and indeuour, I am not the first, that hath obtained the loue of a Ladie: no no, I see she loueth me, and shall not I requite it by yeeldyng loue againe, if I were so voyde of humanitie and good nature, be­sides I might worke myne owne ouerthrowe, in seemyng to dispise so noble a Ladie, so the Goddes would not let to mini­ster reuenge, as thei did vpon Narcissus. But ah sillie wretche that I am, what follie is this that I haue now premeditated, with the perill of myne honour, and the hazarde of my life: see see how farre my affections begin to straie, through the hot assaultes of foolishe fantasie, inraged with an appetite rising on vaine hope, what madnesse on me to thinke that Valerya will so muche forget the greatnesse of her house, or yet unbase her self in respect of me poore sillie soule: but what if she would be contented, either in respect of mariage or otherwise in respect of good will, to surrender her self to satisfie my re­quest, how muche were I the neare my purpose, alas nothyng at al, the first, I knowe should be denaide me by the Duke her father, and as for any other curtesie, although I knowe it bee farre frō her thought, yet surely myne owne conscience would not suffer me, to proffer so greate villanie to so noble a Ladie, neither the reuerence and duetie whiche I owe to her father would permit me, to requite his gentilnesse towards me with so greate an iniurie. Cease therefore Siluanus, subdue thy sen­sualitie, that by vanquishyng thy self, thou maiest set open the gate to Fame, who with her Trompe of euerlastyng glorie, she maie aduaunce thee renowmed to all posteritie.

But alas, shall I then giue ouer to loue my Ladie Vale­rya, reason willes me so to doe, but loue hath so blinded al my sences, that reason giueth no maner of light, what helpe haue I then hereafter to hope for, alas I knowe no one, and there­fore be content. Herewithall he staied his trauaile, resoluyng [Page] with hymself to conquere his affections, and beeyng in his Chamber takyng pen and yuck, he sate him doune and wrote these verses followyng.

When he had thus penned these verses, he committed them to memorie, and the next daie beyng in the companie of certaine Gentlemen and Gentlewomen in the Court, taking [Page] a Lute, whereon he could plaie very well, and hauyng like­wise good knowledge in his song, & therewithall a very plea­saunt voyce, he began to sing this dittie before mentioned, in the middest whereof came in the yong Ladie Valerya, where­with Siluanus staied his song, but she ioynyng her self to the cōpanie, seyng the sainct that secretly shrined in her thought, she had vowed her greatest deuotion vnto, desired Siluanus, at her request, to begin his song againe: Siluanus, makyng the matter nothyng nice, was pleased very well to satisfie her re­quest, and takyng the Lute began his song, to the whiche the Ladie gaue intentiue eare, frō the beginnyng to the ending, and perceiuing the song to be made in some extreame passion forced by loue, she demaunded of Siluanus who had penned those verses, who aunswered, thei were of his owne pennyng, and so lately doen that he could not forget them: the Ladie then thinking Siluanus to be in loue with some other Gentle­woman, departed very speedily, as though some sodaine mo­tion [...] happened to her mynde, and comming to her Cham­ber, [...]huttyng fast the doore, she began to saie as followeth.

How muche am I vnfortunate aboue all other women, that beyng a Ladie of suche bloud as I am, and yet am hap­pened into so straunge a miserie, that in maner with myne owne mouth, I haue made request to hym, which rather with all humilitie, ought to profer me his seruice, and yet am scorn­fully reiected, and an other like to catche the birdes, whilest I doe but beate the bushe. Oh Siluanus Siluanus, deemest thou me no better worthe, then so lightly to reiect my proffered loue, and shall an other that is muche lesse worthie, beare a­waie the sweete fruite of my desired hope, and shall possesse without desert, the glorie due to a firme and faithfull frende? No no, I can not thinke thee s [...] ingrate, and my harte foretel­leth me, that it is impossible my Siluanus should wander so farre from equitie, but that he is able to discerne of colours, and will not requite me with wrong for right, I am sure not to be deceiued in my loue, I knowe he loueth me, but that he dareth not to disclose the same, fearyng I should refuse hym, and cast hym of with shame, I will not let therfore with myne [Page] owne mouth to bewraie the same vnto hym, and to manifest my good will, whereby my chast and honest amitie once kno­wen vnto him, vertue her self may knit the knot betweene vs, whiche can not chuse but bryng forthe the fruites of true and perfect freendship.

And shall I then beeyng a Ladie of suche degree, bee con­strained to sewe, where euery other woman of the meanest re­putation, bee ordinarily required, and that with the importu­nate instance of their suters, I shal then be noted of boldnesse, and bee thought to straie too farre from the limites and boun­des of modestie, and to make a greater show of lightnesse, thē is properly looked for in vs that be of the feminine gēder, but what strictnesse is this prescribed to our sex, that we should be bereued of our libertie, and so absolutely condemned of light­nesse in seeking to satisfie our lawful and honest desires, with what trampe be we tempered withall more then men, where­by wee should bee able to withstande the forces of the fleshe, or of power to resist the concupiscenses whiche Nature it self hath assigned, we bee tearmed to be the weaker [...] yet thei would haue vs more puissaunt, then either Sampson or Hercules: If man and woman bee made of one mettall, it must needes followe by consequence, we be subiect to like in­firmitie, from whence commeth then this freedome, that men maie aske what thei desire of vs, be it neuer so leude, and wee maie not craue any thyng of them, that tendeth to good and honest pretence: It is termed to be but a mans parte that see­keth our dishonour, by leude and lawlesse lust, but to a woman it is imputed for lightnesse, to firme her lawfull likyng, with pure and loyall loue, if men will haue preheminence to doe e­uill, why should we be reproued for doyng well.

Wherevpon stande I then amazed with these fonde opini­ons, my loue is not vnlawfull, neither before God nor man, I loue Siluanus, whom I will take for my housbande, for other­wise to loue hym, my harte doeth not intende, therefore with­out any farther respite or delaie, I wil make my loue knowne vnto him, and the band of Mariage once confirmed betweene vs, shall couer the fault which men would deeme, neither shall [Page] my mynd be altered, either by the sugred perswasion of freen­des, neither terrified with any threates, that maie bee thunde­red forthe by Parentes blusteryng wrath, I am not so farre o­uerwhelmed with Pride, that in respect for the greatnesse of my Parentage, I should despise a Gentleman indued more with vertue then with riches, though there be some that be of this condition, that thei will soner preferre the greatnesse of birth, then the greatnesse of vertue, the aboundance of wealth, then the aboundance of witte, the perfection of beautie, then the perfection of the mynde, but I am out of the number of those women, whiche care more to haue their housbands pur­ses well lined with money, whereby thei maie be maintained in their brauerie, or sometymes fixe their fancie vppon some yong man, that is of goodly personage, although voyd of ver­tue, qualitie, and good conditions, that ought to garnishe a Gentleman, and doeth more beautifie and enriche hym, then either the bare shewe of beautie, or any other giftes of For­tune, but I cannot imploye my loue vpon transitory treasure, when the [...] of the mynde is cleane taken awaie: no no, it shall better content me to see a meane Gentleman beloued and praised of euery one for his vertues, then to marie amiser possessed with all the goodes of the worlde, hated and ill spo­ken of for his vices, Feare not then Valeria, to followe thy de­termination, and to put in proofe what thou hast pretended.

Here withall staiyng her self, she beganne to practise the meane, in what maner she might bewray her loue to Siluanus, seekyng for occasion and tyme meete for her purpose, and al­though there remained in her, a certaine naturall shamefast­nesse, wherwith maidens are commonly accompained, which for a tyme did close her mouthe, and made her to deferre the tyme of her desolued mynd, yet in the ende throughly perswa­ded in her intent, she sent one of her Maidens, willyng Silua­nus to come and speake with her; about certaine affaires that she had to imploye hym: The maide hauyng finished her mes­sage, there could neuer more ioyfull newes happen to Silua­nus, who entryng the Chamber of Valeria, with tremblyng harte after he had doen his reuerence, with greate feare and [Page] bashfulnesse saied, for that I vnderstande your Ladiship ha [...] to employe me about certaine affaires, I shall thinke my sel [...] the moste happiest man in the worlde, if my trauaile and dili­gence, might any waies doe you seruice, bee it that [...]erein I should offer or sacrifice myne honour or life, crauyng no grea­ter benefite for the satisfaction of all my contentations, recei­ued in this world, then to serue, obey, and honour you, so long as my life doeth last.

The Ladie now, all rauished with ioye and contentation, perceiuyng by his chaunge of colour, the fault proceeded of vehement loue, takyng hym aside into a windowe, Loue had so closed vp her mouth, that she knew not how to beginne her tale, her mynd was so troubled, her wits so farr out of course, that her tongue failed to doe his office, in suche wise that she was not able to speake one onely worde.

He likewise perplexed with the like Feuer▪ was now asto­nied to see the alteration of his Ladie.

Thus these twoo Louers, like twoo sencelesse Images, stoode still beholdyng eche other, without any maner of moo­uyng, in the ende the Ladie takyng courage in her self, with a tremblyng voyce, ioyned with a maidenlike shamefastnesse, began to saie as followeth.

Beyng assured (my Siluanus) of your discretion and wise­dome, whiche Nature hath not onely indued you withall, but art hath also accomplished, what Nature beganne to woorke, I will therefore make no doubt at all, to lette you knowe the hidden secretes of my harte, neither will I goe aboute with circumstaunce to colour my woordes, but being well perswa­ded, that when you shall bothe heare and sauour my speeches, and therewithall sound the deapth of my deuises, you will ea­sily coniecture, that my enterprises bee none other then iust, and that my alledged reasons, are groūded of good pretence, I thinke sithence your ariuall here in the Court of the Duke my father, you haue not seene me in any behauiour, otherwise then vertue doeth permitte, nor in any my demeanours excee­dyng the boundes of modestie, otherwise then becommeth a maiden of my callyng, beyng descended of so worthie a [...] [Page] [...] if this be a faulte that beyng prouoked by the purenesse of my harte, and fidelitie of my good will, who to keepe the same inuiolable, doe voluntarily offer my self to the honest disposi­tion of your iudgement, as it shall please you to conceiue of me, I haue then committed a fault in liking you too well, but I trust nothyng at all offended God, who knoweth the inno­cencie of my crime. Think not Siluanus, that I am the freend of Fortune, and practise pleasure alone without vertue, for it is modestie that commaundeth me, and honestie is the guide of my conceiptes, swearing and protesting by the Almightie God, that neuer man shall touche Valeria, except it be in Ma­riage, and he that otherwise would assaile me, I haue a harte that shall encourage my handes to sacrifice my life. And now Siluanus, if you will not thinke me more prodigall of my pre­sent, then your fancie will serue you to take in good parte, be­holde, it is you that I haue chosen for my Spouse and loyall housband. And although I had determined to dissemble that, whiche now I haue laied open vnto you, yet reposing my self in your vertue and honestie, I trust I shall not haue cause to repent me, for any thyng that I haue either saied or doen.

Siluanus whiche all this while hearing this heauenly har­monie, with full assuraunce of that he moste wished for, albeit he sawe no possibilitie, how to bryng to passe this desired Ma­riage, yet determined not to refuse so greate a preferment, be­yng so franke and liberally offered, aunswered in this maner.

I knowe not Madame, with what humilitie and reuerence I might receiue, and accept this your greate bountie and no­blenesse, so graciously offered vnto me, I do acknowledge my condition and state too base, and that my loue may be thought to presume too farre beyonde the boundes of order, conside­ryng that my ignobilitie and birth, are no meete matches for suche a peerelesse Princes, yet this I dare boldly affirme, that if loue and entire affectiō borne to your Ladiship, might serue to counteruaile that defect, whiche by place of birthe the De­stinies haue denaied me, I dare vndertake I should as well deserue to bee receiued, as he that is lineally descended from the greatest Monarchie of the world. The whiche loue if till [Page] this tyme I haue delaied to open, I beseeche you Madame, impute it to the greatnesse of your estate, and to the duetie of my callyng, but now for as muche as by your owne motion, grace, courtesie, and greate liberalitie the same is profered, and that of your owne bountie, it pleaseth you to accept me for yours: I humbly beseeche you, not to dispose of me as of a housbande, but as of one whiche both is, and shall be your ser­uaunt for euer. Thus saied, he takyng her by the hande, kissed it with greate deuotion, his tongue and wittes were so rapt and tied, as the Ladie perfectly perceiued this alteration, and seyng it to proceede of loue, replied on this maner.

Then my Siluanus, there needeth at this present no farther circumstaunce, but for that I am well assured, there are some that will be offended with my choice, but especially the Duke my father, who will conceiue some great displeasure against me: there resteth then that this our contract bee kept very se­crete, vntill it please God to appoint the tyme, that the rest of our determinations, maie without daunger bee consummate and accomplished. In the meane tyme, trustyng that your de­sire is Godly, and that the freendshipp you pretende to beare me, is founded vpon vertue, and to be concluded by Mariage, receiue me for your Spouse and lawfull wife, you shall haue suche parte in me, as without any regarde to the obedience and duetie that I owe to my Parentes I am yours, beeyng readie and disposed to obeye you, so farre as my honour maie permit me.

These two louers now groundyng themselues, the one in the others fidelitie, could not so cūning▪ dissemble and cloke their affections, but that it was easily perceiued by their secret glaunces, and countenaunces conueighed from the one to the other (and as wee haue a Prouerbe) (it is ill haltyng before a creeple) so there were many about the Court, that were so wel studied in the schoole of Loue, that thei were able to haue cō ­menced Maisters of Arte, and could easily coniecture from whence those rowlyng lookes did proceed, that being now as­sured of that whiche before was but suspected, the brute was spread about the Court, of the loue that was betweene Silua­nus [Page] and Valeria, that in the ende it came to the Duke her Fa­thers eare, who takyng the matter very greeuously, that his daughter to whom the inheritance of the Dukedome remai­ned after his decease, should so meanely bestowe her loue of a fondlyng founde in the Woodes. And mindyng to finde a re­medie for the matter, willed Siluanus that in paine of his life, within twentie daies he should departe the Courte, and neuer after to be seen within the iurisdictions of the Dukedome of Vasconia.

Valeria now hauyng intelligence what had happened, had no leasure to vexe or molest her self, when tyme rather requi­red a speedie remedie, for the incounteryng of those mishaps, deuised with Siiuanus to conueigh her self awaie, contented rather to liue in the fellowship of an honest louing housband, with whom she should hold faithful and loyal companie, with what estate and Fortune so euer it might please GOD to ap­poincte, then to liue without hym, beautified with the graces and foolishe names of honour and preheminence.

Siluanus, contented to satisfie her desire, with the hazarde of his life, yeelded to her request, and before the twentie daies were expired, so cleanely conueighed hym self and Valeria a­waie, that when thei were missyng, the Duke wist not which waies to sende after them. Wherefore in a great furie, he spa­red not to sende out great companies, whiche postyng euery waie, made enquirie and searche after them, but all in vaine: for Siluanus had so disguised hymself and Valeria, that without any maner of trouble, thei quietly passed the Countrey, and hauyng freede them selues from out the daunger of the Duke, desiring that the daie of their Mariage might now be prefixed, the whiche by mutuall consent, was presently deter­mined, and by greate Fortune (or rather conduction by the prouidence of God) the [...] happened to arriue in the Countrey Village, where Duke Sappho y^• was father to Siluanus, had remained al this while Sexten of y^• Parish. In this Village, because it was a place free from resorte, whereby thei might remaine vnknowne, and in the better safetie, thei purposed aswel to celebrate their Mariage, as for a tyme to make their [Page] aboade, till matters were better quieted, and that thei migh [...] at leisure resolue, what course were best for them to take. Sil­uanus now hauyng conferred with the Prieste, the Mariag [...] daie was appoincted, where the poore Belringer takyng the vewe of this newe maried couple, fell in a great likyng of Sil­uanus, not for that he knewe him to be his sonne, for thereof he could haue no maner of suspition, aswell for that he deemed he had been deuoured in the Woodes, by some wilde beast, as also because his name was chaunged, but whether it were by the instigation or secresie of Nature, or otherwise by the will and pleasure of God, to bring to passe that, which afterwards happened in effect, this poore Sexten I say, lead by the secret motion of his owne affections, proffered Siluanus that if his seruice might any waies stande hym in steede (for that he was a straunger in the place) he should vse hym in any respect, and should finde hym readie to stande hym in suche steade, as his poore abilitie might any waies permit.

Siluanus in like case hauing forgotten his Father, beeing separated from hym in his infancie, yet nothyng despising his freendly offer, craued his helpe for the hieryng of a Chamber, for some reasonable rent, till tyme that he might better pro­uide for hymself. The Sexten very glad that he had so good oportunitie to pleasure him, brought him with his wife to his owne house, where he lodged hym in the best roome that he had, profferyng not onely his house, but all that was in it to be at their disposition and pleasure. This newe Married couple now gladdyng and sporting themselues, with all such sweete imbracementes, as thei can better describe, whiche haue been possessed with the like delightes: but as some wil saie, it is the mans parte to bee first wearied in those Venerall sportes, so Siluanus hauyng now well feasted hymself, with that sweete repaste, had leisure to bethinke hym of his owne estate: began inwardly to growe into great sorrowe and heauinesse, not so muche for hymself, as for his wife, who for his sake had dispo­sest her self from so greate honour, abandonyng her freendes, contented to yeeld her self a thrall to Fortune.

These cogitations did so nippe hym, that he could not so [Page] well dissemble his greef, but that his wife perceiued some dis­quietnesse in his mynde, and therefore very greeuously she de­maunded of hym, to shew her the cause of his discontentment, whiche by outward appearaunce, seemed inwardly so muche to molest hym.

Siluanus hearyng his Ladies request, aunswered in this wise, my deare wife, the sweetest companion that euer mā did possesse, for so muche as you so earnestly desire to vnderstand, what it is that so much withdraweth my delightes, I will not let to bewraie the truthe, whiche is this, when I consider with my self, of your present estate and condition, who from the tip and height of dignitie, haue not spared for my sake to surren­der your self, to become a subiect to all mishaps, besieged on e­uery side, with the future assaultes of ordinarie Fortune: It maketh me therefore to haue the greater care, by what mea­nes I might endeuour my self, to maintaine & continue your estate, though not according to your worthinesse and calling, yet according to your wel contentment and liking. And here­vpon conceiuing in my head diuers imaginations, no meanes but one in my fancie seemeth best, whiche is, that I goe to the Court of the Emperour Claudius, who at this present is lea­ding a great bande, to encounter the Turke, at whose handes I doubt not, but to receiue some good entertainment, and be­sides the honour and reputation, I maie gaine by good desert, I maie likewise reape suche liuyng and good likyng of the Emperour, that in despight of Fortunes teeth, wee maie liue hereafter a quiet and honourable life, to our greate ioye and comforte. But when I did consider the beloued companie of you deare wife, I feared to bewraie that, whiche now I haue disclosed, not knowyng in what parte you would take it, that I should so sodainly departe. Loe here the cause of my disqui­etnesse, whiche you desire so instantly to knowe.

The Ladie whiche was wise, perceiuyng the greate loue that her housbande did beare her, when he had staied hym self from talke, with glad and merie countenaunce, aunswered in this wise.

Ah Siluanus, the exampler of all vertue and gentlenesse, [Page] let death and fortune doe what thei list, for I coumpt my sel [...] more then satisfied of all that is past, by the onely enioiyng of your presence, contentyng my self to bee a partaker of your misfortunes, and haue no doubt but that I can so moderat my affections, that duryng my life, I will rest better contented with that which your abilitie wil permit be it neuer so meane, then otherwise to be honoured with names and titles of nobi­litie in Princely state or porte hauing not your presence. Dis­quiet not your self therefore, but perseuer in your determina­tion, and that sorowe whiche shall assaile me by reason of your absence, I will sweeten and lenefie with contentation to see your commendable desire appeased: and the pleasaunt memo­rie of your valiant factes shal beguile my pensiue thoughtes, hoping that our next meetyng shall be more ioyfull and glad, then this our partyng shall be either heauie or sad.

The Ladies aunswere did wonderfully quiet the mynd of Siluanus, and callyng his Hoste the Sexten vnto hym, whom he had made partaker of his determinations, he departed, lea­uyng his wife suche money and Iewelles as thei had remai­nyng: And commyng to the Courte of the Emperour Clau­dius, he was very well entertained, and the rather for that the Emperour had greate neede of men to supplie his Armie, whiche had sustained sondrie conflictes, and diuers ouerthro­wes, for the Turke did wonderfully incroche vpon the Em­perour, and had taken sondrie Cities, Tounes, and Castelles from hym, and was like still euery daie more to preuaile then other, that now the Emperour beganne to repent him, of the slender accoumpte he had made of Souldiours in the tyme of peace, for that he had too few that were sufficient to serue him in his Warres: For in steede of Experience, Valiaunce, and Policie (whiche three ought to be gouernours, commaunders and cheef officers in a Campe) he was glad to preferre Vain­glorie, Foolishhardinesse, and Rashnesse: Simple sottes that were more fitter to waite in Gentlewomans chambers, then to be made Captaines, or leaders in the Warres.

The Emperour now standyng in greate distresse for want of men, for those that he had made greatest accompt of in the [Page] tyme of peace, were now able to stande him in no steede in the tyme of warres: and those that had braued it vp and doune the Courte in the newe cuttes, straunge fashions, their haire fri­ [...]led, lookyng with suche grisly and terrible countenaunces, enough to make a wiseman beleeue thei were cleane out of their wittes, now in the tyme of Warres, were glad to runne vnder a Gentlewomans Farthyng all to hide them.

The Emperour (I saie) beeyng thus perplexed, called to his remembraūce the iniurie that he had doen Sappho, whom he had banished onely to satisfie the willes of those that were about him, whiche he knewe did hate him more of spight, then for any occasion the Duke had giuen. Without any farther delaie therefore, the Emperour sent sondrie messengers into euery parte of Christendome to make inquirie, that who so e­uer could finde the Duke, should bee worthily recompenced, and those Proclamations were spread through euery Region, in Citie, Towne, and Village. In so muche that in this Pa­rishe where the Duke remained Sexten (as you haue heard) the Priest made inquirie on Sondaie in the Churche, as the custome is) that where as about fourteene or fifteene yeres si­thence, the Duke of Mantona was banished by the Emperor, whiche was procured rather by enuie, then for any deserte, as now it was proued, who so euer therfore could giue any intel­ligence of the same Duke, should be very liberally recompen­sed by the Emperour.

The Sexten now hearyng these newes, did thinke it more better to liue still in his Sextens roome, where he remained without enuie, then to become againe the Duke of Mantona, subiecte to the spite of hatefull persones. But callyng to his mynde his wife and daughter, which he thought remained yet aliue (although he knewe not where) and for the greate loue that he bare to Siluanus, whose wife remained in his house (as you heard) seyng that Fortune offered him so good oportuni­tie to pleasure them, onely for their sakes, resolued hymself to goe to the Emperour. But first comfortyng his gest Valerya, whom for a time he should leaue in his house, onely with suche seruauntes as her self had about her: he tolde her that he was [Page] well assured where to finde this Duke, that was so muche in­quired after, and that he doubted not, (if it were but in respect of his good newes) he should worke Siluanus, her housbande into some credite with the Duke, who might likewise pro­cure his better preferment with the Emperour.

And thus the Sexten departed, and with all conuenience came to the Courte of the Emperour, to whom when he had made hymself knowne, he was most honourably receiued and greate ioye and gladnesse was made throughout the whole Court: the Emperour now in consideration of the iniurie he had doen hym, did not onely restore hym to his former roome and dignitie, but also aduaunced hym in honour and estima­tion, to be preferred before all other next vnto hymself.

Thus after many benefites receiued of the Emperour, the Duke prepared hymself, accompanied with many his freen­des, to goe to the Emperours Campe, of the whiche he was made Generall, where he knewe well how to behaue hymself, and giuyng out new ordinaunces, he appointed certaine such as he hymself knewe worthie, and gaue them charge, amon­gest the rest, seeyng Siluanus who all this while remained in the Campe, whom the Duke did very well knowe, although Siluanus, did little suspecte that a poore Sexten of a Parishe, should become a Generall to an Emperours Armie. The Duke perceiuyng hymself to be vnknowne to Siluanus, was cōtented so to remaine for a tyme, but yet desirous to sée what was in hym, he gaue hym the leadyng of certaine Horsemen, with the whiche Siluanus serued so valiauntly, and there with all had so happie successe, that euery man extolled vp to the heauens, the worthinesse of Siluanus. This pleased the Duke passyng well, and the Duke hauyng now sondrie tymes in­countred with the power of the Turkes, and had giuen them many ouerthrowes, he was now preparyng a greate force, for the recouerie of the Citie of Cayoe, the whiche the Tur­kes had taken before from the Emperour. And callyng Silua­nus vnto hym, he saied: God graunt yong Gentleman, that your ende agree with your good beginnyng, then makyng Siluanus to kneele he dubbed hym knight, and made hym Co­lonell [Page] of twentie Ensignes.

Siluanus after he had dooen his reuerence, thanked the Duke of the honour and fauour, whiche it had pleased hym to dooe hym, promisyng to dooe so well in tyme to come, as he should not bee deceiued in his conceiued opinion, whereof he gaue assured testimonie at the assaulte that was giuen to the Citie before mentioned, where he behaued hymself so valiant­ly, as he was the first that mounted vppon the walles, and by his dexteritie and inuincible force, made waie to the Souldi­ours in the breach, whereby thei entered and tooke the Citie, killyng and driuyng out their enemies before them. In many suche like attemptes Siluanus still shewed hym self so noble and valiaunt, that his praise and renowne was sounded in e­uery place.

The Duke now hauing recouered againe al suche Cities, Townes, and other Fortes, whiche the Turke had before ta­ken from the Emperour, and there with all had banished the Turkes from out the boundes, and borders of the Empire, and a League agreed vppon betweene the Emperour and the Turke. The Armie beeyng broken vp, and Souldiours dis­charched, euery man well recompensed for his seruice, accor­dyng as he had deserued. Siluanus likewise, who by his wor­thinesse, hauing not onely made himself famous to the world, but also had well lined his purse with good store of golde, be­thinkyng hym now of his faire Ladie, came to the Duke to haue takē his leaue, but the Duke mindyng now to performe the good that he ment to Siluanus, was resolued in his mynd, that Siluanus with his wife should bee his gestes, as well at Mantona where he was Duke, as thei had been before, where he was but a Sexten, saied to Siluanus as followeth.

Sir Knight, what hast is this, that you would so sodainly withdrawe your self from out my companie, belike you haue some faire wife, to whom you make suche speede to bee gone, but sir content your self to beare me companie to the Empe­rours Courte, where I doubte not but you shall receiue some better recompence for your seruice so happely begunne, for it is not requisite, but that the vertue of valiaunce, ought to bee [Page] rewarded and cherished by Princes, that bee aided in their ne­cessitie, with the diligence of suche vertuous and noble Gen­tlemen as your self. Siluanus greatly cōforted with these w [...]des of the Duke, was well pleased to waite vpon hym. Thus thei tooke their iourney towardes the greate Citie of Chero­na, whiche was in the vttermoste borders of the Emperours Dominions, there the Duke purposed to staie a while, to re­create hymself with the rest of his companie.

Now it fortuned that the valiaunt actes, and hautie enter­prises of Siluanus were so renowmed and spread, that the fame therefore came to the eares of the Duke of Vasconya, that was father to Valerya the wife of Siluanus, who with all possi­ble speede made suche haste, that he came to Cherona, where he found Siluanus in the companie of the Duke of Mantona, to whom turnyng hymself, he saied as followeth.

Sir Duke, the onely hope that I haue, that you will not let to extende Iustice vpon the mischeeuous and vngracious actes of wicked men, doeth let me at this instaunt to forbeare with myne owne handes, to auenge the wrong that I assure my self, to haue receiued of this Traitour Siluanus.

The companie were wonderfully abashed with these wor­des, but especially the Duke of Mantona, who loued Silua­nus more dearely then any other.

But the other goyng still forwardes in his tale saied, if the harte breake that afflicteth the soule of a wofull father, whose house is made desolate by loosyng his childe, by the mischee­uous inticementes of a Theefe, if this president I saie, moue you not to minister suche speedie reuenge, as the Lawe doeth prescribe, I suppose that all impunitie of vice and sinne hath place on your behalf. And there withall staiyng his talke, but yet by his gesture and countenaunce so inraged, that he see­med like a man that were besides hymself.

The Duke of Mantona now perceiuyng the matter, that Valerya was the daughter of the Duke of Vasconia, whom he supposed to haue been of some meane birth and parentage, was wonderfully sorie for Siluanus, whose fact by the Lawe deserued death, and seyng the Duke in suche a furie, he wiste [Page] not by what meanes to worke Siluanus safetie, for to intreate the Duke he thought it but vaine, and to bryng Siluanus to aunswere the fact, he knewe the Lawe would condemne him, and therefore knowyng where Valeria did remaine, whom he knewe did loue Siluanus as her owne life, and thinkyng that her teares might lenifie and soften the hardened harte of the Duke her father. He therefore priuely sent for her, to bee brought immediatly to the Citie of Cherona, in the meane tyme he committed Siluanus into safe custodie, and desired the Duke at his request to staie himself a while, and he should haue suche Iustice on Siluanus, as hymself would require.

Matters beeyng thus pacified for a while, I will in like case let them rest for a time, and will now discourse how it be­fell to the Duchesse Messilina, with her daughter Phylene.

You haue heard before how by constraint of weather at the Sea, thei were driuen to this Citie of Cherona, where the Duke now remained, and at her first comming, fallyng to her woorke as before she had doen at Taryffa, a riche Marchaunt that dwelt in the Towne, takyng the vewe of this new come workewoman, fell into so great a likyng with her, that onely to haue accesse to come into her companie, he bestowed more money in cloath to make hym Shirtes and Handcarchifes in one weeke, then he was able to weare out in three yeares af­ter, whiche he put to her to make, whereby he became some­thing well acquainted with her, but to the ende that she might thinke her self somethyng the better beholdyng vnto hym, he proffered her a more conuenient house then that she was in, whiche he would furnishe with all maner of housholde stuffe for a reasonable rent. She beeyng very glad of so good an of­fer, became his Tenaunt. The Marchaunt now perceiuyng his tyme did so well serue hym, without any greate circum­staunce, declared vnto her the great good will he bare her, but Messilina so delaied hym with suche wise and reasonable aun­swers, that from tyme to tyme the Marchaunt hymself could not importunatly craue that whiche with suche modestie, she so honestly denaied hym.

Now there laie in this Citie of Cherona, the old Dutches [Page] of Petrona, who hauing inteligence of Messilina to be so good a workewoman, she sent for her, to whom she put sondrie par­celles of worke, whiche she so well finished to the liking of the Dutches, that from tyme to tyme she still plide her with the like, whereby Messilina, with her daughter Phylene, had con­tinuall recourse to the Pallas of the Dutches, where Arabia­nus the onely sonne of the Dutches of Petrona, (and inherit­our of the Dukedome, but that he was vnder age) did marke and beholde the beautie and good grace of this yong Seame­ster Phylene, was so clogged and fettered in the bandes of loue, that all other thoughtes seemed lothsome vnto hym, and euery other ioye displeasaunt, in respect of the pleasure that he suffered, by thinkyng of his faire Phylene, wherefore bai­tyng himself with hope, and tickled onely by loue, he determi­ned what soeuer happened to loue her.

Whiche beeyng perceiued by his Mother, she began very sharpely to rate hym, blamyng hym that would so indiscretly place his loue, not waiyng his estate and birthe, as come of Princely race, and now would make hym self a fable to the worlde, to like of suche a one so farre vnworthie his degree.

Arabianus fallyng doune vppon his knees, moste humbly desired his Mother to beare with all that was paste, and al­though it were truth that she had saied, that he deemed her for her birthe to bee vnworthie his degree, yet she deserued for her beautie to bee compared to the greatest Dame, and brauest Minion els where. And whereas other girles by artificiall meanes and trumperies, doe inforce that whiche the heauens haue denaied them, yet Phylene had no other ornament then that whiche Nature had inlarged in her: and otherwise for her vertue, wisedome, and modestie, he knewe it to be suche by re­porte of many, as she might bee a Lanterne to the greatest Dame that liued.

Notwithstandyng Madame, for so muche as you doe take my facte in so ill parte, consideryng the reuerence, that I owe to the place whiche you holde on my behalfe, and the duetie and obedience that God will and hath commaunded, that chil­dren should beare to those that haue begotten and borne them: [Page] if it please you to pardon me of this that is past, I protest that from henceforth, I will be more wise and better aduised, how I enter into any thyng that might turne to any suche conse­quence, or any maner of waies to offende you.

The Dutches knowyng all to bee true that her sonne had saied, very well pleased with his speeches, remained satisfied, thinkyng in her mynde in deede, that if Phylene had bin the Daughter but of some meane Gentleman, her sonne should neuer haue sought farther for a wife.

From this tyme forwards, although Arabianus by the per­swasion of his Mother, had vowed to reuolt and let slippe the loue that he bare to Phylene, yet he could not so clearely loose his likyng, but that he did manifest some part of his good wil, by giftes and good countenaunces whiche still he bestowed vpon Phylene, causing his Mother likewise to bestowe many liberall rewardes vppon Messilina, thus the Mother and the Daughter perceiued them selues a thousande tymes behol­dyng to the olde Dutches and her sonne.

In this meane space the Marchaunt before mentioned had buried his wife, and knowyng no other but that M [...]ssilina his Tenaunt had been a widowe, he began now a freshe sute, and with greate importunitie requested her in the waie of Mari­age, and so hardly he laied vnto her, that Messilina not kno­wyng otherwise how to rid hym, co [...]fessed vnto hym that she had a housbande aliue and therefore might not marie.

The Marchaunt thinkyng these to be but delaies to shift hym of, came to this point, that if hereafter he could proue her by her owne confession to bee a widowe, that then before wit­nesse she would take hym for her lawfull housbande, and till that tyme he would no farther trouble her till he had made his proofe, she beeyng glad to bee at rest, thinkyng that he should woorke very wisely to make her confesse her self to bee a wi­dowe, agreed to his request, and witnesse was had in the mat­ter. The Marchaunt now lettyng his matter rest a tyme for his better purpose, in the ende comming vnto her, he told her, that although she were so discourteous to forsake his freend­shippe in euery respect, first in the waie of good fellowshippe, [Page] and after in the waie of Marriage, whereby he was driuen to goe seeke farther, but now hauyng found a wife in the Coun­trey, to whom he was assured, and ment presently to bee mar­ried, yet for the old freendshippe that he bare her, consideryng that he would presently remaine in the Countrie altogether, and forsake the Citie, therefore for her better securitie, and as­suraunce of her dwellyng, he would make her a Lease of the house that she dwelt in, for one and twentie yeres, if it might doe her any pleasure, without paiyng any penie Income.

Messilina giuyng hym greate thankes, tooke his offer ve­rie courteously, and the Lease was put to making, whiche the Marchaunt signed and deliuered, and herewithall desired her single Obligation, for the performaunce of some small rente, were it neuer so little, that she might acknowledge hym to be her Landlorde, the whiche she neuer denaied to giue.

The Obligation was made in this maner, Knowe all mē by these presentes, that I Messilina Widowe, and so forthe, with wordes in maner and forme of euery Obligation. This Obligation thus made, was signed and deliuered by Messi­lina to the Marchaunte, who had now gotten that so long he had sought for, and by vertue of this Obligation, craued Mes­silina to bee his wife, she denaiyng his demaunde, but what could that preuaile, when he had her owne hande and seale to shewe, whereby she confessed her self a Widowe, and then by her owne agrement (as you haue heard before) she must yeeld her self to be his wife.

This matter was long in fendyng & prouyng, in so muche that the Duke beyng now in the Toune, ministeryng of Iu­stice to suche as would craue it, the Marchaunte brought the matter before the Duke, who hearyng the maner of the Bar­gaine, and so many witnesses to affirme the same, gaue Sen­tence that the Marchaunte ought in deede to haue her. But Messilina fallyng at the feete of the Duke, desiring him with teares to deferre his Iudgement: the Duke now takyng bet­ter vewe of the woman, knowyng her bothe by her voice, and also by lookyng well on her face, perceiued assuredlie that it was his owne wife, he called againe to the Marchaunt to see [Page] obligation, whiche whē he had receiued, he said in this maner.

Maister Marchaunt, this obligation whiche you haue de­liuered me, now I haue perused with better aduise, I finde it to bee neither sufficient nor lawfull, for this woman that you would make a Widowe, without doubt is Married, and hath a housebande, now she beeyng vnder couert barne, you Obli­gation is vnpleadable, and I knowe not whom you should blame, whether your self, or the Scriuener. And here withall beyng replete with great ioye and gladnesse, taking his wife vp in his armes, verie louinglie imbraced her, he saied.

Ah my deare and louing Wife, how muche am I bounde, to render innumerable thankes to the almightie GOD, that when all hope was paste, haue yet againe recouered my grea­test hope and comfort. Messilina likewise perceiuyng her lord and housebande, clasping her handes aboute his necke, was not able to speake a woorde for ioye and contentation: The companie that stoode by, amazed to see this sodaine happe, were likewise verie ioyfull to see this freendly meeting. The Marchaunt seeyng how he had been deceiued, tare his Obli­gation, and departed all ashamed. The Duke now desirous to see his Daughter Philene, caused her Mother to sende for her, who not knowyng her Father, otherwise then by report, fell doune on her knees to craue his blessyng: The Duke ta­king her vp, kissing her with Fatherlie affectiou, could not stay his teares, in remembring her brother Aurelianus, whom he deemed to be dedde.

These newes were sodainly spred throughout the Citie of Cherona, in so muche that Arabianus hauyng now intelli­gēce, that Philene was the daughter of the noble Duke Sap­pho, certifiyng his Mother the truthe whiche he had learned, without any greate deliberation, bothe the Mother and the sonne, comming to visite the Duke and his companie, where thei were verie well welcomed, but especially to Messilina, to whom the old Duches and her Soonne, bothe had been verie bountifull: And when a while thei had passed the tyme with pleasaunt discourses of all that had passed, the Duches of Pe­trona craued Philene in Marriage for her Sonne. The duke [Page] beyng made priuie to the matter, knowyng Arabianus to bee come of greate discent, and to bee indued with large and faire possessions, seyng hym likewise to bee a toward yong Gentle­manne, would not stande against it, but referred the matter to his Daughters likyng. Philene who had been greatly bound to the courtesie of the yong Duke, and had receiued many gif­tes and good turnes at his handes, would not do as a nomber of these nise Dames, that will many tymes make daintie of that thei would fainest come by, gaue her free consent. There was then no more to dooe, but to prepare for the Marriage, whiche was presently solemnized with great pompe & glory.

By this Valeria (whom as you haue heard before, the duke had sent for) was come to Cherona, who was priuely lodged by the Dukes commaundemente, in a priuie place. The daie now beyng come, that Siluanus was brought to his answere, he could not denaie the facte wherewith he was charged, but that he had stolne Valeria from her father, by whiche confessiō the Lawe condemned hym to dye. There were many that knewe the noblenesse of Siluanus, that began to entreat the Duke or Vasconia to remitt the facte, but all in vaine, for the more thei entreated, the more he hastened to see execution.

The Duke of Mantona seeyng his greate obstinacie, did thinke it hye tyme to finde a remedie for Siluanus, if it might bee, therefore he saied, sir Duke, were it possible that this con­demned manne, who is like (so farre as I can see) to beare the whole brunte, and yet might bee enticed to this facte by your Daughters meanes, or at the least, your daughter muste bee halfe partner of this fault, and yeelded with her good will to come awaie, for otherwise it had been unpossible for hym, to haue brought her from out your Courte, whiche if it bee true, if you will needes see Iustice so duely executed in the one, I can not see how your daughter can goe quite, but must bee as well partaker of the punishement, as she was in the facte, by yeeldyng her consent.

The Duke of Vasconia aunswered, as it is the office and duetie of euery good Iusticer, to knowe the valour and diffe­rence, betweene vertue and vice, to the ende that all vertuous [Page] actes maie be honoured, and the contrarie chastised and puni­shed: Otherwise he is not worthie the name of a righteous Iudge, but of a cruell and traiterous Tiraunt, wherefore sir Duke, you sittyng here in the place of Iustice, to minister e­quitie and right, to euery one that calleth. Then I desire that I maie haue the Lawe extended vpon this wretche Siluanus, as for my daughter that you speake of, as I knowe not where she is, so I doe not desire to learne what is become of her, but this I protest, that if euer I maie finde her, rather then she should escape vnpunished, I will not let with mine owne han­des, to do execution vpon her, according to her demerites, and the filthinesse of her fact: from henceforthe denouncing her to be any childe of mine, and make no better accoumpt of her, o­therwise then to be a filthie strompet, vnworthie of me her fa­ther, or to chalenge her descent from suche a stocke.

The Duke of Mantona was now troubled worse then be­fore, for where as he had some hope, that the humble sute of Valeria, should something haue moued her father to compas­sion, [...] thought that her sight, would rather increase his rage and furie: Againe he thought, that to bring her into his presence, if he continued in one moode, he might woorke Va­leria so greate preiudice, as hee would be hartelie sorie to see. Yet thinking with himself, that it was impossible, that a Fa­ther should bee voide of good Nature, to see the vtter ruine of his childe without any remorse: He caused Valeria to bee sent for, who beyng conducted to the place, seyng her Father and the reste of the companie, she beganne to coniecture that all was not well. But when Siluanus sawe his Valeria, wonde­ring by what meanes she was brought to so euill a banquett, remembryng what wordes her father before had protested, she began with a piteous voice to crie out.

O my deare beloued wife, the onelie cause of my ioye and quiet, what euill Fortune hath conducted thee to this place, what froward Faates haue forced thee, that thou shouldest be made companion of my mishappes. O fraile and inconstaunt Fortune, how hast thou fronted my honest desires, with suche crooked spight, that where I couet the countenance of grea­test [Page] credite, there I am forced to hazard the losse of life and al­what crooked aspecte hath gouerned my proceadinges, that the hoped time I spente in this Warlike seruice, should thus conclude with his contrarie, and I forced as it were by Faate to followe the vnhappie euent of the same, wherein I doe con­fesse my Predestinate follies. But suche are the so [...]derie dea­linges of this life, as those that tende their steppes to monste­rous mountaines, doe sometime scarce conclude with meane Moole hilles, the sondrie conflictes of Fortune, masking my hope with a shewe of happie rewarde, hath not onelie wracked me, but it threateneth the sequell of worse successe: That instead of happie and quiet life, my daies shalbee a bridged with moste shamefull and vile Death. O Valeria, Valeria, the ioye and comfort of my life, I shall no more see that incomparable beautie of thine, whiche darkeneth and obserueth the Raies and Beames of the Sunne.

Then tourning himself to the Duke of Vasconia, he saied, I moste humblie beseeche your Grace, to haue compassion v­pon me, not for that I would consume my life in your displea­sure, I make offer of the same to your mercifull will and dis­position, choosing rather to die, and to leaue your Grace satis­fied and contented, then to liue a happie life, your Princelie minde displeased, and albeit, the right good intent, and vnstai­ned conscience is free from faulte, yet the iudgement of men hath farther relation, to the exteriour apperance, then to ver­tues force. Is it a sinne to Marrie? Is it a faulte to flie and a­uoide the sinne of Whoredome? What Lawes bee these then, where the Marriage bed and ioyned Matrimonie, is pursued with like seueritie, as Murther, Thefte, Adultrie. But seyng the fault of this mishap, to a rise by my predestinate euill luck I moste humblie beseeche you, to mitigate your rage, and to conceiue no sinister opinion of this your worthie daughter, whose smallest greef, is my double paine: as for my self I am well pleased with my misfortune, contented to Sacrifice my life, onelie to receiue your cleare acquitaunce for my offence, and will make satisfaction with the price of my blood.

The Duke of Vasconia bending his browes, aunswered: [Page] No Traitour no, it is not thy life that shall appease my furie, but I will so coole the Whorishe heate of your Minion, for whom you seeme so muche to pleade, that I will make her an example to all others, for dooyng of an acte so detestable. But what abuse haue thei committed, vnder the title of Marriage, thinkyng without remorse of conscience, by that meanes to continue their mischeef, and their promise and faithe, that was made vnder a Bushe, muste serue for a cloake and Visarde for their moste filthie Whoredome. But what if their Marriage were concluded, and confirmed by God hymself? Is Siluanus a manne worthie to be alied, or mingled with the roiall blood of the house of Vasconia, no, no, I vowe I will neuer take sounde nor restfull sleepe, vntill I haue dispatched, that infa­mous facte from our blood, and that villaine Whoremonger with his trull, be vsed accordyng to their desertes.

Valeria now knowyng how matters were sorted out, and hearyng this cruell Sentence, pronounced by her Father, fel doune vpon her knees, and bitterly criyng out, she saied: My deare father, moste humblie I beseche yon, sith no other thing maie appease your ire, then the life of the offender, let not this Gentleman abide the penaunce of that, whiche he neuer com­mitted, be reuenged on me, by whom the faulte (if a womans faithe to her housebande, maie be termed a fault) is doen. And let this infortunate Gentleman depart, who God knowes is innocente of any other crime, then what he was brought into, onely by my prouocation. And as she was aboute to haue pro­ceded farther in her talke, her Father interrupted her, saiyng.

Haue you founde your tongue now pretiepeate, then wee must haue an Almon for Parrat: how durst thou Strompette chalenge me to bee thy Father? That without regard, either of my renowme, or of the honour of my house, thou art con­tent to bee abandoned from this noble Estate, and to become a Fugitiue and a straunger, to followe a Roge vp and doune the Countrey, no Minion no, thinke not that any Feminine [...]latterie, shall stay me from doyng thee to death, nor your dar­lyng that standes by you, shall escape with his life, verelie be­leeuyng, that in tyme it shall bee knowne, what profite the [Page] worlde shall gaine, by purgyng the same of suche an infecte [...] plague: and I do hope besides this, that in tyme to come, men shall praise this deede of myne, who for preseruyng the honor of my house, haue chosen rather to do to death twoo offenders then to leaue the one of them aliue, as lesse faultie or giltlesse then the other.

Valeria once againe fallyng frustrate before her Father, saied: I moste humblie beseche you, for that all other comfort is denaied me, that I maie craue this onely grace at your han­des, for the laste good that euer I hope to receiue, whiche is, that you beeyng thus greeuouslie offended with me, doe ven­geaunce at your pleasure vpon her, who willinglie yeeldeth her self to the Death, with the effusion of her blood, to satisfie your ire, graunt onely that Siluanus, who is innocent and free from fault, maie goe quite.

But her father no longer able for anger to heare her speak, crieth out to the Duke, to hasten the execution, the Duke of Mantona, whose harte did bleede in his beallie for sorrowe, perceiuyng it follie to delaye longer tyme, gaue Sentence of death, and present execution to be made, although he tooke so greate sorrowe for theim, as if his Daughter Philene should haue borne them companie: but he was not able to help it, the lawes and ordinaunces of the Countrie would not otherwise permitt. And thinking to take his laste farewell of Siluanus, he saied: O Siluanus, the glorie and honor of all yong Gentle­men that euer wer, that be now, or shalbe hereafter this, whose vertue, valliaunce, and worthie exploites, doe glister emongst the multitude, as the Sunne beames doe vpon the cirquet of the Yearth. Oh that thy hard Fortune should conduct thee to suche distresse, that onelie by thine owne valiaunce and pro­wesse, haste escaped so many daungers, emongst thy thronged enemies, and now thy ruine and ouerthrowe, should bee thus wrought, amiddest thy assured freendes, that knowes not how to helpe it. What heapes of cares hath besieged me on euerie side? To thinke that I should craue thy companie, whereby thou art brought into the middest of so great mischeef, whiche otherwise mightest haue escaped this mishappe: and thou Va­leria [Page] would God thy vnfortunate hoste, whiche departed from thee, thinking to doe thy housebande pleasure, had remained with thee a poore Sexten still, till this present daie.

The rest of the companie that stoode by, hearyng the duke to make so greate lamentation, was likewise striken into a meruailous greef and sorowe, in so muche that euery one that durste speake, cried to the Duke of Vasconia for pardon, and that he would remitt the offence, and what pitie it were, if he should seeke the death of so noble a Gentleman, as Siluanus had shewed hym self to be: But the Duke perseueryng still in one minde, asked thē, with what face thei could make request for a verlet of no reputation, whom he had found in the wood­des, and brought hym vp to that estate he was come to, not knowyng who was his Father, but by seemyng some poore Countrie Cloune, and forgettyng himself from whence he sprong, neglecting so many benefites, which he had bestowed vpon hym, would enter into those thinges, so farre vnseemely and exceading his degree.

The Duke of Mantona, giuing good eare to this tale, re­membring his Sonne Aurelianus, whom he had luste in the Woodes aboute those partes, questioned with the Duke, of the time, and what apparell the childe had on at that present, who in all thinges shewed a trothe as it was: He demaunded farther, how he knewe his name to be Siluanus, or whether he had any other name, yes (quoth the Duke of Vasconia) his name he saied was Aurelianus, whiche my self changed to Sil­uanus, because I founde him in the Woodes.

Herewithall without any farther staie, the Duke of Man­tona running hastely vpon Siluanus, imbrasyng him in his ar­mes, criyng: O my sonne, my sonne, and with this sodain ioy, the teares trickling doune his cheekes so faste, that he was not farther able to speake one worde.

The Duke of Vasconia muche amazed to see this sight, but a greate deale more gladde, that Siluanus had founde out suche a father, and now nothing at al offended with his daughters choice, came likewise with chearfull countenaunce, and imbrased Siluanus, desiring dothe the Duke his Father, and [Page] hymself to forgiue what was past, and takyng Valerya by the hande, he deliuered her to Siluanus, promisyng hym for her dowrie 40000. Franckes in golde presently to bee paied, and after his descease to remaine for his inheritour.

Siluanus better pleased with Valeria her self, then with all the rest that was promised, gaue hym greate thankes, and so did the Duke his father.

All the companie were replenished with the greatest ioye that might be, to see this sodaine sight, and thus thei departed to the Pallas where the Duke kept his abode, where Silua­nus was welcomed, to his mother, to his sister, to Arabianus, and to all the rest, where there was greate feastyng and tri­umphe, and a bonde of euerlastyng amitie betweene the hou­ses of the Duke of Mantona, the Duke of Vasconya, and the Duke of Petrona, and after a while thei had feasted and spor­ted them selues, thei rode altogether in companie to the Em­perours Courte, who receiued them with so greate honour as he could deuise, and making himself a partaker of their mirth, wonderyng to here the hole discourse how thynges had hap­pened, when after a while he had feasted them, and shewed them as greate pleasures as might be deuised, he bestowed of them all large and bountifull giftes, but especially of the two yong Ladies Valerya and Phylene, and this a­greeing amongest themselues, to meete once a yeare at the least to sporte and make them selues merrie, for this season thei departed, euery one where it liked them beste.

Of Apolonius and Silla.

THere is no child that is borne in to this wretched worlde▪ but before it doeth sucke the mothers milke, it taketh first a soope of the Cupp of errour, which maketh vs when we come to riper yeres, not onely to enter into actiōs of iniurie, but many tymes to straie from that is right and reason, but in all other thynges, wherein wee shewe our selues to bee moste dronken with this poisoned Cuppe, it is in our actions of Loue, for the Louer is so estraunged from that is right, and wandereth so wide from the boundes of reason, that he is not able to deeme white from blacke, good from bad, vertue from vice: but one­ly led by the appetite of his owne affections, and groundyng them on the foolishnesse of his owne fancies, will so settle his likyng, on suche a one, as either by deserte or vnworthinesse, [Page] will merite rather to be loathed then loued.

If a question might be asked, what is the ground in deede of reasonable loue, whereby the knot is knit, of true and per­fect freendship? I thinke those that be wi [...]e would aunswere: Deserte, that is, where the partie beloued, dooeth requite vs with the like, for otherwise, if the bare shewe of beautie, or the comelinesse of personage, might bee sufficient to confirme vs in our loue. Those that bee accustomed to go [...] to Faires and Markettes, might sometymes fall into loue with twentie in a daie: Deserte must then bee (of force) the grounde of reaso­nable loue, for to loue them that hate vs, to followe them that flie from vs, to faue on them that froune on vs, to currie fa­uour with them that disdaine vs, to bee glad to please them that care not how thei offende vs: who will not confesse this to be an erronious loue, neither grounded vpon witte nor rea­son. Wherefore right curteous Gentlewomen, if it please you with pacience to peruse this Historie followyng, you shall see Dame Errour so plaie her parte, with a Leishe of Louers a Male and twoo Females, as shall woorke a wonder to your wise iudgement, in notyng the effect of their amourous deui­ses and conclusions of their actions. The first neclectyng the loue of a noble Dame, yong, beautifull, and faire, (who onely for his good will, plaied the parte of a Seruyng man, conten­ted to abide any maner of paine onely to beholde hym. He a­gaine settyng his loue of a Dame that despising hym, (being a noble Duke) gaue her self to a Seruyng man (as she had thought) but it otherwise fell out, as the substance of this tale shall better discribe. And because I haue been somethyng te­dious in my first discourse, offending your pacient eares, with the hearing of a circumstaunce ouer long. From hence forth, that whiche I minde to write, shall be doen with suche celeri­cie, as the matter that I pretende to penne, maie in any wise permit me, and thus followeth the Historie.

During the tyme that the famous Citie of Constantino­ple, remained in the handes of the Christians, amongst many other noble men, that kepte their abidyng in that florishyng Citie, there was one whose name was Apolonius, a worthie [Page] Duke, who beyng but a very yong man, and euen then newe come to his possessions whiche were very greate, leuied a mightie band of men, at his owne proper charges, with whom he serued against the Turke, duryng the space of one whole yeare, in whiche tyme although it were very shorte, this yong Duke so behaued hymself, as well by prowesse and valiaunce shewed with his owne handes, as otherwise, by his wisedome and liberalitie [...] vsed towardes his Souldiours, that all the worlde was filled with the fame of this noble Duke. When he had thus spent one yeares seruice, he caused his Trompet to sounde a retraite, and gatheryng his companie together, and imbarkyng themselues he set saile, holdyng his course to­wardes Constantinople: but beeyng vpon the Sea, by the ex­treamitie of a Tempest whiche sodainely fell, his fleete was deserued some one waie, and some an other, but he hymself re­couered the Ile of Cypres, where he was worthily receiued by Pontus Duke and gouernour of the same Ile, with whom he lodged, while his Shippes were newe repairyng.

This Pontus that was Lorde and Gouernour of this fa­mous Ile, was an auncient Duke, & had two children, a sonne and a daughter, his sonne was named Siluio, of whom hereaf­ter we shall haue further occasion to speak, but at this instant he was in the partes of Africa, seruyng in the Warres.

The Daughter her name was Silla, whose beautie was so perelesse, that she had the soueraintie amongest all other Da­mes, aswell for her beautie as for the noblenesse of her birth. This Silla hauing heard of the worthinesse of Apolonius, this yong Duke, who besides his beautie and good graces, had a certaine naturall allurement, that beyng now in his compa­nie in her fathers Courte, she was so strangely attached with the loue of Apolonius, that there was nothing might content her but his presence and sweete sight, and although she sawe no maner of hope, to attaine to that she most desired: knowing Apolonius to be but a geste, and readie to take the benefite of the next Winde, and to departe into a straunge Countrey, whereby she was bereued of all possibilitie euer to see hym a­gaine, and therefore striued with her self to leaue her fonde­nesse, [Page] but all in vaine it would not be, but like the foule which is once limed, the more she striueth, the faster she tieth her self. So Silla was now constrained perforce her will to yeelde to loue, wherefore from tyme to tyme, she vsed so greate familia­ritie with hym, as her honour might well permit, and fed him with suche amourous baites, as the modestie of a maide could reasonably afforde, whiche when she perceiued, did take but small effect, feelyng her self so muche out raged with the ex­treamitie of her passion, by the onely countenaunce that she bestowed vpon Apolonius, it might haue been well perceiued, that the very eyes pleaded vnto him for pitie and remorse. But Apolonius commyng but lately from out the fielde, from the chasing of his enemies, and his furie not yet throughly desol­ued, nor purged from his stomacke, gaue no regarde to those amourous entisementes, which by reason of his youth, he had not beene acquainted with all. But his mynde ranne more to heare his Pilotes, bryng newes of a merie winde, to serue his turne to Constantinople, whiche in the ende came very pro­sperously: and giuyng Duke Pontus hartie thankes for his great entertainment, takyng his leaue of hymself, and the La­die Silla his daughter, departed with his companie, and with a happie gaale ariued at his desired Porte. Gentlewomen ac­cording to my promise, I will heare for breuities sake, omit to make repetition of the long and dolorous discourse recorded by Silla, for this sodaine departure of her Apolonius, knowing you to bee as tenderly harted as Silla her self, whereby you maie the better coniecture the furie of her Feuer.

But Silla the further that she sawe her self bereued of all hope, euer any more to see her beloued Apolonius, so muche the more contagious were her passions, and made the greater speede to execute that she had premeditated in her mynde, whiche was this: Amongest many seruauntes that did attend vppon her, there was one whose name was Pedro, who had a long tyme waited vpon her in her Chamber, whereby she was well assured of his fidelitie and trust: to that Pedro, therefore she bewraied first the feruēcie of her loue borne to Apolonius, coniuryng hym in the name of the Goddes of Loue her self, [Page] and bindyng hym by the duetie that a seruaunt ought to haue, that tendereth his Mistresse safetie and good likyng, and de­siryng hym with teares tricklyng doune her cheekes, that he would giue his consent to aide and assist her, in that she had de­termined, whiche was for that she was fully resolued to goe to Constantinople, where she might againe take the vewe of her beloued Apolonius, that he accordyng to the trust she had reposed in hym, would not refuse to giue his consent, secretly to conuaie her from out her fathers Courte, accordyng as she should giue hym direction, and also to make himself pertaker of her iourney, and to waite vpon her, till she had seen the end of her determination.

Pedro perceiuyng with what vehemencie his Ladie and Mistresse had made request vnto hym, albeeit he sawe many perilles and doubtes, depending in her pretence notwithstan­dyng, gaue his consent to be at her disposition, promisyng her to further her with his best aduice, and to bee readie to obeye whatsoeuer she would please to commaunde him. The match beyng thus agreed vpon, and all thynges prepared in a readi­nesse for their departure: It happened there was a Gallie of Constantinople, readie to departe, whiche Pedro vnderstan­dyng came to the Captaine, desiryng him to haue passage for hymself, and for a poore Maide that was his Sister, whiche were bounde to Constantinople vppon certaine vrgent affai­res, to whiche request, the Captaine graunted, willyng hym to prepare aborde with all speede, because the Winde serued hym presently to departe.

Pedro now commyng to his Mistres, and telling her how he had handeled the matter with the Captaine: she likyng ve­ry well of the deuise, disguisyng her self into very simple at­tire, stole awate from out her fathers Courte, and came with Pedro, whom now she calleth Brother aboorde the Gallie, where all thinges being in readinesse, and the winde seruyng very well, thei launched forthe with their Oores, and set saile, when thei were at the Sea, the Captaine of the Galleye ta­kyng the vewe of Silla, perceiuyng her singular beautie, he was better pleased in beholdyng of her face, then in takyng [Page] the height either of the Sunne of Starre, and thinkyng her by the homelinesse of her apparell, to be but some simple mai­den, callyng her into his Cabin, he beganne to breake with her after the Sea fashion, desiryng her to vse his owne Cabin for her better ease: and duryng the tyme that she remained at the Sea, she should not want a bed, and then whisperyng soft­ly in her eare he saied, that for want of a bedfellowe, he hym self would supplie that rome. Silla not being acquainted with any suche talke, blusshed for shame, but made hym no aun­swere at all, my Captaine feelyng suche a bickeryng within himself, the like whereof he had neuer indured vpon the Sea: was like to be taken prisoner aboorde his owne Shippe, and forced to yeeld hymself a captiue without any Cannon shott, wherefore to salue all sores, and thinkyng it the readiest waie to speed, he began to breake with Silla in the waie of mariage, telling her how happie a voyage she had made, to fall into the likyng of suche a one as hymself was, who was able to keepe and maintaine her like a Gentlewoman, & for her sake would likewise take her brother into his fellowship, whom he would by some meanes prefarre in suche sorte, that bothe of them should haue good cause to thinke them selues thrise happie, she to light of suche a housband, and he to light of suche a bro­ther. But Silla nothyng pleased with these prefermentes, de­sired hym to cease his talke, for that she did thinke her self in deede to be too vnworthie suche a one as he was, neither was she minded yet to marrie, and therefore desired hym to fixe his fancie vpon some that were better worthie then her self was, and that could better like of his curtesie then she could do: the Captaine seyng hymself thus refused, being in a great chafe, he saied as followeth.

Then seeyng you make so little accompte of my curtesie, proffered to one that is so farre vnworthie of it, from hence­forthe I will vse the office of my aucthoritie, you shall knowe that I am the Captaine of this Shippe, and haue power to commaunde and dispose of thinges at my pleasure, and seyng you haue so scornfully reiected me to be your loiall housband, I will now take you by force, and vse you at my will, and so [Page] long as it shall please me, will keepe you for mine owne store, there shall be no man able to defende you, nor yet to perswade me from that I haue determined. Silla with these wordes be­yng stroke into a greate feare, did thinke it now too late, to rewe her rashe attempte, determined rather to dye with her owne handes, then to suffer her self to be abused in suche sorte, therefore she moste humbly desired the Captaine so muche as he could to saue her credite, and seyng that she must needes be at his will and disposition, that for that present he would de­part, and suffer her till night, when in the darke he might take his pleasure, without any maner of suspition to the residue of his companie. The Captaine thinkyng now the goole to bee more then halfe wonne, was contented so farre to satisfie her request, and departed out leauyng her alone in his Cabin.

Silla, beeyng alone by her self, drue out her knife readie to strike her self to the harte, and fallyng vpon her knees, desired God to receiue her soule, as an acceptable sacrifice for her fol­lies, whiche she had so wilfully committed, crauyng pardon for her sinnes, and so forthe continuyng a long and pitifull re­conciliation to GOD, in the middest whereof there sodainly fell a wonderfull storme the terrour whereof was suche, that there was no man but did thinke the Seas would presently haue swallowed them, the Billowes so sodainly arose with the rage of the winde, that thei were al glad to fall to heauing out of water, for otherwise their feeble Gallie had neuer bin able to haue brooked the Seas, this storme continued all that daie and the next night, and thei beeyng driuen to put romer before the winde to keepe the Gallie ahed the Billowe, were driuen vppon the maine Shore, where the Gallie brake all is peeces, there was euery man prouiding to saue his owne life, some gate vpon Hatches, Boordes, and Casks, and were dri­uen with the waues to and fro, but the greatest nomber were drouned, amongest the whiche Pedro was one, but Silla her self beeyng in the Cabin as you haue heard, tooke holde of a Chest that was the Captaines, the whiche by the onely pro­uidence of GOD brought her safe to the Shore, the whiche when she had recouered, not knowyng that was become of [Page] Pedro her man, she deemed that bothe he and all the rest had been drouned, for that she sawe no bodie vppon the Shore but her self, wherefore, when she had a while made greate lamen­tations, complainyng her mishappes, she beganne in the ende to comforte her self with the hope, that she had to see her Apo­lonius, and found suche meanes that she brake open the Chest that brought her to land, wherin she found good store of coine, and sondrie sutes of Apparell that were the Captaines, and now to preuent a nomber of iniuries, that might be proffered to a woman that was left in her case, she determined to leaue her owne Apparell, and to sorte her self into some of those su­tes, that beeyng taken for a man, she might passe through the Countrey in the better safetie, and as she chaunged her appa­rell, she thought it likewise conuenient to chaunge her name, wherefore not readily happenyng of any other, she called her self Siluio, by the name of ther owne brother, whom you haue heard spoken of before.

In this maner she trauailed to Constantinople, where she inquired out the Pallace of the Duke Apolonius, and thin­kyng her self now to be both fit and able to plaie the seruyng man, she presented her self to the Duke, crauyng his seruice, the Duke very willyng to giue succour vnto straungers, per­ceiuyng hym to be a proper smouge yong man, gaue hym en­tertainment: Silla thought her self now more then satisfied, for all the casualties that had happened vnto her in her Iour­ney, that she might at her pleasure take but the vewe of the Duke Apolonius, and aboue the rest of his seruaunts was very diligent and attendaunt vppon hym, the whiche the Duke perceiuyng, began likewise to growe into good likyng with the diligence of his man, and therefore made hym one of his Chamber, who but Siluio then was most neate about hym, in helpyng of hym to make hym readie in a mornyng, in the set­ting of his ruffes, in the keeping of his Chamber, Siluio plea­sed his Maister so well, that aboue all the rest of his seruaunts about him, he had the greatest credite, and the Duke put him moste in trust.

At this very instaunt, there was remainyng in the Citie a [Page] noble Dame a widowe, whose housbande was but lately de­ceased, one of the noblest men that were in the partes of Gre­cia, who left his Ladie and wife large possessions and greate liuynges. This Ladies name was called Iulina, who besides the aboundance of her wealth, and the greatnesse of her reue­nues, had likewise the soueraigntie of all the Dames of Con­stantinople for her beautie. To this Ladie Iulina, Apolonius became an earnest suter, and accordyng to y^e maner of woers, besides faire woordes, sorrowfull sighes, and piteous counte­naunces, there must bee sendyng of louyng letters, Chaines, Bracelettes, Brouches, Rynges, Tablets, Gemmes, Iuels, and presentes I knowe not what: So my Duke, who in the tyme that he remained in the Ile of Cypres, had no skill at all in the arte of Loue, although it were more then half proffered vnto him, was now become a scholler in Loues Schoole, and had alreadie learned his first lesson, that is, to speake pitifully, to looke ruthfully, to promise largely, to serue diligently, and to please carefully: Now he was learnyng his seconde lesson, that is to rewarde, liberally, to giue bountifully, to present willingly, and to write louingly. Thus Apolonius was so busied in his newe studie, that I warrant you there was no man that could chalenge hym for plaiyng the truant, he follo­wed his profession with so good a will: And who must bee the messenger to carrie the tokens and letters to the Ladie Iu­lina, but Siluio his man, in hym the Duke reposed his onely confidence, to goe betweene hym and his Ladie.

New Gentlewomen, doe you think there could haue been a greater torment deuised, wherewith to afflicte the harte of Silla, then her self to bee made the Instrument to woorke her owne mishapp, and to plaie the Atturney in a cause, that made so muche against her self. But Silla altogether desirous to please her Maister, cared nothyng at all to offend her self, fol­lowed his businesse with so good a will, as if it had been in her owne preferment.

Iulina now hauyng many tymes, taken the gaze of this yong youth Siluio, perceiuyng hym to bee of suche excellent perfecte grace, was so intangled with the often sight of this [Page] sweete temptation, that she fell into as great a likyng with the man, as the Maister was with her self: And on a tyme Sil­uio beyng sent from his Maister, with a message to the Ladie Iulina, as he beganne very earnestly to solicet in his Maisters behalfe, Iulina interruptyng hym in his tale, saied: Siluio it is enough that you haue saied for your Maister, from henceforth either speake for your self, or saie nothyng at all. Silla abashed to heare these wordes, began in her minde to accuse the blind­nesse of Loue, that Iulina neglecting the good will of so noble a Duke, would preferre her loue vnto suche a one, as Nature it self had denaied to recompence her likyng.

And now for a tyme, leauyng matters dependyng as you haue heard, it fel out that the right Siluio in deede (whom you haue heard spoken of before, the brother of Silla,) was come to his Fathers Courte into the Ile of Cypres, where vnderstan­ding, that his sister was departed, in maner as you haue heard coniectured, that the very occasion did proceed of some liking had betweene Pedro her man (that was missing with her) and her self, but Siluio who loued his sister, as dearly as his owne life, and her rather for that as she was his naturall sister, bothe by Father and Mother, so the one of them was so like the o­ther, in countenaunce and fauour, that there was no man able to descerne the one from the other by their faces, sauyng by their apparell the one beyng a man, the other a woman.

Siluio therefore vowed to his Father, not onely to seeke but his sister Silla, but also to reuenge the villanie, whiche he conceiued in Sedro, for the carriyng awaie of his sister, and thus departyng hauyng trauailed through many Cities and Townes, without hearyng any maner of newes, of those he went to seeke for, at the fast be arriued at Constantinople, where as he was walking in an euenyng for his owne recrea­tion, on a pleasaunt greene yarde, without the walles of the Citie, he fortuned to meete with the Ladie Iulina, who like­wise had been abroade to take the aire, and as she sodainly cast her eyes vppon Siluio, thinkyng hym to bee her olde acquain­taunce, by reason they were so like one an other, as you haue heard before, saied vnto hym, sir Siluio, if your haste be not the [Page] greater, I praie you let me haue a little talke with you, seyng I haue so luckely met you in this place.

Siluio wonderyng to heare hymself so rightly named, bee­yng but a straunger, not of aboue two daies continuaunce in the Citie, very courteously came towardes her, desirous to heare what she would saie.

Iulina commaunding her traine something to stand backe, saied as followeth. Seyng my good will and freendly loue, hath been the onely cause to make me so prodigal to offer, that I see is so lightly reiected, it maketh me to thinke, that men be of this condition, rather to desire those thinges, whiche thei can not come by, then to esteeme or value of that, whiche both largely and liberally is offered vnto them, but if the liberali­tie of my proffer, hath made to seme lesse the value of the thing that I ment to present, it is but in your owne cōceipt, conside­ring how many noble men there hath been here before, and be yet at this present, whiche hath bothe serued, sued, and moste humbly intreated, to attaine to that, whiche to you of my self, I haue freely offred, and I perceiue is dispised, or at the least very lightly regarded.

Siluio wonderyng at these woordes, but more amazed that she could so rightly call hym by his name, could not tell what to make of her speeches, assuring hym self that she was decei­ued, and did mistake hym, did thinke notwithstandyng, it had been a poinct of greate simplicitie, if he should forsake that, whiche Fortune had so fauourably proffered vnto hym, per­ceiuyng by her traine, that she was some Ladie of greate ho­nour, and vewing the perfection of her beautie, and the excel­lencie of her grace and countenaunce, did thinke it vnpossible that she should be despised, and therefore aunswered thus.

Madame, if before this tyme, I haue seemed to forget my self, in neglecting your courtesie whiche so liberally you haue ment vnto me: please it you to pardon what is past, and from this daie forwardes, Siluio remaineth readie prest to make suche reasonable amendes, as his abilitie may any waies per­mit, or as it shall please you to commaunde.

Iulina the gladdest woman that might bee, to heare these [Page] ioyfull newes, saied: Then my Siluio see you faile not to Mo­rowe at night to suppe with me at my owne house, where I will discourse farther with you, what amendes you shal make me, to whiche request Siluio gaue his glad consent, and thus thei departed very well pleased. And as Iulina did thinke the tyme very long, till she had reapt the fruite of her desire: So Siluio he wisht for Haruest, before Corne could growe, thin­kyng the tyme as long, till he sawe how matters would fall out, but not knowyng what Ladie she might bee, he presently (before Iulina was out of sight) demaunded of one that was walkyng by what she was, and how she was called, who satis­fied Siluio in euery poinct, and also in what parte of the toune her house did stande, whereby he might enquire it out.

Siluio thus departing to his lodging, passed the night with very vnquiet sleapes, and the next Mornyng his mynd ranne so muche of his Supper, that he neuer cared, neither for his Breakfast nor Dinner, and the daie to his seemyng passed a­waie so slowlie, that he had thought the statelie Steedes had been tired, that drawe the Chariot of the Sunne, or els some other Iosua had commaunded them againe to stande, and wi­shed that Phaeton had been there with a whippe.

Iulina on the other side, she had thought the Clocke setter had plaied the knaue, the daie came no faster forwardes, but sixe a clocke beyng once stroken, recouered comforte to bothe parties: and Siluio hastening himself to the Pallace of Iulina, where by her he was frendly welcomed, and a sumpteous sup­per beeyng made readie, furnished with sondrie sortes of deli­cate dishes, thei satte them doune, passyng the Supper tyme with amourous lookes, louyng countenaunces, and secrete glaunces conueighed from the one to the other, whiche did better satisfie them, then the feedyng of their daintie dishes.

Supper tyme beeyng thus spent, Iulina did thinke it very vnfitly, if she should tourne Siluio to goe seeke his lodging in an euenyng, desired him therefore, that he would take a bedde in her house for that night, and bryngyng hym vp into a faire Chamber, that was very richly furnished, she found such mea­nes, that when all the rest of her housholde seruauntes were [Page] a bedde and quiet, she came her self to beare Siluio companie, where concludyng vpon conditions, that were in question be­tweene them, thei passed the night with suche ioy and conten­tation, as might in that conuenient tyme bee wished for, but onely that Iulina, feedyng too muche of some one dishe aboue the rest, receiued a surfett, whereof she could not bee cured in fourtie weekes after, a naturall inclination in all Women whiche are subiect to longyng, and want the reason to vse a moderation in their diet: but the mornyng approching, Iulina tooke her leaue, and conueighed her self into her owne cham­ber, and when it was faire daie light, Siluio makyng hymself readie, departed likewise about his affaires in the Toune, de­batyng with hymself how thynges had happened, being well assured that Iulina had mistaken him, and therefore for feare of further euilles, determined to come no more there, but tooke his iourney towardes other places in the partes of Grecia, to see if he could learne any tidynges of his sister Silla.

The Duke Apolonius hauing made a long sute, and neuer a whit the nerer of his purpose, came to Iulina to craue her di­rect aunswere, either to accept of him, and of suche conditions as he proffered vnto her, or els to giue him his last farewell.

Iulina, as you haue heard, had taken an earnest penie of an other, whom she had thought had been Siluio the Dukes mā, was at a controuersie in her self, what she might do, one while she thought, seyng her occasion serued so fit, to craue the Du­kes good will, for the mariyng of his man, then againe, she could not tell what displeasure the Duke would conceiue, in that she should seeme to preferre his man before hymself, did thinke it therefore best to conceale the matter, till she might speake with Siluio, to vse his opiniō how these matters should be handled, & herevpon resoluyng her self, desiryng the Duke to pardon her speeches, saied as followeth.

Sir Duke, for that from this tyme forwardes I am no longer of my self, hauing giuen my full power and authoritie ouer to an other, whose wife I now remaine by faithfull vow and promise: And albeeit, I knowe the worlde will wonder when thei shall vnderstande the fondnesse of my choyce, yet I [Page] trust you your self will nothyng deslike with me, sithe I haue ment no other thing, then the satisfiyng of mine owne conten­tation and likyng.

The Duke hearyng these wordes, aunswered: Madame, I must then content my self, although against my will, hauyng the Lawe in your owne handes, to like of whom you list, and to make choise where it pleaseth you.

Iulina giuyng the Duke greate thankes, that would con­tent himself with suche pacience, desired him likewise, to giue his free consent and good wil, to the partie whom she had cho­sen to be her housbande.

Naie surely Madame (ꝙ the Duke) I will neuer giue my consent, that any other man shall enioye you then my self, I haue made too greate accompt of you, then so lightly to passe you awaie with my good will: But seyng it lieth not in me to let you, hauyng (as you saie) made your owne choise, so from hence forwardes I leaue you to your owne likyng, alwaies willyng you well, and thus will take my leaue.

The Duke departed towardes his owne house very sor­rowfull, that Iulina had thus serued hym, but in the meane space that the Duke had remained in the house of Iulina, some of his seruauntes fell into talke and conference, with the ser­uaunts of Iulina, where debatyng betweene them, of the like­lihood of the Marriage, betwéene the Duke and the Ladie, one of the seruantes of Iulina saied: that he neuer sawe his Ladie and Mistres, vse so good countenaunce to the Duke hymself, as she had doen to Siluio his man, and began to reporte with what familiaritie and courtesie, she had receiued hym, feasted hym, and lodged hym, and that in his opinion, Siluio was like to speede before the Duke, or any other that were suters.

This tale was quickly brought to the Duke himself, who makyng better enquirie in the matter, found it to be true that was reported, and better consideryng of the wordes, whiche Iulina had vsed towardes hymself, was very well assured that it could bee no other then his owne man, that had thrust his Nose so farre out of ioynt, wherefore without any further re­spect, caused hym to be thrust into a Dongeon, where he was [Page] kept prisoner, in a very pitifull plight.

Poore Siluio, hauyng gott intelligence by some of his fel­lowes, what was the cause that the Duke his Maister did beare suche displeasure vnto hym, deuised all the meanes he could, as well by meditation by his fellowes, as otherwise by petitions, and supplication to the Duke, that he would sus­pende his Iudgement, til perfect proofe wer [...] had in the mat­ter, and then if any maner of th [...]ng did fall out against hym, wherby the Duke had cause to take any greefe, he would con­fesse hymself worthie not onely of imprisonment, but also of moste vile and shamefull death: with these petitions he daiely plied the Duke, but all in vaine, for the Duke thought he had made so good proofe, that he was throughly confirmed in his opinion against his man.

But the Ladie Iulina, wonderyng what made Siluio, that he was so slacke in his visitation, and why he absented himself so long from her presence, beganne to thinke that all was not well, but in the ende, perceiuyng no decoction of her former surfette, receiued as you haue heard, and findyng in her self, an vnwonted swellyng in her beallie, assuryng her self to bee with childe, fearyng to become quite banckroute of her ho­nour, did thinke it more then tyme to seeke out a Father, and made suche secret searche, and diligent enquirie, that she lear­ned the truth how Siluio was kept in prison, by the Duke his Maister, and mindyng to finde a present remedie, as well for the loue she bare to Siluio, as for the maintenaunce of her cre­dite and estimation, she speedily hasted to the Pallace of the Duke, to whom she saied as followeth.

Sir Duke, it maie bee that you will thinke my commyng to your house in this sorte, doeth somethyng passe the limites of modestie, the whiche I protest before GOD, proceaded of this desire, that the worlde should knowe, how iustly I seeke meanes to maintaine my honour, but to the ende I seeme not tedious with prolixitie of woordes, nor to vse other then di­rect circumstaunces, knowe sir, that the loue I beare to my onely beloued Siluio, whom I doe esteeme more then all the Iewelles in the world, whose personage I regard more then [Page] my owne life, is the onely cause of my attempted iourney, be­seechyng you, that all the whole displeasure, whiche I vnder­stand you haue conceiued against hym, maie be imputed vnto my charge, & that it would please you louyngly to deale with him, whom of my self I haue chosen rather for the satisfaction of mine honest liking, then for the vaine preheminences or ho­nourable dignities looked after by ambicious myndes.

The Duke hauyng heard this discourse, caused Siluio pre­sently to be sent for, and to be brought before hym, to whom he saied: Had it not been sufficient for thee, when I had reposed my self in thy fidelitie, and the trustinesse of thy seruice, that thou shouldest so traiterously deale with me, but since that time haste not spared, stil to abuse me with so many forgeries, and periured protestations, not onely hatefull vnto me, whose simplicitie thou thinkest to bee suche, that by the plotte of thy pleasaunt tongue, thou wouldest make me beleeue a manifest vntrothe, but moste habominable bee thy doynges in the pre­sence and sight of God, that hast not spared to blaspheeme his holy name, by callyng hym to bee a witnesse to maintaine thy leasynges, and so detestably wouldest forsweare thy self, in a matter that is so openly knowne.

Poore Siluio whose innocencie was suche, y^t he might law­fully sweare, seing Iulina to be there in place, aunswered thus.

Moste noble Duke, well vnderstandyng your conceiued greefe, most humbly I beseeche you paciently to heare my ex­cuse, not mindyng thereby to aggrauate or heape vp your wrathe and displeasure, protestyng before God, that there is nothyng in the worlde, whiche I regarde so muche, or doe e­steeme so deare, as your good grace and fauour, but desirous that your grace should know my innocencie, and to cleare my self of suche impositions, wherewith I knowe I am wrong­fully accused, whiche as I vnderstande should be in the practi­sing of the Ladie Iulina, who standeth here in place, whose ac­quitance for my better discharge, now I most humbly craue, protesting before the almightie God, that neither in thought, worde, nor deede, I haue not otherwise vsed my self, then ac­cordyng to the bonde and duetie of a seruaunt, that is bothe [Page] willyng and desirous, to further his Maisters sutes, which if I haue otherwise saied then that is true, you Madame Iulina, who can very well deside the depthes of all this doubt, I most humbly beseeche you to certifie a troth, if I haue in any thing missaied, or haue otherwise spoken then is right and iust.

Iulina hauing heard this discourse which Siluio had made, perceiuyng that he stoode in great awe of the Dukes displea­sure, aunswered thus: Thinke not my Siluio, that my com­myng hether is to accuse you of any misdemeanour towards your Maister, so I doe not denaie, but in al suche Imbassages wherein towardes me you haue been imployed, you haue vsed the office of a faithfull and trustie messenger, neither am I a­shamed to confesse, that the first day that mine eyes did behold the singuler behauiour, the notable curtesie, and other innu­merable giftes wherewith my Siluio is endued, but that be­yonde all measure my harte was so inflamed, that impossible it was for me, to quenche the feruent loue, or extinguishe the least part of my conceiued torment, before I had bewraied the same vnto hym, and of my owne motion, craued his promised faithe and loialtie of marriage, and now is the tyme to mani­fest the same vnto the worlde, whiche hath been doen before God, and betweene our selues: knowyng that it is not neede­full, to keepe secret that, whiche is neither euill doen, nor hurt­full to any persone, therefore (as I saied before) Siluio is my housbande by plited faithe, whom I hope to obtaine without offence, or displeasure of any one, trusting that there is no mā, that will so farre forget hymself, as to restraine that, whiche God hath left at libertie for euery wight, or that will seeke by crueltie, to force Ladies to marrie otherwise, then accordyng to their owne likyng. Feare not then my Siluio to keepe your faith and promise, whiche you haue made vnto me, and as for the rest: I doubt not thynges will so fall out, as you shall haue no maner of cause to complaine.

Siluio amased to heare these woordes, for that Iulina by her speeche, seemed to confirme that, whiche he most of all desired to be quite of, saied: Who would haue thought that a Ladie of so greate honour and reputation, would her self bee the Em­bassadour, [Page] of a thyng so preiudiciall, and vncomely for her e­state, what plighted promises be these whiche be spoken of▪ al­together ignoraunt vnto me, whiche if it be otherwise then I haue saied, you Sacred Gods consume me straight with fla­shyng flames of fire. But what woordes might I vse to giue credite to the truth, and innocencie of my cause? Ah Madame Iulina, I desire no other testimonie, then your owne honestie and vertue, thinkyng that you will not so muche blemishe the brightnesse of your honour, knowyng that a woman is or should be, the Image of curtesie, continencie, and shamefast­nesse, from the whiche so soone as she stoopeth, and leaueth the office of her duetie and modestie, besides the degraduation of her honour, she thrusteth her self into the pitt of perpetuall in­famie, and as I can not thinke you would so farre forget your self, by the refusall of a noble duke, to dimme the light of your renowne and glorie, whiche hetherto you haue maintained, a­mongest the best and noblest Ladies, by such a one as I know my self to be, too farre vnworthie your degree and callyng, so most humbly I beseeche you to confesse a trothe [...] those vowes and promises you speake of, whiche spéeches bee so obscure vnto me, as I knowe not for my life how I might vnderstande them.

Iulina somethyng nipped with these speeches saied, and what is the matter that now you make so little accompt of your Iulina, that beeyng my housbande in deede, haue the face to denay me, to whom thou art contracted by so many so­lemne othes: what arte thou ashamed to haue me to thy wife? how muche oughtest thou rather to bee ashamed to breake thy promised faithe, and to haue despised the holie and dreadfull name of GOD, but that tyme constraineth me to laie open that, whiche shame rather willeth I should dissemble and keepe secret, behold me then here Siluio whom thou hast got­ten with childe, who if thou be of suche honestie, as I trust for al this I shall finde, then the thing is doen without preiudice, or any hurte to my conscience, consideryng that by the profes­sed faithe, thou diddest accoumpt me for thy wife, and I recei­ued thee for my spouse and loyall housbande, swearing by the [Page] almightie God, that no other then you haue made the cōquest and triumphe of my chastitie, whereof I craue no other wit­nesse then your self, and myne owne conscience.

I praie you Gentlewomen, was not this a foule ouersight of Iulina, that would so precisely sweare so great an othe, that she was gotten with childe by one, that was altogether vnfur­nisht with implementes for suche a tourne. For Gods loue take heede, and let this be an example to you, when you bee with childe, how you sweare who is the father, before you haue had good proofe and knowledge of the partie, for men bee so subtill and full of sleight, that God knoweth a woman maie quickly be deceiued.

But now to retourne to our Siluio, who hearyng an othe sworne so deuinely that he had gotten a woman with childe, was like to beleeue that it had bin true in very deede, but re­membryng his owne impediment, thought it impossible that he should commit suche an acte, and therefore halfe in a chafe, he saied. What lawe is able to restraine the foolishe indescre­tion of a woman, that yeeldeth her self to her owne desires, what shame is able to bridle or withdrawe her from her mynd and madnesse, or with what snaffell is it possible to holde her backe, from the execution of her filthinesse, but what abhomi­nation is this, that a Ladie of such a house should so forget the greatnesse of her estate, the aliaunce whereof she is descended, the nobilitie of her deceased housbande, and maketh no con­science to shame and slaunder her self, with suche a one a I am, being so farre vnfit and vnseemely for her degree, but how horrible is it to heare the name of God so defased, that wee make no more accompt, but for the maintenaunce of our mis­chifes, we feare no whit at all to forsweare his holy name, as though he were not in all his dealinges moste righteous true and iuste, and will not onely laie open our leasinges to the worlde, but will likewise punishe the same with moste sharpe and bitter scourges.

Iulina, not able to indure hym to proceede any farther in his Sermon, was alreadie surprised with a vehement greefe, began bitterly to crie out vtteryng these speeches followyng.

[Page] Alas, is it possible that the soueraigne iustice of God, can abide a mischiefe so greate and cursed, why maie I not now suffer death, rather then the infamie whiche I see to wander before myne eyes. O happie and more then right happie had I bin, if inconstant fortune had not deuised this treason where in I am surprised and caught, am I thus become to be intan­gled with snares, and in the handes of hym, who inioiyng the spoyles of my honour, will openly depriue me of my fame, by making me a common fable to all posteritie in time to come: ah Traitour and discourtious wretche, is this the recompence of the honest and firme amitie which I haue borne thee, wher­in haue I deserued this discourtesie, by louing thee more then thou art able to deserue, is it I arrant theefe is it I, vppon whom thou thinkest to worke thy mischiues, doest thou think me no better worthe, but that thou maiest prodigally waste my honour at thy pleasure, didest thou dare to aduenture vp­pon me, hauyng thy conscience woūded with so deadly a trea­son: ah vnhappie and aboue all other most vnhappie, that haue so charely preserued myne honour, and now am made a praie to satisfie a yong mans lust, that hath coueted nothyng but the spoyle of my chastitie and good name.

Here withall the teares so gushed doune her cheekes, that she was not able to open her mouth to vse any farther speech.

The Duke who stoode by all this while, and heard this whole discourse, was wonderfully mooued with compassion towardes Iulina, knowyng that from her infancie she had e­uer so honourably vsed her self, that there was no man able to detect her of any misdemeanour, otherwise then beseemed a Ladie of her estate, wherefore beyng fully resolued that Siluio his man had committed this villanie against her, in a greate furie drawyng his Rapier he saied vnto Siluio.

How canst thou (arrant theefe) shewe thy self so cruell and carelesse to suche as doe thee honour, hast thou so little regard of suche a noble Ladie, as humbleth her self to suche a villaine as thou art, who without any respecte either of her renowne or noble estate, canst be content to seeke the wracke and vtter ruine of her honour, but frame thy self to make suche satisfac­tion [Page] as she requireth, although I knowe vnworthie wretche, that thou art not able to make her the least parte of amendes, or I sweare by God, that thou shalt not escape y^• death whiche I will minister to thee with my owne handes, and therefore aduise thee well what thou doest.

Siluio hauyng heard this sharpe sentence, fell doune on his knees before the Duke crauyng for mercie, desiryng that he might be suffered to speake with the Ladie Iulina aparte, pro­mising to satisfie her, accordyng to her owne contentation.

Well (ꝙ the Duke) I take thy worde, and there with all I aduise thee that thou performe thy promise, or otherwise I protest before God, I will make thee suche an example to the world, that all Traitours shall tremble for feare, how thei doe seeke the dishonouryng of Ladies.

But now Iulina had conceiued so great greefe against Sil­uio, that there was muche a doe, to perswade her to talke with hym, but remembryng her owne case, desirous to heare what excuse he could make, in y^e ende she agreed, and being brought into a place seuerally by them selues, Siluio beganne with a piteous voyce to saie as followeth.

I knowe not Madame, of whom I might make com­plaint, whether of you or of my self, or rather of Fortune, whiche hath conducted and brought vs bothe into so great ad­uersitie, I see that you reciue greate wrong, and I am con­demned against all right, you in perrill to abide the brute of spightfull tongues, and I in daunger to loose the thyng that I most desire: and although I could as [...]edge many reasons to proue my saiynges true, yet I referre my self, to the expe­rience and bountie of your mynde▪ And here with all loosyng his garmentes doune to his stomacke, and shewed Iulina his breastes and pretie teates, surmountyng farre the whitnesse of Snowe it self, saiyng: Loe Madame, behold here the partie whom you haue chalenged to bee the father of your childe, see I am a woman the daughter of a noble Duke, who onely for the loue of hym, whom you so lightly haue shaken of, haue for­saken my Father, abandoned my Countrey, and in maner as you see am become a seruing man, satisfiyng my self, but with [Page] the only sight of my Apolonius, and now Madame, if my pas­sion were not vehement, & my tormentes without cōparison, I would wishe that my fained greefes might bee laughed to scorne, & my dissembled paines to bee rewarded with floutes. But my loue beyng pure, my trauaile continuall, & my gree­fes endlesse, I trust Madame you will not onely excuse me of crime, but also pitie my destresse, the which I protest I would still haue kept secrete, if my fortune would so haue permitted.

Iulina did now think her self to be in a worse case then euer she was before, for now she knew not whom to chalenge to be the father of her child: wherefore, when she had told the Duke the very certantie of the discourse, which Siluio had made vn­to her, she departed to her owne house, with suche greefe & sor­rowe, that she purposed neuer to come out of her owne doores againe aliue, to be a wonder & mocking stocke to the worlde.

But y^e Duke more amased, to heare this straūge discourse of Siluio came vnto him, whō when he had dewed with better consideration, perceiued in deede that it was Silla the daugh­ter of Duke Pontus, and imbrasing her in his armes, [...]

Oh the braunche of all vertue, and the flowre of curtesie it self, pardon me I beseeche you of all suche discourtesies, as I haue ignorantly committed towardes you: desiryng you that without farther memorie of auncient greefes, you wil accept of me, who is more ioyfull and better cōtented with your pre­sence, then if the whole worlde were at my commaundement. Where hath there euer been founde suche liberalitie in a Lo­uer, whiche hauyng been trained vp and nourished amongest the delicacies and banquettes of the Courte, accompanied with traines of many faire and noble Ladies liuyng in plea­sure, and in the middest of delightes, would so prodigally ad­uenture your self, neither fearing mishapps, nor misliking to take suche paines, as I knowe you haue not been accustomed vnto. O liberalitie neuer heard of before. O facte that can ne­uer be sufficiently rewarded. O true Loue most pure and vn­fained: Here with all sendyng for the most artificiall woork­men, he prouided for her sondrie sutes of sumpteous Apparell, and the Marriage daie appointed, whiche was celebrated [Page] with greate triumphe, through the whole Citie of Constan­tinople, euery one praising the noblenesse of the Duke, but so many as did behold the excellent beautie of Silla, gaue her the praise aboue all the rest of the Ladies in the troupe.

The matter seemed so wonderfull and straunge, that the brute was spreade throughout all the partes of Grecia, in so muche that it came to the hearyng of Siluio, who as you haue heard, remained in those partes to enquire of his sister, he be­ing the gladdest man in the worlde, hasted to Constantinople, where commyng to his Sister he was ioyfully receiued, and moste louingly welcomed, and entertained of the Duke his brother in Lawe. After he had remained there two or three da­yes, the Duke reuealed vnto Siluio, the whole discourse how it happened, betwéene his sister and the Ladie Iulina, and how his sister was chalenged, for gettyng a woman with childe: Siluio blushyng with these wordes, was striken with great re­morse to make Iulina amendes, vnderstandyng her to be a no­ble Ladie, and was left defamed to the worlde through his de­ [...]ault, he therefore bewraied the whole circumstaunce to the Duke, whereof y^e Duke being very ioyful, immediatly repai­red with Siluio to the house of Iulina, whom thei founde in her Chamber, in greate lamentation and mournyng. To whom the Duke saied: take courage Madame, for beholde here a Gentleman, that will not sticke, both to father your child, and to take you for his wife, no inferiour person, but the sonne and heire of a noble Duke, worthie of your estate and dignitie.

Iulina seing Siluio in place, did know very well that he was the father of her childe, and was for rauished with ioye, that she knewe not whether she were awake, or in some dreame. Siluio imbracyng her in his armes, crauyng forgiuenesse of all that past: concluded with her the mariage daie, which was present­ly accomplished with greate ioye, and contentation to al par­ties: And thus Siluio hauyng attained a noble wife, and Silla his sister her desired housbande, thei passed the residue of their daies with suche delight, as those that haue ac­complished the perfection of their felicities.

Of Nicander and Lucilla.

IN the tyme that Alfonso firste [...] that name, and third Duke of Fer­rara gout [...]ed that state, there was in the Citee of Ferrara, a gentle yong gentlewoman, named Lucil­la, borne of a noble Familie, but by the frowardnesse of blind Fortune reduced to great pouertie, then her vertues did deserue: whose beautie appeared to bee suche, in the prime and flower of her yeres, as it filled with meruaile, all those that caste their eyes vpon her. Of this Gentlewoman was feruently enamoured, a gallant yong Gentleman, whose name was Nicander, and in like sort borne of noble blood. And desired nothyng more, then to bee ioyned with her in Matrimonie. But she beyng, as it is saied, poore, though of noble Parentage, and endued with singular vertues: The Father of the yong Gentleman disdained her, who (as for the moste part, we see old men, naturally enclined to coue [...]ise) regarding rather the wealth that their daughters in lawe, are to bring into their families, then either birthe, ver­tue, [Page] or giftes of the minde, could in no wise bee perswaded, or intreated to content his sonne in that behalf, and to suffer him to enioye his Loue, by takyng her to wife: alledgyng that the first thing that was to be considered in mariage, was the dow­rie, and the woman. For that the vertues of the women, dooe not enriche the houses wherein thei came (saied he) but the qualitie of goodes and wealthe, that thei brought with them.

The coueteous disposition of the father of Nicander, was cause that these two yong folke languished in miserable loue: For although their flames were of equall force and hea [...]e, yet the yong gentlewoman beyng of a verie honest minde, nor the yong gentleman, neuer thinking vpō any other mean [...] then honestly to enioye his desire, without touche or breache of her honor: and the obstinate wilfulnesse of the old man beyng cast, as a barre or blocke, betweene the vnitie and concorde of their twoo mindes: thei liued in greate tormente, eche consumyng, and as it wer melting awaie with desire, for loue of eche other Whilest their mutuall loue continued in this sorte eche daie, with lesse hope then other, through the obstinacie of the [...]ld [...]tarle, it happened that Don Hercules the Dukes onely sonne and heire, beyng then in the freshest time of his youth, passing by the streate where this gentlewoman dwelt, sawe her stan­ding in her doore, apparailed in White, whiche kinde of attire encreased greatly her naturall beautie. And considering som­what curioustie, the comelinesse and excellencie of her perso­nage, together with her perfectiō of beautie, he receiued with suche force into his imagination, the firste impression of them bothe, that from thence forward, her liuely Image semed con­tinuallie to bee before his eyes: by the consideration whereof he grewe by degrees, to conceiue so vehement a desire, to en­ioye the singularitie whiche he sawe in her, that he thought it impossible for him to liue, if he did not attaine it.

And ofte times discoursyng to himself thereof, he would saie, what iniurie hath Fortune dooen vnto this faire Gentle­woman, that as Nature hath been liberall, in bestowyng of beautie vpon her, meete for any greate Princes, she hath not likewise caused her to be borne of some king or mightie prince [Page] whiche if she were, I would neuer cease, till I had founde the meanes to gett her to bee my wife, and so enioye her as myne owne, with the safetie of her honour, and with the satisfaction and contentment of my Father.

But in the ende, although he sawe her degree, to bee farre vnequall to his, to wishe, or to procure any suche matche: Yet ceased he not by all the meanes he could, to win her good will, and now by one deuise, and now by an other, to induce her to loue him, and to yeeld to his feruent desire. But all in vaine. For where many others would haue taken it, for a great good Fortune, that suche a Prince, should haue fallen in loue with thē: Lucilla considering the basenesse of her degree, in respect of the high estate of her newe Louer, reputed it to be a greate mishap vnto her, as she that considered, that she could not nou­rishe, or entertaine any suche Loue, but with the harme and preiudice of her honour. Besides that, she feared least that Ni­cander should once perceiue, that this yong Prince hunted af­ter that haūt, he would forsake her, for feare of farther displea­sure, wherefore to auoide bothe inconueniences, wher [...] [...] then, she was w [...]nte to shewe her self, sometime at the Doore, some [...]e at the Windowes, she now retired her self in suche sort, that she could neuer be seen but on the Sundaies and ho­lie daies, as she went to a little Churche, nere adioinyng to the house. Wherefore Nicander not a little meruailyng, and greatlie troubled in spirite, fearing that Lucilla (wauering as women vse to doe) had forsaken him, and turned her affection els where: as one full of gelousie and greef, for fault of better comforte, he would watche his times, and followe her to that Churche: there to feede his fancie with a looke or twoo, which yet amid his miserie, he seemed to esteeme as a releef, without the whiche he could not liue. Finallie, not beeyng able to en­dure those tormen [...]es, that this absence and straungenesse of his Ladie caused him to feele: he sent vnto her a conueniente messenger with a letter, conteining this effecte.

The yong Gentlewoman who had fixed all her thoughtes, and setled all the contentmentes of her harte, onely vpon Ni­cander, neither desiryng any thing in the worlde, so muche as to please and content hym: Felt an intollerable perplexitie of minde, in that she sawe him greeue thus, at her late straunge­nesse, and yet thought it better that he should complaine, then come by any knowledge of the loue, that Don He [...]cules did [...]eare her, wherefore hidyng from hym the matter, replied in [...]his sorte.

This sweete aunswere mitigated not a little, the moode of the yong Gentleman, and so he framed himself the beste he could, to tollerate the absence of his Lucilla. On the other side Don Hercules, who in like maner founde himself depriued, of the sight of that yong Ladie, whom he loued extreamely, was verie muche discontented, and perceiuing that neither messa­ges, nor faire offers, with large giftes sent vnto her, whereof neuer any were accepted, could once moue her to shewe her self courteous vnto him, of so muche as a looke: And conside­ring the pouertie, wherein her mother liued, now in her latter yeres, beganne to imagine that it would bee muche easier for hym, by offeryng her liberally, wherewithall to Marrie her daughter, to perswade her to yeeld her into his handes, then to winne the yong Gentlewoman to his desire.

Wherefore hauyng sent a fit persone to Lucillas Mother, to let her vnderstande, that if she would bee con [...]ent, that the yong Prince might enioye her daughter, he would giue her suche a dowrie in recompence of his pleasure, that no Gen­tleman of what degree soeuer, should for her pouertie refuse to take her to wife: whereas if she refused y^• good offer, she should therby be constrained through necessitie, either to bestowe her vpon some Artificer or Craftesman, or if she would needes Marrie her to a gentleman, she must giue her to some suche as was so poore, as that she sh [...]ld li [...]e all the daies of her life in want and miserie, the whiche in effect would bee nothing els, but to be cruell towardes her owne daughter in [...] that [Page] good hap whiche he did offer, besides the fauour that he should be able to shew, in furthering her mariage, to bothe their ende lesse comfortes. The mother beeyng often sollicited, and som­moned to this effect: and on the one side punished with pouer­tie, and on the other charged with yeres, bothe whiche pressed her verie muche, after diuers discourses made to and fro with her self, lastly she saied. And whereto ought I to haue regard, but to the wealth and profite of my daughter, whiche bothe she shall reape abondantly, if by y^• giuyng her self vnto this yong Prince, he doeth bestowe vpon her that dowrie, whiche he hath promised. And although in doyng thereof there be some touch and spot to my daughters honor and mine, yet shall it be so re­compensed with the benefite of her dowrie, that the profit will bee greater then the harme. And if therein be any offence, the [...]lame thereof is not to be imputed vnto me, but vnto my euill Fortune, that hath brought me into this miserable necessitie. Besides that my daughter beyng now alreadie xviii. yeres of age, and of moste singular beautie, and my self alreadie so old, that from daie to daie▪ I maie looke to goe to my graue, I might happen to dye, and leaue her without any gouernemēt or ouersight, and she stirred with those appetites, wherto yong folkes are enclined, through the frailtie of her sexe, and the po­uertie wherein I shall leaue her, bee brought to yeeld her self into the handes of some suche one, as would not haue due re­gard vnto her calling, but bring her vnto the spoile. And after these and suche like discourses, sondrie times had: with her self finallie, she sent him woorde, that if it would please him, she would gladlie speake with him herself: whiche he hauing vn­derstoode, caused her to be brought one euenyng, into a place where thei twoo alone might talke, and there hauyng giuen her oportunitie, to saie what she would, thus she beganne.

Sir, the weapons wherewith necessitie, and my pouertie hath assaulted me, haue been so sharpe and so pearcing, that al­though I haue indeuored al the waies I could deuise, to resist and defende my self frō [...] I haue bin forced to yeeld, as vanquished & ouercome, and constrained to do that with my daughter, as to thinke of it onely I am so abashed, [Page] that I dare not for shaine lift vp [...] eyes, to behold you. But for asmuche as no other thing hath perswaded me therevnto, but the desire whiche I haue to get her a dowrie, wherewith I may afterward bestowe her honestly, I beseche you to be con­tent, to extende your liberalitie in suche sort, as she maie haue that large dowrie, whiche it hath pleased you to promise me.

Thereof I assure you (saied the Prince) and larger to then hath been spoken of to you besides: And also I will minister suche releef vnto you for your owne state▪ that you shall haue cause to giue me thankes for the same. Then replied the olde gentlewoman, and said: Since that you perceiue (sir) that no desire to make Marchaundize of my daughter, but [...] pouertie, wherevnto my frowarde Fortune hath brought me, doeth driue me to this exigent. I dooe likewise beseeche yo [...], that you will come vnto my Daughter, at suche tyme as I shall deuise moste conuenient, with as muche regard vnto her credite as maie be possible. I will therein be ruled [...] by you (answered the yong Prince) and looke in what sorte you will appoinct me to come, [...]o shall it be.

The firste thing then sir (ꝙ she) that I thinke requisite, is that you come alone without any companie, when I shall as­signe you the time, so that the thing reste secret betweene you and me, and my daughter, and no occasion be giuen to publish it, whereby my daughter might seese her good name.

This courteous yong Prince was therewithall well con­tent, and that beyng concluded and agreed vpon, she saied fur­ther, I knowe (sir) the honestie of my Daughter to bee suche, that if I should open my lippes vnto her, of any suche matter, she would not onely reiecte any perswasion, that I might vse vnto her, but also [...] her self out of my house. And therefore leaste that should happen, and to the ende that you maie haue your desire, and she haue a dowrie, wherewith she maie be ma­ried, if not withall the honour that the state and calling, wher­in she was borne dooeth require, yet with the least harme that maie bee possible, since my harde happe is suche, and that my pouertie dooeth so constraine me: I haue determined to dooe herein as you shall hea [...]e.

[Page] My daughter vseth to lye in a lowe Chamber neare vnto the streate doore of my house, in the whiche Chamber I my self in like sorte am wont to lye, whensoeuer we two remaine alone in the house, as oftentimes we doe: and commonly I ri­sing early in the mornyng about suche businesse as I haue, do leaue my daughter in bed, where she sleepeth some times two howres or three after that I am gone. Tomorowe mornyng therfore will I rise and leaue her alone in that Chamber, and will set open the streate doore, so as you shall not neede but to pushe at it, and the chamber doore likewise. You shal come ve­ry early as we haue concluded all alone, and entryng into the Chamber, there shall you finde my daughter, and abide with her as long as it shall please your self. But I doe once againe (sir) beseeche you as I haue doen before, that the matter maie passe secrete, and not to bee imparted to any other then to vs three, to the end, that where I suffer my self to be led through necessitie to doe that which I doe, and with an entent to place my daughter in mariage, by the meane of that dowrie whiche you doe giue her, the case beyng knowne, wee reape not eter­nall shame and infamie.

At this deuise the yong Prince paused a while, thinkyng it straunge that he should goe to a yong maide, that not onely was vnwillyng, but also not so muche as made priuie of his commyng, did what he could to refuse that meane, and to perswade the mother to deuise some better. But at the last se­yng none other could be founde more fitte for the purpose, be­yng pricked forwarde with the vehemencie of that appetite, whiche loue had stirred vp in him, consideryng himself to be a Prince, and a gallant yong Gentleman, and that he should be alone with his loue, thought that it should not be hard for hym to winne her to his will: and so content to doe as the old Gen­tlewoman had deuised. And beyng parted each from other, he began to attende the commyng of the nexte mornyng and all that night, whiche seemed longer vnto him then a hole yere, he lay with his thoughtes and imaginations, in the armes of his Lucilla. As sone as the daie began to peepe, Don Hercules all alone as he had promised to the mother, went to the house of [Page] his Ladie, and findyng the doores open according to promise, entered into the Chamber wherein Lucilla laie, and hauyng barred the doore, approched nere the bedde wherein she laie.

It was in the Moneth of Iulie, whiche season in that Countrie is extreame hotte: by reason whereof Lucilla tum­blyng from one side of the bedde vnto the other, had rolled of all the clothes wherewith she had been couered: so as she had left her self all naked, and in that sorte he found her, with Co­ralles about her necke and her armes, whiche with the diffe­rence of their ruddie colour did sett out and beautifie greatly the excellent fairenesse of her white bodie. She laie a sleepe vpon her backe, with her handes cast ouer her head, (as for the moste parte yong women are wont to doe): so that forthwith the yong Prince discoured her from toppe to toe: and conside­ring with a greedie eye all her whole bodie, not onely he com­mended her to hym self so naked, as he had doen whilest she was apparailed, but also did so singulary well like her in that state, that he thought he saw rather some diuine thing, or some Goddesse come doune from Heauen, to heape hym with hap­pinesse, then a mortall creature: and beganne to allowe and commende his owne iudgement, in that he had placed his loue vppon so excellente and rare a peece. And therewith bo­wyng doune hym self to giue her a kisse, and so to awake her. Beholde she opened her eyes, whiche right well resembled two faire shinyng Starres. And where she was vsed to see none other bodie in that Chamber but her mother when she waked, now seyng this yong Prince standyng this ouer her, and findyng her self in that sorte all naked, she gaue a greate skritche, and saied.

Out alas sir (for she knewe hym straight waie) what euill happe hath brought you hether at this tyme? And in so saiyng as one wonderfully ashamed to bee seene in that plight, she wrapped about her one of the sheetes, and began with a loude voyce to call her mother.

But perceiuing that her mother would not heare, and that she called in vaine, she began to imagine that she was consen­tyng vnto his commyng thether, and lamentyng with teares [Page] that trickled doune her cheekes, like drops of dewe hanging vppon Roses, in a Maie mornyng, she saied: Alas now I see my mother also hath betraied me. Whiche thyng the young Prince vnderstandyng, saied vnto her. Trouble not your self, nor greeue not (faire Damsell) at my comming hether, but rather reioyce, that your singuler beautie, hath so inflamed me, as one in a maner forgettyng my estate, haue beene con­tented to come hether all alone, as a priuate man to enioye your companie, if it will please you to accepte my good will, whiche though a thousande other Dames of this Citie, doe wishe and would be glad of, yet haue I deemed none of them worthie thereof but your self. And seeyng your Mother, who hath that power ouer you, that in reason she ought to haue o­uer her childe, and knoweth best what is for your good and commoditie, doeth consent herevnto: you (in my iudgement) are not but to shewe your self in like sorte content. For in gi­uyng your self to me, you doe not abase or cast your self awaie vpon any vilde persone: but shewe your self courteous vnto a Prince, whom your beautie hath made thrall: and in whom you shall finde nothing but gratefull curtesie, to your benefite and satisfaction.

And with these and other like woordes stetched forthe his hande towarde her breastes, that were like two little balles of Iuorie, and drawing nere her to kisse her, she with her hande thrus [...]yng hym modestly backe, saied thus.

Sir I beseech you, by the Princely nobilitie that is in you, and by that loue whiche you saie you beare me, that it will please you, not to force me, or to seeke at my handes any thing against my will: and that since my mother, who ought to haue been the cheef defender of myne honestie, hath abandoned and forsaken me, you will yet of your courtesie vouchsafe, to giue me the hearyng of a fewe wordes, whiche the speciall care I haue of myne honour doeth force me to expresse.

The courteous yong Prince at this request, staied hym self proceedyng any further: and not beeyng desirous to haue her, but with her owne good will, stoode still to heare what it was that Lucilla would saie vnto hym: yet euer hopyng, with [Page] faire meanes to winne her at the last. And she weepyng very tenderly, beganne to saie vnto hym in this sorte.

I am very sorie (moste noble Prince ꝙ she) that Fortune hath been so muche myne enemie, that she hath made me a woman, farre vnworthie and vnmeete for you: For that you being so great a Prince as you are, and I so meane a Gentle­woman: I see so greate a space and distaunce betweene your high estate, and my lowe degree, that betweene vs there can bee no portion, or conuenient equalitie: For the whiche cause (sir) I considering myne owne estate, and not mindyng to ex­ceede my calling, haue a good while since chosen Nicander to be my Louer, who in respect of his bloud, though he be richer then I, is no whitte nor more nobly borne then my self am. By reason of whiche conformitie of bloud and birth, our loue is likewise growne to bee equall, and equall the desire in vs bothe, he to haue me to his wife, and I to haue hym for my housbande. But the couetousnesse (let it bee lawfull for me to saie so) of his father is suche, that although he knoweth me to be a Gentlewomā borne, yet because I am not of that wealth as to bryng hym so greate a dowrie, as his riches perchaunce require, he despiseth me, and will not yeeld by any perswasion his good will and consent, that wee maie matche together ac­cordyng to our desire. Neuerthelesse (sir) I consideryng how feruently this yong Gentleman loueth me, and that alreadie we are in mynd vnited and knit together, with consent, faithe and loue, doe yet beleeue assuredly, that GOD of his speciall goodnesse and fauour, will graunt vs his assured grace, that we maie one daie bee ioyned together in the holy state of Ma­trimonie. Which thyng if it should happen and come to passe, I not hauyng any thyng els to bryng with me for my dowrie but my virginitie, am determined & fully resolued (by Gods help) to giue it vnto hym, as pure and vnspotted as I brought it from my mothers wombe. And if my vnhappie chaūce and Fortune be such, as that I cannot haue Nicander to my hous­band, I haue concluded with my self (by the grace of God ne­uer to couple my self to any man liuyng: but to giue and vowe me wholie vnto almightie GOD, and in his seruice to spend [Page] my daies a virgine, in continuall Fasting and Praier. There­fore (moste excellent Prince) if Honestie, if Iustice, if Religi­on, haue that power and force in your noble mynde, whiche in reason thei ought to haue, I do beseech you, and for that loues sake that you saie you beare me, that you will preserue and keep vnstained my honestie, and that it would please you with the sound discourse of reason, to temper that feruent appetite whiche hath brought you hether, to the preiudice and breache of my honestie and credite. In doyng whereof you shall shewe your self to be, in deede that noble Prince that the highnesse of your birthe and bloud doeth promise you should be, whereas if you should force and violate me a Virgine, and a weake mai­den without defence, there could thereof ensue nought els to me but dishonor and reproche, and withall small praise would it be vnto your excellencie, when it shall be saied that you had ouercome a simple Damsel. And here being interrupted with sobbes and teares exceedyng for the greefe of her mynde, ca­sting doune her eyes for shame and sorow, she helde her peace, attendyng what her hap & the goodnesse of the Prince should dispose of her, in whose courtesie she had reposed all her hope and confidence.

This yong Prince vnderstanding the honest desire of Lu­cilla, first praised her greatly to hymself for the chastnes of her minde, and being moued with the magnanimitie of his noble minde, though he were pricked with the sharpest darte of the blind boyes quiuer, and that his ardent appetite did still stirre hym to the accomplishment of his desire, yet conquering hym self with reason, he turned al the loue whiche erst he bare vnt [...] this young Ladie, into compassion of her estate, and thus he saied vnto her. The vertue and honestie of thy mynde faire Damsell doe require, that I should make no lesse accompt of thine honour, then if I were come hether to no other entent, then to defende it against any other that should goe aboute to staine or spot it. Therefore not onely thou needest not to feare any violence at my handes, but also maiest hope that I will not faile to further this thy chast purpose, so that thou maiest enioye that yong Gentleman whiche thou hast chosen for thy [Page] housbande, with al the honour and satisfaction that appertai­neth to the honestie of thy minde. And therefore, [...] nothing els doeth let thee from the gettyng of him but the pouertie of thy state, whereunto thy frowarde Fortune hath vnworthilie brought thee: I will my self supplie in that behalf, that where­in she hath failed, and correcte with my liberalitie, the iniurie that she hath doen thee. And hauyng so saied, he hymself ope­ned the doore and called her mother, who had gotten her self into a Chamber, and there sate bewailyng the miserie of her state, wherein she had bin driuen in suche sorte to prepare a dowrie for her daughter.

She beyng come he saied vnto her. Gentlewoman, if erst I came hether as a louer vnto your daughter, now I will de­parte and leaue her as if I were her brother, leauyng her ho­nour no lesse safe and vntouched then I founde it, for so deser­ueth her vertue that I should deale with her. And for asmuch, as I perceiue she is in loue with a yong Gentleman whom I well knowe, and is in my opinion very worthie of it, and that [...] in like sorte is in loue with her, and that onely the want of a reasonable dowrie is the cause that she can not become his wife as she desireth. I am content to bestowe vpon her for her contentment, that summe for her dowrie whiche I had purpo­sed to haue giuen her in recompence of my cōtentation, to the ende that this her honest desire maie haue that effect, whiche is moste conuenient to so greate and well grounded an affec­tion, & that her great honestie and vertue doe deserue. There­fore sende you this daie vnto my Treasorer, and he shall forth with disburse vnto you 2000. pounde, whiche shalbe the dow­rie of this your gentle and honest daughter.

And turnyng himself towarde the young Gentlewoman, he said vnto her. And as for you faire Damsell (ꝙ he) I craue nothing els now at your handes, but that you keepe this faith of yours, wherwith you are lincked vnto your louer inuiolate and vnspotted, euen as I doe leaue you inuiolate and vnspot­ted in your mothers handes. How greate the ioye of the mo­ther was, when she sawe the honestie of her daughter (as it were) resaued out of this yong Princes handes, by the force of [Page] her owne vertue, maie better he imagined then expressed with wordes. But aboue all ioyes, the ioye of Lucilla exceeded all other: when she vnderstoode that through the magnificence and liberalitie of the noble yong Prince, she was to haue her Nicander for her housbande.

And tournyng her eyes full of modestie towardes him she saied, I could not (Sir) haue had any more certaine and in­fallible token of your loue towarde me, then that whiche now of your greate courtesie and bountie you haue shewed me: whiche I acknowledge to bee so greate, that I am bounde to yeeld your excellencie my most humble and infinite thankes. But for asmuche as wordes doe faile me wherewith I might doe it, I must beseeche you, that it maie reste in your discrete Iudgement, to consider how muche I confesse my self to bee your debter, when woordes doe faile me, to yeelde you at the least thankes for so greate a benefite. This onely will I saie vnto your Grace, that the remembraunce of so noble an acte shall neuer weare out of my minde: and that I will so long as I liue, praie vnto almightie GOD, so to preserue and main­taine your noble persone, as you of your goodnesse haue saued myne honestie: And so to graunt you the accomplishment of all your noble desires, as you haue offered me to make me cō ­tent of myne, by hauyng my Nicander to bee my housbande: Vnto whom, aswell because I haue euer been so disposed, as for that it hath pleased your excellencie to commaunde me, I will alwaies keepe sounde and vnstained that faithe, whiche through your courtesie shall ioyne me to him in mariage.

The Damsell seemed vnto the Prince at that instaunt to bee in maner greater then she was in deede, when she once stoode assured of the sauegarde of her honestie: and delighting no lesse in the excellencie of her mynd, then he had before doen in the beautie of her bodie, he departed from her.

And hauyng caused the two thousande pounde to be paied vnto her mother as he had promised: he went vnto the Duke his father, and tolde hym all that had passed betweene Lucilla and hym: the maner whereof liked so well the Duke, that he concluded with hymself, that all the vertues that euer had [Page] been before that tyme in his progenitours, would bee most ex­cellently ioyned in hym.

This yong Prince required his father, to sende for Nican­ders father, and to perswade hym to agree, that his Sonne might match with Lucilla, since that she was prouided and fur­nished with so reasonable a dowrie: whiche thyng the Duke did with a very good will, for that he knewe that if his sonne should haue taken in hande, to perswade the olde man to any suche matter, it might haue stirred some suspition in his head, why the Prince should so doe? And hauing sent for hym accor­dyngly, when he was come, the Duke after some familiare speeches of course and courtesie, tolde hym he was desirous that his sonne Nicander should take Lucilla to bee his wife, who aswell for her birthe, as for the rare giftes of her mynde, (as he had learned) was worthie to be wife to any great Lord. The olde Gentleman aunswered, that although she had those vertues and giftes whiche he spake of, and were very well [...]orne, yet had she not any dowrie conuenient, or agreeable to his wealthe, whereby she might deserue to bee matched with his sonne. Yes Marie saied the Duke, for I my self because I would not haue so greate vertue as is in her, to bee oppressed by Fortunes spight, haue bestowed vppon her two thousande pounde to serue for her dowrie.

The olde man hearyng of suche a somme, was very well content to doe as the Duke would haue hym, and the nexte daie through the liberalitie of the Prince, the mariage was concluded and knitte vp, whiche had so long been delaied and hindered by the coueteousnesse of the olde man, and the pouer­trie of Lucilla, with the infinite ioye and contentment of the two yong Louers, who had long wished and desired that hap­pie daie.

What vertue, or what continence of Alexander, or of Sci­pio may be compared to this? Scipio abstained from the yong Gentlewoman whiche was presented vnto hym in Spayne: Alexander from Darius his daughter. But it was very easie for either of them so to doe: aswell because thei were in the fu­rie of Warre, and the soundes of Drummes and Trumpets: [Page] as for that those women were of a straunge Nation, and ene­mies vnto them, and neuer before that tyme seen of any of thē, muche lesse desired. Whereas this yong prince, who euen ba­thing as it were in blisse, liuing at his ease and pleasure, in the flower of his youthe, and in the heate of his amourous flames, had a yong Gentlewoman of a rare beautie, not of straunge Nation, or any otherwise to be hated, but extremely beloued, in his handes, and voluntarily yeelded, and committed vnto him by her owne mother: and yet not onelie tempered himself and refrained to defile her chaste and honest bodie, but also be­stowed liberallie her dowrie vppon her, to the ende that an o­ther might enioye her, and bee her housebande, whom she had chosen to loue and like of: did without all question farr excede all humaine courtesie, in so Noble and so vertuous an acte. Whereby he made apparaunt, that although he were pricked forward, with the sharpe spurres of Loue, and his sensuall ap­petite, yet was he of that highnesse of courage, and of that cō ­stancie of mind, that he was able not onely to cōquer himself, but also to subue the forces of Loue, wherevnto bothe mortal [...] mennes valour doeth commonlie yeelde, and the verie power of the Goddes themselues (if wee shall beleeue the Fables of the auncient writers) hath shewed it self often times inferior.

And thus this honeste Damsell Lucilla, by the meanes of her Chastitie, the vertue and excellencie whereof, did winne and Maister the harte of that yong Prince, muche more then the perfection of her bodilie beautie had doen before, obtained the thyng she moste desired and ioyed in, whiche was to haue Nicander to her housebande. With whom she liued euer after in greate contentment and happinesse: still nourishyng with kinde and louyng demeanour eche to other, that feruente affection, whiche from their firste acquaintaunce, had taken full possession of bothe their liberties.

Of Fineo and Fiamma.

IN Genoua, one of the fairest and moste famous Citees in Italie, there was sometime a yong gen­tlewoman of excellente beautie, called Fiamma, that was in loue with a yong Gentleman of Ga­uona (a Citee Subiecte vnto the State of Genoua, and distaunte from thence about thirtie miles) whose name was Fineo, and their Loue beeyng mutuall, and tendyng to no other ende, then to bee linked and ioyned toge­ther by Marriage, thei would not long haue staied, to bryng their honest desires to a good ende and conclusion, had not the Father of the Gentlewoman refused his consent, and shewed himself contrarie to this their loue and good will. For he mis­likyng with the matche, either for that he purposed to place her better, or because he would not haue her Married to any man, that should carie her out of Genoua, did ofte times chide and reprehende his Daughter, for castyng her affection vpon that yong Gentleman, that was a straunger vnto theim, and in effecte but a subiecte, though he were bothe of bloud and ri­chesse equall vnto them.

But for all that the father could do, or any other of her fren­des, [Page] the fire which loue had kindled in this yong couples brea­stes, slaked no whit at all, but still increased, bothe hopyng in the ende, to win her freendes good will, and attain the fruites of their desired loue. This yong Damsell had to her brother a stout & valiant yong gentleman, who beyng offended greatly that Fineo should continue his loue toward his sister, and fol­lowe the pursute of that, whiche he knew well inough, her frē ­des were vnwilling to yeld vnto: had caused him to be spoken vnto, and to be warned that he should desist, and leaue to solli­cite her: but he for all that ceased not, but continued his suite: wherefore this brother of hers determined, to make him leaue of, by force and dint of Sworde. For although there were at that time a verie straight lawe in the citee, that no man should were his sworde, and paine of death appointted for hym, that should hurte any man with any weapon: yet bothe these Gen­tlemen weare their swordes, for that thei bothe had charge of souldiers, that laie then in garrison for defence of the Citee.

And hauing one daie mette Fineo in the streate alone, and himself beyng verie well accompanied with other gentlemen he began to giue him euill language: and beyng a gentlema [...] of greate courage, and though he were a straunger there, [...] beyng able to endure to be iniured in wordes, said to him bold­ly and roundly againe, that if thei twoo were alone, he durste not vse those speeches vnto hym, for he would well giue hym to vnderstande, that he was no man to take wrong at his han­des, and that time and occasion would serue one daie (he doub­ted not to make hym knowe, that he had offended one that would beare no Coales. Wherevpon his aduersarie hauyng drawne forthe his Sworde, whilest he was yet speakyng, ran feercely vpon hym, thinkyng to haue striken hym: But Fineo also a verie lustie gentleman and quicke of eye, and nimble of hande, drewe out his sworde, and not onely warded the blowe of his enemie, but also hurte hym, though but lightlie in the hand. Forthwith thei that were with the yong gentlewomans brother, enuironed him, and tooke him prisoner, and deliuered hym into the handes of the Magistrate, or cheef officer of the Citee. And the penaltie beyng suche, as is before mentioned, [Page] for hurtyng of any man within the Citee, and especially a gē ­tleman, Fineo was condemned to lose his hedde.

Neuerthelesse, he beyng verie well freinded, and supported by many principall gentlemen of the Citee, thei laboured so muche for him, that thei obtained, that he should not be behed­ded: but that his penaltie should bee conuerted vnto an other punishement, verie little better if it were no worse. For ha­uing bound him faste hande and foote, thei laied him in a smal Boate, and in verie stormie weather, set him in the maine sea, and there left him to the rule and gouernment of Fortune, and to the dispositiō of God, and mercie of the waues and windes. The boate was a long while beatē and tossed, by the rage and furie of the Seas, and poore Fineo vnder diuerse and sondrie stormes and shapes, had before his eyes a thousande times the presence of Death. Yet in that fearfull and mortall perill, he ceased not to call vpon the name of his deare Fiamma, and in that extreamitie and imminent daunger, did he yet in maner glorifie himself, and thinke himself happie, that he should ende his life for the loue of his Ladie.

Whiles he was thus tossed and tormented, still lookyng for none other but present death. the Tempest began to cease, and the storme and rage of Seas to bee asswaged. When loe he discouered a Fregate of Moores that went a roauyng, and were then [...] gone abroade, to spie whether the Storme which was then past, had not happely prepared for them, some occasion of gaine and bootie. These Moores had no sooner di­scouered this little boate, thus fleetyng at all aduentures, but hoping to finde therein some prey for their prfiote, thei made toward it: And hauing at the boordyng thereof, founde Fineo bounde hande and foote, and perceiuing by his countenaunce and apparell, that he was no verie base persone, thei vntied hym, and sette hym in their Fregate as a slaue to rowe, vntill suche time as thei should determine further what to doe with hym: who although that seruitude and captiuitie, were gree­uous vnto him, yet consideryng with himself, that it was bet­ter for hym to be in the power of men, though thei were Infi­dells, then in the power of Seas and Windes: he comforted [Page] hymself, that yet if he liued, he might still hope throngh the goodnesse of God, one daie to be so hapie, as to enioye his L­die and Loue: he framed himself to beare with pacie [...]t minde, that heauie yoke of his captiuitie.

Fiamma hauing vnderstoode the vnfortunate accident hap­pened to her Louer, beleeuyng certainly that he was dedde, and that she should neuer see hym againe. Wherefore she her self resoluyng, that she would no longer liue, gaue her self to deuise what kinde of death she were best to chuse, and in doubt thereof she passed some fewe daies, dissemblyng still in the house her sorrowe and greef, with a merie and chearfull coun­tenance, as though she had cleane forgotten, and not once re­membred her Louer Fineo. But in the ende, after long deba­tyng with her self, she resolued to dye thesame kinde of death, and to make that ende, whiche she imagined Fineo had doen.

There was an other Gentleman of the Citee, who was no lesse enamoured of this Gentlewoman, then Fineo was: who supposing that now since she sawe there was no remedie for her, to recouer her louer, whom bothe she and all the Citee, ac­coumpted certainly to be dedde: he might perchaunce by sute obtaine her good will, and so procure her to bee his wife, with the consent of her freendes. And therefore not long after the mischaunce of Fineo, he caused her father to bee dealt withall for the bestowyng of his daughter vpon hym: and the Father beeyng willyng enough to agree therevnto, and hauyng que­stioned with his daughter therevpon, and findyng her to giue sober and obedient answere with fewe wordes, presupposing that she was willyng to doe as he would haue her, made pro­mise of her vnto this yong Gentleman, and agreed vpon the dowrie, and all other circumstaunces necessarie, for the cou­pling of twoo suche persones together.

The night that wente before the daie appoincted for their Marriage, Fiamma callyng vnto her a Moore, that was slaue in her fathers house, and had the keepyng of a small Boate of the Gentlemans, wherein when he liste to disport hymself, he was wont to take the aire vpon the sea, in tyme of faire wea­ther, and to goe to their houses of pleasure, whereof that coast [Page] is verie plentifull, and theim of exceadyng beautie. Whiche Moore had liued so many yeres in that thraldome, that he was now become so old, as she thought, she needed not to feare any force or violence at his handes, she began to perswade hym, to putte on a desire to deliuer hymself out of Captiuitie, so as he might liue the reste of his yeres in libertie, and at his ease: wherevnto findyng hym readie and willyng, if the meanes or occasion were offred hym: she gaue him in hand a good round somme of money, whiche she had laied together, and made hym promise to carrie her into the Sea in the Boate, whereof he had the custodie, and afterwardes to doe, that whatsoeuer it were, that she should commaunde hym.

This wicked and faithlesse Moore, seyng himself not onely to purchase his libertie, but also make so greate againe of rea­die money, that he was not like at any tyme after, to liue in want or pouertie, was onely thankfull in his minde towarde the yong Gentlewoman, but straight waie began to purpose and to deuise, to make a greater gaine of her owne persone, by carriyng her vnto the kyng of Tunise, and sellyng of her vnto hym at a verie high prise. And with this entention, the mis­cheeuous knaue assured her, that he would doe in all pointes, as she would haue hym. Wherefore, when all the reste of the house were in their firste fleape, the Damsell with this wret­ched Moore, went out of her fathers hous, and gather into the Boate, and the weather beyng verie faire, the knaue began to rowe, and make saile along the coaste toward Ligorno, from whiche by breake of the daie, thei were not verie farre. When this yong gentlewoman, sawe that she was now so farr from home, that she needed not to feare, to be driuen backe again to Genoua, she willed the Moore to rowe to y^• shore, and to land himself, and then to shoue of the Boate againe: for that her de­termination was so to dye, swallowed vp with the waues of the sea, as she supposed her Fineo to haue been. But the wicked knaue, who had a father fetche in his hed, and thoughtes farre differed from the Gentlewomans, made her beleeue that thei were yet nere vnto Genoua, and aduised her to bee contente, that thei might goe somewhat farther, to the ende that her fa­ther [Page] if he sent after them, might not ouertake them.

Neuerthelesse, she hauyng often tymes vrged hym to doe as she erste bad hym, and he still protracted the tyme, and shif­tyng her of with one tale or an other: she began to suspect his drift. The Mornyng therefore beyng well spent, she made as though she would haue looked ouer the Boate side, into the Water, or haue washed her handes in the Sea, and on the so­daine would haue caste her self ouer boarde. But the craftie Moore suspectyng her intente, caught holde of her aboute the middle, and not onely held her from throwing her self into the Sea, but also bound her faste hande and foote, and wheras she of her courtesie, had bothe set hym at libertie, and liberally be­stowed good store of wealthe vppon hym, he as a treacherous Infidell, bereued her of her libertie, makyng her an vnfortu­nate Slaue vnder his disposition, and beeyng moued with a greedy couetous minde, thought that too little whiche she had giuen hym, and therefore determined (as is afore saied) to sell her persone, and to encrease his goodes by that meanes.

The desolate Damsell, when she sawe her self so vsed by that villaine, full of woe and greefe, ceased not to rebuke the vilde Caitiue, that little regarded her speeches, the breach of his Faithe and promise, and blamyng her self for trustyng of hym: and then repented when it was too late, that she had not obeied her Father, and followed the aduise of her freendes, she beganne to curse her Destinie, and her cruell Fortune, and to crie out vpon the Heauens, that had made her become the vn­fortunatest yong woman, that euer loued man.

And whilest she was thus lamentyng her harde happe, and the Moore as faste as he could with his Owres, labouryng to speede his voiage: A little Foiste or Galley of Moores, that wente prollyng vp and doune the Coaste, hauyng espied the small Boate, drewe nere vnto it, and boorded it. And hauyng founde this yong Gentlewoman beeyng bounde therein, thei would haue taken her awaie: but the old knaue offeryng to resist them, and to kepe her out of their handes, thei toke her a­waie from him perforce, and wounding him very sore. And as­ked of her in their language, from whence she came, and what [Page] she was: but she not vnderstanding them, could make them no aunswere, but onely with teares and weepyng, make them to vnderstande, that she was a wofull and vnfortunate damsell. But the old Moore feelyng hymself wounded to death, before he died tolde theim, bothe of what place and Parentage she was, and laied before theim by plaine reason, how greate a bootie thei might accoumpte thei had made that Mornyng, if thei did carrie her vnto the king of Tunise (as he had thought to haue doen) and sell her vnto hym. He beyng dedde, thei dis­poiled him, and tooke from hym all that, whiche Fiamma had giuen, and so he hauyng thought by treacherie, and breakyng of his faithe, to make greate gaine, loste bothe his life, and all that whiche he had gotten, of the vnaduised and euill counsel­led yong Gentlewoman. And hauyng placed her in their Foiste, and cōforted her as well as thei could, thei tooke their waie straight toward Tunise.

It fortuned that the other Fregate of Moores, that had founde and taken Fineo (as is alreadie saied before) met with this other. Foiste or Gallie, wherein Fiamma was, and assaul­ted it, and hauyng fought together a good while) for that the other resisted, and defended them selues stoutely) in fine, the Fregate wherein Fineo was) who in the encounter, and du­ring the fight, had shewed greate valour emong the rest) ouer­came the other, and tooke from them all that thei had: so that Fiamma and Fineo were bothe now together, in the compasse of one small vessell. And although in that extreamitie of bothe their euill fortunes, it was a great comfort for these twoo Lo­uers to see one the other, and that bothe longed and desired ex­tremely, to imbrace eche other, and to tell the one to the other their accidentes, and vnfortunate aduentures. Neuerthelesse Fineo made signes to Fiamma, that in nowise she should take knowledge, or acquaintaunce of him, and accordyngly she dis­sembled and made no shewe, but as one had neuer seen hym.

Fineo for the valoure and courage, whiche he had shewed in the battaile, was deliuered of his chaines, and muche made of emong the Moores, vntill suche tyme as thei had conduc­ted bothe him and her (as thei did verie shortly after) vnto the [Page] kyng of Tunise. Who hauyng seen and considered Fineo, and vnderstoode by the Pirates, that his comely personage was accompanied with greate valour, brought him, and tooke him to his seruice, in good place nere his owne persone. And bee­yng moued with the beautie of the yong Gentlewoman, bar­gained for her likewise, for a greate somme of money, and cau­sed her to be put in the Cube, whiche is a place where he kee­peth his Concubines (as the Turke dooeth his in his Serra­qlio) emong a greate many of other women, and esteemed her verie muche, for that the Rouers (who had learned of those o­ther that thei ouercame) all that whiche the olde Moore had declared vnto theim, of her callyng and condition, did assure hym that she was a Gentlewoman, borne of a noble Familie in Genoua.

Fineo by his seruice and discrite behauiour, became in shorte tyme verie deare vnto the kyng, so that in lesse then the space of one whole yere, the kyng of speciall trust, gaue hym the charge of the gate of the Cube, whiche office the kynges of Tunise are neuer wont to giue, but vnto suche as are in sin­gular fauour about them: In the whiche Fineo to his greate contentmente, had the commoditie daiely to see his Fiamma, and she had no lesse comforte and satsfaction, to beholde and looke vpon hym, whiche oportunitie thei enioyed, and hande­led so discritely, that thei neuer gaue any cause of suspition to any persone, of their feruent good will and affection.

The maner or custome of the Kyng, was to cause his Concubines to come vnto hym, and to lye with them by order as thei had been bought, or come to his handes: By reason of whiche custome, for that there were verie many bought before the commyng thether of Fiamma, there was alreadie a whole yere and halfe, well nye paste after her sale, and yet her turne was not come to be called for. But remainyng now but three others, to be brought vnto the kyng before her. Fineo conside­ryng to his intollerable greef, that she was ere it were long, to bee likewise called for, began to bee tormented with incre­dible passion, and an guishe of minde: and his woe increased ten thousande folde, by feare and imagination whiche he con­ceiued, [Page] that she beyng aboue all the kinges Concubines farre the fairest, when he had once enioyed her, he would take her to bee one of his wiues, whiche feare did no whit lesse tormente and afflicte Fiamma, then it did her Louer.

Whilest bothe these yong Louers liued in this sorte, there chaunced to arriue at Tunise a Ship of Sauona, with certaine Marchauntes of that Citee: who seyng Fineo there, and kno­wing hym, were wonderfully amcruailed findyng hym aliue, for that he had been lamented at Sauona, of all his frendes for dedde. Fineo likewise knowyng those Marchauntes, and ha­uyng aucthoritie and meanes to pleasure them in the Court, welcomed them, and made muche of them in frendly sort: and demaunding of the state and welfare of his father, and brother and other freendes, thei certified hym that thei were all well, and that when thei should vnderstande that he was aliue, and in so good a case, thei would be verie ioyfull, and thinke theim selues happie, if thei might hope to see hym once come again, as thei doubted not but one daie he would and might.

These Marchauntes hauing dispatched their businesse de­parted thence, and by them Fineo wrote letters to his Father, and to his brother, certifiyng them of his beyng at Tunise, and how that Fiamma was with him, and that he desired to deliuer hymself [...] of bondage, and her with hym: Whiche thyng he thought he might easily bryng to passe, if his brother would come thither, and withall described vnto them a plot, whiche he had caste for the execution of his intent and desire.

Thei beyng retourned safe vnto Sauona, deliuered the let­ters vnto the father and brother of Fineo, who with the rest of of his freendes, and in effecte all the whole Citee, were verie glad that his Fortune had not been altogether so froward to­ward hym, as thei had supposed.

And his brother accordyng to his instructions, prepared a verie pretie Fregate, verie well appoincted and furnished with Marchaundize, emong whiche there were many trifles, and thynges of price meete for Ladies and Gentlewomen. And beyng arriued therewith a a Tunise, Fineo brought them vnto the Kyng, whom thei presented with some thynges of [Page] small price, whiche were verie gratefull, and acceptable vnto him, and emong other speeches thei saied, that thei had aborde many pretie thinges for Dames and Ladiee, which thing the kyng vnderstandyng, commaunded Fineo that the cheefest of them might be brought into the Cube, to shewe suche thinges as thei had vnto his Concubines: by whiche occasion he gatte that oportunitie which he looked for, to confer and deale more priuately with them without suspition, and to giue the better order, for the accomplishement of asmuche as he had deuised.

Fineo and his brother therefore beyng come into the Cube shewed forthe emong those women, suche wares as thei had brought, to please their fancies, and gaue vnto them all, some one trifle or an other, as a gentle present to the firste, and the brother of Fineo presented Fiamma emong the rest, with a ve­rie faire Purse, richelie embrodered with Golde and Pearle, in the whiche there was enclosed a letter, written by Fineo, by the conrentes whereof, she might vnderstande at large, al that whiche he did wishe, and would haue her to doe, to make their escape together, and to ridd themselues out of that thraldome and captiuitie. Assone as the twoo brethren had doen that thei came for, and were departed, Fiamm by their maner gathe­ryng, that the gifte of that Purse, contained some Misterie, withdrewe her self into a secret place, and hauyng opened it, she found therin the letter, whiche when she had read, she than­ked Almightie God, that of his goodnesse had shewed her the waie, to deliuer her self out of Captiuitie, and from becom­myng dishonestly the Concubine of an Infidell kyng.

And when this appointed daie, for the performyng of their purpose was come: Fiamma in the night when all was silent, and others slept, came to a windowe barred with Iron, where Fineo and his brother were attendyng for her: Who with cer­taine instrumentes, whiche thei had brought for that purpose, brake and wrested the Grate of the windowe, and takyng her awaie with them, thei gott her into their Barque, and hoissed saile, and directed their course with a merrie Winde, toward the coaste of Italie, whiche serued theim verie faire all that night long, & the moste part of the next daie. In the mornyng [Page] Fiamma beyng missed, and Fineo likewise, the kyng (was ad­uertised of their escape) who perceiuyng the Marchauntes to bee gone also, rested assured that it was a set matche made, for the stealyng Fiamma awaie. And beeyng full of rage and de­spight towardes them all, caused certaine Galleis and other light vesselles to be armed in all haste, and to be sent after thē, giuyng straight charge and Commission to his Captaines, that either thei should bryng Fineo and the Damsell, with the cheefe of the Marchauntes aliue vnto hym, because he would cause them all three to bee buried aliue: or that thei could not get them aliue, thei should bring their thre heddes, for that he would haue them bee set ouer the Cube, for an example and a terrour to all others.

But before those Galleis and other vesselles, could be in a readinesse to depart: Fortune not hauyng yet her fill of perse­cutyng and afflictyng these twoo poore Louers, caused a con­trarie winde, with an extreame storme and tempest to arise, by force whereof, the vessell wherein thei were, was not without greate daunger, driuen backe again to Tunise, with so muche greef and sorrowe of all them that were in it, as thei maie ima­gine, that knowe the crueltie and barbarousnesse of that peo­ple. But in the beginnyng of the storme, the brother of Fineo dispairyng of his life, as he that was assured, either to be drou­ned by rage of the winde and seas, or els to die in torment, if he returned into the handes of those Infidelles, gat hymself into his Cockboate, and therein hazarded his life: and after muche adoe, and a thousande perilles of present death, recouered the coaste of Italie at the laste, and retourned home to Sauona ful of woe with heauie tidynges, declaryng vnto his father, that either the Fregate would bee loste, or els driuen backe again to Tunise, where he was well assured, that bothe his brother, and the yong Damsell his Louer, should bee murthered in moste cruell maner.

At whiche dolefull newes, the father, as if he had seen his sonne lye dedde before him, began to weepe and lament, com­plaining of his hard Destinie, that caused him to liue so long, or reserued him to see those cruell and bitter daies.

[Page] Fineo seyng himself brought to so hard an exigent, for that their vessell was now driuen backe nere vnto Tunise, and kno­wyng that he should feele the smarte of his faulte, and the kynges anger in sharpest maner and sorte: beyng determined to liue no longer, and to preuent the crueltie of the kyng drew out his sworde, and would there with haue stroken him selfe to death. But Fiamam catchyng hym by the arme: Alas Fenio (quoth she) what shall become of me if you bee dead? Shall I remaine behinde to endure the cruell tormentes, that I know this Infidell hath prepared for me? Yet rather since that death must needes deliuer vs of our misfortunes, before you execut vppon your selfe this your determination, ride me out of the worlde, and deliuer me from the paines, whiche alreadie I feele in my imaginacion, wherewith I assure my self thei wil bryng me to a shamefull death. And with these woordes offe­ryng her breast vnto him, she requested him to strike her with his Sworde. But Fineo bad her bee of good comfort, for your beautie (my Fiamma saied he) beeyng so singulare as it is, I knowe will saue you, and therefore you neede not feare, and I alone should be the man that thei would plague, and torment to death for vs bothe, and therefore (my deare) suffer me to dye before, and content thy self to liue, and vouchsafe sometyme to remember thy vnfortunate Fineo when he is dedde.

Whilest thei were thus talkyng and debatyng, whiche should firste dye, the people whiche the Kyng had sent out to apprehende them, came and boorden their Fregate, and tooke theim bothe, whom thei bounde in Chaines, and brought on lande to the presence of the kyng. Who as sone as he behelde the beautie of Fiamma, felt his former wrath and crueltie en­tended to relente, and in muche milder maner, then the twoo Captiues hoped or looked for, he saied vnto her: tell me what moued you, I praie you faire Damsell to run awaie, and flie from me, at whose handes you had no cause to looke for any o­ther entreatie, then louing and freendly? Fiamma who in that yere and a halfe, that she had been in the Cube, had learned the language indifferently well: made aunswere vnto him. That no cause or meanyng to flie from hym, but her earnest desire [Page] to enioye Fineo, whom she had loued, and chosen for her hous­band many yeres before, had forced her to doe that whiche she had doen: And herewith she told hym, the beginnyng of their acquaintance and loue, and how many perilles and daungers thei had run through, still hopyng one daie, to come vnto that happie hower, wherin their troubles should haue an ende, and that thei might bee honestly vnited, and enioye one an other: And finallie, castyng her self doune at his feete, with aboun­daunce of teares, she besought hym with all humilitie to par­done her, if she had offended him, and withall to forgiue Fineo since that long and faithfull loue, had made them to procure the accomplishement of their desires.

The teares of Fiamma, and the onely name of Loue were of suche force and vertue, in the harte of the kyng, though he were barbarous, and cruell of Nature, that the Ire and hate­red, whiche he had conceiued against theim before, was then conuerted and chaunged into pitie, and compassion of their misfortunes: and where before he had appointed a cruell death to bee their punishementes, he now determined to ouercome with his courtesie, the frowardnesse of their peruerse Fortune and to make theim, after so many perilles and daungers con­tented and happie, and to see an ende at laste of their miseries by makyng theim to enioye their longe hoped for desires. Wherfore, hauing caused thē to be bothe forthwith vnbound, he tooke from his owne finger, a meruailous faire and preci­ous Rubie, and giuyng it vnto Fineo, he saied vnto him: since your Fortune hath been suche, that after so many straunge ad­uentures, and through suche daungers, you are fallen into my handes: I for my parte will not bee he, that will extinguishe, or quenche the flames of so feruent and constaunt Loue, or vn­loose or dissolue the bandes, wherewith your hartes be bounde and knitt together. And therefore Fineo, I doe not onely par­don you bothe, but also I will haue thee, before thou departe hence, to wedde this Damsell with this Ring, and to cake her for thy wife, and that she henceforthe enioye thee for euer as her housebande. It is not to be demaunded, whether the twoo Louers, (who looked for none other of the kynges courtesies [Page] then death) were glad to heare hym vse those speeches, yea or no. But bothe beeyng fallen on their knees, and in humblest maner, hauyng yeelded their thankes vnto his Maiestie. Fi­neo in his presence Wedded Fiamma, and tooke her for his wife, to the vnspeakable ioye and contentation, of bothe their hartes and mindes. And the kyng to honour their Mariage, caused a sumptuous feast to bee prepared, with no lesse charge and aboundaunce of all thynges, then if he had Married a Daughter of his owne, to some greate Lorde, or cheef manne of that Countrey.

And after certaine daies, the twoo yong Maried Louers, beyng desirous to returne into their owne Countrey, he gaue theim verie riche and costlie presentes, and sent theim honou­rablie accompanied home to Sauona: Whose arriuall was no lesse meruailous, then ioyfull to the Father and Brother of Fineo, and to all the Citee, thei hauyng been assuredlie estee­med, and accoumpted as dedde. Afterwardes thei sent to Ge­noua to Fiammas Father and Brother, certifiyng of all that had happened, who then perswadyng themselues, that God & Nature had created those twoo yong folke, to be matched and ioyned together in Wedlocke, were wel contented with that, whiche thei sawe was Gods will should bee. And beyng gone bothe to Sauona, the Father embraced and accepted Fineo for his Sonne in Lawe, and the Brother for his Brother in law. And the twoo yong Louers liued euer after, in greate happi­nesse and felicitie: giuyng by this successe of their hard For­tune, an assured argumente, and a notable example, whereby we maie learne, that though froward Fortune doe for a while, crosse and molest the desires, and trauailes of menne, yet in the ende she can not let, but that of necessitie those thynges must come to passe, whiche GOD by his Diuine prouidence, wherewith he ruleth the whole worlde, hath appoincted shall take effecte.

Of twoo Bretheren and their wiues.

GEntlewomen, before I will pro­ceade any farther in this Historie, I muste desire you to arme your selues with pacience in readyng hereof, that if you finde any thyng that might breede offence to your modeste myndes, take it in this sorte, that I haue written it onely to make you merrie, and not to sette you a snarryng or grudgyng against me, for although I meane to present you with a Chapter of Knauerie, yet it shall be passable, and suche as you maie verie well permit, and the matter that I mynde to write, is vpon this question, whither a man were better to be maried to a wise Harlot, or to a foolishe ouerthwarte and brauiyng woman, this question I knowe will seme very doubtfull vnto some, and yet in my opinion ve­rie easie to be answered, and to speake my minde without dis­simulation of bothe those euills, I thinke the first is least, and therefore is to bee chosen: and herein I could alledge for my better proofe, an example of the auncient Romaines, who in al their gouernmentes were moste wise and politique, emongst [Page] whom the infirmitie of the first was borne withall, because it proceeded of the frailtie of the fleshe, but the courage of the se­cond was euer condemned, for that it did abound frō a wicked and mischeuous mynde. And in common reason, it is not lesse noysome for a man, to liue accompanied with a wife, who al­though she will some tyme flie out, can so wisely, dissemble with her housbande, that he shall neuer so muche as suspecte her, whereby he shall receiue no discontentment in his minde, then to be bedfellowe with Xantippa a cōmon scold, who daie­ly and hourely will be checking, taunting, and railing at him, in suche sorte, that he shall thinke himself moste blest and hap­pie, when he is farthest from her companie, but for your better confirmation, I haue set forthe this Historie of two brethren, the one of them married to a wenche, that could so cunningly behaue her self towardes hym, that he had thought she had be­leeued there had been no other God but himself, & yet by your leaue, she would take reason when it was proffered her, but what of that: the harte neuer greeues, what the eyes see not. The other was married to a Dame, that frō her nauill doune­ward was more chast and continent, but otherwise of her tong suche a deuill of Hell, that the poore man her housbande could neuer enioye merry daie nor houre, although he deuised many a pretie remedie, as by the readyng of the processe of this tale you shall better perceiue, whiche followeth in this sorte.

There was sometyme remaining in a famous Citie twoo brethren, the eldest (according to the custome of the place) en­ioyed his fathers goods and possessions after his death, wher­by he was wel able to liue, the yongest had neither landes nor liuynges, sauyng that his Father had trained hym vp in lear­nyng, whereby he was able to gouerne hymself, in all maner of companies where soeuer he became. These two brethren beyng wearie of their single liues, disposed themselues to ma­riage: The eldest beyng of hymself well able to liue, sought a wife onely for her beautie, without any other respect either to her conditions or riches, and as the prouerbe is (he that séekes shal finde) so in the ende he lighted on a Gentlewoman, called by the name of Mistres Doritie, whose beautie in deede was [Page] very excellent, and there withall has a passyng readie witte, Marie her trainyng vp had not been after the best, nor worst maner, but as a man might saie, after the common sorte: this gentlewoman he Married, who could so wel handle him with kissynges, cullynges, and other amarous exercises, that her housband thought himself, the most fortunate man that liued, to light on suche a wife, although she cunningly armed his head with hornes, as after you shall heare.

The second brother left (as you haue heard) without main­tenance or liuyng, sought for a wife onely to releue his want, and fortuned to hit of a widowe in deede with greate wealth, but in conditions so ouerthwart, and so spiteful of her tongue, that the poore man had not been Married fully out a moneth, but he more then a thousand tymes, cursed the Priest that ma­ried hym, the Sexten that opened the Church doore when he went to bee married, yea, and his owne vnhappie legges that had carried his bodie to bee yoked to so great a mischeef. But because I doe minde more orderly to tell you the maners of these twoo Gentlewomen: I will first beginne with Mistres Doritie, whose housbande after thei had been a while maried, fortuned to fall sicke, and then accordyng to that Countrey maner, a Doctor of Phisicke was presently sent for, who com­myng many tymes to visite his pacient, began to beholde and contemplate the liuely beautie of this gentlewoman, and lent her many rowling looke, and secrete countenaunces, in suche sorte that Mistres Doritie beyng well practised in the Arte of Loue, and seyng Maister Doctor to be a man as sufficient, to content a Gentlewoman in her Chamber that was whole, as to minister Medicines to those that were sicke, did not onely requite him againe with looke for looke, but she yeelded hym a large vsurie, and paied him more then fortie in the hundred: Maister Doctor who was likewise skilful enough, could wel perceiue whereto those lookes did tende: Vpon a tyme beyng alone in her companie, he saied vnto her as followeth.

Mistres Doritie, if the experience whiche I haue learned in Phisickes arte, might craue credite, and make my tale to bee the better beleeued, assure your self then that I minde to [Page] saie nothyng, but that that shal bee to your owne behoofe, and the reason that makes me to enter into this discourse, is the pitie that I take to see so proper a gentlewoman as your self, should be so deceiued in a housbande, who although you shall finde hym bothe honest, gentle, and louing, yea, and peraduen­ture maie content you with such rightes, as appertaine to the Marriage bedde, yet assure your self he shall neuer be able to get you with child, consideryng your Natures and complexi­ons be so farre different the one from the other, whereby you are like for euer to remaine without issue, and one of the grea­test comfortes that maie happen vnto vs in this worlde, is to see our selues as it were regenerate and borne a newe in our children, and barrennesse in the auncient tyme, hath been ac­compted not onely infamous, but also moste hateful amongst women, in so muche that Sara gaue her owne Handmaide to her housband, because she could not her self conceiue a childe: but I would wishe women more witt then to followe Saras example. God defende their should bee so foolishe to giue their Maidens to their Housbandes, I would wishe them rath [...] them selues to take their men: it hath been euer holden for the greater wisedome, rather to take then to giue, and sure thei shall finde it more for their owne profites, that if their house­bands want be suche, that he is not able to get a child, to take helpe of some other, that maie supplie his imperfections, but I trust I shall not neede to vse many perswasions, considering that euery wise woman will thinke, that I haue reason on my side: Thus Mistres Doritie, you haue heard the somme of my tale, protestyng, that if my seruice maie any waies stande you in steade, I am as readie to obeye, as he ouer whom you haue power to commaunde.

Mistres Doritie, who all this while had well pondered his woordes, knewe very well how to whett Maister Doctor on, and the more to set his teeth on edge, aunswered hym thus: I perceiue Master Doctor you are something pleasantly dispo­sed, and hereafter when I shall finde my housbandes infirmi­tie to be suche as you haue saied, I meane to sende for you, de­siryng you, that you would not be out of the waie, to helpe me [Page] when I haue neede.

The Doctor knewe not well how to vnderstande these wordes, whether thei were merily spoken, or otherwise in dis­daine of his former talke, aunswered thus. Alas Mistres Do­ritie, pardon me if my wordes seeme any thyng offensiue vnto you, assuryng you that in this meane space, that I haue made my recourse to your housbande, (whose healthe by the suffe­rance of God, I haue now well restored) am my self falne in­to a Feuer so extreame, as neither Galen, Hypocrates, Aui­cen, Plinij, nor any other that euer gaue rules of Phisicke, could yet prescribe a Medicine for the malladie, or diet to sup­presse the humour that feedes it: I shall not neede to vse long circumstaunce in the matter, knowyng your wisedome to bee suche, that you can well conceiue the somme of all my greef, it is your beautie that is like to breede my bane, and hath alrea­die driuen me into the greatest depth of daunger, vnlesse some plaintes of pitie maie preuaile, to yeeld remorse to hym, that vowes hymself to doe you seruice duryng life.

Mistres Doritie seing the matter sorted out as she looked for, could tell wel enough how to handle maister Doctor, and to make hym the more eger, she delaied him of with doubtfull speeches, but yet fedde hym still with suche entising and plea­saunt countenaunces, that ministred greate hope of comforte to his desease, she aunswered thus.

And could you then finde in your harte (Maister Doctor) to deceiue your very freend of his deare and louyng life, how can you offer hym so manifest an iniurie, to whom you are so lately linckt in so great a league of freendship, as is betweene my housband and your self, I can not thinke maister Doctor, that it is good wil that hath caused you to moue this sute vnto me, but rather to see how I were disposed, or peraduēture you vse these wordes for exercise sake, knowing the fashion of you men to bee suche, as by praisyng of our beautie, you thinke to bring vs into a fooles paradize, y^• we wil giue credite straight waie, that you loue vs so soone as you shall but tel vs the tale: but for my part (Maister Doctor) although I want wit to en­coūter you with words, so likewise I want will to beleue any [Page] thing that you haue said, to be otherwise thē wordes of course.

These speeches did ingender suche a nomber of swetee and sowre alterations in Maister Doctor, that for his life he wiste not how to vnderstand them: one while thei were like to driue hym to dispaire: an other while thei somethyng quieted hym with hope, but in the ende determining to follow what he had begonne, he saied.

Sweete Mistres, most humbly I desire you to accompt of me, not according to my desertes, which as yet are none at al, but according to the dutiful seruice, whiche hereafter I vowe faithfully to doe vnto you, and for the better testimonie of my words which (as you saie) seeme to be of such ordinary course, I desire no other credite maie bee giuen them, then shall be a­greeable to my deedes, when it shal please you to commaund: but alas for the iniurie whiche you speake of, that I should of­fer to your housband, who in deede I make accompt to be my very freende, what is he I praie you, that is able to prescribe lawes to loue? And as loue is without law, so is it without re­spect, either of freende or foe, father or brother, riche or poore, mightie or weake, vertuous or vicious: the exāples are so ma­ny & generall, that I should but waste the time to repeate thē. But (Mistres Doritie) I protest the very cause that maketh me to moue this matter vnto you, is for no ill wil that I beare to your housband, but for the good will I beare to your swete self, you maie vse your housbande as your housbande, and me as your freende, glad to stande at reuersion, when your house­band maie take his fil of the banket, and be glutted with more then enough: farther, if you make so greate accompt of your housbandes good likyng as you saie, what wiues be euer bet­ter beloued, or more made of by their housbandes, then those that haue discretion to helpe their frendes whē thei need. But what sottishe opinion is this, whiche so many doeth holde, that thei thinke it so great an iniurie for a man, to seeke the wife of his freende, when he is attached by loue, whose arrest, neither Goddes nor men haue bin euer able to resist. But I praie you (Mistres Doritie) if I might aske you this question, would you not thinke your good wil better bestowed vpō your hous­bandes [Page] freende then his foe, if you loue your housbande, I am sure you wil saie I haue reason, what should I longer trouble you then with circumstances: I knowe you are wise, and now I desire you for the good will that you beare to your house­bande, to pitie me his freende, whom I trust you will restore with one drop of mercy, & the rather for your housbands sake.

How thinke you Gentlewoman, bee not these gentle per­swasions to be vsed by a Doctor, Marie he was no Doctor of Deuinitie, and therefore you neede not followe his doctrine, vnlesse you liste your selues, but this pitifull Gentlewoman, seyng Maister Doctor at suche desperate pointes, for feare of damning of her owne soule, that so deare a freend to her hous­bande as Maister Doctor was, should perishe and bee so wil­fully cast awaie through her default, she receiued hym for her freend, and so I praie God giue them ioye.

But it fortuned afterwardes, this Gentlewoman to light into the companie of a Lawyer, who perceiuing this Dame to be of suche excellent beautie, ioyning himself some thing nere her, he saied: Gentlewoman, although I haue no skill in the arte of Paintyng, yet assure your self, your forme and passyng beautie, is so surely engrauen and fixed in my mynde, that al­though your self were absent, I could draw your perfect coū ­terfecte, sauing that I thinke all the Apothecaries in this Ci­tie, were not able to furnishe me with colours, to make the perfect distaine of the beautie in your face.

Mistres Doritie knowing whereto these speeches preten­ded, aunswered: In deede sir, it should seeme you would proue a passyng Painter, that can so cunnyngly Painte foorth with wordes, that whiche I knowe is too farre vnworthie of so ex­cellēt a florishe, as you would giue it. Mistres (ꝙ the Lawier) if I haue committed any offence, in these woordes whiche I haue spoken, it is in that I haue taken vpon me to praise your beautie, and not able to giue it suche due commendations, as I see it doeth deserue, the sight whereof doeth so captiuate my affections, and hath so creepled all my sences, that it hath cau­sed me in maner to forgette my self, no maruaile then though my tongue doth faile, and is not able to expresse the perfectiō [Page] of you, vnto whom with vowe of continuall seruice, I subiect my life, liuing, and libertie, if it please you to accept of it.

This Gentlewoman, that had yet but one freend to trust vppon, besides her housbande, beganne to thinke that store was no sore, and therfore determined not to forsake his frend­lie offer, but first she demaunded of hym of his facultie, and what trade of life he vsed, to which he aunswered, that he was a Gentleman appertaining to the Lawe. It maie well bee so (ꝙ she) for I perceiue by your experience, that this is not the first Plea that you haue framed. And yet beleeue me (ꝙ the Lawyer) I was neuer brought before to pleade at Beauties barre, but sith my happe is suche, I humblie holde vp my han­des, desiryng to be tried by you courtesie and myne owne Ioy­altie, contenting my self to abide suche dome and iudgement, as it shall please you to appoinct, beeyng the cheef and Soue­raigne Iudge your self, she repliyng, saied: Seeing you haue constituted me to giue Sentence at my pleasure, it is not th [...] office of a good Iusticer, to be parciall in his owne cause, and therefore this is the hope you shal looke for at my handes, that if hereafter in your deedes, I shall see as plaine proofe of per­fecte good will, as your woordes by pretence importe likely­hood of earnest Loue, you shall finde me ready to render suche recompence, as shall fall out to your owne contentation and likyng. This comfortable aunswere, very well pleased hym, and within a very little space after, he so handeled the matter, that he had entered his action in her Common place. Thus what betweene Maister Doctor on the one side, who was still ministryng of Phisicke vnto her, so long as there were any Drugges remainyng in his Storehouse, and the Lawyer on the other side, who sufficiently enstructed her with his Lawe: thei vsed suche haūt vnto this Gentlewomans companie, that the one beganne to growe suspicious on the other, and eche of them desirous to haue her seuerall to hymself, beganne in the ende to enuaigh the one against the other: the Doctor against the Lawier, and the Lawier against the Doctor, and to tel her to her face what thei suspected, the one against the other. But Mistres Doritie beeyng very angrie with them bothe, that [Page] would so narrowlie looke into her doynges, did thinke it had been sufficient for reasonable men, that she had receiued them into her fauor, and as often as it had pleased them to come, she welcomed them as themselues did desire, and what can a man desire any more, then to drinke so often as he shall be a thirst? But with faire speeches she contented them bothe for a tyme: but she thought in the end, to finde a remedie for that mischief.

And thus it fell out, that a Souldiour, who was lately re­tourned from the warres, I gesse aboute the same tyme, that Kyng Henry the fift was retourned, from the winnyng of A­gincourt feelde: this Souldiour I saie, brauyng it out about the streates of the Citie (as commonly the custome of Soul­diours is, to spend more in a moneth, then thei get in a yere (as he roomed to and fro, and fortuned to espie this blasing starre lookyng out at a windowe, was sodainly stroken into a great maze, to se [...] [...]his Lampe of light, then euer he had been in the feelde, to see the Ensignes of his enemies, and was so farre e­uercharged with her loue: that but for feare to haue been mar­ked by the passers by, he would haue stoode still gazyng and lookyng vpon her: but learnyng in the ende, that she was the Mistres of the house, he began to deuise how he might make her vnderstande the feruencie of his Loue, on whiche he deter­mined to write vnto her: But then he knewe not how to be­ginne his Letter, because Souldiours are very seldome accu­stomed to endite, especially any of these louyng lines: And to speake vnto her, he was likewise to learne how to vse his tear­mes, neither wiste he how to come into her presence, but you shall see Fortune fauoured hym: For in an Euenyng as he passed through the streate, she was sittyng alone in her doore to take the aire, and commyng vnto her, not knowyng for his life how to begin his tale: In the ende, Mistres (ꝙ he) I praie you is your housbande within? No surely sir (ꝙ she) he is a­broade in the Toune, but I knowe not where: And I would gladly haue spoken with hym (ꝙ the Souldiour) if he had bin within: Beleeue me sir he is not within (ꝙ she) but if it please you to leaue your arrande with me, at his commyng home I will shew hym your minde. In faith Mistres (ꝙ the soldiour) [Page] my arrande is not greate, I would but haue craued his helpe in chusyng me a wife, because I perceiue he hath some expe­riēce in the facultie, or els I think he could neuer haue chosen so well for hymself. If your arrande be no other then this (ꝙ Mistres Doritie) you may at your owne leisure come and doe it your self, and as for my housbandes experience that you speake of, although peraduenture it bee not fittyng to your fancie, yet I am well assured that he hath made his choyce of suche a one, as he himself very well liketh. I beleue it wel (ꝙ the Souldiour) and if without offence I might speake it, I sweare so God help me, I like his choise so wel, that I would thinke my self more then a thousand times happie, if I might bee his halfe, or if my vnworthinesse deserued not so greate a p [...]on, I would craue no more then your self would willing­ly bestowe on me, accordingly as you should see me able to de­serue it. Why sir (ꝙ Mistres Doritie) I doe not vnderstande wherevnto your speeches doeth tende, neither what parte you would haue me to giue you, when I haue alreadie bestowed of my housbande, bothe my hande, my harte, my minde, and good will. Alas Gentlewoman (ꝙ the Souldiour) these bee none of them that I would craue, there is yet an ouerplus whiche you haue not yet spoken of, whiche if you please to be­stow of a Souldiour, I should think my self the happiest man aliue, whose loue and good likyng towards you is suche, that I trust in tyme to come, your self will iudge me worthie, for my well deseruyng zeale, to haue deserued hire. Souldiours are seldome seene (ꝙ Mistres Doritie) to marche vnder the banner of Venus, but what so euer you bee, doe you thinke to ouerthrowe my vertues, with the assault of your wanton per­swasions, or would you make me beleeue that you loue me as you say, whē you haue no more respect to the hurt of my soule. Gentlewoman (ꝙ the Souldiour) I am not able to encounter you with wordes, because it hath not been my profession, nor trainyng vp, but if you doubte of my loue and good likyng: Please it you to make triall, commaund any thyng that your self shall thinke requisite, whiche if I doe not performe to the vttermost, then esteeme my loue in deede to be but feined, and [Page] where you thinke that I goe aboute to seeke the preiudice or hurte of your soule, beleeue me I neuer ment it.

Mistres Doritie, who had been wel acquainted before with many suiters, had neuer been apposed with suche a rough he­wen fellow, that was so blūt and plaine, aswell in his gesture, as in his tearmes: Began to think with her self, that he might well be a Souldiour, for she knewe that thei had little skill in the courting of Gentlewomen, yet she perceiued by his coun­tenaunce, the vehemencie of his loue he bare vnto her, and per­ceiuing his plainnesse, she began to thinke him more fitter for her diet, then either Maister Doctor, or Maister Lawier, that could not be contented the one with the other, when she gaue them bothe so muche as thei could craue, and therefore thin­kyng with her self, that to loose any longer tyme were but a poinct of folly, takyng the Souldiour by the hande, she ledde hym vp into a Chamber, where other speeches were passed be­tweene them in secrete, whiche I could neuer yet vnderstand, and what thei did farther when thei were by themselues, gen­tlewomen I praie gesse you, but this I must aduertise you of, that before thei came forth of the Chamber againe, the Soul­diour had pleased Mistres Doritie so well, that bothe Maister Doctor, and Maister Lawier, were put quite out of conceipt, fo that from that tyme forwardes when thei came of their visi­tation, the Gentlewoman was not wel at case, or she had com­pany with her, or she was not at home, that thei could no more speake with her: whiche tourned them bothe into a wonderful agonie. The Doctor had thought she had forsaken him for the loue of the Lawier: The Lawier he thought as muche by the Doctor, that in the ende not knowyng otherwise how to spit out their venime against her, thei deuised eache of them a let­ter, whiche thei sent her. The first of these letters deliuered vnto her, came from the Doctor, whiche letter he left vnpoin­ted of purpose, because that in the readyng of it, it might bee poincted two waies, and made to seeme either to her praise or dispraise, but Mistres Doritie her self in the readyng of it, poincted it as I haue set it doune, and followeth in this sorte.

And who would haue thought mistres Doritie, that for the [Page] louyng aduertisementes giuen you by your freend, you could so lightly haue shaken hym of, if I burdened you with any thyng that might seeme greeuous vnto you, thinke it was Loue that ledde me vnto it, for that I protest inwardly in my mynde, I neuer did esteeme you otherwise then for as honest a gentlewoman as lines this daie in Bridewell. I haue heard saie some haue been scourged more vpon euill will, then for a­ny desertes whereof thei might iustly be accused, so if it be my happe to suffer vndeserued penaunce, I must impute it to my owne misfortune, but yet contrarie to my expectation, consi­deryng how I haue euer taken you to bee giuen in your codi­tions to practise vnseemely, filthie, and detestable thynges: I knowe you haue euer abhorred to liue chastly, decently, and orderly: you haue euer been trained vp to be wanton, proude, and incontinent: you neuer tooke delight in that was good, honest, or conmendable: you wholie gaue your self to leude­nesse, lust, and Lecherie: you were an open enemie to vertue: a freend to vice. What should I saie, I doe but waste the time in the setting of you forth, and therefore will leaue you like as I found you.

This Letter brought Mistres Doritie into suche a furie when she had perused it, that she sware by no Beggers she would be so reuenged vpon the Doctor, that she would make hym a spectacle to all the Phisitions in the worlde, how thei should abuse an honest gentlewoman while thei liued. And in the middest of her Melancholie, her dearest freende the Soul­diour happened to come in, whom she made partaker of all her secretes, shewyng him the Letter whiche Maister Doctor had sent her: and as thei were deuisyng how to vse reuenge­ment, a Messenger was knockyng at the doore, to deliuer a letter from the Lawyer, the tenure whereof followeth in this maner,

Maie this bee the rewarde of my true and faithfull Loue, whiche so firmely I haue borne thee? Or is this the delight of thy daliaunce, whiche so many tymes thou haste vsed with me? So carelesly to shake me of, as though I had committed some notable abuse, when in deede I haue loued thée a greate [Page] deale more, then I perceiue thou art worthie of. Oh feminine flatterie. O fained faunyng. O counterfect courtesie. O deep dissimulation: But what hope is otherwise to be looked for in these Kites of Cressides kinde. Or what constancie maie any man thinke to finde in a woman? No no, if a man maie gene­rally speake of their sexe, you shall neuer finde them but coun­terfect in their courtesie, fained in their frendship, dissembling in their deedes, and in all their actions moste daungerous, for men to deale withall? For if she haue a faire face, it is euer matched with a cruell harte, their heauenly lookes with hel­lishe thoughtes: their modest countenaunces, with mercilesse mindes: thei haue witte, but it is in wiles: if thei loue, it is too vehement: when thei hate, it is to the death. But good God, with how many fopperies are thei accustomed to feede fooles, I meane suche as bee Louemakers and Suiters vnto them, whom thei delaie with as many deuises, as thei be in number that seekes to serue them. Some thei lure with lookes: some thei practise with promises: some thei feed with flattery: some thei delay with deliance: some thei winde in with wiles: some thei keepe with kisses: some thei diet with dissimulation. One must weare her Gloue, an other must weare her Garter, an other must weare her Coulers: an other shall weare the spoile of as muche as she can get from all the rest by cousonage, and yet to see how daintie these darlinges, wil seeme to those that bee not acquainted with their customes, were able to dashe a yong man out of countenaunce: I warrant you, thei can make it more nice then wise: more coie then comely, more fine then honest. And to whom doe thei make the matter most daunge­rous, but to thē that deserueth best to be rewarded: For where thei see a man that is drouned in affection towardes them, o­uer him thei will triumphe, and can tell how to ride the foole without a snaffle: one while thei will crosse him with froward language, then againe comforte hym with some fained looke. Now she driues him into desperation with frounyng face, by and by she baites hym againe with banquettes of vncertaine hope, suche is their euill nature (as I saie) that thei wil shewe them selues moste squemishe and daintie, to hym that loues [Page] them moste entirely, and him that seekes them least dishone­stly, hym thei rewarde with their coldest courtesie. For better proofe, lette a man seeke to winne one of these tender peeces, that goes for a maide, honestly, and in the waie of Marriage, and I warrant you she will make the matter more coye and nice to hym that meanes good earnest, then to an other that comes but to trie and proue them. And what signes of shame­fastnesse wil thei seeme to make, when a man doeth but touch them: fainyng them selues to be too young, when (in deede) if thei once past the age of fifteene yeres (if thei were not a feard of breeding of bugges in their belly) by their good willes thei would neuer be without the company of a man. Thus to con­clude, their nature is openly to scorne all men, bee their loues neuer so honest, and secretly to refuse no man be his lust neuer so leude. Full aptly did Salomon in his Prouerbes compare you to Wine, that can make vs so dronken wich your deuises, that notwithstandyng we see the snares with our eyes, which you haue sette to entangle vs, wee can not shunne the baite, which we knowe will breede our bane. Thus muche Mistres Doritie, I haue thought good to signifie vnto you, whose dis­courtesie at this tyme hath caused me so generally to enuaie against your whole Sexe, not otherwise mindyng to accuse your self perticularly, knowyng that if you should otherwise haue vsed me then you haue, you should haue degressed and swarued quite from your kinde, and so I leaue you.

Gentlewomen I beseeche you forgiue me my fault, in the publishyng this infamous letter, I promise you I doe but si­gnifie it accordyng to the copie, whiche this vnhappie Lawier sent to Mistres Doritie, and when I had well considered the blasphemie that he had vsed against your sexe, I cut my penne all to peeces, wherewith I did copie it out, and if it had not been for the hurtyng of my self, I promise you I would haue cut and mangled my owne fingers, wherewith I held the pen while I was writing of it: and trust me according to my skil, I could well haue founde in my harte, to encounter him with an aunswere in your defence, but then I was interrupted by an other as you shall well perceiue. For the Souldiour, [Page] whiche you haue heard spoken of, that was remainyng with Mistres Doritie, when he had perused this Letter, was put into a wonderfull chafe, and in the middest of his furie, he vt­tered these wordes.

Ah moste vilde and blasphemous beast, what art thou that with suche exclamations, goest about to defame those, whom by all honest humanitie and manhood, we be willed specially to loue, honour, and reuerence, what art thou? A man, a deuill or a subtill Lawyer, yea surely, and so thou maiest well be, and herein haste thou shewed thy self no whit at all to degresse from thy profession. For as at the first the Lawes were con­stituted to minister Iustice, and to giue euery one his right, so now are thei made by the practise of a nomber of Pettie foggers, the instrumentes of all iniquitie and wrong. Euen so that worthie sexe, whiche at the first were giuen vnto man by the almightie God himself, to be his cheefest comfort and con­solation. See here the practise of a wicked Caitife, who with his eloquence would perswade vs, that thei were our greatest ruine and desolations: Ah wicked wretche that thou art, how thinkest thou to escape, thus to blowe forthe thy blasphemie, against those blessed ones, whom God hath perfited aboue all other creatures. For at their first creation, thei were made of the moste best and purified mettall of man, where man hym self was framed but of slime and drosse: what reason then that beeyng at the first framed moste pure and perfect creatures, but that thei should continue their first perfection to the ende of the worlde. And like as at the first thei were made more ex­cellent then man, where should wee now seeke for grace, ver­tue, and goodnesse, but onely in the feminine sexe, accordyng to their singuler creation.

I trust this is so euident that there is no man able to de­naie it, and enough to proue, that as women at the first were created moste perfecte, so thei haue still remained the store­house of all grace vertue and goodnesse, and that if there be a­ny thyng founde in vs men that is worthie of commendation, we are onely to giue thankes to women from whom wee re­ceiue it, as being descended from out their entrailes: but with [Page] how greate and manifolde miseries, should we men be daiely afflicted, were it not for the comforte wee finde at womens handes, for besides that by their industrie we be notified, made more clendly, and kept swete, who otherwise of our selues we should become to bee moste filthie and lothsome creatures, so at all tymes and seasons thei be so necessarie and conuenient aboute vs, that it were impossible for vs to bee without their blessed companies. First, in our health thei content vs with their familiaritie, in our sicknesse thei cherishe vs, in our mirth thei make it more abounde, in sorrowe their companie doeth beguile our pensiue thoughtes, in pleasure thei be our cheefe delightes, in paine their presence breedeth cōfort our grief, in wealth what greater treasure then to enioye our beloued, in want what greater wealth then a louing and faithful wife, in peace we labour still to get their likyng, in warres thei make vs shewe our selues more valiaunt: but how is it possible that women should behaue themselues, but that there are some wil finde fault with them: First, if she bee familiare, we iudge her to be light, if she seeme any thing straunge in her cōuersatio [...] ah we saie she is a daungerous Dame▪ if merrie, wee thin [...] her to be naught, if sad, we saie she is more graue then honest, if she be talkatiue, wee saie she is a tatlying houswife, if silent, we saie she is a sheepe, if clendly in her apparell, we saie she is proude, if plaine or homely, we saie she is a doudie or a slut, if thei denaie vs their curtesie when we sue vnto them, wee saie thei be cruell Tigers, Beares, and Bugges, if thei haue com­passion of vs, we discredit them amongst our companions.

But see here the cunnyng of a Caitife, that would wreast the wordes of Salomon to the dispraise of women, because in his Prouerbes he compareth them to Wine, but to interprete the wordes of Salomon by Salomon himself: in an other place of the same Prouerbes, he willeth Wine should bee giuen to comforte those that bee feeble and weake, now compare these places together and see what harme he hath doen to women, and in my opinion, he could not more aptly haue made a com­parison, for as Wine is a comforte to these that are feeble and weake, so are women our greatest solace, both in sicknesse and [Page] in health: But if any wil saie that Wine maketh vs dronken, and from reasonable men to become more brute then beastes. I aunswere that the fault is not to bee imputed to the Wine, but to the beastlinesse of him that taketh more then enough, for there is nothyng so precious for our behoofes, but by our owne abuse we make it seeme most vile & lothsome: And thus graunting maister Lawier his comparison to be true, he hath doen little hurt, sauing he hath shewed himself a diligent scho­ler to his Maister the deuill, who is father of all lyes, in main­taining so manifest a lye against suche harmelesse creatures.

There were many other speeches pronounced by this Souldiour in the behalfe of women, whiche I haue forgot to recite. But I praie Gentlewomen how like you by this Sol­diour, doe you not thinke hym worthie a Sargantes fee for his aunswere: in my opinion, you ought to loue Souldiours the better for his sake.

But to retourne to Mistres Doritie, those two letters had so vexed her, that there was nothing in her minde but how she [...]ght be reuenged. Her freende the Souldiour promised for her sake, that he would so cudgill both Maister Doctor, and the Lawier, that thei should not in one moneth after be able to lift their armes to their heades, sauyng he wist not how to get them into a place conuenient, for that it was daungerous to deale with them in the open streates. Mistres Doritie giuing him twentie kisses for his courtesie, told him she would deuise to bring them into some place where he might worke his wil.

Presently after, Mistres Doritie sent for Maister Doc­tor, whom she knewe very well how to handle, and in a milde maner she began greatly to blame hym, that being wise as she knew him to be, would so rashly iudge of her, for that he might wel knowe that there was some greate cause, that moued her to vse him as she had doen, otherwise then he had coniectured: and thus with many other like speeches, she so smothed the matter with Maister Doctor, that she made hym beleeue her housbande had some suspition in their familiaritie, and that by his commaundement she had abstained his companie for a tyme, the which (Maister Doctor ꝙ she) I did for no euill will [Page] that I beare you, but for a tyme to bleare my housebandes eyes, thinkyng in the ende so to haue handled the matter, that wee might haue continued our accustomed freendship, with­out any maner of suspition: And then drawyng forthe the let­ter, whiche the Doctor had sent her (she saied): But see Mai­ster Doctor your good opinion conceiued in me, loe, here the reward that I haue for my courtesie bestowed of you, thus to raile and rage against me, as though I were the moste nota­ble strumpet in a Countrey.

The Doctor knowyng in what forme he had wright the letter, and desirous againe to renue his late acquaintaunce, aunswered, that he neuer writte letter vnto her, whereby he had giuen any occasion for her to take any greef. No haue? (quoth Mistresse Doritie) read you then here your own lines, takyng hym the letter, whiche the Doctor as I tolde you be­fore, had left vnpointed, and therefore in the readyng, he poin­ted it after this maner.

And who would haue thought (Mistresse Doritie) that for the louyng aduertisementes giuen you by your freende, you could so lightlie haue shaken hym of, if I burdeined you with any thing, that might seme greeuous vnto you, thinke it was Loue that ledde me vnto it, for that I protested inwardlie in my mynde, I did neuer esteeme you otherwise, then for as ho­nest a Gentlewoman as liues at this daie. In Bridewell I haue heard saie, some haue been scourged more vpon euill wil, then for any desertes whereof thei might iustlie bee accused: So if it bee my happe to suffer vndeserued penaunce, I must impute it to myne owne misfortune, but yet contrarie to my expectation, consideryng how I haue euer taken you to be gi­uen in your conditions: to practise vnseemely, filthie, and de­testable thinges, I knowe you haue euer abhored: To liue chastlie, decently, and orderlie, you haue euer been trained vp: to bee wanton, proude, and incontinente, you neuer tooke de­light: In that was good, honest, or commendable, you wholie gaue your self: to lewdnesse, luste, and Lecherie, you were an open enemie, to vertue a freende, to vice: what should I saie, I doe but waste the tyme in settyng you forthe, and therefore [Page] will leaue you like as I founde you.

I praie you Mistresse Doritie (quoth the Doctor) where is this railyng and raging you speake of, I trust I haue written nothyng that might discontent you. Mistresse Doritie percei­uyng the Knauerie of the Doctor, and seeyng the matter fell out so fitte for her purpose: First giuyng him a freendly busse she saied. Alas my deare freende, I confesse I haue trespassed, in misconsteryng of your lines: But forgiue me I praie you, and now haue compassion of her, whose loue towarde you is suche, that it is impossible for me to liue, without your good likyng, and seyng that my housebandes Ielousie is so muche, that you can haue no longer accesse to my house, but it muste needes come to his eare, by suche spie and watche as he hath laied, neither my self can goe abroade to any place, but I am dogged, and followed by suche as he hath appoincted: But now if your loue be but half so muche towardes me, as I trust I haue deserued, and hereafter doe meane to requite. I haue alreadie deuised a meane, how for euer I might enioye my de­sired freend, without either let or molestation of any one, seme he neuer so muche to be offended at the matter.

The Doctor the gladdest man in the worlde to heare these newes, aunswered: And what is it then that should make you stagger, or doubt of the fredndship of your louyng Doctor, no not if thereby I should hazard the losse, bothe of life & goodes.

Alas (quoth Mistresse Doritie) GOD defende I should woorke you so greate a preiudice, and I beseeche you vse no more suche speeches vnto me, that I should goe aboute to put you into any suche perill, the remembraunce whereof is more greeuous vnto me, then if I had felte the force of a thousande deathes, and now behold my determination, and what I haue deuised: You haue a house not farre hence standing in the feel­des, whiche you keepe for your solace, and recreation in the time of Sommer: to this house I haue deuised, how you maie so secretly conuey me, that you maie there keepe at your plea­sure to your owne vse, and to my greate contentation, where I maie at pleasure enioye hym, more dearly beloued vnto me, then the balles of mine owne eyes. And herewithall she gaue [Page] hym an other Iudas kisse, that the Doctor desired her of all frendship, not to be long in her determination, for that he was readie to followe her direction, when soeuer it would please her to commaunde: yea, if it were presentlie he was readie.

Mistresse Doritie, who haue driuen the matter to that passe she looked for, saied: Naie Maister Doctor, there resteth yet an other thyng, my housebandes Ielousie (as I tolde you) is suche, that there must bee greate circumspection vsed, in the conueighyng of me awaie, and therefore giue eare to that I haue deuised: I haue in my house a certaine Male with stuffe, that is left with me, to be sent by the Carriers into the Coun­trie, whereof my housebande dooeth knowe verie well, this stuffe I will cause to be secretly taken forthe, and to be sent to the Carriers, trust vp in some other thing, without any knowledge to any, sauyng to my Maide, that shall worke this feate her self, whose trustinesse I knowe to bee suche, as there is no suspition to bee had in the matter, the whiche when she hath doen, she shall trusse vp me in thesame Male, then see that you faile not to morowe in the Euening about eight of the clocke, disguised in a Porters weede, to come to my house to enquire for thesame Male, whiche you shall saie, you will beare to the Carriers, my Maide who shall of purpose, bee readie to waite for your commyng at the hower, shall make no bones to deli­uer you this Male, and thus without either doubt or Ielousie of any one, you maie carrie me into the feeldes, where for your better ease you maie take me forthe, and disguising our selues wee maie walke together, to your house aforesaied, where I maie remaine without any maner of suspition, or knowledge to any, so long as it shall please your self.

O moste excellente deuise (quoth the Doctor) I haue this matter alreadie at my fingers endes, and I warraunte you, you shall see me plaie the Porter so cunninglie, that how ma­ny so euer I meete, there shall none of them be able to suspect me: Thus with a feined kisse that she againe bestdwed of him, for that time thei departed.

Mistresse Doritie, in like maner sent for the Lawier, whom she handled in like sorte, as she had doen the Doctor, makyng [Page] hym beleeue, that her housebandes Ielousie was suche, as she durst no more come in his companie: But of her self she loued hym so entirely, that she would hazard any thyng for his sake, and because he should the better beleeue it, to morrowe (quoth she) in the after noone, my housebande will be forthe of the do­res, wherefore I praie you faile not about three of the Clocke to come and visite me, when wee shall haue laisure to disporte our selues, to our better contentation: Many like enticyng woordes she vsed, whiche so perswaded the Lawier, then drea­dyng no bad measure at all, he promised her not to faile, but he would keepe his hower: and thus departed verie ioyfull, that he had againe recouered his Mistresse. And the nexte daie, e­uen as it had stroke three of the Clocke, he was knockyng at the doore of this Gentlewoman, who lookyng for his com­myng, was readie to receiue hym, and vp thei goe together to a Chamber, whiche she had appoincted for the purpose: where for a tyme she dalied hym of with deuises: And sodainlie her maide (according as her Mistresse had giuen her instructiōs) came hastelie to the Chamber doore, callyng her Mistresse, saiyng: that her Maister was come in, and had asked for her: Mistresse Doritie, who was not to learne to plaie her parte, semed to be striken into a wonderfull feare, alas? quoth she to the Lawier) for the loue of GOD keepe your self secret for a time, that I maie go doune and rid him awaie, if it be possible, and thus goyng her waie doune, she shuttes the dore after her.

The Lawier who was readie to beraie hym self for feare, crepte vnder the Bedde, where she lette hym alone, the space of an hower, and then commyng vp into the Chamber, and could not see hym, she beganne to muse what was become of hym: he hearyng one was come in at the Chamber doore, be­ganne to prie out vnder the Beddes feete, and perceiuyng by the skirte of her goune who it was, with a faint voice he said: Alas my deare what newes, is your housebande gone? Ah my louing freende (quoth she) I was neuer so hardlie beset sith I was borne: my housebande i [...] come home with three or fower of his freendes, whiche he mette withall in the Citee, and bee come out of the Countrie of [...], to make merrie with [Page] him, and here thei be appoincted this night to Suppe, and he­ther bee come to their beddes, so long as thei remaine in the Citee, and this Chamber is appointed for twoo of them to lie in, that for my life I knowe not what shifte to make, nor how to conueigh you hence.

Alas (quoth the Lawier) then am I vtterlie vndoen, for the loue of GOD, deuise some meanes tonueigh me out of the house, for I would not remaine all night in this perplexitie, no not for all the golde in the worlde. Mistresse Doritie ma­kyng a little pause, sodainlie as though she had an inuention, but euen then come into her hedde, she saied.

I haue this onely remedie left, here is in the house a Male full of stuffe, whiche should this night be sent to the Carriers: my deuise is therefore to take forthe the stuffe, and laie it aside till sometime the next weeke, when I will make shift to send the stuffe awaie verie well, and you shalbee presentlie packed vp in this Male, whiche my Maide shall doe while I am be­lowe with my housebande and his freendes, and so causing a Porter to bee sent for, he shall carrie you to your Chamber, or to any other place, where it shall please your self, so that my housebande seyng this Male goe forthe of doores, will thinke it is the stuffe, whiche he knoweth this night should be sent.

No better deuise in the worlde (quoth the Lawier) and let the Porter conueigh this Male to my Chamber, you knowe where, and deliuer it to my man, as sent from his M [...]ister, and will him to giue him fortie pence for his labor.

The matter thus determined, Mistresse Doritie sent vp her Maide with this emptie Male, wherein she trussed vp the La­wier, and there she left him liyng from fiue of the Clocke, vn­till it was past eight, and in the Sommer season the weather beeyng verie hotte, the Lawier had like to haue been smothe­red where he laie: at the length according to poinctmente, co­mes maister Doctor disguised like a right porter, with a long gaberdine doune to the calfe of his legges, and he enquires for a Male that should goe to the Carriers, yea a Marie (quoth the Maide) if you please to come in, it is readie for you, the Doctor beyng a good sturdie lubber, tooke vp the Male verie [Page] easilie for feare of brusing the Gentlewomans tender ribbes, whom he had thought he had vpon his backe, and thus forth of doores he goes, takyng the next waie towardes his lodgyng.

Mistresse Doritie with her beloued Souldiour (whom she had made priuie to her deuise) stoode where she might se Mai­ster Doctor in his Porters weede, goyng with his carriage, whereat when thei had awhile sported them selues, the Soul­dier followed maister Doctor an easie pace, but onely to kepe the sight of him, and the Doctor he tooke his waie through the streates with a maine pace, till he had recouered the feeldes, where looking about him, to see what companie was stirryng sawe no bodie nere hym but the Souldier, whom he did not knowe, and then crossyng the waie from the common pathes, he came to the side of a Bancke, and beeyng wearie (as he was not to be blamed, consideryng the knauishe burthen that he had borne vpon his backe) he laiyng doune the Male ten­derlie vppon the side of the Bancke) seeyng no bodie but the Souldier, who was but a little distaunce from hym, saied. Ah my sweete wenche, I can see no creature stirryng in all the feeldes, but one man whiche is commyng this waie, who so sone as he is paste, I will vndoe the Male.

The Lawier in the Male, when he felt the Porter laie him doune, was in a good hope, that he had been in his own cham­ber, but hearing by these speeches, that he was in the feeldes, began to cōiecture assuredly, that the Porter had spoken those wordes to some woman that was in this companie, with whō he was confederate, for the stealyng of suche thinges as thei should finde in the Male, and that when thei should open the Male and finde hym there, thei would not sticke to cutte his throte for feare, least he should bewraie them, and for the onely spoile of suche thinges as he had aboute him, that the Lawier was in suche a perplexitie, that he wist not for his life what he might doe: one while he had thought to haue cried out for help then he thought it would the soner bring him to his ende, and as he continued thus in the middest of his muse, the Souldier was come to the place, and speakyng to the Doctor, he saied: Porter it seemeth thou haste been knauishlie loden, for I per­ceiue [Page] thou art very hot, but what hast thou in the male, I pray thee, that thou art carriyng his waie so late in the Euening. Marie (quoth the doctor) I haue ware there suche as it is, hast thou ware knaue (quoth the Souldier) is that a sufficiente an­swere, what ware is it, mennes ware, or womens ware. Sir I knowe not (quoth the Porter) I haue but the cariyng of it to a gentlemans house that is here hard by, well (ꝙ the Souldier) vndoe your trusse, for I will se what wares you haue there, be­fore you and I departe, why sir (ꝙ the Porter) should I bee so bold to vndo a gentlemans male, that is deliuered me in trust to be caried, no sir you shall pardon me, if you were my father, and herewithall he tooke the male vpon his backe, and began to go his waies. But the Souldier knowing better what was in the Male, then the Porter himself that caried it, and beyng prouided for the purpose with a good Cudgell, let driue halfe a dosen blowes at the Male, as it laie vpon his backe so sure­lie, that the Lawier cries out, alas, alas, alas. Why Porter (quoth the Souldier) haue you quicke wares in your Male­no meruaile you were so daintie in the shewyng of it.

Here withall the Doctor laied doune his Male, and knee­lyng doune to the Souldier, saied. Ah sir for the loue of God bee content, and I will not let to confesse the whole truthe vn­to you: I haue a Gentlewoman in my Male, whiche I haue stolne from her housebande, and seyng you to be a gentleman but yong in yeres, and impossible but that you should loue the companie of a faire woman, beholde, I will deliuer her vnto you, to vse at your pleasure, and when you shall see tyme, to restore her vnto me againe, desiryng you sir of all curtesie, to seeke no other displeasure against vs. You haue saied well (ꝙ the Souldier) but is she suche a one as is to bee liked, faire, freshe, and yong. Trust me sir (ꝙ the Doctor) if she bee not as faire, and well liking as any Dame within the walles of this Citee, make me an example to all other, how thei shal dissem­ble with a Gentlemanne suche as you are. Thou saiest well (ꝙ the Souldier) and now I thinke long till I haue a sight of this Paragon, whiche thou haste so praised vnto me. You shall see her straight waie (ꝙ the Doctor) and herewithall he [Page] beganne to vnlase the Male with greate expedition, whiche whē he had vnlosed at the one ende, that he might come to the sight of this Gentlewomans face (as he had thought) he saied to the Souldier, see here the sight which you so muche desire, and pullyng the ende of the Male open with his handes, the Lawier thruste forthe his hedde, and looked with suche a pite­ous countenaunce, as though he had been readie to be turned of the Ladder: But the Doctor seeyng a face to appeare with a long Bearde, was in suche a maze, that he could not tell in the worlde what he might saie. The Souldier who had neuer more a doe then to forbeare laughter, to see how these twoo, the one beheld the other: Saied to the Doctor, and is this the faire Gentlewoman that thou haste promised me, haste thou no bodie to mocke but me, that with suche commendations thou giuest praise to a woman, whereby to sette my teeth an edge, and then in thende thus to delude me? But I will teach thee how to plaie the knaue againe while thou liuest, and here withall he laied on with his Cudgell, sparyng neither hedde, shoulders, armes, backe, nor breast, and so bee bumbasted the Doctor, that for the space of a quarter of a yere after, he was not able to lift an Eurinall so hie as his hedde.

The Lawier who had nothyng out of the Male but his hedde, seeyng this fraie, struggeled so muche as he could, to haue gotten forthe, and to haue runne awaie, while the Porter was a beatyng, but it would not bee, his armes were so surely laced doune by his sides, that for his life he could not get them forthe.

The Souldier, when he had throughlie requited Maister Doctors Knauerie, that he had vsed against his beloued Mi­stresse in his letter, lefte hym, and beganne to bende hymself towardes the Lawier: The Lawier seyng the Souldier com­ming, had thought verely that he had been some good fellowe that was walkyng there so late, to haue taken some prey, said: Oh sir, for the loue of God spare my life, and take my purse, to whom the Souldier aunswered: naie villaine, my commyng is neither to take thy life nor thy purse, but to minister reuen­gemente for thy large speeches, whiche like a discourteous [Page] wretche thou haste vsed against a woman, and there with all laied vpon hym so long as he was able to fetch any breath, and then callyng the Porter vnto hym, he saied: Let these wordes whiche I minde to speake suffice for a warning to you bothe, if euer I maie learne that any of you hereafter this do vse any misdemeanour towardes any woman, either by word or wri­ting, assure your selues that although I haue but dallied with you at this tyme, I wil deuise some one meane or other to mi­nister reuenge, that all suche as you bee, shal take an example by you. And thus I leaue you, goyng his waie to his sweete harte, tellyng her the whole discourse how he had spedde, by whom he was welcomed with a whole last of kisses, &c.

And now to returne to those two that were left in the feel­des, as you haue heard: the Doctor takyng good vewe of the Lawyer, knewe him very well, but the Doctor was so disgui­sed in his Porters apparell, that the Lawyer did not knowe hym, but saied vnto hym, a mischeef light of al suche Porters, that when thei bee put in trust with carriages into the Citie, will bring them into the feeldes to suche banquettes as these, Marie ꝙ the Doctor a mischeefe take all suche burthens, that when a man hath almost broken his back with bearing them, and then shall receiue suche a recompence for his labour as I haue doen: Villaine (ꝙ the Lawyer) why diddest thou not ca­rie me to my chamber as thou wert willed when thou diddest receiue me, I would I had carried thee to the Gallowes (ꝙ the Doctor) so I had escaped this scouryng, but I perceiue this banquet was prepared for vs bothe, and here withall with muche adoe he got of the Porters coate, and makyng hymself knowne to the Lawyer, eache of them conferred with the o­ther, how cunningly thei had been dealt withall, and did think it not best for them any farther to deale in the matter, for feare of farther mischeefe, but with muche adoe got them home, where the Lawyer kept his bedde very long after: But the Doctor tooke Sparmaceti, and such like thinges that be good for a bruse, and recouered hymself in a shorte space.

Now it fell out afterwardes that this Souldiour, who li­ued in greate credite with Mistres Doritie (as he had well de­serued) [Page] was imployed in the Kynges warres against forraine fooes, with a greate number of others, where he spent his life in his Princes quarrell, & Mistres Doritie, sorrowyng a long tyme the losse of so faithfull a freende, seeyng the diuersitie of men, that she had made her choise amongst three, and had foūd but one honest, feared to fall into any further infamie, conten­ted herself to liue orderly, and faithfully with her housbande, all the rest of her life, and her housband who neuer vnderstood any of these actions, loued her dearely to his diyng daie.

And now to saie somethyng of the other brother and his wife, which as you haue heard was suche a notable scold, that her housbande could neuer enioy good daie, nor merie houre: She was suche a deuill of her tongue, and would so crossebite hym with suche tauntes, and spightfull quippes, as if at any tyme he had been merrie in her companie, she would tell hym his mirthe proceeded rather in the remembraunce, of that she had brought hym, then for any loue that he had to her self: if he were [...]adde, it was for greefe she was not dead, that he might enioye that she had. If he vsed to goe abroad, then he had been spendyng of that he neuer gott hymself. If he taried at home, she would saie it was happie he had gotten suche a wife, that was able to keepe hym so idely. If he made any prouision for good cheare, or to fare well in his house, she would bid hym spende that whiche he hymself had brought. If he shewed hym self to be sparyng, then she would not be pincht of that whiche was her owne. Thus doe what he could, all that euer he did was taken in the worst parte: And seyng that by no maner of faire meanes he was able to reclaime her: in the ende he deui­sed this waie, hymself with a trustie freende that he made of his counsaile, got and pinioned her armes so fast, that she was not able to vndoe them, and then puttyng her into an old Pe­ticoate, whiche he rent and tattered in peeces of purpose, and shakyng her heire loose about her eyes, tare her Smock slee­ues that her armes were all bare, and scratchyng them all o­uer with a Bramble that the bloud followed, with a greate chaine about her legge, wherwith he tied her in a darke house that was on his Backside, and then calling his neighbours a­bout [Page] her, he would seeme with greate sorrowe to lament his wiues distresse, tellyng them that she was sodainly become Lunatique, whereas by his geasture he tooke so great greefe, as though he would likewise haue runne madd for companie. But his wife (as he had attired her) seemed (in deede) not to be well in her wittes, but seyng her housbandes maners, shewed her self in her conditions to bee a right Bedlem, she vsed no o­ther wordes but Cursynges and Bannynges, criyng for the Plague and the Pestilence, and that the Deuill would teare her housbande in peeces: the companie that were aboute her, thei would exhorte her, good neighbour forget these idle spee­ches, whiche doeth so muche distemper you: and cal vpon God and he will surely helpe you. Call vpon God for helpe (ꝙ the other) wherein should he helpe me, vnlesse he would consume this wretch with fire & brimstone, other helpe I haue no neede neede of. Her housbande, he desired his neighbours for Gods that thei would helpe him to praie for her, and thus altogether kneelyng in her presence, he began to saie (Miserere) whiche al thei saied after him, but this did so spight and vexe her, that she neuer gaue ouer her railing, and ragyng against them all. But in the ende, her housband who by this shame had thought to haue reclaimed her, made her to become from euil to worse, and was glad hymself in the ende, cleane to leaue, and to get hym self from her into a straunge Countrey, where he consu­med the rest of his life.

Thus to conclude, besides the matter that I meane to proue, Men maie gather example here, when thei goe a Wi­uyng, not to choose for beautie without vertue: nor for ri­ches without good conditions. There bee other ex­amples if thei be well marked, worth the lear­nyng: bothe for men and women, whiche I leaue to the discretion of the reader.

Of Gonsales and his vertu­ous wife Agatha.

THere was sometyme in the Citie of Siuill in Spaine, a Gentleman named Gonsales, who though he were a man of yeres sufficient to be staied, and to giue ouer the wā ­ton pranckes of youthfull follie. Yet was he by nature so enclined to followe his lustes, and withall so variable and so vnconstant, that [Page] he suffered hymself to be ruled wholy by his passiōs, and mea­sured all his doyng rather by his delightes and pleasures, thē by sounde discourse and rule of reason. This Gentleman fal­lyng in loue with a Gentlewoman of the same Citie, whose name was Agatha, sought all the meanes he could to haue her to wife. And her freendes although thei were wel enough en­formed of the disposition of Gonsales, whereby thei might haue feared the entreatie of their kinswoman, for that thei knewe hym very riche, and her dowrie not to be very greate, thei were well content to bestowe her vpon hym: and thought that thei had in so doyng placed her very well. But before the first yeare after their Marriage was fully expired, Gonsales followyng his wonted humour, and waxyng wearie of loue, grewe to desire chaunge, giuyng thereby a notable example for women to learne how little it is to their commoditie or quiet, to matche then [...]ise. [...] that be rather riche then wise: and how muche it were better for them to be married to men, then to their goodes.

For beeyng come to soiourne in that Streate wherein he dwelt, a notable Courtesane, who to the outward shewe was very faire, though inwardly she was moste foule, as she that vnder a goodly personage, did couer a wicked and dangerous minde, corrupted with all vices (as for the most parte al suche women doen.) It was Gonsales chaunce to be one of the first that fell into those snares, whiche she had sett for suche simple mens mindes, as haunt after the exteriour apparance of those thinges, whiche their senses make them to delight in, and not considering the daunger wherevnto thei commit themselues, by followyng of their disordinate appetites, doe suffer them selues to be entrapped by suche leude Dames: Among which this (forsoothe) was one that was of singuler skill to captiue mens mindes, which by experience and by the naturall dispo­sition of her mynde, bent wholy to deceipt and naughtinesse: had learned a thousand giles and artes, whiche waie to allure men with the pleasauntnesse of her baites. Wherefore after he was once entangled with her snares, he fell so farre beyond all reason, and past al beleef, to dote vpon this Strumpet that [Page] he could finde no rest, nor no contentment, but so long as he was with her. But she beeyng as dissolute a Dame as any li­ued in the world, and as greedie likewise of gaine as euer any was of her profession, would not content her self with Gonsa­les alone, but yeelded vnto as many as list to enioye her, if thei came with their handes full, and spared for no cost to rewarde her liberally. Whiche thyng was vnto hym, that was so be­sotted on her, so greeuous and so intollerable, that nothyng could be more.

There was at that same tyme, a Scholer in the Citie that studied in Phisicke: with whom Gonsales had familiar ac­quaintance, and the Scholler therby hauyng accesse and con­uersation in his house, began so feruently to bee in loue with Agatha his wife, that he desired nothyng so earnestly in the worlde as to enioye her, and to winne her good will. Where­fore hauyng (as I haue saied) free accesse to her house, and to [...]eclare his affection vnto her without suspition, he ceased not [...] al the meanes he was able to deuise, to sollicite and to pro­cure her to yeeld vnto his desire. With his endeuour and ear­nest suite, although it were vnto Agatha, noisome and displea­sant, as she that was disposed to keepe her self honest: and that she could in that respect haue been very glad, that he would forbeare to frequent her house. Yet knowyng her housbande to be a man of no very great substance, and but slenderly stuf­fed in the hedpeece: and that he delighted greatly in the fami­liaritie of the Scholler, she forced her self to endure with pa­cience, the importunate molestation, whiche he still wearied her withall. Takyng from hym neuerthelesse all hope, to ob­taine at any tyme any fauour at her handes, and cuttyng hym shorte from all occasions, as muche as she could, whereby he might haue cause to molest her, or to looke for any thyng to proceede from her, that were lesse then honest.

The Scholler perceiuyng that his owne trauaile, to win her affection was but labour lost, thought best to trie if by the allurement or perswasion of any other, he might happly moue her to shew her self more courteous, and fauourable vnto him. Wherefore hauyng founde out an olde Mother Elenour, a [Page] disciple of the Spanishe Celestina, suche a one as was moste cunnyng and skilfull in mollifiyng of womens myndes, to worke them afterwarde to receiue the impressions of their lo­uers, he caused her to take acquaintaunce of Agatha, and by degrees (as though she had been moued with pittie and com­passion of case) to declare vnto her the loue whiche her house­bande bare vnto the Courtisan [...]: and to shew her how vnwor­thie he was that she should be true vnto hym. And in the ende passing from one speech to an other, she saied plainly vnto her, that it was a great follie, since her housband did take his plea­sures abroade with other women, to stand to his allowances, and to take the leauyng of his Strumpets, and therewith to bee content: and that, if she were in her case, and had a house­bande that would strike with the sworde, she would vndoub­tedly requite hym and strike with the scabberde, so she coun­selled her to doe likewise.

Agatha beyng a very discrete Gentlewoman, and louyng her housbande as an honest woman ought to doe, saied to her in aunswere of her talke, that she would bee right glad to see her housbande to be suche a man as she wished hym to be, and as he ought to be. But that since she sawe it would not be, and that he could not frame hym self thereto, she would not take from hym or barre hym of that libertie, whiche either the cu­stome of the corrupted worlde, or the priuiledge that men had vsurped vnto themselues, had giuen vnto them. And that she would neuer for her parte violate or breake that faithe whiche she had giuen hym, nor slacke or neglect that care and regard of her honour, whiche all women by kinde and nature ought to haue, as the thyng that maketh them to be moste commen­ded throughout the world, let her housbande doe what he list, and like and loue as many other women as pleased hym. And that she thought her self so muche the rather bounde so to doe, because he did not in the rest misuse her any waie, or suffer her to want any thing that reasonably she could desire or craue at his handes: and for that she had not brought hym in effect any other dowrie worthie to bee accompted of then her honestie. Wherefore she was fully resolued neuer to varie from that [Page] constant resolution. And finally shewyng her self somewhat moued and stirred with Choler, she tolde her that she maruai­led at her not a little (that beyng a woman of those yeres) that she should rather reprehend and chide yong folke, if she should see them so bent, then encourage them to euil, & mused muche she could finde in her harte to giue her suche counsell: whiche she assured her was so displeasant and so vngratefull, as if frō hence forthe she durst presume to speake thereof any more, she would make her vnderstande perchaunce to her smarte, how ill she could awaie with suche pandarly practises.

This olde Hag hauyng had her head washed thus without sope, departed from Agatha, and came vnto the Scholler and tolde hym in breefe how ill she had sped, and in what sorte the honest Gentlewoman had closed her mouth, whereof the scho­ler was very sorie: yet for all this, he thought he would not giue ouer his [...] imagining that there is no hart so hard or fiintie, but by long loue, by perseuerance, praier, and tea­res, maie in the ende be mollified and wrought to be tender.

In this meane season, Gonsales still continuyng his olde familiaritie with the Scholler, and hauyng made hym priuie of the loue he bare vnto the Courtisane, and what a greefe it was vnto him to see her enioyed by any other then by himself: one daie among other talke betweene them of that matter, he saied bnto the Sholler, that it neuer grieued him so muche to haue a wife as it did then, for that if he had bin vnmaried he would haue taken Aselgia (for so was the Courtisane named) to be his wife, without whom he could finde no rest nor quiete in mynde, and so long as euery man hath a share with him in her, he accompted himself as il as if he had had no parte in her at all. And thereto saied further, that assuredly if it were not for feare of the Lawe, he would ease hymself of that burden by riddyng of Agatha out of the worlde. Thereunto replied the Scholler, saiyng that in deede it was a greeuous thyng for a Gentleman to be combred with a wife, whō he could not finde in his harte to loue, and that in suche a case, he that did seeke the best waie he could to deliuer himself of that yoke, was not altogether vnexcusable, though the rigor of Iustice had ap­poincted [Page] seuere punishementes, for suche as violentlie should attempt, or execute any suche thing. But that men that were wise, could well enough finde out the meanes, whiche waie to woorke their intentes, without incurryng any daunger of the Lawe for the matter. Whiche language in deede he vsed vnto hym, but to feede his humour, and to see wherevnto that talke in fine would tende: And according to his desire before it was long. Gonsales hauing vsed the like speeches, twoo or three ti­mes, and still findyng him to soothe his saiyng, tooke one daie a good harte vnto him, and brake his minde vnto the Scholer at large, and in plaine termes, to this effect.

Alonso (for that was the Scholers name) I doe assure my self, and make full accoumpt, that thou art my faste freend, as I am thyne, and I doubte not but that the freendship, whiche is betweene vs, doeth make thee no lesse sorie then my self, to see me greeue with this continuall trouble of minde, wherein I liue, because I can not compasse to take this woman, whom I loue so dearelie to bee my wife, and by that meanes come to haue the full possession of her vnto my self, whiche is the thing I doe desire aboue all other thinges in the worlde. And for as muche as I dooe perswade my self, that by thy meanes, and with the helpe of thy profession, I maie happ to finde some re­medie for my greef. I haue thought good to tell thee a con­ceit, whiche I haue thought on oftentimes: wherein I meane to vse thee and thy assistaunce, for the better accomplishing of my purpose in that behalfe. Assuring my self that thou wilte not refuse, or denie me any furtheraunce, that thy skill maie aforde me, or shrinke and drawe backe, from the performyng of any freendlie offer, whereby I maie come by to finde some ease of minde, and bee deliuered of that intollerable tormente of spirite, wherewith I am oppressed, for the loue of this Asel­gia, in whom I haue fixed and set all my ioyes and delightes. Thou shalte therefore vnderstande, that I am determined as sone as I can possible, to ridde my handes of Agatha my wife and by one meane or other to cause her to dye: And I haue been a good while aboute the execution of this my intent, but because I could neuer yet deuise the beste waie to performe it, [Page] so that her death might not bee laied vnto my charge. I haue delaied it hetherto, and perforce, contente to beare the heauie burthen of my greeued minde till now, whiche hence forward I am resolued to beare no longer, if thou wilte accordyng to my trust in thee, and as the freendship whiche is betweene vs doeth require, graunt me thy furtheraunce and helping hand. Wherefore, knowing that through thy long studie in Phisick thou haste attained so greate knowledge, that thou canste de­uise a nomber of secretes, whereof any one might be sufficient to bryng my purpose to effect. I doe require thee to fulfill my desire in that behalfe, and to giue me thy helpe, to bryng this my desire to passe: Whiche if thou dooe, I will acknowledge my self so long as I shall liue, to be so muche bound vnto thee, that thou shalt commaunde me, and all that I haue, in any oc­casion of thine, as freelie and as boldlie, as thou maiest now a­ny thing that is thine owne.

The Scholer when he had heard Gonsales and his de­maunde, stoode stil awhile, as musing vpon the request, and in the meane while discoursed with himself, how by the occasion of his intent, and resolution of Gonsales, he might perhappes finde out a waie, to come by the possession of Agatha, and to haue her in his handes, and at his deuotion. But keepyng se­crete his thoughtes and meanyng, he made hym aunswere: That true it was, that he wanted not secret composissions, to make folke die with poison, so as it could neuer bee discerned by any Phisition, or other, whether the cause were violent, or no, but that for twoo respectes he thought it not good to yeeld vnto his requeste. The one, for that Phisicke and Phisitions, were appointed in the worlde, not to bereue men of their li­ues, but to preserue them, and to cure them of suche diseases, as were daungerous and perillous vnto them: The other, be­cause he did foresee, in what ieoperdie he should put his owne▪ life, whensoeuer he should dispose himself to worke any suche practise, considering how seuerelie the lawes haue prescribed punishmentes for suche offences. And that it might fall out, how warelie so euer the thing were wrought, that by some sel­dome or vnlooked for accident, the matter might bee discoue­red [Page] (as for the moste parte it semeth, that God will haue it) in whiche case he were like to incurre no lesse danger then Gon­sales, and bothe (assured) without remission to lose their liues. And that therefore, he would not for the first respect, take vp­pon hym to doe that, whiche was contrarie to his profession [...] nor for the seconde, hazard his life to so certaine a daunger, for so hatefull a thing, as those practizes are to all the worlde.

Gonsales verie sorie to heare his deniall, told hym that the Lawes and dueties of freendship, doeth dispence well enough with a manne, though for his freende he straine sometyme his conscience. And therefore, he hoped that he would not forsake hym, in a cause that cōcerne him so waightily as that did. And that neither of those twoo respectes (if thei were well consi­dered) ought to be able to remoue him from pleasuryng of his freend. For that now adaies, aswell were thei accompted and esteemed Phisitions, that killed their Pacientes, as thei that did cure them: and because the thyng beeyng kepte secrete be­tweene them twoo alone, he needes not to doubte, or feare any daunger of his life by the Lawe. For if it should by any mis­chaunce happen, that he should be imputed, or burthened with poisoning of his wife, he assured him that he would neuer whi­lest he had breathe, confesse of whom he had the poison, but would rather suffer his tongue to bee pulled out of his hedde, or endure any torment that might bee deuised.

The Scholler at the laste seemyng to bee wonne, by the earnestnesse of his petition: Saied, that vppon that condition and promes, of not reuealing him at any time, he would be cō ­tente, rather to shewe hymself freendlie vnto hym, then a true professour of his Science, or an exacte regarder of his consci­ence: and that he would doe as he would haue him.

And hauyng lefte Gonsales verie glad and ioyfull, for that his promes, he wente home, and made a certaine composition of mixture of pouders, the vertue whereof was suche, that it would make them that tooke any quantitie thereof, to sleape so soundlie, that thei should for the space of certaine howers seme vnto all men, to be starke dedde. And the next daie he re­tourned to Gonsales▪ and to deliuer it vnto him, saiyng: Gon­sales, [Page] you haue caused me to dooe a thyng, I proteste I would not dooe it for my life: But since you maie see thereby, that I haue regarded more your freendshippe, then my duetie, or the consideration of that, whiche is honest and lawfull: I must re­quire you eftsones to remember your promesse, and that you will not declare to any creature liuing, that you haue had this poison of me.

Whiche thing Gonsales verie constauntlie vpon his othe, did promise him againe, and hauyng taken the pouder of him, asked hym in what sorte he was to vse it: And he tolde hym, that if at Supper, he did caste it there vpon her meate, or into her brothe, she should die that night following, without either paine or torment, or any greeuous accidentes, but goe awaie euen as though she were sleape. That Euenyng at Supper tyme, Gonsales failed not to put the pouder into his wiues po­tage, who hauyng taken it, as sone as Supper was doen, fee­lyng her self verie heauie and drousie, wente to her Chamber, and gather to bedde (for she laie not with Gonsales, but when he liste to call he, whiche had been verie seldome, since he did fall into loue with the Strumpet) and within an hower after, the operation of the pouder tooke suche force in her bodie, that she laie as though she had been dead, and altogether sencelesse, Gonsales in like sort when he sawe his time went to his bedd, and liyng all that night with a troubled mynde, thinkyng what would become of Agatha, and what successe his enter­prise would take: the morning came vpon him, before he could once close his eyes, whiche beyng come he rose, not doubtyng but that he should assuredlie finde his wife dedde, as Alonso had promised him. And as soone as he was vp, he wente out of his house, and staied but an hower abroad, and then he retour­ned home againe, and asked his Maide, whether her Mistres were vp or no. The Maiden made him aunswere, that she was yet a sleape: And he makyng as though he had meruailed at her long liyng in bedde, demaunded her how it happened that she was so sluggishe that Mornyng, contrarie to her custome, whiche was to rise euery Mornyng by breake of the daie, and had her goe and wake her, for he would haue her to giue hym [Page] some thing, that laie vnder her Keyes. The wenche according to her Maisters commaundement, went to her Mistres bedde side, and hauyng called her once or twise some what softelie, when she sawe she waked not, she laied her hande vppon her, and giuing her a shagge, she saied withall, Mistres awake, my Maister calleth for you. But she liyng still, and not awakyng for all that the Maide tooke her by the arme, and beganne to shake her good and harde: and she not vnderstandyng, neither aunswering, nor stirring hande or foote. The Maide returned to her Maister, and tolde hym that for aught she could doe, she could not gette her Mistres to awake. Gonsales hearyng the Maide to saie so, was glad in his minde: But feinyng himself to bee busied about somewhat els, and that he regarded little her speeche, he bidde her goe againe, and shake her till she did waken. The Maide did so, and rolled and tumbled her in her bedde, and all in vaine: wherefore commyng againe vnto her Maister, she saied vnto him, that vndoubtedlie she did beleeue, that her Mistres his wife was dedde, for she had founde her ve­rie colde, and rolled her vp and doune the bedde, and that yet she stirred not. What? dedde ꝙ Gonsales, as if he had been all agaste and amazed, and rising therewithall, he wente to her beddes side, and called her, and shaked her, and wrong her by the fingers, and did all that might be, as he thought, to se whi­ther she were aliue? But she not feeling any thing that he did, laie still like a dedde bodie, or rather like a stone.

Wherfore, when he sawe his purpose had taken so good ef­fecte, to dissemble the matter, he beganne to crie out, and to la­ment, and to detest his cruell Destinie, that had so soone bere­ued him of so kind, so honest, and so faithful a wife: and hauing in th'ende discouered her bodie, and finding no spot or marke, whereby any token or signe of poisonyng might be gathered, as one that would not seme to omit any office of a louing hus­bande, he sent for the Phisition to looke vpon her, who hauing vsed some suche meanes, as he thought meete to make her come to herself: finally, seyng her to remain vnmoueable, and without sence, concluded, that some sodaine accident had takē her in the night, wherof she had died, and for dedde he left her.

[Page] At whiche his resolution, though Gonsales were very glad yet to the outward shewe, declaryng himself to be verie sorie, and full of woe and heauinesse, he behaued hym self in snche cunning sort, as he made all the worlde beleeue, that he would not liue long after her. And hauyng called her freendes, and lamented with them her sodaine death, and his misfortune: in fine, he caused her Funerall to bee verie sumptuouslie and ho­nourablie prepared, and buried her in a Vaute, whiche serued for a Toumbe to all his auncestours, in a Churche of a Frie­rie, that standes without the Citee.

Alonso that was verie well acquainted with the place, and had hymself a house, not verie farre from that Frierie, wente his waie that same Night vnto his saied house, and when he sawe the tyme to serue for his purpose, he gatte hym to the Vaute or Toumbe, wherein Agatha was laied, with one of these little Lanterns, that thei call blinde Lanterns (because thei tourne them, and hide their light when thei liste.) And be­cause he was a yong manne of verie good strengthe, and had brought with him instrumentes of Iron to open the Toumbe, and lift vp the stone that couered it, he gat it open, and hauyng vnder propped it surelie: He went into the Vaute, and tooke the woman straight waie in his armes, mindyng to bryng her out, and carrie her awaie so a sleape as she was. But the force and vertue of the pouder, beeyng finished and spent, assone as he moued her, she awaked out of her sleape, and seeyng her self clad in that sorte, emong ragges and dedde bones, she began to tremble, and to cry: alas where am I? Or who hath brought me hether, wretche that I am? Marie that hath your cruell and vnfaithfull housebande, aunswered the Scholer: who ha­uyng poisoned you, to Marrie a common Strumpet, hath bu­ried you here, whether I come to trie if by my skill I could reuiue you, and call backe your soule by those remedies, which I had deuised vnto your bodie againe: Whiche if I could not haue doen, as I intended, I was resolued to haue died hereby you, and to haue laied my dedde bodie here by yours, to reste vntill the latter daie, hopyng that my Spirite should in the meane while haue come and enioyed yours, where euer it had [Page] been. But since the Heauens haue been so fauorable vnto me, as in this extreame daunger wherein you were, to graunte suche vertue vnto the remedies, whiche I haue vsed towarde you, as the whiche I haue been able to kepe vndissolued, your gentle Spirite with your faire bodie. I hope (my deare) that you will henceforthe consider, what the affection of your wic­ked housebande hath been toward you, and how greate good will, and by consideration thereof, discerne and resolue which of vs twoo hath beste deserued to be beloued of you.

Agatha findyng her self in that sort buried in deede, did ea­sily beleeue the truthe whiche the Scholer told her, and to her self concluded, that her housebande had shewed hymself in her behalf, a man of all other moste cruell and dis [...]all. Wherfore tournyng her self toward the Scholer, she saied vnto hym.

Alonso, I can not deny, but that my housebande hath been to me, not onely vnkinde, but cruell also: nor I can not but cō ­fesse, that you haue declared your self to be moste louyng and affectioned toward me: and of force I must acknowledge my self beholding vnto you, of no lesse then of my life, since (alas) I se my self here emong dedde bodies buried aliue. But for as muche, although my housebande haue broken his vowe to me. I haue not yet at any tyme failed my faithe to hym. I doe re­quire you, that if you desire that I should esteme this kind and louing office of yours, as it deserueth to be esteemed, or make accompt of this life, whiche you haue giuen me, you will haue due regard and consideration of myne honestie, and that you will not by offering me any villanie (whiche neuerthelesse I can not any waie missedoubt, where I haue alwaies found so muche and so great courtesie) make this your courteous and pitifull acte to be lesse commendable, and praise worthie then it is. Whiche if you do bridle your vnlawfull and sensuall ap­petite and desire, will remain the moste vertuous and worthie of honor and fame, that euer courteous Gentleman hath do [...]n for a miserable woman, since the worlde beganne.

Alonso failed not with affectuall and manifest argumētes to perswade her, that her housebande had now no more right or title to her at all, and that although he had, yet if she were [Page] wise, she should not commit her self vnto his courtesie again, since by this mortall token, he had giuen her a sufficient testi­monie of his ranckor, and euil will towardes her, whereby she might well enough bee assured not to escape, when soeuer she should resolue, to put her self againe into his handes: and that therefore she was not to make any accoumpte of hym, but to shewe her self thanckfull, for so greate a benefite as she had re­ceiued, and to requite hym so with her fauour and courtesie, as he might now in the ende, attaine to gather the frute of his long and constaunt good will, and of his trauell sustained for the saffegarde of her life. And with those woordes bendyng himself toward her, he would haue taken a kisse of her lippes. But Agatha thrustyng hym backe, saied vnto hym againe. If my housebande (Alonso) haue broken those bandes, wherwith I was knitte vnto hym by Matrimonie, through his wicked and leude demeanour, yet haue not I for my parte dissolued them, neither will I at any tyme, so long as I shall liue. As for committing my self vnto his courtesie, or going any more into his handes, therein I thinke it good to followe your ad­uise: not that I would bee vnwillyng to liue and dwell with him, if I might hope to finde hym better disposed: but because I would bee lothe to fall eftsones into the like daunger and greeuous perill. And as for requiting you, for this your com­mendable trauaile in my behalf, I knowe not what better re­compence I am able to giue you, then to rest bound vnto you for euer, and to acknowledge my self beholdyng vnto pour courtesie for my life: whiche obligation if it maie satisfie you, I will be as glad and as content, as I maie be in this misera­ble state wherein I am. But if your meanyng perchaunce be, that the losse of mine honestie, should bee the reward and hire for your paines, I doe beseche you to depart hence out of this tombe, and to leaue me here inclosed, for I had rather die here thus buried quicke, through the [...]rueltie of my housband, then through any suche compassion or pitie to saue my life, with the losse of mine honour and good name.

The Scholer by those wordes, perceiued well enough the honest disposition of Agarha, whiche he wondered at, conside­ryng [Page] that the terror of death it self was not able once to moue her from her faithfulnesse and cōstancie of mind. And though it were greeuous vnto hym to finde her so stedfast, yet hopyng that by tyme in the ende he might ouercome her chast and ho­nest purpose, aunswered: that he could not but commende her for her disposition, though he deserued a kinder recompence of his long and feruent loue, and she a more louing and faithfull housband. But since she was so resolued, he would frame him self to be content with what she would, and not craue of her a­ny thyng that she would not willyngly graunt hym to haue. And therewith helpyng her out of the Sepulcher, he led her home vnto his house, and left her there with an olde woman that kept his house, to whom he recomended her, and whose helpe he was assured of, to dispose the good will of Agatha to­wardes hym, and the next mornyng returned into the Citie.

Gonsales after a fewe daies, seeming not to be able to liue without a wife to take care of his familie, wedded that honest Dame Aselgia, and made her Mistres of hymself and all that he had. This his newe Mariage so sone contriued, caused the freendes of Agatha to maruaile not a little, and to misdoubt that the sodaine death of their kinsewoman, had not happened without some misterie. Neuerthelesse, hauing no token nor e­uidence or proofe, thei held their peace. But Gonsales hauyng his desired purpose and liuyng with his newe wife, it befell vnto hym (through Gods iust Iudgement with this his ioly Dame) as it chaunced to Agatha with hym before. For Asel­gia that was neuer wont to feede with so spare a diet, as she that had neuer bin contented before without greate chaunge, nor had not bin vsed to that kinde of straigtnesse (which Gon­sales growing ielous of her, began to keepe her in) but had al­waies liued at libertie, and with suche licenciousnesse, as wo­men of her profession are wont to doe, became in shorte space to shewe her self so precise vnto hym, and to hate and abhorre hym in suche extreme sorte, that she could not abide to see, or heare hym spoken of. By occasion of whiche her demeanour towardes him: Gonsales to his greefe began at last, to knowe and to discerne what difference there is betweene the honest [Page] and carefull loue of an honest wife, and the dissemblyng of an arrant Strumpet. Wherefore one daie among the rest, com­plainyng of the little loue whiche he perceiued she bare hym, and she aunsweryng hym thawartly. Gonsales fallyng into heate of Choler, saied angerly vnto her: haue I thou naughty packe poysoned Agatha for thy sake, that was the kindest and the louingest wife that euer man had, and is this the rewarde I haue and the requitall thou yeeldest me, to showe thy self e­uery daie more despightefull and crabbed then other? Aselgia hauyng harde hym and noted well his wordes, tooke holde of them, and straight waie thought that she had founde the waie to rid her self of Gonsales: wherefore she reueiled his speeches vnto a Ribalde of hers, such a one as supplied her want of that which Gonsales alone nor ten suche as he were able to satisfie her withall, and induced hym to appeache hym for that facte, assuryng her self that the Lawe would punishe hym with no lnsse then death, and thereby she to remaine at libertie to doe what she list againe, as she had doen before. This companion accused Gonsales vpon his owne wordes vnto the freendes of Agatha, who hauyng had half a suspition thereof before, went and accused hym likewise before y^e Iudge, or hed Magistrate of the Citie. Whervpon Gonsales and his woman were both apprehended and put to their examinations, to searche out the truth: which Gonsales being halfe conuicted by the confession of the gentle peate his new wife, but chiefly grieued with the worme of his owne conscience, and to auoyde the torment of those terrors whiche he knewe were prepared for him, confes­sed flatly, affirmyng that he had poysoned her with a poyson whiche he had kept of long tyme before in his house, perfour­myng yet therein the promise whiche he had made vnto the Sholler. And vpon his owne confession, sentence was giuen against hym that he should loose his hed.

Alonso, when he vnderstoode that Gonsaler was condem­ned to dye, was very glad thereof, supposyng that he beeyng once dead, Agatha (who all this while for any thyng that the olde woman could saie or alledge vnto her in the behalfe of A­lonso, would neuer yeeld or consent to any one point wherein [Page] her honour might haue beene touched or spotted) should re­maine at his discretion, and that she would no longer refuse to graunt hym her good will when she should see her self deliue­red of Gonsales. But the daie beyng come wherein he was to be put to execution, she hauyng had inteligence of all that had passed, and knowyng that he was appointed to dye that daie, determined with her self that she would in that extremitie de­liuer her disloyall housebande, and giue hym to vnderstande how little she had deserued to bee so entreated by hym as she had been. Wherefore hauyng gotten out of Alonso his house, she hied her vnto the Citie as fast as she could, and beeyng be­fore the Iustice or Magistrate she saied vnto hym. Sir, Gon­sales whom you haue condemned and commaunded to be put to death this daie, is wrongfully condemned: for it is not true that he hath poysoned his wife, but she is yet aliue, and I am she. Therefore I beseeche you giue order that execution maie be staied, since that your sentence is grounded vpon a false en­formation and confession is vniust, and you maie plainely dis­cerne by me beyng here.

When the Gouernour heard Agatha speake in this sorte, whom he had thought to haue beene deade and buried, he was all amazed and halfe afraied to looke vpon her, doubtyng that she was rather her spirite or Ghoste, or some other in her like­nesse then a liuely woman in deede: for she was apparelled in a very plaine and black attyre, and was very wanne and pale by reason of the affliction which she had indured. First, for her owne il fortune, and then for the mischaunce of her housband.

In this meane while, the Sargantes and Officers had brought Gonsales before the Iustice or Magistrate, to the ende that he (accordyng to the custome of the Citie) should giue them commaundement to leade hym to the place of exe­cution, and there to fulfill his sentence vpon him. But as sone as Agatha perceiued hym, she ranne vnto hym, and takyng hym about the necke and kissing him she saied. Alas my deere housebande, wherevnto doe I see you brought through your own folly and disordinate appetite which blinded your iudge­ment. Beholde here your Agatha aliue and not deade: who [Page] euen in that extremitie is come to shewe her self, that louyng and faithfull wife vnto you, that she was euer.

The Iustice or Gouernour seyng this straunge accident, caused execution to be staied, and signified the whole case vnto the Lorde of the Countrey, who at that tyme chaunced to bee at Sciuill: who wonderyng no lesse then the other at the mat­ter, caused bothe Gonsales and his wife to bee brought before him, and demaunded of them how it had chaunced that she ha­uyng bin buried for dead was now founde aliue. Gonsales, could saie nothyng but that for the loue he bare vnto Aselgia he had poysoned his wife, and that he knewe not how she was reuiued againe. But Agatha, declared how the Scholer with his skill had deliuered her from death, and restored her life vn­to her, but how or by what meanes she could not tell.

The Lorde hauyng sent for Alonso, and demaunded hym of the truth, was certified by hym, how that in steede of poison he had giuen to Gonsales a Pouder to make her sleape: Affir­myng likewise that notwithstandyng the long and earnest pursuite, whiche he had made to obtaine her loue, and the cru­eltie and iniurie whiche she sawe her housebande had vsed to­warde her, to put her in that daunger and perill of her life, out of whiche he had deliuered her, yet could he neuer by any per­swasion or entreatie winne her to fulfill his desire, or bryng her to make breache of her faithe and honestie. By whiche re­porte the Lorde knewe very well, that in an honest woman the regarde and respect of her honour and chastitie, doth farre exceede any other passion, for any miserie be it neuer so great. And commendyng highly the loue, and constancie of the wo­man towarde her housebande, and praisyng the pollicie of A­lonso, he tourned hymself vnto Gonsales, and saied vnto hym: Full euill hast thou deserued to haue so good, and so verteous a Gentlewoman to thy wife, and in reason she ought now ra­ther to be Alonso his wife then thine: Neither wert thou wor­thie of lesse then that punishment, whiche the Lawe hath con­dempned thee vnto, though she be yet aliue, since thou, asmuch as in thee laie, hast doen, to bereue her of her life. But I am content that her vertue and goodnesse, shall so much be auaile­able [Page] vnto thee, that thou shalt haue thy life spared vnto thee for this tyme: not for thy owne sake, because thou deseruese it not, but for hers, and not to giue her that sorrowe and greefe, whiche I knowe she would feele, if thou shouldest dye in that sorte. But I sware vnto thee, that if euer I maie vnderstande that thou doest vse her hencefoorth, otherwise then louingly and kindly, I wil make thee to thy greeuous paine proue how seuerely I can punishe suche beastly and heinous factes, to the example of all others.

Gonsales imputyng his former offence, to want of witte and Iudgement, made promise vnto the Lorde, that he would alwaies doe as he had commaunded hym. And accordyngly hauyng forsaken cleane that baggage Strumpet, that he had wedded: He liued all the rest of his daies in good loue and peace with Agatha his wife, whose chaste and constant mind, caused Alonso wher before he loued her for her excertor beau­tie, euer after to reuerence her, and in maner to worshipp her as a diuine creature, for the excellēcie of her ver­tue. Resoluyng with hymself that a more con­stant faith and honest disposition could not bee founde in any mortall woman.

Of Aramanthus. borne a Leper.

I Shall not neede by any long cir­cumstaunce to describe, how ma­ny troubles, tumultes, broyles, Brabbles, Murthers, Treasons, how kingdomes haue béen distur­bed? How many Countries laied waste? How many Cities haue been sacked? How many Tounes haue beene rased, and how many mischeefes haue euer happened, sithence the first creation of the worlde, vntill this present daie, by that monsterous vice Ambition. Considering that euery Historie maketh mention, euery Chronicle beareth recorde, and euery age, tyme, and season, haue seen with their eyes, and this our tale that follo­weth shall some thyng make more euident.

There was sometyme remainyng in the famous Citie of Tolosia a worthie Kyng, whose name was Rodericke: who [Page] was likewise espoused to a moste vertuous Queene called Isabell, and truely a happie Courte it might be called, whiche thei held, as well for the loue that was betweene the King and Queene: as for the vertue and clemencie, wherewith bothe the one and the other were accompanied.

There was remainyng in the Court, the Duke of Ca [...]ia, who was the onely brother of Rodericke Kyng of Tolosia: This Duke beyng a greate deale more vicious then his [...]e­ther was verteous, practised no other thing, but how he might come by the Kingdome of Tolosia: Knowing that there were no more betweene hym and it but the Kyng, who loued hym more dearely by a greate deale then he deserued. But it fell out the Queene Isabell was knowne to bee with childe, the Duke very lothe that any other heires should steppe in be­twene hym and home, deuised to poyson the Queene, & so had thought to haue doen, by as many as the Kyng should haue taken to wife (if at any tyme thei proued to be with childe) but by the prouidence of God, this poison tooke no great effect in the Queene, sauyng that when she was deliuered of a sonne, the child was found to be in a notable Leprosie, and the Kyng hauing intelligence of an excellent Phisition, (but especially for the curyng of that desease) was remainyng in the Ile of Candy, prepared a Shipp presently to sende the child, which by the extreamitie of a contrary winde, was driuen into Tur­kie, and the Shippe cast awaie vppon the maine, and all the men drouned exceptyng the childe, whiche beeyng in a Cra­dle was carried to the Shore as it laie. Where a Fisherman founde it, with suche sumptuous furnitures aboute it, with a very riche Iewell hangyng about the necke. He tooke it vp in his armes, and carriyng it home, with Bathes and homely Oyntmentes of his owne deuising, within a very little space, the childe was restored to perfecte health, whom he called A­ramanthus, and brought hym vp as his owne Soonne, the childe knowyng no other in deede, but that the Fisherman had been his father, and as Aramanthus grewe in yeares, so he proued of a very comely personage, but of a most excellent and perfecte witte, although he had no other trainyng vp, but [Page] vsed to goe to the Sea with his father a fishyng.

Now it fell out that the Turke was leauiyng a mightie Armie, to set vpon the Christians, the cause was t [...]is, he had twoo children, a sonne and a daughter, the daughter her name was Florella, whose beautie was very excellent, and mindyng to match his daughter with some noble Prince, he pretended that suche Countries, Cities, Townes, Castelles, Fortes, or what so euer he could by conquest get from the Christians, to giue them all for his daughters dowrie.

Aramanthus hearyng of this preparation to the Warres, would needes become a Souldiour, where at his father the Fisherman was greatly displeased, and beganne to preache vnto his sonne of the incommodities of warre, and with how many miseries Souldiers are besieged. Aramanthus whose basenesse of his bringyng vp, could not conceale the nobilitie of his birth, would in no wise be perswaded but goe he would, and beyng pressed for an ordinarie Souldiour, when he came to the place of seruice shewed hymself so valiaunt, and in very shorte space became to be so expert, that that Captaine vnder whose Ensigne he serued, bare awaie the credite from all the rest: and in the ende was hymself preferred to charge, whiche he gouerned with so great discretion, and still conducted with suche celeritie and sleight, that who but Aramanthus and his companie had the onely name throughout the Turkes cāpe, and where there was any attempt to bee giuen, where valian­cie should bee showne, Aramanthus he must giue the charge, and where any policie must be put in practise, Aramanthus he must laie the platte: that to be shorte, he grewe into suche cre­dite with the greate Turke hymself, that Aramanthus onely gaue hym counsaill in all his affaires, and there with all had so good successe, that his practises still preuailed, and came to happie end, that the Turke by his aduise, had doen wonderfull spoyles vpon the Christians, and had taken from them many Cities, Tounes, and Prouinces.

And thus leauyng them in the warres for a season, I will conuaie my tale againe to Isabell Queene and wife to Rode­ricke, who was now the second time knowne to be with child, [Page] whereat the Duke of Caria beeyng wonderfullie wrothe, pre­tendyng to finde a quicke dispatche for all together, he secret­lie accused the Queene of Adulterie, to the King his brother, and with suche allegations, and false witnesses as he had pro­uided, so informed the King that his tale was credited: and the rather for that the king knowing his Queene to be with child did thinke himself too farre spent in yeres, to do suche a deede. And yet the King was replenished with so greate pitee, that he could not indure to heare of her death: He therefore by a messenger, commaunded her presentlie to depart the Court: and in paine of her life, neuer after to come in his presence. These newes did wonderfullie amaze the Queene, who with many piteous intercessions, desired to knowe her accusers, and that she might but speake for her self before his Maiestie, and then as he should finde her, to vse her according to her de­sertes. But all in vaine, for the Duke had so throughlie incen­sed the King, that he would neither abide to see, nor heare her. The duke vnderstanding how matters had passed, came to the Queene, and semed muche to lament her case, perswading her to hold her self contented for a little season, not doubtyng but in tyme, that he hymself would so perswade with his brother, that she should bee heard to speake in her owne defence, in the meane season, if it pleased her to vse his house in the Countrie he would prouide for her all maner of necessaries, what soe­uer she should wante, and for her better comforte, if she had a­ny assured freend, whose companie she desired, that she might secretelie sende for them, to holde her fellowship, and to passe the tyme: and that he hymself would many tymes visite her, and daiely informe her, how matters did passe in her behalfe, with the King his brother.

The poore Queene, thinkyng all had to proceede of good will whiche this Traitor had proffered, gaue him more then a thousand thankes, reposing her self, and the innocencie of her cause, onely in this Iudas, who practized nothyng els but her death, and the death of that she went withall.

The next daie he prouided a couple of Ruffians, suche as he knewe were for his purpose, whiche should haue secretelie [Page] conueighed her to the Dukes houses (as she had thought) but as the Duke had willed them, as thei rode ouer a Forest, whē thei came to the side of a woode, thei tooke her from her horse, spoyled her of suche thynges as were aboute her, and mynded to haue killed her, and throwne her in some Bushe: But it fell out that there were certaine banished menne in the Woode, whiche liued in that desarte in maner of Outlawes, and hea­ryng the piteous complainte of the Queene, thei came to her rescue, but the villaines that would haue slain her, perceiuing them, fledde, and lefte the Queene, where these Outlawes came vnto her: vnto whom from poinct to poinct she declared euery thing, how it was happened vnto her, the Outlawes ha­uing greate compassion, whē thei knewe her to be the Quene for that thei had euer heard her to bee Noblie reported on, brought her with theim to their Caue, where thei ministered suche releef to her distresse, as menne might doe that were in their estates. The Queene thinkyng that God had preserued her life, to some better purpose, contented her self for a season, to remaine emongest theim: Where she learned to plaie the Cooke, and to dresse their meate, suche as thei brought in, or could prouide for in the Forest. And thus leauyng the Quene with these Outlawes, I will retourne againe to speake of A­ramanthus, who was now deuisyng to frame a plotte, how he might betraie the Citee of Tolosia, whereof his Father was Kyng, as you haue heard.

For the Turke hauyng intelligence, of the pleasauntnesse of this Citee, and of the wonderfull wealthe and riches, wher­with it did abounde, and therewithall had learned, that it was of suche force and inuinsible strengthe, that there was no ma­ner of hope, how it might be subdued, whereat the Turke was verie sorowfull and sadde.

But my yong Fisherman Aramanthus, whose cunnyng neuer failed, where courage could net help, caused the Turke with his whole armie by sea, to come before this Citee, which is situate fast vpon the sea side, and there to come to an anker, where Aramanthus hymself; as a messenger appoincted from the Turke, came to the kyng of Tolosia, to whom he told this [Page] tale: That the Turke his Maister, hauyng been in diues par­tes of Christendome, where he had made warres a long space, and vpon diuers considerations, mindyng to departe with his Armie, into his owne Countrey for a season, and beyng vpon the Seas: one night as he was liyng vpon his bedde, behold, a vision appeared vnto hym in a Dreame, whiche shewed hym how greeuouslie he had offended the God of the Christians, in the persecutyng, spoilyng, and the murtheryng of them, as he had doen in this iourney, and for that he should know, that the Christian God, was the moste high and Almightie God in deede, whom with his tyrannie he had so displeased, he should bee creepled of al [...] his limmes from that tyme forthe, till his diyng daie, whiche should verie shortly followe, with this he a­waked, and giuyng a piteous grone, suche as was about hym commyng vnto hym, found hym in a wonderfull maze, and so benummed in all his partes, that he was not able to stir hande nor foote: The nexte daie callyng his Counsailers and Cap­taines about hym, not able of hymself to come forthe emongst theim, but as he was brought out of his Cabbin on mennes backes, he declared vnto them the whole circumstaunce of the premisses, and beyng striken with a wonderfull remorse in cō ­science, he determined to saile backe againe, not mindyng to depart frō out those partes of Christendome, till he had made satisfaction of all suche spoiles and outrages, as he had com­mitted against the Christians, and hymself with his whole ar­mie to become Christened, and there to bee instructed in the true and perfect faith, and as he continued this determinatiō, behold, a contrary winde hath driuen vs on these parts, where hearyng of the Fame of this Noble Citee of Tolosia, he hath sent me vnto your grace, desiryng nothing but your saffe con­ducte for hymself, and certaine of his cheef Lordes and Coun­sailors that be about hym, that in this noble Citee thei might be Baptized, and receiue the Christian faithe, promising here­after, not onely to ioyne in league, and perfect amitie with the Christians, but also to lincke with them in Religion, hymself, his Countries, Kyngdomes, and Prouinces.

This tale was not so smoothly told, but there was greate [Page] doubte and suspition had in the matter, in the ende thinkyng thei could receiue no preiudice, by receiuing of so smal a nom­ber, gaue safe condite for the Turke hymself, and for fiue hun­dred of his companie, suche as it pleased himself to appoincte.

The next daie, the Turke was brought into the Citee on mennes shulders, with his appointed companie, where he was worthely receiued by the king himself, with the rest of his lor­des, and brought into a Pallace of purpose, very richely furni­shed, where beyng laied doune vpon a bedde, as though he had been able neither to stande nor sit, and giuyng the King, with the rest of his companie, great thankes for his entertainment he desired him with the Duke his brother (according to the cu­stome) to be his Godfathers when he should be Christened, to whiche request thei bothe willyngly agreed: the next daie the Turke hymself was the first that receiued Christendome, and then all the rest of his noble men that wer with him, the which beyng finished, many godlie exhortations were preached vnto theim by learned menue. The Turke seemed in verie grate­full maner to take this curtesie, wherewith the King had vsed him: and thus taking his leaue himself with all his companie, departed againe aborde the shippes: the Turke himself beyng caried vpon mennes backes, making showe as though he had been so feeble and weake, that he had not been able to haue moued, or stirred any one ioynte without helpe, fainyng that he would haue departed with his companie into Turkie.

The King of Tolosia with all his people and Citezens, se­yng with what deuotion the Turke with the reste of his com­panie, had receiued Christendome, began to thinke assuredly, that onely by the Diuine prouidence of God, the Turke was so conuerted, and doubted nothyng of the tale, whiche Ara­manthus before had told them, whiche tourned in the ende to their vtter subuersion. For the nexte daie Aramanthus com­myng againe to the Kyng, brought woorde of the death of the Turke, and with a piteous discourse vttered, with a nomber of fained sighes, saied: that about twelue a clocke of the night past, the Turke deceased, and desired at the houre of his death that as in this worthie Citee, he had receiued the true and Ca­tholike [Page] faithe, so likewise that he might bee entoumbed, and receiue Christian buriall in the Cathedrall Churche, to the whiche he had giuen by his will fourtie thousande Frankes, more to the common Treasure of the Citee, an hundred thou­sande Frankes, to the King himself as a president of his good will, a riche Iewell, whiche hymself did weare of greate esti­mation, to the Duke his brother, his owne Armour and fur­niture. Item, to the releef of the poore within the Citee, tenne thousande Frankes. Many other thinges (ꝙ Aramanthus) he hath bequeathed, that I haue not spoken of, the whiche God willyng, shalbe performed to the vttermoste.

The king semed greatly to lament the death of the Turke and began to coniecture assuredly, that it was the will of God but to preserue his life, till he had receiued Christendome, but the time of his buriall, was deferred for certain daies, til thin­ges might be prouided, and more readie for the pompe, and so­lemnising of his Funerall, and wonderfull cost was bestowed by Aramanthus, who had the onely ordering of the matter, ho­ping in the ende to receiue the whole commoditie: and also to be rewarded with a large and bountifull intrest. The daie of buriall beyng at hande, Aramanthus desired the king, that for so muche as the Turke had finished his daies in the middest of his armie emongst his Souldiers, that he might likewise bee buried like a noble captain, and according to the maner of the feeld: he might be brought to his graue with certaine bandes, trailing their weapons, as the custome of souldiers is to burie their dedde. This request seemed to bee verie conuenient, and therefore was the readilier graunted: but what should I stand with long circumstance, to discipher all the Ceremonies that wer vsed in this treason. The daie was come, that this practise must be put in vre, and an emptie coffin solempnly brought to the citee, vnder shewe of greate sorrowe, when thei were al fil­led with greate ioye and gladnesse, to se what happie successe was like to followe, of that thei had premeditated, and accor­dyng as Aramanthus had giuen order, 5000. of their chose men were appoincted to marche, the one halfe before, and the other half after the Coffin, trailyng their Ensignes and wea­pons, [Page] and in this maner thei entred the Citee, where the king with his nobles and principalles of the Citee, were readie in mournyng weedes to accompanie the Corse. When Aramā ­nthus sawe his tyme, the Alarum was giuen, and he hymself was the first that laied handes of the king his Father, the rest of his nobles were so enclosed, that there could not one of thē escape: Defence there was none to bee made, for the one side were in Armes, killyng and murtheryng of as many as thei could see stirryng in the streates: The other side vnprouided, glad to hide theim selues, for the sauegard of their liues: The reste of the fleete were likewise in a readinesse, and commyng a lande, entred the Citee, where there was no man to repulse them. And thus the famous Citee of Tolosia was taken by the Turkes, euen in a moment, without any maner of resistance: the churches and prisons were filled full of Christians, where thei were whipped, racked, and tormented to the death, vnlesse thei would forsake their Faithe. The kyng hymself with his brother, and all the Lordes, were committed to prison, there to bee fedde with breade and water (and yet to be scantled with suche short allowaunce, as it was not able to suffice Nature) and so to be dieted, vnlesse thei would forsake their Faithe.

Now the Turke, who onely by the meanes of Aramanthus, had cōquered from the Christians so many citees and tounes, for the loue he bare vnto hym, and in respect of his seruice, de­termined to make Aramanthus his sonne in lawe, and to giue hym his daughter Florella for his wife: and for her dowrie, all suche partes as he had taken from the Christians by conquest and vnderstandyng that the father of Aramanthus was but a poore Fisherman, he pretended likewise to make hym a duke, and to giue hym liuyng to maintaine his estate. The Turke therfore with allpossible speede, hasted messengers with ship­pyng, to bryng his daughter, with the old Fisherman, the sup­posed Father of Aramanthus, to this Citie of Tolosia, where he minded to performe that he had determined.

Now it fell out, that the miserable Queene Isabell (whom you haue heard was lefte with child, remainyng with certaine Outlawes) was deliuered of a Daughter, whiche she her self [Page] nursed in the Caue, where she had remained, and hearyng that the Turke had taken the Citee of Tolosia, would needes goe see what was become of the kyng her housebande: her daugh­ter whiche was not yet fullie a yere olde, she committed to the Outlawes, to bee fostered with suche homelie Iunkettes, as their could prouide, wo seeyng her determination, promised to drie Nurse the child, so well as thei could, till she should make retourne. Thus preparyng her self in a verie simple attire, with a bondle of Broomes on her hedde, she came to the Citee of Tolosia, where romyng vp and doune the streates to sell her Broomes, she learned all that had happened to the Kyng, and how he was ready to perishe, for want of foode and sustenance wherefore myndyng to giue suche succours, as her habilitie would serue: She deuised in the maner of a poore seruaunt, to gette into the seruice of the Turke, who was the Iailer, and had the custodie of the Kyng, where euery Night, as oportuni­tie would serue, she conueighed to hym through a grate, suche fragmentes as she spared out of her owne bealie, whiche were verie shorte, and there withall muche more homelie, but somthyng the better to amende his cheare. She would leane her self cloase to the grate, and thrustyng in her Teate be­tweene the Irons, the king learned againe to sucke, and thus she dieted him a long season. Neither wiste the kyng what she was, that bestowed on hym so greate grace and goodnesse: yet he blessed her more then a thousande tymes a daie. And al­though there were many of his companie, that died for wante of sustenaunce, yet he again with these banquettes recouered himself, and beganne to waxe strong. Whereat the Turke be­ganne to suspecte some parcialitie in the Iailer, and caused a priuie watche to bee kept: but Isabell suspectyng nothyng, ac­cording to her accustomed maner, at night when it was darke came to her Nurseri [...], where her order that she so long vsed, was espied, and beeyng apprehended by the watche, the nexte daie she was presented to the Turke, and in what maner thei had founde her, whereat the Turke wonderfullie agreeued: Sware by Mahounde hym self, that she should presently bee tortured, with the greatest tormentes that might be deuised. [Page] And in the middest of his furie, woorde was brought hym that his Daughter Florella, with the Fisherman that was Father to Aramanthus were arriued, and readie to present them sel­ues before hym, whereat the Turke wonderfullie reioysed, and ca [...]lyng Aramanthus, caused them to bee brought in, Flo­rella gaue that reuerence to the Turke, whiche bothe apper­tained to the duetie of a Childe, and also as belonged to his e­state. Aramanthus likewise, although he were the greateste Counsailour, appertinent to the Turke, yet vsed that dutifull reuerence to the Fisherman his Father, as is to bee required in a Childe. The Turke imbracyng his Daughter Florella, tolde her the cause that he had sent for her, was to espouse her to Aramanthus, who although the Destinies had denaied to make Noble by place of birthe, yet through his Vertues, Va­liaunce, and worthie exploites, he had gained the title of true Nobilitie, in despite of Fortunes teeth. Florella hauing heard of the Fame and worthinesse of Aramanthus, was the beste pleased woman in the worlde.

And the Turke turnyng hym towardes the Fisherman, saied: And a thousande times happie art thou old Father, that hast liued to see thy self so highly exalted in thy ofspryng: The poore Fisherman kneelyng doune, saied: Moste mightie, and magnificente Prince, not mindyng longer to conceale the thyng, whiche might redounde so greatly to the contentation of suche worthie personages, seeyng then that Aramanthus, who onely through his own valiancie, hath aspired to so great dignitie and honour. How greatly were I then to be blamed, and how worthely might I bee condemned? If I should take vpon me to be the sire of hym, who by all likelihood, is descen­ded of Roiall and Princely race, for better testimonie, behold this riche Mantell, and these other costly furnitures, wherein I founde Aramanthus wrapped, and by seemyng saued by his Cradell, whiche brought hym a Shoore, from some Shippe that was wracked, where I founde hym by the Sea side (as I saie) wrapped in these sumptuous Furnitures, with this riche and precious Iewell about his necke, beyng but an In­faunte▪ by coniecture not aboue the age of a quarter of a yere, [Page] where takyng hym vp in my armes, I brought hym home to my house, called hym by the name of Aramanthus, and thus fostered hym vp as my owne child, vntil the daie that he came to serue your Maiestie in the Warres.

The Queene Isabell whiche stoode by, and heard this dis­course, and seing the furnitures and the Iewelles, wherewith she had decked her childe, assuryng her self that Aramanthus was her sonne, could no longer staie her speeche, but said: And doe I then beholde my sonne with my vnhappie eyes, is he li­uyng here in presence, whom I deemed to be dead? Oh moste gracious Gods I yeelde you humble thankes, and would to God my sonne thy commyng had been but halfe so happie, as thy presence is ioyfull to me thy wretched mother. What ne­wes be these (ꝙ the Turke) whiche I heard, I thinke the wo­man be out of her wits: but what art thou that wouldest cha­lenge Aramanthus for thy sonne, whose parentes now I well perceiue, are no beggers like thy self. Yes surely (quoth the Queene) and muche more miserable, then those that goe from doore to doore: and although his father sometyme swaied the sword of gouernement, and satt in place and seate of Princely Throne. Dispatche then at once (ꝙ the Turke) and tell me who is his father, and what is the miserie wherwith he is per­plexed: wherein if thou canst perswade me with a truth, assure thee that onely for Aramanthus sake, I am the man that will minister release.

Behold then (ꝙ the Queene) Kyng Rodericke is his Fa­ther, whom thy self keepest here in prison, in this miserable maner, and I whom thou seest here am his mother, the wife of the Kyng, and sometyme the Queene of this wretched Ci­tie of Tolosia, who beeyng deliuered of a sonne, whiche by the pleasure of GOD was visited in my wombe, and borne in an extreame Leprosie: for helpe whereof he was sent by his Fa­ther by Shippyng to the Ile of Candy, and till this present daie there was neuer tidynges heard, either of the Shippe, or of any one man that was in her. And now behold I see with myne eyes the furnitures wherein I wrapped my childe, and the Iewell which I put about his neck, with my owne handes [Page] at his departure: the Fisherman verifying this tale to be true, saied in deede that he founde hym in an extreame Maladie, which he cured himself with medicines of his own prouiding.

Aramanthus hauyng heard how matters were sorted out, beganne to teare hymself, saiyng: Ah most wicked and vnna­turall wretche, what Furies haue saued thee, that thou wart not drouned with the rest, but that thou must bee preserued as an Instrument to worke thy Parentes wracke: Come come you Hellishe Hagges, and shewe your force on hym that hath worthely deserued it. But what hath Tantalus offended, that he should continually bee sterued? Or how hath Sisiphus that rowles the restlesse Stone? Or what trespasse hath been com­mitted by Prometheus, Ixyon, Titias, or Danaus sillie daugh­ters, drawyng water at the Well: that maie bee compared to that whiche I haue doen, is it possible thē that I should escape vnpunished? Or that the sacred Gods will bee vnreuenged of my fact, no no, I haue deserued to be plagued, and haue meri­ted more worthely to be tormented then any of these afore re­hearsed. Florella ouer hearyng these desperate speeches, fell doune in a sowne for greefe to see her Aramanthus so disquie­ted. The Turke after his daughter was come againe to her self, forrowed to see the heauinesse of Aramanthus, caused the Kyng his father, with the Duke of Caria presently to be sent for out of prison: And takyng Isabell on the one of his hands, and Aramanthus on the other, he saied to the Kyng: Receiue here noble Prince, a moste louyng and faithfull wife, and a moste valiaunt and worthie sonne: And my self from an ene­mie, for euer after this, to become thy most assured and trustie freende.

The Kyng was wonderfully amazed to heare these spee­ches, did thinke hymself to be in some dreame: till in the ende he heard the whole discourse how euery thyng had happened, and beyng rauished with gladnesse, he saied.

O happie euill, whiche bryngeth in the ende so greate a good, and welcome bee that sorrowe, whereby is sprong a ioye, muche more surmountyng, then euer was any heaui­nesse: and with many like speeches, he still embraced his sonne [Page] Aramanthus in his armes, and although he [...] it was the Quéene his wife, whiche so louin [...] [...] hym, when he was readie to haue [...] want of meate: yet he could not [...] any countenance, considerg [...] [...] her, by y^e information [...] whiche being [...] forgiuenesse: he [...] the beginnyng [...] sory and [...] so vertue [...] so [...] had.

Well (quoth her father) then see you [...]ame your [...] like well of my likyng. I haue promised you to Phylotus in mariage, and Phylotus is he that shall be your housband, and

[...] [...]lotus and Emelia.

[...] [Page] seen their owne errour, and there withall haue confessed their abuse, yet their haue not bin able to refraine them selues, from prosecuting their follie to the ende, and all be it, reason proffe­reth vs sondrie sufficient causes, why we ought to refraine the appetite of our own desires, yet fancie then is he that striketh suche a stroke, that reasons rules can naught at all preuaile, and like as those whom loue hath once intangled, the more thei striue the farther thei bee tied, so it is vnpossible that loue should be constrained, where affection breedes not likyng, nor fancy is not fed, but where these two hath once ioyned in elec­tion, all other affects be so dimme and blinded, that euery vice seemeth to vs a vertue, whereof springeth this Prouerbe. In loue there is no lacke, so that in deede to saie the truth, if there be any pietie to be imputed to this ragyng loue, it is in that it is not parciall, nor hath it any respect of persons, but bee thei frendes, be thei foes, be thei riche, be thei poore, be thei young, be thei olde, bee thei wise, bee thei foolishe, loue is still indiffe­rent, and respecteth all a like: but if any man will thinke that in respect of beautie, wee esteeme not all the rest: I am able to saie it is not true, consideryng how many haue forsaken the better likyng, and haue chosen the worse, so that for my parte the more I consider of it, the more I am [...], and there­fore will beate [...], that I would goe about to contrarie the credi [...]bbornly would refuse what soeuer you would think conuenient for my behoofe, and although you shall finde in me suche duetie as is meete for a daughter, and al obedience that is fit for a childe, yet sir consider the harte whiche can not bee compelled, neither by feare, neither by force, nor is not other­wise to be lured, then onely by fancies free consent, and as you haue bestowed on me this fraile and transitorie life, so my bo­die shall be at your disposition as it shal please you to appoint it, and will conclude with this humble petition, desiryng you not to bestowe me of any that is not agreeable to my fancie and good likyng.

Well (quoth her father) then see you frame your liking to like well of my likyng. I haue promised you to Phylotus in mariage, and Phylotus is he that shall be your housband, and [Page] looke you goe not aboute to contende against that I haue de­termined, if you doe, neuer accompt me for father nor freende, and thus he departed.

Emelia hearyng this cruell conclusion of her father, was wonderfully abashed, and beeyng by her self in her Chamber, she beganne to consider of her fathers wordes, and for feare to incurre any farther displeasure, she deused how she might frame her self to the likyng of her louer, and with a yong wo­mans minde, she first beganne to consider of his wealth, of his callyng, of the reuerence wherewith he was vsed in the Citie, and that likewise in beyng his wife, she should also bee had in estimation, and bee preferred before other women of meaner credite, and to desire superioritie, it is commonly euery wo­mans sicknesse, and therefore this could not choose but please her very well: then she remembred how commodious it were to marrie one so wealthie as Phylotus, whereby she should not neede to beate her braines aboute the practising of housewife­rie, but should haue seruauntes at commaundment to supplie that tourne, this likewise pleased her very well, but because she would well perswade her self, she beganne to coniecture how she should spende the tyme to her contentment, and there­fore she beganne to thinke what a pleasure it was to bee well furnished with sondrie sutes of apparell, that in the mornyng when she should rise, she might call for what she list to put on, accordyng as the tyme and the fasshion did require, and her fancie serued best, for thus Phylotus was well able to keepe his wife, and this pleased her likewise very well, & then when she were vp, she might breake her fast with a cuppe of Malm­sie, or Muskadine next her harte. It was very good for ill Ayres in a mornyng, and this she thought was but an easie matter, and likewise pleased her very well: when she had bro­ken her fast, then she might stirre about the house, and looke to this, and see to that, and where she found any thyng amis, not to touche it with her owne fingers, for marryng the beautie of her hande, but to call for Cicelie, Ione, or Cate, and to chide them like Sluttes, that thei could not spie a fault but when thei must be tolde: this likewise pleased her very well, then to [Page] haue prouided for Dinner some iuncketts, that serued best her appetite, her housebāde had good store of coine, and how could it bee better spente, then vpon themselues: to make their fare the better, this likewise pleased her verie well, now when she had dined, then she might goe seeke out her examplers, and to peruse whiche woorke would doe beste in a Ruffe, whiche in a Gorget, whiche in a Sleeue, whiche in a Quaife, whiche in a Caule, whiche in a Handkercheef, what Lace would doe beste to edge it, what seame, what stitche, what cut, what gard, and to sit her doune, and take it forthe by little and little: and thus with her Nedle to passe the after nonne, with deuising of thin­ges for her owne wearyng, this likewise pleased her passyng well: Then to prouide for Supper some shift of diet, and son­drie sauces; the better to help the stomacke, Oranges, Lemōs, Oliues, Caphers, Salades of sondrie sortes, alas a Croune will goe a greate waie in suche trifles. This likewise pleased her verie well, whē she had supped, to vse some exercise, accor­dyng to the ceason: if it were in Sommer, to goe walke with her neighbours to take the aire, or in her Garde in to take the verdure of sweete and pleasaunt flower, this likewise pleased her verie well, when she was come in, and readie to goe to her Chamber, a Cup of cold Sacke to bedward, is verie good for digestion, and no coste to speake of, where suche abondaunce doeth remaine, and this likewise pleased her verie well.

But now although she had deuised, to passe the daie tyme with suche contentation, when she remembred at Night, she must goe to bed to bee lubber leapt: and with what cold cour­tesie she should be entertained by her graie hedded bedfelowe, what frosen embracementes he was able to bestowe of her, all was marde, and quite dashte out of remembraunce, and all the commodities before spoken of, that she should receiue in the tyme of the daie, would not serue to counteruaile that one in­commoditie, in the season of the Night: Like as wee saie, one vice spilles a greate nomber of vertues. Thus Emelia was now to seeke, and could in nowise frame her self to loue Phi­lotus: but when she had flattered her self with a thousande de­lightes, that she should receiue in the daie time by his wealth, [Page] when she remembred bedde tyme, she was as newe to beginne as before. Wherefore she remained in great perplexitie, thin­kyng her happe to bee ouer hard, and the comforte verie bare, where the beste choice had suche assuraunce of doubtfull ende. For to Marrie after her Fathers mynde, she knewe would breede her lothed life: and to gainsaie what he had determined, would likewise loose her fathers, likyng, that she wiste not for her life whereon to resolue, and thus from daie to daie, as she continued in this doubt. There happened to hit into her com­panie a yong Romaine gentleman, whose name was Flanius, who sodainly fell in Loue with Emelia, and takyng the tyme whilest his opportunitie serued: he let Emelia to vnderstande, of the greate loue he bare her. Emelia, accordyng to the custome of women, made the matter verie coie at the firste, although in her harte she wer right glad, cōsideryng her case how it stood. Flanius was so muche the more importunate vppon her, and with suche nice termes as woers be accustomed: He so Cour­ted, and followed Emelia, that she perceiuyng his feruente af­fection, tolde hym a verie short circumstaunce, how her father had disposed her, to one that she could not like of, and therfore, if he would firste promise to take her as his wife, and that he could finde suche meanes, to conueigh her from her Fathers house in secrete sorte (for otherwise she was sure her Father would bee a let to hinder their purpose) she was contented to harken to his speeche, and yeeld to his demaunde. Flanius the gladdest man in the world, to heare these ioyfull newes, sware vnto her, that all should bee accomplished, and that with as muche speede as her self would desire.

There was no more to conclude of thē, but how she might be conueighed from out her fathers house. Flanius deuised that late in an Euenyng, or in the Night tyme when euery one were quiete in their beddes, if she could finde the meanes to gette forthe of doores, then he would be readie to receiue her. But that could not be, for bothe her Fathe and Mather neuer failed, to bee at home in the Euenynges, and at Nightes she was lodged in her Fathers Chambers, that it was impossible for her to gett forthe. So that there was no remedie, but that [Page] the feate must bee wrought in some after Noone, when bothe her Father and Mother vsed to bee abroade, about their busi­nesse: And then she knewe not how to come forthe alone, be­cause she had not been accustomed so to dooe, and to followe a straunger, it would breede the greater suspition.

But Flanius to auoide all these surmises, deuised the nexte euenyng, to conueigh her in at some backe windowe of her fa­thers house, a sute of mannes apparell: wherein the next daie in the after noone, her father & mother beyng abroad, she should shift her self, and so come her waies vnknowne of any, to suche a place: where he himself would be ready awaiting for her, and so conueigh her home to his owne house. This deuise Emelia liked passyng will, and accordyng as it was appoincted. The next euening Flanius cōueighed this sute of apparell in at the windowe, where Emelia was ready to receiue it, and laiyng it vp in safetie, til the next daie in the after noone, her father and her mother beyng bothe forthe of dores, she quickly shifted her self, into this manes apparell, and thus forth of dores she goes to her appointed place, wher Flanius was staiyng, who accor­dyng to promise, conueighed her home to his owne house.

This matter was not so closely handeled by Emelia, but she was espied by one of her Fathers seruauntes, who beeyng on the backside through a Windowe, sawe her how she was stripping of her self, and marked how she put on the mannes apparell, whereat the yong fellowe had greate meruaile, and stoode still beholdyng to see what would fall out in the ende, But whē he sawe her goe forthe a dores, he hastened after into the streate: But Emelia was so sodainly gone, that for his life hr wist not whiche waies to seeke after her, wherfore in a wō ­derfull haste, he came to his Maister, whom he founde in the Citee, in the companie of Philotus, saiyng: Oh sir, I haue ve­rie euill newes to tell you, what is the matter (ꝙ his maister) is any thyng a misse at home? Yea sir (ꝙ the seruaunte) your daughter Emelia is euen now departed into the Citee, in the habite of a man: But whiche waies she wente, I could not for my life deuise, for after she gat once forthe of the place where she shifter her, I could neuer more set eye of her.

[Page] Is Emelia gone (quoth her louer Philotus) Oh God, what euill newes bee these that I heare: And without any further staie, bothe the Father and the Louer, gat them out at the doo­res together, and aboute the streates thei runne like a couple of madde men.

Now it fell out, that Philerno the Sonne of Alberto, and Brother to Emella, whom you haue heard before, was lefte at Naples, beeyng an Infante, and had remained there till this tyme at Schoole, and at this verie instaunte was come from Naples to Rome, to visite his Father and Mother, of whom he had no maner of knowledge, otherwise then by their na­mes. And it fortuned that Alberto and Philotus, happened to meete with Philerno in the streates, who was so like his sister Emelia, that bothe Alberto and Philotus, assured themselues, that it could bee no other but she. Wherefore Alberto com­myng to hym, saied: staie, staie, moste shamelesse and vngraci­ [...]us Girle, doest thou thinke that by thy disguising of thy self, in this maner, thou canst escape vnknowne to me, who am thy Father, Ah vile strumpet that thou art: what punishement is sufficient for the filthinesse of thy facte? And with this he see­med, as though he would haue fline vpon her in the streate, to haue beate her: but Phllotus thruste in betweene them, and de­sired his neighbour to staie hymself, and then imbracyng Phi­lerno in his armes, he saied: Ah Emelia my sweete and louing wenche, how canste thou so vnkindelie forsake thy Philotus, whose tender loue towardes thee is suche, that as I will not let to make thee soueraigne of my self, so thou shalt be Dame and Mistresse of all that euer I haue, assuryng thee, that thou shalt neuer want for Golde, Gemmes, Iewelles, suche as bee fit and conuenient for thy degree.

Philerno seeyng a couple of old dotyng foole, thus cluste­ryng aboute hym, not knowyng what thei were: had thought at the first, thei had been out of their wittes, but in the ende by their woordes, perceiuyng a farther circumstance in the mat­ter, he deuised some thyng for his owne disporte, to feede them a little with their owne follie, saied: Pardon me I beseeche you this my greeuous offence, wherein I knowe I haue too [Page] farre straied, from the limites and boundes of modestie, prote­styng hereafter so to gouerne my self, that there shall bee no sufficient cause, whereby to accuse me of suche vnmaiden like partes, and will euer remaine with suche duetie and obediēce, as I trust shall not deserue but to be liked duryng life.

Philotus hauyng heard this pitifull reconciliation, made by his Emelia, verie gently entreated her father, in her behalf, well (ꝙ her father) seeyng you will needes haue me to forgiue this her leudnesse, at your requeste I am contented to pardon her, and then speakyng to Philerno, he saied.

How saie you houswife, is your stomacke yet come doune, are you contented to take Philotus for your Housebande, yea my good Father (ꝙ Philerno) and that with all my harte, Oh happie newes (ꝙ) Philotus) and here withall he began to sette his cappe on the one side, and to turne vp his muschatoes, and fell to wipyng of his mouthe, as though he would haue falne a kissyng of her by and by in the streates, but remēbryng hym self where he was, he brought Alberto with Philerno, into a freendes house, that was of his familiare acquaintaunce, and there the Marriage betweene theim, was throughlie conclu­ced, and all parties seemyng to giue their full consentes. Phi­lotus desired his father in Lawe, that he might haue the custo­die of Emelia, swearing by his old honestie, that he would not otherwise vse her, then his owne Daughter Brisilla, vntill the daie of his Nuptials, and then to vse her as his wife: to which request Alberto seemed verie willynglie to giue consent: but then because Philotus would not carrie his beloued, through the streates in her mannes apparell, he desired his Father in Lawe to goe home, and sende some sute of her apparell, wher­with to shift her, before he would carrie her to his owne house. Alberto seyng matters so throughly concluded, toke his leaue of theim bothe, and goyng his waies home, he caused all his Daughters apparell to be looked together, and to bee sent to the place where Philotus was remaining with Philerno, who taking forthe suche as should serue the tourne for that present. Philerno so well as he could arraied hymself, in one of his si­sters sutes of apparell, and thus departed with Philotus to his [Page] [...] [Page] [...] [Page] owne house, where Philotus callyng his daughter Brisilla, he saied vnto her, beholde here the partie, whom I haue chosen to bee your Mother, chargyng you of my blessyng, that you ho­nour, reuerence, and obeie her, and with all diligence that you be attendaunt vpon her, and readie at an ynche to prouide her of any thing, that she shall either want or call for. And you my deare and louyng Emelia, I dooe here ordaine and appoincte you to bee Mistresse of this house, and of all that is in it, desi­ryng you to accepte of this my Daughter, to doe you seruice in the daie time, and in the night to vouchsafe her for your bed­fellowe, vntill our daie of Marriage bee prefixed, and then my self will supplie the rome. Philerno seyng the excellent beau­tie of Brisilla, was nothyng sorie to haue suche a bedfellowe, but thought euery hower a daie, till night was come, whiche beyng approched, to bedde thei went, where Philerno did not thinke it his readiest waie, to giue any sodaine attempte, but therefore he brake into this discourse followyng.

My Brisilla, were it not but that wee bee founde parciall in the causes of our frendes, but especially where the causes doe touche our parentes, our iudgementes be so blinded by affec­tion, that we can neither see, nor well confesse a manifest truth: but if matters might be considered on, without respect of per­sones with indifference, and accordyng to the truthe and equi­tie of the cause: I durst then put my self in your arbitremente my Brisilla, and to abide your sentence, whereto I doubte not, but you would confesse the preiudice I sustaine, it is muche in­tollerable, and almoste impossible▪ for a yong maide to endure and the rather, if you would measure my condition, by your owne estate, who beeyng as you see, a yong maiden like your self, and should be thus constrained by my freendes, to the ma­riyng of your father, whom I doe confesse to bee worthie of a better wife then my self. But consideryng the inequalitie of our yeres, I can not for my life, frame my self to loue him, and yet I am forced against my will to Marrie hym, and am ap­pointed to be your mother: that am more meete to be your cō ­panion and plaie fellowe. But that affiaunce whiche I haue conceiued in your good Nature, hath made me thus boldly to [Page] speake vnto you, desiryng but to heare your opinion with in­differencie, whether you thinke I haue good cause to cōplain or naie: and then peraduenture I will saie farther vnto you, in a matter that doeth concerne your owne behoofe.

Brisilla hearyng this pitifull complaint, verie sorrowfull in her behalfe, saied: would to God I were as well able to mini­ster releef vnto your distresse, accordyng to your owne con­tentment, as I am hartely sorie to consider your greef, and do well perceiue the iuste occasion you haue to complaine.

Ah my Brisilla, saied Philerno, I am as hartely sorie in your behalf, and peraduenture doe vnderstande somethyng, whiche your self dooe not yet knowe of, whiche will greeue you verie sore. But first Brisilla, let me aske you this question, dooe you knowe my father, or naie.

No sure (quoth Brisilla) I haue no maner of knowledge of hym, neither did I knowe, whether you had any father a liue, or naie, but now by your owne reporte, and as straunge it was to me, to heare the wordes, whiche my Father vsed to me this daie, when he brought you home, for that I neuer vnderstoode before, that he went about a wife.

Philerno was verie glad to heare these newes, because it serued so muche the better for his purpose: and therefore saied as followeth.

This tale that I minde to tell you (my Brisilla) will seeme more straunge then all the reste, and yet assure your self, it is nothyng so straunge as true, and therefore giue eare to that I mynde to saie: Doe you not thinke it verie straunge in deede, that the one of vs should bee made bothe mother and daughter to the other, and that our fathers, whiche be now so diescrepit and olde, should bee so ouer haled, with the furie of their fonde and vnbrideled affections, that to serue their owne appetites, thei force not with what clogges of care, thei comber vs that be their louyng daughters, but haue concluded betwene them selues a crosse Marriage, and so in deede it maie well be tear­med, that will fall out so ouerthwarte to our behoofes, who be­yng now in our yong and tender yeres, and should bothe of vs bee made the dearlynges of twoo old men, that seekes to pre­ferre [Page] their owne lust, before their childrens loue, and measure their fierie flames of youth, by the ded coles of age, as though thei were able with their cold and rare imbracementes, to de­laie the forces of the fleshe, whose flames doeth excede in these our grene and tender yeres, and as muche possible for vs to cō tinue in likyng, as flowers are seen to agree with Froste, but in plaine tearmes (my Brisilla) and to discipher a verie trothe it is contracted betweene our aged parentes, that your father (as you see) should first take me to his wife, whiche weddyng beyng once performed, then my Father in like maner, should chalenge you, accordyng as it is concluded betweene them.

Alas (ꝙ Brisilla) these newes bee straunge in deede, and it should seem by your woordes so fullie resolued on, that there is no hope of redresse to be had in the matter.

None in the worlde (ꝙ Philerno) but thus betweene our selues, the one of vs to comfort the other.

A colde comforte (ꝙ Brisilla) wee shall finde in that, but oh pitilesse parentes, that will preferre your own pleasures with your childrens paine: your owne likyng, with your childrens loathyng: your owne gaine, with your childrens greefe: your owne sporte, with your childrens spoile: your owne delight, with your childrens despight. O how muche more happie had it been, that we had neuer been borne.

Alas my Brisilla (ꝙ Philerno) tormente not your self with suche extreame anguishe, for if that would haue serued for re­dresse, the matter had been remedied, and that long sithence: But I would to God my Brisilla, that I were a man for your only sake, and hauing so good leisure, as thus beyng together by our selues, we should so handle the matter, that our fathers should seeke newe wiues.

Alas (ꝙ Brisilla) suche wishes are but waste, and vnpossi­ble it is, that any suche thing should happen.

Impossible (quoth Philerno) naie surely Brisilla, there is nothing impossible, but I haue knowne as greate matters as these haue been wrought: Doe we not read that the Goddesse Venus, transformed an Iuorie Image, to a liuely and perfect woman, at the onelie request of Pygmalion. Diana likewise [Page] conuerted Acteon to a Harte. Narcissus for his pride was tur­ned to a flower. Archane to a Spider, with a greate number of others haue bin transformed, some into Beastes, some into Foules, and some into Fishes, but amongst the rest of the mi­racles that haue bin wrought by the Goddesse, this storie fal­leth out moste me [...]te and fittyng to our purpose.

There was sometime remainyng in the Countrey of Phe­stos a maried couple, the housbande called by the name of Li­ctus, the wife Telethusa, who beyng with childe, was willed by her housbande so sone as she should be deliuered, if it were not a lad, that the childe should presently be slaine, his wife be­yng deliuered at her appointed tyme, brought forthe a girle, and yet notwithstandyng her housbandes commaundement, brought vp the childe, makyng her housebande beleeue it was a boye, and called it by the name of Iphis, and thus as it grew in yeares, was apparelled like a lad, and beeyng after by his father assured to a wife called by the name of Ianthe, a young Maiden, and the daughter of one Telest dwellyng in Dictis, Telethusa the mother of Iphis, fearyng her deceipt would bee knowne, deferred of the Marriage daie so long as she could, sometymes fainyng tokens of ill successe, sometimes faining sicknesse, sometymes one thyng, sometymes an other, but when all her shiftes were driuen to an ende, and the Mariage daie at hande, Telethusa comming to the Temple of the God­desse Isis, with her heire scattered aboute her eares, where be­fore the Aulter of Isis, she made her humble supplications, and the gentle Goddesse hauing compassion, transformed Iphis to a man.

Loe here Brisilla, as greate a matter brought to passe as a­ny wee haue spoken of yet, and the Goddesse bee of as greate force and might in these daies, as euer thei were in times past, we want but the same zeale and faith to demaunde it, and sure in my opinion, if either of vs made our request to the Goddes, who commonly bee still assistant to helpe distressed wightes, thei would neuer refuse to graunt our reasonable requestes, and I will aduenture on it my self, and that without any far­ther circumstaunce.

[Page] And here with all he seemed with many piteous sighes, throwyng vp his handes to the heauens, to mumble forth ma­ny woordes in secrete, as though he had beene in some greate contemplation, and sodainly without any maner of stirryng either of hande or foote, did lye still as it had been a thyng im­mouable, whereat Brisilla beganne for to muse, and in the end spake to hym, but Phylerno made no maner of aunswere, but seemed as though he had bin in some traunce, wherewith Bri­silla began to call and with her arme to shake hym, and Phy­lerno giuyng a piteous sigh, as though he had bin awaked so­dainly out of some dreame, saied. O blessed Goddesse Venus, I yeeld thee humble thankes, that hast not despised to graunt my request: and then speakyng to Brisilla, he saied: and now my Brisilla be of good comforte, for the same Goddesse whiche haue not disdained to heare my supplication, will likewise be assistaunt to further our farther pretences, as hereafter at our better leisure we shall consider of, in the meane tyme receiue thy louyng freende, that to daie was appoincted to bee thy fa­thers wife, but now consecrated by the Goddesse to be thy lo­uyng housbande, and here withall imbrasyng Brisilla in his armes. She perceiued in deede, that Emelia was perfectly metamorphosed, which contented her very well, thinkyng her self a thrise happie woman to light of suche a bedfellowe: thus bothe of them the one pleased very well with the other, thei passed the tyme, till Phylotus had prepared and made all thin­ges readie for his Mariage daie, and then callyng his frendes and neighbours about him, to the Churche thei goe together, where Alberto gaue Phylerno his sonne, in the steede of his daughter Emelia to Phylotus for his wife: when all the rest of the Marriage rites that are to bee doen in the Churche were performed, thei passed forthe the daie with feastyng and great mirthe vntill it was night. When the companie beganne to breake vp, and euery one to take his leaue, and Phylotus with his bride were brought into their Chamber, where Phylerno desiryng the companie to auoyde, and makyng fast the doore he saied to Phylotus, there resteth yet a matter to bee decided betweene you and me, and seyng we bee here together by our [Page] selues, and that tyme and place doeth fall out so fit, I holde it for the best that it be presently determined.

What is the matter then (ꝙ Phylotus) speake boldly my Emelia, and if there be any thyng that hanges in dispence be­tweene vs, I trust it shall easely bee brought to a good agree­ment.

I praie God it maie (ꝙ Phylerno) and to reueale the mat­ter in breefe and shorte circumstaunce, it is this. You are now my housebande, and I your lawfull wife, and for that I dooe knowe the difference in our yeares, your self beyng so old and I very yong, it must needes fall out there wil be as greate de­uersitie in our conditions: for age is commonly giuen to bee frowarde, testie, and ouerthwart: youth againe to be frolique, pleasaunt, and merrie, and so likewise in all our other conditi­ons wee shall bee founde so contrary and disagreyng, that it will be impossible for vs to like the one of the others doinges, for when I shall seeme to followe my owne humour, then it will fall out to your discontentment. And you againe to fol­lowe that diet whiche your age doeth constraine, will be most lothsome vnto me, then you beyng my housbande will thinke to commaunde me, and I must be obedient to your will, but I beyng your wife will thinke scorne to be controlde, and wil dispose of my self according to my owne liking, and then what braules and brabbles will fall out, it were to muche to be re­hearsed, and thus we shall liue neither of vs bothe in quiet, nor neither of vs bothe contented, and therefore for the auoidyng of these inconueniences, I haue deuised this waie, that beyng thus together by our selues, we will trie by the eares whiche of vs shall bee maister and haue authoritie to commaunde: if the victory happen on your side, I am contented for euer after to frame my self to your ordinaunce and will as it shall please you to appoinct: if otherwise the conquest happen on my side, I will triumph like a Victor, and will looke to beare suche a swaie, that I will not be contraried in any thing, what so euer it shall please me to commaunde.

Phylotus knowyng not what to make of these speeches, and thinkyng the tyme very long, till he had taken his first [Page] fruites, saied: Come, come my Emelia let vs goe to bed, where I doubt not but we shall so well agree, that these matters wil easely bee taken vp, without any controuersie, suche as you haue spoken of.

Neuer while I liue (ꝙ Phylerno) before I knowe where­on to resolue: and whether you shall rest at my commaunde­ment, or I at yours.

Why (ꝙ Phylotus) doe you speake in earnest, or would you looke to commaunde me that am your housbande, to whom you ought to vse all duetie and obedience.

Then were I in good case (ꝙ Phylerno) that should be tied to vse duetie or obedience, to a man of your yeares, that would not let to prescribe vs rules of your owne dotage, to be obser­ued in steede of domesticall discipline.

Then I perceiue (ꝙ Phylotus) wee shall haue somethyng adoe with you hereafter, that will vse me with these tearmes the very first night. But see you make no more to dooe, but come on your waies to bed.

And I perceiue (quoth Phylerno) the longer that I beare with you, the more foole I shall finde you, and with this vp with his fiste and gaue Phylotus a sure wheritte on the eare. Phylotus in a great rage flies againe to Phylerno: there was betweene them souse for souse, and boxe for boxe, that it was harde to Iudge who should haue the victorie. In the ende Phylerno gettes Phylotus faste by the graie bearde, and by plaine force pu [...]es him doune on the flower, and so be pomels hym aboute the face, that he was like to haue been strangled with his owne bloud, which gushed out of his nose and mouth. Wherefore holdyng vp his handes he cried, Oh Emelia, I yeeld my self vanquished and ouercome, for Gods sake holde thy handes, and I will neuer more contende with thee during life.

Phylerno staiyng hymself, saied: Art thou contented then to yeeld me the conquest, and hereafter this according as thou hast saied: neuermore to striue with me, neuer to gainsaie any thyng, what soeuer it shall please me to commaunde.

Neuer while I liue (ꝙ Phylotus) and therefore for Gods [Page] sake [...] me arise, and chalenge to yourself what superioriti [...] you please, whiche forme shall neuer be denaied so long as I shall liue.

Well (ꝙ Phylerno) but before I will let you arise, I will haue you promise me to confirme these conditions, whiche fo­lowe in this maner. First, that at my pleasure I maie goe a­broade with my freendes, to make merrie so often as I list, whither I list, and with whom I list. And neither at my go­yng forthe, to be demaunded whither I will, ne at my returne to bee asked where I haue been. I will farther haue you con­descende to this, that for as muche as I haue learned, that it is not onely very vntothsome, but likewise very vnwhole­some, for youth and age, to lye sokyng together in one bedde. I will therefore make no bedfellowe of you, but at my owne pleasure. And in maner as followeth, that is to saie: this first yere I shall be contented, to bestowe one night in a moneth to doe you pleasure, if I [...] you worthie of it, or that you bee able to deserue it: but the first yere beyng oure expired, fo­wer tymes a yeere maie very well suffice, that is one night a quarter, as it shall please my self to appoinct. There be many other matters whiche I will not now stande to repeate, but these before rehearsed, bee the principall thynges wherein I wil not be controlde, but meane to follow myne owne liking: How saie you Phylotus, can you bee contented to frame your self herein, to followe my direction.

Alas (quoth Phylotus) I see no other shift, I must perforce endeuour my self patiently to abide what soeuer it shall please you to commaunde, and doe yeeld my self as recreant, and o­uercome, and wholy doe put my self to your fauour and mer­ [...]ie, readie to receiue what soeuer it shall please you to awarde [...].

Phylerno, lettyng hym n [...]w arise saied: prepare your self then to goe to your bedde, and anon at myne awne leasure, I will come vnto you: and departe againe at myne owne plea­sure, when I shall see tyme.

Phylotus, comforting hymself with these sweete speeches, did thinke it yet, to be some parte of amendes, that she had pro­ [...]ed [Page] to come and visite hym: went quietly to his bedde, there to abide the good hower till Emelia did come.

Phylerno, hauyng prepared one of these Marcenarie wo­men (whereof there are greate store in Rome to bee had) con­ueighed her to the bedd of Phylotus, giuyng her enstructions how to vse her self: and went hymself to his best beloued Bri­silla, whom he had made priuie to his whole deuise, and in this maner it was agreed betweene them, thei had thought to haue dieted Phylotus once a moneth with some cast stuffe, suche as thei could hire best cheape in the Toune.

But it fell out that Flanius, whom you haue heard before, had stolne awaie Emelia, beyng at the Churche the same daie that Phylotus was maried, and sawe Alberto giue his daugh­ter Emelia to Phylotus for his wife: had thought assuredly that hymself had been deceiued by some Deuill or spirite, that had taken vpon hym the likenesse of Emelia. And therefore ha­styng hymself home with all possible speede, came to Emelia, and blessing himself he saied: I charge thee in the name of the liuyng GOD, that thou tell me what thou art, and that thou presently departe to the place from whence thou camest. And I coniure thee in the name of the holie Trinitie, by our bles­sed Ladie the Virgine Marie, by Aungels and Archaungels, Patriarkes and Prophetes, by the Apostles, and fower E­uangelistes, Matthewe, Marke, Luke and Ihon, by al the ho­lie Martyres and Confessours, and the rest of the rable and blessed route of Heauen, that thou quietly departe without a­ny maner of preiudice, either to man, woman, or childe, either to any maner of Beast that is vppon the face of the earth, the Foules of the ayre, or the Fishes of the Sea, and without any maner of Tempest, Storme, Whirle winde, Thunder or Lightnyng, and that thou take no maner of shape, that [...] seeme either terrible or fearfull vnto me.

Emelia hearyng these wordes, merueilyng muche what thei ment▪ with a [...]ilyng countenaunce came towardes Fla­nius, saiyng: Why how now Seignior Flanius▪ what doe you thinke me to be some Deuill, or any Hagge of Hell, that you fall so to Coniuryng, and blessyng of your self.

[Page] I charge thee come no nere (quoth Fla [...]ius) stand backe, [...] these inticementes can no longer abuse me, when I haue seen with myne eyes, my beloued Emelia, maried in the Churche, and giuen by Alberto her Father, to Phylotus for his wife, what should I thinke of thee but to be some Fee [...]d, or sent vn­to me by some Inchauntment▪ or Witchcraft, and therefore I will no longer neither of thy companie, neither of thy con­ference: And here withall takyng Emelia by the shoulders, he thrust her forthe of doores, and shuttyng the doore after her: He gat hym to his Chamber, where he fell to his praiers, thin­kyng assuredly that Emelia had been some spirite.

But Emelia, after she had a three or fower daies made what meanes she could to Flanius, and sawe it was in vaine: was driuen to goe to her Father, before whom fallyng vppon her knees, she desired hym moste humbly to forgiuer her.

Alberto takyng her vp in his armes saied: that he knewe nothyng wherein she had offended hym, but her suite might easily be graunted.

Deare father (quoth Emelia) I know I haue offended, and so farr as my fact deserueth, rather to be punished then pitied: the remēbraunce whereof is so lothsome vnto me, that I feare to call you by the name of father, hauing shewed my self so vn­worthie a daughter. These wordes she pronounced with such sorrowe, that the teares streamed doune her cheekes, where­with Alberto moued with naturall affection, said: deare child, I knowe no suche offence that ought to bee so greeuously ta­ken: but speake boldly what so euer it be, I freely forgiue it.

Emelia very well comforted with these speeches, beganne to discourse how she first disguised her self in Pages appare [...], and what greef it was to her conscience, that she should so farr straie from the duetie and obedience of a child, and to become a fugitiue in a mans apparell. But her father not sufferyng her further to proceede in her tale, saied: Alas deare daughter if this bee the matter, it is long agoe sithe I haue bothe forgi­uen and forgotten these causes: and therefore let these thyn­ges neuer trouble you. But tell me now how doe you like of your bedfellows, how agree you with hym, or he with you, I [Page] would be glad to knowe.

Alas deare father (quoth Emelia) that is the matter that I come to you, he hath turned me awaie, and wil no longer take me for his wife, and what is the cause that hath moued hym vnto it, I protest before God I knowe not for my life.

Hath he turned thee awaie (ꝙ Alberto) my self wil quick­ly finde a remedie for that matter, and without any more to do (would not tary so much as while his goune was a brushing) but out of doores he goes towards Phylotus, whō by chaunce he met withall in the Streates, and in a greate chafe begins to chalenge hym for abusyng of his daughter, swearyng that he would make all Rome to speake of his abuse, if he ment to proceede in that he had begunne.

Phylotus wonderyng to see the man in suche an agonie, beganne to wishe that he had neuer seene hym nor his daugh­ter neither, and that if any bodie haue cause to complaine it is I (quoth Phylotus) that haue maried such a wife, that is more like to a Deuill then a woman: and I perceiue now is main­tained in her mischiefe by you that are her father, who ought rather to rebuke her then so to take her part, and to incourage her in her leudenesse.

What incouragment is this you speake of (ꝙ Alberto) I knowe not what you meane by these wordes, but assure your self of this, that as I wil not maintaine my child in any thing that is euill, so I will not see her take a manifest wrong.

Doe you thinke this to be good then (quoth Phylotus) that your daughter should bestowe suche hansell on her housband as she hath alreadie bestowed vpon me, and then pointyng to his face, he saied: See here your daughters handie woorke, how thinke you, is this requisite to be borne with all, that you stande so muche in your daughters defence?

Alberto seeyng his face all swolne, and the skinne scrat­ched of, perceiued that Phylotus was at a fraie, and had good cause to complaine: And wonderyng that his daughter was so sodainly become a shrewe, saied: If this bee my daughters handie woorke, I can neither beare withall, neither will I al­lowe it in her, so to vse her housebande. And therefore I praie [Page] you, lette me heare the matter debated betweene you: and I doubte not, but to take suche order, as there shall no more any suche rule happen betweene you.

I am contented you shall debate what you will (ꝙ Philo­tus) so it maie be doen with quietnesse, but I will neuer more contende with her for the maisterie while I liue, she hath alre­die wonne it, I am contented she shall weare it.

I praie you then (quoth Alberto) that you wil goe home to your owne house, and I will goe fetche my daughter, and will come vnto you straight waie, and I doubt not but to take suche order betweene you, as shall fall out to bothe your likinges.

I praie God you maie (ꝙ Philotus) and I will goe home▪ and there will staie your commyng.

Alberto likewise went to his owne house, and callyng E­melia, saied neuer a woorde to her, but willed her to followe hym: and commyng to the house of Philotus, whom he founde within, tariyng his commyng. And it fortuned at the same [...], Philerno and Brisilla, bothe were gone into the Toune to buye certaine thynges, that thei had neede of. And Alber­to beginnyng first to rebuke his Daughter, that would seme in suche maner to abuse her housebande, and with a long dis­course he preached vnto her, with what duetie and obedience, women ought to vse their housebandes withall, and not to take vpon them like Maisters, to correcte and chastice theim. Emelia denaied not onelie the facte, but also she denaied Phi­lotus to be her housebande.

What haue wee here to dooe (quoth the Father) how canst thou (shamelesse queane) denaie that, whiche within these fo­wer daies was performed, in the face of the whole worlde?

Emelia standyng stiffe to her tackelyng: would in nowise confesse that euer she was Married.

Then her Father beganne to charge her with her owne woordes, whiche he had vsed to her before, how she had disgui­sed her self in mannes apparell, and so stolne awaie forthe of doores, the which Emelia neuer denaied. Why then (quoth her father) did not I meete thee in the streates, and at the requeste of thy housebande here presente, did forgiue thee thy faulte, to [Page] whom I then deliuered thee, and with whom thou haste euer sithence remained.

Emelia made flat deniall of any of all these saiynges to bee true. Alberto in a greate furie, would haue taken witnesse of Philotus in the matter, but Philotus fearyng an other banket at night, when he should goe to bedde, durste not in any wise seeme to contrarie Emelia: In the ende after greate fendyng and prouyng had in the matter, Emelia from poinct to poincte discoursed to her Father, how she firste fell into the likyng of Flanius, and by his practise, so conueighed her self awaie in his Pages apparell, and had with hym remained all this while, till now he had tourned her awaie.

Her father would in nowise allowe this tale to be true, but Flanius beeyng well knowne to bee a courteous Gentleman, Alberto deuised to sende for hym, who presently at his gentle intreatie, came to the house of Philotus, where he spared not to confesse a truth, that onely for the loue that he bare to Eme­lia, he deuised to steale her awaie: and there came one vnto him in the likenesse of Emelia, and in the same apparell that he had prouided for her, whom he verie charely kept, vntill suche tyme as he sawe with his owne eyes, that Emelia was Mar­ried in the Churche to Philotus, and then assuryng hym self, that he had been deceiued by some Spirite, that had taken vp­pon the similitude and likenesse of Emelia, he presently came home, and tourned her awaie, and what was become of her, he could neuer learne.

Alberto muche amazed to heare this tale, saied: Seignior Flanius doe you knowe your Emelia again, if you see her, and then poinctyng to his daughter, he saied: Is not this the same Emelia that you speake of, whiche you haue tourned awaie.

I knowe not (ꝙ Flanius) the one from the other, but sure I sawe with myne eyes twoo Emelias so like, that the one of thē of force must needes bee the Deuill.

There is no question (ꝙ Philotus) but that is my wife, if there bee euer a Deuill of them bothe, I knowe it is she: Out alas that euer I was borne, what shall I now dooe, I knowe I haue Married the Deuill.

[Page] And by fortune as Alberto chaunced to looke forthe of th [...] windowe, he espied Philerno and Brisilla in the Streate com­myng homewardes: Peace (ꝙ Alberto) here commeth the o­ther Emelia, wee shall now trie, whiche of them is the Deuill (I thinke) before we departe.

By this Philerno was come in, and hearyng how matters had been debated, and were falne out: againe, knowing Alber­to to be his Father, and what preiudice his sister Emelia was like to sustaine, if she should be forsaken by her freende and lo­uer Flanius, confessed the whole matter, humblie desiryng his Father to forgiue hym.

When he had a while wondered at the circumstaunce, and the truthe of euery thyng laied open, and come to light, all parties were well pleased and contented, sauyng Philotus, for when he remembred, first the losse of his loue Emelia, then how Philerno had heaten hym, what a bedfellowe he had pro­uided hym, while he hym self went and laie with his Daugh­ter: these thinges put all together, made hym in suche a chafe, that he was like to runne out of his wittes: But when he had regarded a good while, and sawe how little helpe it did pre­uaile hym, he was contented in the ende, that his Daughter Brisilla, should Marrie with Philerno, and Flanius verie ioy­fully receiued againe his Emelia (when he knewe she was no Deuill) and bothe the Marriages consummate in one daie. And so I praie God giue them ioye, and euery old dotarde so good successe as had Philotus.