I ſerue in ſteede of a maiſter, a mouſe, whoſe houſe is a tub, whoſe dinner is a cruſt, and whoſe boord is a bed.

Then art thou in a ſtate of life, which Philoſophers commend. A crumme for thy ſupper, an hande for thy cup, and thy clothes for thy ſheetes. I or Natura paucis contenta.

Manes, it is pittie ſo proper a man ſhould be caſt away vppon a Philoſopher: but that Diogenes that dogge ſhould haue Manes, that dogbolt, it greeneth nature and ſpiteth arte, the one hauing found thee ſo diſſolute, abſolute I would ſay, in body, the other ſo ſingle ſingular in minde.

Are you mery, it is a ſigne by the trip of your tongue, and the toyes of your head, that you haue done that to day, which I haue not done theſe three dayes.

What is that?

Dined.

I thinke Diogenes keepes but cold cheere.

I would it were ſo, but hee keepeth neither hot nor cold.

What then, lucke warme? That made Manes runne from his maiſter laſt day.

Manes had reaſon: for his name foretold as much.

My name? how ſo ſir boy?

I had neuer ſuch a doe to warne ſchollers to come before a king. Firſt, I cam to Criſippus a tall leane old mad man, willing him preſently to appeare before Alexander, he ſtoode ſtaring on my face, neither mouing his eies nor his body, I vrging him to giue ſome anſwer, hee tooke vp a booke, ſate downe, and ſaide nothing: Meliſſa his maid told me it was his manner, and that oftētimes ſhe was fain to thruſt meate into his mouth: for that he wold rather ſtarue thē ceaſſe ſtudie. Well thoght I, ſeeing bookiſh men are ſo blockiſh, & ſo great clarkes ſuch ſimple courtiers, I wil neither be partaker of their cōmons nor their commēdations. Frō thence I came to Plato & to Ariſtotle, and to diuerſe other, none refuſing to come, ſauing an old obſcure fellowe, who ſitting in a tub turned towardes the ſunne, reade Greek to a yong boy, him when I willed to appeare before Alexander, he anſweared, if Alexander wold faine ſee me, let him come to mee, if learne of me, lette him come to me, whaſoeuer it be, let him come to me. why, ſaid I, he is a king, he anſwered, why I am a Philoſopher, why, but he is Alexander: I but I am Diogenes. I was halfe angry to ſee one ſo crooked in his ſhape, to be ſo crabbed in his ſayings. So going my way, I ſaid thou ſhalt repent it, if thou cōmeſt not to Alexander: nay ſmiling anſwered he: Alexander may repent it, if he come not to Diogenes, vertue muſt be ſought, not offered: and ſo turning himſelf to his cel, he grunted I know not what, like a pig vnder a tub. But I muſt be gone, the Philoſophers are comming. Exit.

Behold Manes where thy maiſter is, ſeeking either for bones for his dinner, or pinnes for his ſleeues. I wil go ſalute him.

Doe ſo: but mum, not a woord you ſawe Manes.

Then ſtay thou behinde, I will goe with Pſyllus.

Stand aſide ſir boy, till you be called. Hepheſtion, how doe yee like the ſweete face of Campaſpe.

I cannot but commend the ſtoute courage of Timoclea.

Without doubt Campaſpe had ſome great man to her father.

You know Timoclea had Theagines to her brother,

Timoclea ſtil in thy mouth, art thou not in loue?

Not I.

Not with Timoclea you meane, wherein you reſemble the Lapwing, who crieth moſt, where her neaſt is not. And ſo you lead me from eſpying your loue with Campaſpe, you cry Timoclea.

Could I aſwell ſubdue kingdomes, as I can my thoughtes, or were I as farre from ambition, as I am frō loue, al the world wold account me as valiant in armes, as I know my ſelf moderate in affection.

Is loue a vice?

It is no vertue.

Well, now ſhalt thou ſee what ſmall difference I make betweene Alexander and Hepheſtion. And ſith thou haſte beene alwayes partaker of my triumphes, thou ſhalt be partaker of my tormētes. I loue Hepheſtion, I loue I loue Campaſpe, a thing farre Vnfit for a Macedonian, for a king, for Alexander. Why hangeſt thou down thy head Hepheſtion? bluſhing to heare that which I am not aſhamed to tell.

Might my wordes craue pardon, and my counſel credite, I woulde both diſcharge the duetie of a ſubiect, for ſo I am, & the office of a friend, for ſo I will.

Speake Hepheſtion for what ſoeuer is ſpoken, Hepheſtion ſpeaketh to Alexander.

I can not tel, Alexander, whether the reporte be more ſhameful to be heard or the cauſe ſorowfull to be beleeued? What? is the ſonne of Phillip, king of Macedon become the ſubiect of Campaſpe the captiue of Thebes? Is that minde, whoſe greatnes the world could not containe, drawn within the compaſſe of an idle alluring eie? Wil you handle the ſpindle with Hercules, when you ſhould ſhake the ſpeare with Achilles? Is the warlike ſoūd of drumme, and trumpe turned to the ſoft noyſe of lire, and lute, the neighing of barbed ſteeds, whoſe loudnes filled the ayre with terrour, and whoſe breathes dimmed the ſunne with ſmoak, conuerted to dilicate tunes and amorous glaunces? O Alexander, that ſoft and yeelding minde ſhould not bee in him, whoſe hard and vnconquered heart hath made ſo many yeelde. But you loue, ah griefe, but whom? Campaſpe, ah ſhame, a maide forſooth vnknowne, vnnoble, & who can tell whether immodeſt? whoſe eies are framed by nature to inamour, & whoſe heart was made by nature to inchaunt. I, but ſhe is bewtiful, yea but not therefore chaſt: I, but ſhe is comly in al parts of the body: yea, but ſhe may be crooked in ſome part of the mind: I, but ſhe is wiſe, yea, but ſhe is a woman? Bewty is like the black berry which ſeemeth red, when it is not ripe, reſembling pretious ſtoēs that are poliſhed with honny, which the ſmother they look, the ſooner they breake. It is thought wonderful among the ſea men, that Mugil of all fiſhes, the ſwifteſt, is found in the belly of the Bret of al the ſloweſt: And ſhall it not ſeeme monſtrous to wiſemen, that the hearte of the greateſt conquerour of the worlde, ſhould be found in the handes of the weakeſt creature of nature? of a woman? of a captiue? Hermyns haue faire skinnes, but fowle liuers, Sepulchres freſh colours, but rottē bones, women faire faces, but falſe heartes. Remember Alexander thou haſt a campe to gouerne, not a chamber, fall not from the armour of Mars to the armes of Venus, from the fiery aſſaults of war, to the maidēly skirmiſhes of loue, from diſplaying the Eagle in thine enſigne, to ſet downe the ſparow. I ſighe Alexander that where fortune could not conquer, folly ſhuld ouercome. But behold al the perfection that may be in Campaſpe, a hayre curling by nature not arte: ſweete alluring eies, a faire face made in diſpite of Venus, and a ſtately porte in diſdaine of Iuno, a witte apt to conceiue, and quick to anſwere a skin as ſoft as ſilk, and as ſmooth as iet, a longe white hand, a fine litle foote, to conclude, all partes anſwerable to the beſt part, what of this? Though ſhe haue heauenly giftes, vertue and bewtie, is ſhe not of earthly mettal fleſh and bloud? You Alexander that would be a God, ſhew your ſelfe in this worſe then a man, ſo ſoone to be both ouerſeene and ouertaken in a womā, whoſe falſe teares know their true times, whoſe ſmooth words wound deeper then ſharpe ſwordes. There is no ſurfeit ſo dangerous, as that of honney, nor anye poyſon ſo deadly, as that of loue, in the one phiſicke cannot preuaile, nor in the other counſell.

My caſe were light Hepheſtion, and not worthy to be called loue, if reaſon were a remedy, or ſentences could ſalue, that ſence cānot conceiue. Litle do you know, and therefore ſleightly do you regarde the dead embers in a priuate perſō, or liue coles in a great prince, whoſe pasſions and thoughts do as far exceede others in extremitie, as their callings doe in Maieſtie. An Eclipſe in the Sunne is more then the falling of a ſtarre, none can conceiue the torments of a king, vnleſſe hee be a king whoſe deſires are not inferior to their dignities. And then iudge Hepheſtion if the agonies of loue be dangerous in a ſubiect, whether they be not more then deadly vnto Alexander, whoſe deep and not to be conceiued ſighes, cleaue the hart in ſhiuers: whoſe woū ded thoughtes can neither be expreſſed nor endured. Ceaſe then Hephestion, with arguments to ſeeke to refel that, which with their deitie the Gods cannot reſiſt, & let this ſuffice to aunſwere thee that it is a king that loueth and Alexander, whoſe affectiōs are not to be meaſured by reaſon, being immortall, nor I feare me to be borne being intollerable.

I muſt needs yeeld, when neither reaſon nor counſell can be heard.

Yeeld Hepheſtion, for Alexander doth loue, and therefore muſt obtaine.

Suppoſe ſhe loues not you, affection commeth not by appointmente or birth, & then as good hated as enforced.

I am a king, and will commaund.

You may to yeelde to luſte by force, but to conſent to loue by feare you cannot.

Why, what is that, which Alexander may not conquer as he liſt?

Why, that which you ſay the Gods cannot reſiſte, Loue.

I am a conquerour, ſhe a captiue, I as fortunate, as ſhe faire: my greatnes may aunſwere her wants, and the giftes of my minde, the modeſtie of hers: Is it not likely then that ſhe ſhould loue? Is it not reaſonable?

You ſay that in loue there is no reaſon, & therfore there can be no likelyhood.

No more Hepheſtion, in this caſe I wil vſe mine owne counſell, and in all other thine aduice, thou maiſt be a good ſoldier, but neuer good louer. Cal my Page. Sirha, goe preſently to Apelles, and will him to come to me without either delay or excuſe.

I goe.

In the meane ſeaſon to recreate my ſpirits, being ſo neare, we will goe ſee Diogenes, and ſee where his tub is. Diogenes?

Who calleth?

Alexander. How happened it that you woulde not come out of your tub to my palace?

Becauſe it was as far from my tub to your pallace, as from your palace to my tub.

Why thē doeſt thou ow no reuerēce to kings:

No.

Why ſo?

Becauſe they be no Gods.

They be Gods of the earth.

Yea, Gods of earth.

Plato is not of thy mind.

I am glad of it.

Why?

Becauſe I would haue none of Diogenes minde but Diogenes.

If Alexander haue any thing that may pleaſure Diogenes, let me know, and take it.

Then take not from me, that you cannot giue me, the light of the world.

What doeſt thou want?

Nothing that you haue.

I haue the world at commaund.

And I in contempt.

Thou ſhalt liue no longer than I will.

But I will die whether you will or no.

How ſhould one learn to be content?

Vnlearn to couet.

Hepheſtion, were I not Alexander, I wolde wiſhe to be Diogenes.

He is dogged, but diſcrete, I cannot tel how ſharpe with a kinde of ſweetenes, ful of wit, yet too too wayward.

Diogenes, whē I come this way again, I will both ſee thee, and confer with thee.

Doe.

But here commeth Apelles, how now Apelles, is Venus face yet finiſhed

Not yet: Bewty is not ſo ſoone ſhadowed whoſe perfection commeth not within the compaſſe either of cunning or of colour.

Well let it reſt vnperfect, & come you with me, where I wil ſhewe you that finiſhed by nature, that you haue beene trifling about by art.

Lady, I doubt whether there bee any colour ſo freſh, that may ſhadow a countenance ſo faire.

Sir, I had thought you had beene commaunded to paint with your hand, not to gloſe with your tongue, but as I haue heard, it is the hardeſt thing in painting to ſet down a hard fauour, which maketh you to diſpair of my face, and then ſhall you haue as great thanks to ſpare your labour, as to diſcredit your arte.

Miſtreſſe, you neither differ from you ſelfe, nor your ſex: for knowing your owne perfection, you ſeeme to diſpraiſe that which men moſt cōmend, drawing thē by that meane into an admiration, where feeding them ſelues they fall into an extaſie, your modeſtie being the cauſe of the one, and of the other, your affections.

I am too young to vnderſtande your ſpeache, thogh old enough to withſtand your deuiſe: you haue bin ſo long vſed to colours, you cā do nothing but colour.

Indeed the colours I ſee, I feare wil alter the colour I haue: but come madam, will you draw neere, for Alexander will be here anon. Pſyllus, ſtay you heere at the window, if anye enquire for me, aunſwere, Non lubet eſſe domi.

It is alwayes my maiſters faſhion, when any fair Gentlewoman is to be drawne within, to make mee to ſtay without. But if he ſhuld paint Iupiter like a Bul, like a Swan, like an Eagle, then muſt Pſyllus with one hand grind colours, and with the other hold the candle. But let him alone, the better he ſhadowes her face, the more will he burne his owne heart. And now if a manne cold meet with Manes, who I dare ſay, lookes as leane, as if Diogenes dropped out of his noſe.

And here comes Manes, whoe hath as muche meate in his maw, as thou haſt honeſtie in thy head.

Then I hope thou art very hungry.

They that know thee, know that.

But doeſt thou not remember that wee haue certaine licour to conferre withall.

I, but I haue buſines, I muſt go cry a thing.

Why, what haſt thou loſt?

That which I neuer had my dinner.

Foule lubber wilt thou crye for thy dinner?

I meane, I muſt cry, not as one would ſaye cry, but cry, that is make a noyſe.

Why foole, that is al one, for if thou cry, thou muſt needes make a noiſe.

Boy thou art deceiued. Cry hath diuerſe ſignifications, and may bee alluded to manye things, knaue but one, and can be applyed but to thee.

Profound Manes.

Wee Cynickes are madde fellowes, didſte thou not finde I did quip thee?

No verely, why, what is a quip.

We great girders cal it a ſhort ſaying of a ſharp witte, with a bitter ſenſe in a ſweete word.

How canſt thou thus diuine, deuide, define, diſpute, and all on the ſuddaine?

Wit wil haue his ſwing, I am bewitcht, inſpird, inflamed, infected.

Well, then will not I tempt thy gybing ſpirite.

Do not Pſyllus, for thy dull head will bee but a grindſtone for my quick wit, which if thou whet with ouerwhartes, periſti, actum eſt de te. I haue drawne bloud at ones braines with a bitter bob.

Let me croſſe my ſelfe: for I die, if I croſſe thee.

Let me do my buſines, I my ſelf am afraid, leaſt my wit ſhould waxe warm, and then muſt it needs conſume ſome hard head with fine & prety ieſts. I am ſome times in ſuch a vaine, that for want of ſome dull pate to worke on, I begin to gird my ſelfe.

The Gods ſhield mee from ſuch a fine fellowe, whoſe words melt wits like waxe.

Well then, let vs to the matter. In fayth my maiſter meaneth to morrow to fly.

It is a ieſt.

Is it a ieſt to flye: ſhouldeſt thou flye ſo ſoone, thou ſhouldeſt repent it in earneſt.

Well, I will be the cryer.

O ys, o ys, o ys, Al manner of men, women or children, that will come to morow into the market place, between the houres of nine and ten, ſhall ſee Diogenes the Cynick flye.

I do not think he will flye.

Tuſh, ſay fly.

Fly.

Now let vs goe: for I will not ſee him againe til midnight, I haue a back way into his tub.

I ſhall neuer drawe your eies well, becauſe they blind mine.

Why thē, paint me without eies, for I am blind.

Were you euer ſhadowed before of any?

No. And would you could ſo now ſhadow me, that I might not be perceiued of any?

It were pittie, but that ſo abſolute a face ſhould furniſh Venus temple amongſt theſe pictures.

What are theſe pictures?

This is Laeda, whom loue deceiued in likenes of a ſwan.

A faire woman, but a foule deceit.

This is Alcmena, Vnto whō Iupiter came in ſhape of Amphitriō her husband, and begat Hercules.

A famous ſonne, but an infamous fact.

He might do it, becauſe he was a God.

Nay, therefore it was euill done, becauſe he was a God.

This is Danae, into whoſe priſon Iupiter driſled a golden ſhewre, and obtained his deſire?

What Gold can make one yeelde to deſire?

This is Europa, whom Iupiter rauiſhed: this Antiopa.

Were al the Gods like this Iupiter?

There were many Gods in this like Iupiter.

I thinke in thoſe dayes loue was wel ratified among men on earth, when luſt was ſo ful authoriſed by the Gods in heauen.

Nay, you may imagine there wer womē pasſing amiable, when there were Gods exceeding amorous.

Were women neuer ſo faire, mē wold be falſe.

Were womē neuer ſo falſe, men wold be fond.

What counterfeit is this Appelles?

This is Venus, the Goddeſſe of loue.

What, be there alſo louing Goddeſſes?

This is ſhe that hath power to commaunde the very affections of the heart.

How is ſhe hired: by praier, by ſacrifice, or bribs?

By praier, ſacrifice and bribes.

What praier?

Vowes irreuocable.

What ſacrifice?

Heartes euer ſighing neuer diſſembling.

What bribes.

Roſes and kiſſes: but were you neuer in loue?

No, nor loue in me.

Then haue you iniuried many.

How ſo?

Becauſe you haue beene loued of many.

Flattered parchance of ſome.

It is not posſible that a face ſo faire, & a wit ſo ſharpe, both without compariſon, ſhuld not be apt to loue.

If you begin to tip your tongue with cunning, I pray you dip your penſil in colours, and fall to that you muſt doe, not that you would doe.

Parmenio, I cannot tel how it commeth to paſſe, that in Alexander now a daies there groweth an vnpatiēt kinde of life, in the morning he is melancholy, at noone ſolomne, at all times either more ſower or ſeuere, then he was accuſtomed.

In kinges cauſes I rather loue to doubt then coniecture, and think it better to be ignoraunt then inquiſitiue: they haue long eares and ſtretched armes, in whoſe heades ſuſpition is a proofe, and to be accuſed is to be condemned.

Yet betweene vs there canne be no danger to finde out the cauſe: for that there is no malice to withſtand it. It may be an vnquenchable thirſte of conquering maketh him vnquiet: it is not vnlikly his long eaſe hath altred his humour: that he ſhould bee in loue, it is not imposſible.

In loue Clytus? no, no, it is as farre from his thought, as treaſon in ours, he whoſe euer waking eye, whoſe neuer tried heart, whoſe body patient of labour, whoſe mind vnſatiable of victory, hath alwayes bin noted, cannot ſo ſoone be melted into the weak conceites of loue. Ariſtotle told him there were many worlds, & that he hath not conquered one that gapeth for al, galleth Alexander. But here he commeth.

Parmenio, and Clitus, I would haue you both redy to go into Perſia about an ambaſſage no leſſe profitable to me, then to your ſelues honourable.

We are ready at all commaundes, wiſhing nothing els, but continually to be commaunded.

Well, then withdraw your ſelues, till I haue further conſidered of this matter.

You loue, and therefore think any thing.

But not ſo far in loue with Campaſpe, as with Bucephalus, if occaſion ſerue either of cōflicte or of conqueſt.

I ſhalbe hanged for tarying ſo long.

I pray God my maiſter be not flowne before I come.

Away Manes, my maiſter doth come.

Where haue you bin all this while?

No where but heere.

Who was here ſince my comming?

No body.

Vngratious wag, I perceiue you haue beene a loytering: was Alexander no body?

He was a king, I meant no meane body.

I will cogell your body for it, and then will I ſay it was no bodie, becauſe it was no honeſte body. Away in.

This is the place, the day, the time, that Diogenes hath appointed to flye.

I will not looſe the flight of ſo faire a fowle as Diogenes is, though my maiſter cogel my no bodie, as he threatned.

What Pſyllus, will the beaſte wag his winges to day?

We ſhall heare: for here commeth Manes. Manes will it be?

Be, he were beſt be as cunning as a Bee, or elſe ſhortly he will not be at all.

How is he furniſhed to fly, hath he feathers?

Thou art an aſſe, Capons, Geeſe & Owles, haue feathers. He hath found Dedalus old waxen wings, and hath beene peecing them this moneth, he is ſo broade in the ſhoulders. O you ſhall ſee him cut the ayre euen like a Tortoys.

Campaſpe, It is hard to iudge whether thy choice be more vnwiſe, or the chaunce vnfortunate. Doeſt thou preferre, but ſtay, vtter not that in woordes, which maketh thine eares to glow with thoughts. Tuſh better thy tongue wagge, then thy heart break. Hath a painter crept further into thy mind then a Prince? Apelles thē Alexander? Fond wench, the baſenes of thy mind bewraies the meanneſſe of thy birth. But alas, affection is a fyre which kindleth as well in the bramble as in the oake, & catcheth hold where it firſt lighteth, not where it may beſt burne. Larkes that mount aloof in the ayre, build their neaſtes below in the earth, and women that caſt their eies vpon kinges, may place their hearts vpon vaſſals. A needle will become thy fingers better then a Lute, and a diſtaffe is fitter for thy hand then a Scepter. Ants liue ſafely, til they haue gotten wings, & Iuniper is not blowne vp, till it hath gotten an hie top. The meane eſtate is without care, as long as it continueth without pride. But here commeth Apelles, in whom I woulde there were the like affection.

Gentlewoman, the miſfortune I had with your picture, wil put you to ſome paines, to ſitte againe to be painted.

We heare nothing of our Embaſſage, a colour belike to bleare our eyes, or ticle our eares, or inflame our heartes. But what doth Alexander in the meane ſeaſon, but vſe for Tantara, Sol. Fa. La. for his harde couch, downe beddes, for his handfull of water, his ſtandinge Cup of wine?

Clytus, I miſlike this new delicacie & pleaſing peace: for what els do we ſe now then a kind of ſoftnes in euery mans mind, Bees do make their hiues in ſoldiers helmets, our ſteedes furniſhed with foote clothes of gold, in ſteede of ſaddles of ſteele. More time to bee required to ſcoure the ruſt of our weapons, thē there was woōt to be in ſubdewing the countries of our enemies. Sithence Alexander fell from his harde armour to his ſofte robes beholde the face of his court, youthes that were woont to carry deuiſes of victory in their ſhieldes, engraue now poſies of loue in their ringes. They that were accuſtomed on trotting horſes to charge the enimy with a launce, now in eaſie coches ride vp & downe, to court Ladies: in ſteede of ſword and target to hazard their liues, vſe pen and paper to paint their loues. Yea, ſuch a feare and faintnes is growne in courte, that they wiſh rather to heare the blowing of a horne to hunt, thē the ſound of a trumpet to fight? O Phillip, wert thou aliue to ſee this alteration, thy men turned to womē, thy ſoldiers to louers, gloues worne in veluet, caps in ſteede of plumes in grauen helmets, thou wouldeſt ether die among them for ſorrow, or confound them for anger.

Ceaſe Permenio, leaſt in ſpeaking what becommeth thee not, thou feele what liketh thee not: truth is neuer without a ſcratcht face, whoſe tōgue although it cannot be cut out, yet muſt it be tied vp.

It grieueth me not a little for Hepheſtion, whoe thirſteth for honour, not eaſe: but ſuch is his fortune & neereneſſe in friendſhip to Alexander, that he muſt lay a pillowe vnder his head, when he would put a targette in his hand.

I haue now Campaſpe, almoſt made an ende.

You tolde me Apelles, you would neuer ende.

Neuer end my loue: for it ſhall be eternal.

That is, neither to haue beginning nor ending.

You are diſpoſed to miſtake, I hope you do not miſtruſt.

What will you ſaye, if Alexander perceiue your loue?

I will ſay it is no treaſon to loue.

But how if he wil not ſuffer thee to ſee my perſon?

Then will I gaſe continually on thy picture.

That will not feede thy heart.

Yet ſhall it fill mine eye: beſides the ſweete thoughtes, the ſure hopes, thy proteſted faith, wil cauſe me to imbrace thy ſhadow continually in mine armes, of the which by ſtrong imagination I will make a ſubſtaunce.

Wel, I muſt be gon: but this aſſure your ſelf, that I had rather bee in thy ſhop grinding colours, then in Alexanders court, following higher fortunes.

Now Apelles, gather thy wits together: Campaſpe is no leſſe wiſe then fayre, thy ſelfe muſt bee no leſſe cunning then faithfull. It is no ſmall matter to be riuall with Alexander.

Apelles, you muſt come away quicklye with the picture, the king thinketh that now you haue painted it, you play with it.

If I would play with pictures, I haue ynough at home.

None parhaps you like ſo well.

It may be I haue painted none ſo well.

I haue knowne many fairer faces.

And I many better boyes.

It ſhal go hard, but this peace ſhal bring vs ſome pleaſure.

Downe with armes, and vp with legges, this is a world for the nonce.

Me thinketh Hepheſtion you are more melancholy than you were accuſtomed, but I perceiue it is all for Alexander. You can neither brooke this peace, nor my pleaſure, be of good cheare, though I winke, I ſleepe not.

Melancholy I am not, nor well content: for I know not how there is ſuch a ruſt crept into my bones with this long eaſe, that I feare I ſhall not ſcowre it out with infinite labours.

Yes, yes, if all the trauailes of conquering the world will ſet either thy bodie or mine in tune, we will vndertake them. But what think you of Apelles? Did ye euer ſee any ſo perplexed? Hee neither anſwered directly to any queſtion, nor looked ſtedfaſtly vppon any thing. I holde my life the painter is in loue.

It may be: for commonly we ſee it incident in artificers to be enamoured of their owne works, as Archidamus of his wodden doue, Pygmalion of his yuorie Image, Arachne of his woddē ſwan, eſpecially painters, who playing with their owne conceſſes, now coueting to draw a glauncing eie, then a roling, now a wincking, ſtill mending it, neuer ending it, till they bee caught with it, and then poore ſoules they kiſſe the colours with their lippes, with which before they were loth to tainte theyr fingers.

I will finde it out. Page, go ſpeedely for Apelles, wil him to come hither, and when you ſee vs earneſtly in talke, ſodainly crie out, Apelles ſhop is on fire.

It ſhall be done.

Forget not your leſſon.

I maruaile what your deuiſe ſhalbe.

The euent ſhall prooue.

I pitie the poore painter, if he be in loue.

Pitie him not, I pray thee, that ſeuere grauity ſet aſide, what doe you think of loue?

As the Macedonians doe of their hearb Beet, which looking yellow in the ground, and black in the hand, think it better ſeene than toucht.

But what doe you imagine it to be?

A word by ſuperſticiō thought a God, by vſe turned to an humor, by ſelf-will made a flattering madneſſe.

You are too hard harted to think ſo of loue. Let vs go to Diogenes. Diogenes, thou maiſt think it ſomwhat, that Alexander commeth to thee againe ſo ſoone.

If you come to learne, you could not come ſoone enough, if to laugh, you be come too ſoone.

It would better become thee to bee more curteous, and frame thy ſelfe to pleaſe.

And you better to be leſſe, if you durſt diſpleaſe.

What doſt thou think of the time we haue here?

That we haue little and loſe much.

If one be ſick what wouldſt thou haue him do?

Be ſure that he make not his phiſition his heire.