Back to the Index Page

 
 
 

The Covntesse of Pembrokes Arcadia by Sir Philip Sidney



TO MY DEARE LADY AND SISTER, THE COVNTESSE OF PEMBROKE.
To the Reader.
THE COVNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA VVRITTEN BY SIR PHILIP SIDNEI.
THE FIRST BOOKE.
Philanax his letter to Basilius.
The first Ecloges.
Thyrsis and Dorus.
Dorus. Zelmane.
THE SECOND BOOKE OF THE COVNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA.
Plangus. Basilius.
The second Eclogues.
Dicus. Dorus.
Strephon. Klaius.
Strephon. Klaius.
Geron. Philisides.
Geron. Mastix.
Philisides. Echo.
THE THIRDE BOOKE OF THE COVNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA.
The Epitaph.
The thirde Egloges.
Geron. Histor.
THE FOVRTH BOOKE OF THE COVNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA.
The fourth Eglogues.
THE FIFTH BOOKE OF THE COVNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA.


THE COVNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA.
WRITTEN BY SIR Philip Sidney Knight.
NOW SINCE THE FIRST EDITION augmented and ended.

 

TO MY DEARE LADY AND SISTER, THE COVNTESSE OF PEMBROKE.

Here now haue you (most deare, and most worthye to bee most deare Lady) this idle worke of mine: which I feare (like the Spiders webbe) will be thought fitter to be swept away, then worne to any other purpose. For my part, in very trueth (as the cruell fathers among the Greekes, were woont to doe to the babes they would not foster) I could well finde in my heart, to cast out in some desert of forgetfulnesse this childe, which I am loath to father. But you desired me to doe it, and your desire, to my heart is an absolute commaundement. Now, it is done onely for you, only to you: if you keepe it to your selfe, or to such friends, who will weigh errors in the ballance of good will, I hope, for the fathers sake, it will be pardoned, perchaunce made much of, though in it selfe it haue deformities. For indeed, for seuerer eies it is not, being but a trifle, and that triflingly handled. Your deare selfe can best witnes the manner, being done in loose sheetes of paper, most of it in your presence, the rest, by sheetes, sent vnto you, as fast as they were done. In summe, a young head, not so wel staied as I would it were, (and shall be when God will) hauing many many fancies begotten in it, if it had not beene in some way deliuered, woulde haue growen a monster, and more sorie might I be that they came in, then that they gat out. But his chiefe safety, shall bee the not walking abroade; and his chiefe protection, the bearing the liuery of your name; which (if much much good will doe not deceiue me) is worthie to be a sanctuarie for a greater offender. This say I, because I know the vertue so; and this say I, because it may be euer so, or to say better, because it will be euer so. Reade it then at your idle times, and the follies your good iudgement will finde in it, blame not, but laugh at. And so, looking for no better stuffe, then, as in a Haberdashers shoppe, glasses, or feathers, you will continue to loue the writer, who doth exceedingly loue you, and moste moste heartilie praies you may long liue, to be a principall ornament to the family of the Sidneis.

Your louing brother,
Philip Sidney.

To the Reader.

The disfigured face, gentle Reader, wherewith this worke not long since appeared to the common view, moued that noble Lady, to whose Honour consecrated, to whose protection it was committed, to take in hand the wiping away those spottes wherewith the beauties therof were vnworthely blemished. But as often in repairing a ruinous house, the mending of some olde part occasioneth the making of some new: so here her honourable labour begonne in correcting the faults, ended in supplying the defectes; by the view of what was ill done guided to the consideration of what was not done. Which part with what aduise entred into, with what successe it hath beene passed through, most by her doing, all by her directing, if they may be entreated not to define, which are vnfurnisht of meanes to discerne, the rest (it is hoped) will fauourably censure. But this they shall, for theyr better satisfaction, vnderstand, that though they finde not here what might be expected, they may finde neuerthelesse as much as was intended, the conclusion, not the perfection of Arcadia: and that no further then the Authours own writings, or knowen determinations could direct. Whereof who sees not the reason, must consider there may be reason which hee sees not. Albeit J dare affirme hee either sees, or from wiser iudgements then his owne may heare, that Sir Philip Sidneies writings can no more be perfected without Sir Philip Sidney, then Apelles pictures without Apelles. There are that thinke the contrary: and no wonder. Neuer was Arcadia free from the comber of such Cattell. To vs, say they, the pastures are not pleasaunt: and as for the flowers, such as we light on we take no delight in, but the greater part growe not within our reach. Poore soules! what talke they of flowers? They are Roses, not flowers, must doe them good, which if they finde not here, they shall doe well to go feed elswhere: Any place will better like them: For without Arcadia nothing growes in more plenty, then Lettuce sutable to their Lippes, If it be true that likenes is a great cause of liking, and that contraries, inferre contrary consequences: then is it true, that the wortheles Reader can neuer worthely esteeme of so worthye a writing: and as true, that the noble, the wise, the vertuous, the curteous, as many as haue had any acquaintaunce with true learning and knowledge, will with all loue and dearenesse entertaine it, as well for affinity with themselues, as being child to such a father. Whom albeit it do not exactly and in euery lineament represent; yet considering the fathers vntimely death preuented the timely birth of the childe, it may happily seeme a thanke-woorthy labour, that the defects being so few, so small, and in no principall part, yet the greatest vnlikenes is rather in defect then in deformity. But howsoeuer it is, it is now by more then one interest The Countesse of Pembrokes Arcadia: done, as it was, for her: as it is, by her. Neither shall these pains be the last (if no vnexpected accident cut off her determination) which the euerlasting loue of her excellent brother, will make her consecrate to his memory.

H. S.

THE COVNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA VVRITTEN BY SIR PHILIP SIDNEI.

THE FIRST BOOKE.

It was in the time that the earth begins to put on her new aparrel against the approch of her louer, and that the Sun running a most euen course becums an indifferent arbiter betweene the night and the day; when the hopelesse shepheard Strephon was come to the sandes, which lie against the Island of Cithera; where viewing the place with a heauy kinde of delight, and sometimes casting his eyes to the Ileward, he called his friendly riuall, the pastor Claius vnto him, & setting first down in his darkened countenance a dolefull copie of what he would speake: O my Claius, saide hee, hether we are now come to pay the rent, for which we are so called vnto by ouer-busie Remembrance, Remembrance, restlesse Remembrance, which claymes not only this dutie of vs, but for it will haue vs forget our selues. I pray you when we were amid our flocke, and that of other shepheardes some were running after their sheep strayed beyond their boundes, some delighting their eyes with seeing them nibble vpon the short and sweete grasse, some medicining their sicke ewes, some setting a bell for an ensigne of a sheepish squadron, some with more leasure inuenting new games of exercising their bodies and sporting their wits: did Remembrance graunt vs any holiday, eyther for pastime or deuotion, nay either for necessary foode or naturall rest? but that still it forced our thoughts to worke vpon this place, where wee last (alas that the word last should so long last) did graze our eyes vpon her euer florishing beautie: did it not still crie within vs? Ah you base minded wretches, are your thoughts so deeply bemired in the trade of ordinary worldlings, as for respect of gaine some paultry wool may yeeld you, to let so much time passe without knowing perfectly her estate, especially in so troublesome a season? to leaue that shore vnsaluted, from whence you may see to the Island where she dwelleth? to leaue those steps vnkissed wherein Vrania printed the farewell of all beautie? Well then, Remembraunce commaunded, we obeyed, and here we find, that as our remembrance came euer cloathed vnto vs in the forme of this place, so this place giues newe heate to the feauer of our languishing remembrance. Yonder my Claius, Vrania lighted, the verie horse (me thought) bewayled to be so disburdned: and as for thee, poore Claius, when thou wentst to helpe her downe, I saw reuerence and desire so deuide thee, that thou didst at one instant both blushe and quake, and in stead of bearing her, warte readie to fal down thy selfe. There she sate, vouchsafing my cloake (then most gorgeous) vnder her: at yonder rising of the ground shee turned her selfe, looking backe toward her woonted abode, and because of her parting bearing much sorrow in her eyes, the lightsomnes wherof had yet so natural a cherefulnesse, as it made euen sorrow seeme to smile; at that turning shee spake to vs all, opening the cherrie of her lips, and Lord how greedily mine eares did feed vpon the sweete words she vttered? And here she laide her hand ouer thine eyes, when shee saw the teares springing in them, as if she would conceale them from other, and yet her selfe feele some of thy sorrow: But woe is me, yonder, yonder, did shee put her foote into the boate, at that instant as it were diuiding her heauenly beautie, betweene the Earth and the Sea. But when she was imbarked, did you not marke how the windes whistled, and the seas daunst for ioy, how the sailes did swell with pride, and all because they had Vrania? O Vrania, blessed be thou Vrania, the sweetest fairnesse and fairest sweetnesse: with that word his voice brake so with sobbing, that he could say no further; and Claius thus answered. Alas my Strephon (said he) what needes this skore to recken vp onely our losses? What doubt is there, but that the light of this place doth cal our thoughtes to appeare at the court of affection, held by that racking steward, Remembrance? Aswell may sheepe forget to feare when they spie woolues, as we can misse such fancies, when we see any place made happie by her treading. Who can choose that saw her but thinke where she stayed, where she walkt, where she turned, where she spoke? But what is all this? truely no more, but as this place serued vs to thinke of those thinges, so those thinges serue as places to call to memorie more excellent matters. No, no, let vs thinke with consideration, and consider with acknowledging, and acknowledge with admiration, and admire with loue, and loue with ioy in the midst of all woes: let vs in such sorte thinke, I say, that our poore eyes were so inriched as to behold, and our lowe hearts so exalted as to loue, a maide, who is such, that as the greatest thing the world can shewe, is her beautie, so the least thing that may be praysed in her, is her beautie. Certainely as her eye-lids are more pleasant to behold, then two white kiddes climing vp a faire tree, and browsing on his tendrest braunches, and yet are nothing, compared to the day-shining starres contayned in them; and as her breath is more sweete then a gentle South-west wind, which coms creeping ouer flowrie fieldes and shaddowed waters in the extreeme heate of summer, and yet is nothing, compared to the hony flowing speach that breath doth carrie: no more all that our eyes can see of her (though when they haue seene her, what else they shall euer see is but drie stuble after clouers grasse) is to be matched with the flocke of vnspeakeable vertues laid vp delightfully in that best builded folde. But in deede as we can better consider the sunnes beautie, by marking how he guildes these waters, and mountaines then by looking vpon his owne face, too glorious for our weake eyes: so it may be our conceits (not able to beare her sun-stayning excellencie) will better way it by her workes vpon some meaner subiect employed. And alas, who can better witnesse that then we, whose experience is grounded vpon feeling? hath not the onely loue of her made vs (beeing silly ignorant shepheards) raise vp our thoughts aboue the ordinary leuell of the worlde, so as great clearkes doe not disdaine our conference? hath not the desire to seeme worthie in her eyes made vs when others were sleeping, to sit vewing the course of heauens? when others were running at base, to runne ouer learned writings? when other marke their sheepe, we two marke our selues? hath not shee throwne reason vpon our desires, and, as it were giuen eyes vnto Cupid? hath in any, but in her, loue-fellowship maintained frindship between riuals, and beautie taught the beholders chastitie? He was going on with his praises, but Strephon bad him stay, and looke: and so they both perceaued a thinge which floted drawing nearer and nearer to the banke; but rather by the fauourable working of the Sea, then by any selfe industrie. They doubted a while what it should bee; till it was cast vp euen hard before them: at which time they fully saw that it was a man. Wherupon running for pitie sake vnto him, they found his hands (as it should appeare, constanterfrendes to his life then his memorie) fast griping vpon the edge of a square small coffer, which lay all vnder his breast: els in him selfe no shew of life, so as the boord seemed to be but a beere to carrie him a land to his Sepulchre. So drew they vp a young man of so goodly shape, and well pleasing fauour, that one would thinke death had in him a louely countenance; and, that though he were naked, nakednes was to him an apparrell. That sight increased their compassion, and their compassion called vp their care; so that lifting his feete aboue his head, making a great deale of salt water come out of his mouth, they layd him vpon some of their garments, and fell to rub and chafe him, till they brought him to recouer both breath the seruant, and warmth the companion of liuing. At length opening his eyes, he gaue a great groane, (a dolefull note but a pleasaunt dittie) for by that, they founde not onely life, but strength of life in him. They therefore continued on their charitable office, vntill (his spirits being well returned,) he (without so much as thanking them for their paines) gate vp, and looking round about to the vttermost lymittes of his sight, and crying vpon the name of Pyrocles, nor seeing nor hearing cause of comfort, what (said he) and shall Musidorus liue after Pyrocles destruction? therewithall hee offered wilfully to cast himselfe againe into the sea: a strange sight to the shepheards, to whom it seemed, that beefore being in apparance dead had yet saued his life, and now comming to his life, should be a cause to procure his death; but they ranne vnto him, and pulling him backe, (then to feeble for them) by force stickled that vnnaturall fray. I pray you (said he) honest men, what such right haue you in me, as not to suffer me to doe with my selfe what I list? and what pollicie haue you to bestowe a benefite where it is counted an iniury? They hearing him speake in Greeke (which was their naturall language) became the more tender hearted towards him; and considering by his calling and looking, that the losse of some deare friend was great cause of his sorrow; tolde him they were poore men that were bound by course of humanitie to preuent so great a mischiefe; and that they wisht him, if opinion of some bodies perishing bred such desperate anguish in him, that he should be coforted by his own proof, who had lately escaped as apparant danger as any might be. No, no (said he) it is not for me to attend so high a blissefullnes: but since you take care of me I pray you find meas that some Bark may be prouided, that will go out of the hauen, that if it be possible wee maye find the bodie farre farre too precious a food for fishes: and for the hire (said he) I haue within this casket, of value sufficient to content them. Claius presently went to a Fisherman, and hauing agreed with him, and prouided some apparrell for the naked stranger, he imbarked, and the Shepheards with him: and were no sooner gone beyond the mouth of the hauen, but that some way into the sea they might discerne (as it were) a stayne of the waters colour, and by times some sparkes and smoke mounting thereout. But the young man no sooner saw it, but that beating his brest, he cried, that there was the beginning of his ruine, intreating them to bend their course as neere vnto it as they could: telling, how that smoake was but a small relique of a great fire, which had driuen both him and his friend rather to committe themselues to the cold mercie of the sea, than to abide the hote crueltie of the fire: and that therefore, though they both had abandoned the ship, that he was (if any where) in that course to bee met withall. They steared therefore as neere thether-ward as they cold: but when they came so neere as their eies were ful masters of the obiect, they saw a sightful of piteous strangenes: a ship, or rather the carkas of the shippe, or rather some few bones of the carkas, hulling there, part broken, part burned, part drowned: death hauing vsed more than one dart to that destruction. About it floted great store of very rich thinges, and many chestes which might promise no lesse. And amidst the precious thinges were a number of dead bodies, which likewise did not only testifie both elements violence, but that the chiefe violence was growen of humane inhumanitie: for their bodies were full of grisly wounds, and their bloud had (as it were) filled the wrinckles of the seas visage: which it seemed the sea woulde not wash away, that it might witnes it is not alwaies his fault, when wee condemne his cruletie. In summe, a defeate, where the conquered kept both field and spoile: a shipwrack without storme or ill footing: and a wast of fire in the midst of the water.

But a litle way off they saw the mast, whose proude height now lay along; like a widdow hauing lost her make of whom she held her honor: but vpon the mast they saw a yong man (at least if hee were a man) bearing shew of about 18. yeares of age, who sate (as on horseback) hauing nothing vpon him but his shirt, which beeing wrought with blew silke and golde; had a kinde of resemblance to the sea: on which the sun (then neare his Westerne home) did shote some of his beames. His haire (which the young men of Greece vsed to weare very long) was stirred vp and downe with the wind, which seemed to haue a sporte to play with it, as the sea had to kisse his feet; himselfe full of admirable beautie, set foorth by the strangenes both of his seate and gesture: for, holding his head vp full of vnmoued maiestie, he held a sworde aloft with his faire arme, which often he waued about his crowne as though he would threaten the world in that extremitie. But the fishermen, when they came so neere him, that it was time to throwe out a rope, by which hold they might draw him, their simplicity bred such amasement, and their amasement such superstition, that (assuredly thinking it was some God begotten betweene Neptune and Venus , that had made all this terrible slaughter) as they went vnder sayle by him, held vp their hands and made their prayers. Which when Musidorus saw, though he were almost as much rauished with ioy, as they with astonishment, he lept to the Mariner, and tooke the corde out of his hande and (saying, doest thou liue, and arte well? who answered, thou canst tell best, since most of my well beyng standes in thee,) threwe it out, but alreadie the shippe was past beyond Pyrocles: and therefore Musidorus could do no more but perswade the Mariners to cast about againe, assuring them that hee was but a man, although of most diuine excellencies, and promising great rewardes for their paine.

And now they were alreadie come vpon the staies; when one of the saylers discried a Galley which came with sayles and oares directlie in the chase of them; and streight perceaued it was a wel knowne Pirate, who hunted not only for goodes but for bodies of men, which he imployed eyther to be his Galley slaues, or to sell at the best market. Which when the Maister vnderstoode, he commaunded forthwith to set on al the canuasse they could, and flie homeward, leauing in that sort poore Pyrocles so neere to be reskewed. But what did not Musidorus saye? what did hee not offer to perswade them to venture the fight? But feare stading at the gates of their eares, put backe all perswasions: so that he had nothing wherewith to accompanie Pyrocles, but his eyes; nor to succour him, but his wishes. Therefore praying for him, and casting a long looke that way, he saw the Galley leaue the pursuite of them, and turne to take vp the spoiles of the other wracke: and lastly he might well see them lift vp the yong man; and alas (saide hee to himselfe) deere Pyrocles shall that bodie of thine be enchained? shal those victorious hads of thine be comaunded to base offices? shal vertue becoe a slaue to those that be slaues to viciousnes? Alas, better had it bene thou hadst ended nobly thy noble daies: what death is so euil as vnworthy seruitude? But that opinion soone ceased when he sawe the gallie setting vpon an other shippe, which held long and strong fight with her: for then he began a fresh to feare the life of his friende, and to wish well to the Pirates whome before he hated, least in their ruyne he might perish. But the fishermen made such speed into the hauen, that they absented his eyes from beholding the issue: where being entred, he could procure neither them nor any other as then to put themselues into the sea: so that being as ful of sorrow for beyng vnable to doe any thing, as voide of counsel how to doe any thing, besides, that sicknesse grew something vpon him, the honest shepheards Strephon and Claius (who being themselues true friends, did the more perfectly iudge the iustnesse of his sorrowe) aduise him, that he should mitigate somwhat of his woe, since he had gotten an amendment in fortune, being come from assured persuasion of his death, to haue no cause to dispaire of his life: as one that had lamented the death of his sheepe, should after know they were but strayed, would receiue pleasure though readily he knew not where to finde them.

Now sir (saide they) thus for our selues it is. We are in profession but shepheards, and in this countrie of Laconia little better then straungers, and therefore neither in skill, nor abilitie of power greatly to stead you. But what wee can present vnto you is this: Arcadia, of which countrie we are, is but a little way hence; and euen vpon the next confines there dwelleth a Gentleman, by name Kalander , who vouchsafeth much fauour vnto vs: A man who for his hospitalitie is so much haunted, that no newes sturre, but comes to his eares; for his vpright dealing so beloued of his neighbours, that he hath many euer readie to doe him their vttermost seruice, and by the great good will our Prince beares him, may soone obtaine the vse of his name and credit, which hath a principall swaie, not onely in his owne Arcadia but in all these countries of Peloponnesus: & (which is worth all) all these things giue him not so much power, as his nature giues him will to benefit: so that it seemes no Musicke is sweete to his eare as deserued thanks. To him we wil bring you, and there you may recouer againe your health, without which you cannot bee able to make any diligent search for your friend: and therefore you must labour for it. Besides, we are sure the comfort of curtesie, and ease of wise counsell shall not be wanting.

Musidorus (who besides he was meerly vnacquainted in the countrie had his wits astonished with sorrow) gaue easie consent to that, from which hee savve no reason to disagree: and therefore (defraying the Mariners with a ring bestovved vpon them) they tooke their iourney together through Laconia; Claius and Strephon by course carying his chest for him, Musidorus only bearing in his countenance euident markes of a sorovvful-mind supported vvith a vveake bodie, vvhich they perceiuing, and knovving that the violence of sorovv is not at the first to be striuen vvithall: (being like a mighty beast, soner tamed vvith follovving, than ouerthrovven by vvithstanding) they gaue vvay vnto it for that day and the next; neuer troubling him, either vvith asking questions, or finding fault vvith his melancholie, but rather fitting to his dolor dolorous discourses of their ovvne and other folks misfortunes. Which speeches, though they had not a liuely entrace to his sences shut vp in sorow, yet like one halfe a sleepe he tooke hold of much of the matters spoken vnto him, so as a man may say, ere sorow was a ware, they made his thoughts beare away somthing els besid his own sorow, which wrought so in him, that at legth he grew content to marke their speeches, then to maruell at such wit in shepheardes, after to like their company, and lastly to vouchsafe conference: so that the third day after, in the time that the morning did strow roses and violets in the heauenly floore against the comming of the Sun, the nightingales (striuing one with the other which coulde in most dainty variety recount their wrong caused sorow) made them put of their sleep, and rising from vnder a tree (which that night had bine their pauilion) they went on their iorney, which by and by welcomed Musidorus eyes (wearied with the wasted soile of Laconia) with delightfull prospects. There were hilles which garnished their proud heights with stately trees: humble valleis, whose base estate seemed comforted with refreshing of siluer riuers: medowes, enameld with all sortes of eypleasing floures: thickets, which being lined with most pleasant shade, were witnessed so too by the cheerefull disposition of many wel-tuned birds: ech pasture stored with sheep feeding with sober security, while the prety lambes with bleting oratory craued the dams comfort: here a shepheards boy piping, as though he should neuer be olde: there a yong shepherdesse knitting, and withall singing, and it seemed that her voice comforted her hands to worke, and her hands kept time to her voices musick. As for the houses of the country (for many houses came vnder their eye) they were all scattered, no two being one by th'other, and yet not so far off as that it barred mutuall succour: a shew, as it were, of an accompanable solitarines, & of a ciuil wildnes. I pray you (said Musidorus, then first vnsealing his long silent lips) what countreyes be these we passe through, which are so diuers in shewe, the one wanting no store, th'other hauing no store but of want.

The country (answered Claius) where you were cast a shore, and now are past through, is Laconia, not so poore by the barrennes of the soyle (though in it selfe not passing fertill) as by a ciuill warre, which being these two yeares within the bowels of that estate, betweene the gentlemen and the peasants (by them named Helots) hath in this sorte as it were disfigured the face of nature, and made it so vnhospitall as now you haue founde it: the townes neither of the one side nor the other, willingly opening their gates to strangers, nor strangers willingly entring for feare of being mistaken.

But this countrie (where now you set your foot) is Arcadia: & euen hard by is the house of Kalander whether we lead you: this country being thus decked with peace, & (the child of peace) good husbandrie. These houses you see so scattered are of men, as we two are, that liue vpon the commoditie of their sheepe: and therefore in the diuision of the Arcadian estate are termed shepheards; a happie people, wanting litle because they desire not much. What cause then saide Musidorus, made you venter to leaue this sweet life, and put your selfe in yonder vnpleasant and dangerous realme? Guarded with pouertie (answered Strephon) and guided with loue: But now (said Claius) since it hath pleased you to aske any thing of vs whose basenes is such as the very knowledge is darkenes: geue vs leaue to know somthing of you, and of the yong man you so much lament, that at least we may be the better instructed to enforme Kalander, and he the better know how to proportion his entertainment. Musidorus (according to the agrement betwene Pyrocles & him to alter their names) answered, that he called himselfe Palladius, and his friend Daiphantus; but till I haue him againe (saide he) I am in deed nothing: and therefore my storie is of nothing, his entertainement (since so good a man he is) cannot be so lowe as I account my estate: and in summe, the summe of all his curtesie may be to helpe me by some meanes to seeke my frend.

They perceiued he was not willing to open himselfe further, and therefore without further questioning brought him to the house: about which they might see (with fitte consideration both of the ayre, the prospect, & the nature of the ground) all such necessarie additions to a greate house, as might will shewe, Kalander knewe that prouision is the foundation of hospitalitie, and thrift the fewel of magnificence. The house it selfe was built of faire and strong stone, not affecting so much any extraordinarie kinde of finenes, as an honorable representing of a firme statelines. The lightes, doores and staires, rather directed to the vse of the guest, then to the eye of the Artificer: and yet as the one cheefly heeded, so the other not neglected; eache place handsome without curiositie, and homely without lothsomnes: not so dainty as not to be trode on, nor yet slubbered vp with good felowshippe: all more lasting than beautifull, but that the consideration of the exceeding lastingnesse made the eye beleeue it was exceeding beautifull. The seruants not so many in number, as cleanlie in apparel, & seruiceable in behauiour, testifiing euen in their countenaunces, that their maister tooke aswell care to be serued, as of them that did serue. One of them was forth-with readie to wellcome the shepheards; as men, who though they were poore, their maister greatly fauoured: & vnderstanding by them, that the young man with the was to be much accounted of, for that they had sene tokens of more than commo greatnes, hovv so euer novv eclipsed vvith fortune: He ranne to his maister vvho came presentlie foorth, and pleasantly vvelcomming the shepheardes but especially applying him to Musidorus, Strephon priuately tolde him all vvhat he knevv of him, and particularly that he found this stranger vvas loath to be knovven.

Noe saide Kalander (speaking alowd) I am no herald to enquire of mens pedegrees, it sufficeth me if I know their vertues: which (if this young mans face bee not a false witnes) doe better apparrell his minde, then you haue done his body. While he was thus speaking, there came a boy in shew like a Marchants prentice, who taking Strephon by the sleeue, deliuered him a letter, written ioyntly both to him and Claius from Vrania: which they no sooner had read, but that with short leaue-taking of Kalander (who quickly guest and smiled at the matter) & once againe (though hastely) recommending the yong man vnto him, they went away, leauing Musidorus euen lothe to part with them, for the good conuersation he had of them, and obligation he accounted himself tied in vnto them: and therfore, they deliuering his chest vnto him, he opened it, and would haue presented them with two very rich Iewels, but they absolutelie refused the, telling him that they were more then enough rewarded in the knowing of him, and without harkening vnto a replie (like men whose hartes disdained all desires but one) gate speedely away, as if the letter had brought wings to make them flie. But by that sight Kalander soone iudged that his guest was of no meane calling; and therefore the more respectfullie entertaining him, Musidorus found his sicknes (which the fight, the sea, and late trauell had layd vpon him) grow greatly: so that fearing some suddaine accident, hee deliuered the chest to Kalander; which was full of most precious stones, gorgeously and cunningly set in diuerse manners, desiring him hee would keep those trifles, and if he died, he would bestow so much of it as was needfull, to finde out and redeeme a yong man, naming himselfe Daiphantus, as then in the handes of Laconia pirates.

But Kalander seeing him faint more and more, with carefull speede conueyed him to the most commodious lodging in his house: where beeing possest with an extreeme burning feuer, he continued some while with no great hope of life: but youth at length got the victorie of sicknesse, so that in sixe weeks the excellencie of his returned beautie was a credible embassadour of his health; to the great ioy of Kalander: who, as in this time he had by certaine friendes of his, that dwelt neare the Sea in Messenia, set foorth a shippe and a galley to seeke and succour Daiphantus: so at home did he omit nothing which hee thought might eyther profite or gratifie Palladius.

For hauing found in him (besides his bodily giftes beyond the degree of Admiration) by daily discourses which he delighted him selfe to haue with him, a mind of most excellent composition (a pearcing wit quite voide of ostentation, high erected thoughts seated in a hart of courtesie, an eloquence as sweet in the vttering, as slowe to come to the vttering, a behauiour so noble, as gaue a maiestie to aduersitie: and all in a man whose age could not be aboue one and twenty yeares) the good olde man was eue enamoured with a fatherly loue towards him; or rather became his seruaunt by the bondes such vertue laid vpon him; once he acknowledged him selfe so to be, by the badge of diligent attendance.

But Palladius hauing gotten his health, and onely staying there to bee in place, where he might heare answere of the shippes set foorth, Kalander one after noone led him abroad to a well arayed ground he had behind his house, which hee thought to shew him before his going, as the place himself more the in any other delighted, the backside of the house was neither field, garde, nor orchard; or rather it was both field garden, and orchard: for as soone as the descending of the stayres had deliuered them downe, they came into a place cunningly set with trees of the moste tast-pleasing fruites: but scarcelie they had taken that into their consideration, but that they were suddainely stept into a delicate greene, of each side of the greene a thicket, and behinde the thickets againe newe beddes of flowers, which beeing vnder the trees, the trees were to them a Pauilion, and they to the trees a mosaicall floore: so that it seemed that arte therein would needes be delightfully by counterfaiting his enemie error, and making order in confusion.

In the middest of all the place, was afaire ponde, whose shaking christall was a perfect mirrour to all the other beauties, so that it bare shewe of two gardens: one in deede, the other in shaddowes: and in one of the thickets was a fine fountaine made thus. A naked Venus of white marble, wherein the grauer had vsed such cunning, that the naturall blewe veines of the marble were framed in fitte places, to set foorth the beautifull veines of her bodie. At her brest shee had her babe Æneas, who seemed (hauing begun to sucke) to leaue that, to looke vpon her fayre eyes, which smiled at the babes follie, meanewhile the breast runing. Hard by was a house of pleasure built for a Sommer retiring place, whether Kalander leading him, he found a square roome full of delightfull pictures, made by the moste excellent workeman of Greece. There was Diana when Acteon sawe her bathing, in whose cheekes the painter had set such a colour, as was mixt betweene shame and disdaine: and one of her foolish Nymphes, who weeping, and with all lowring, one might see the workman meant to set forth teares of anger. In another table was Atalanta ; the posture of whose lims was so liuelie expressed, that if the eyes were the onely iudges, as they be the onely seers, one would haue sworne the very picture had runne. Besides many mo, as of Helena, Omphale, Iole: but in none of them all beautie seemed to speake so much as in a large table, which contained a comely old man, with a lady of midle age, but of excellent beautie; and more excellent would haue bene deemed, but that there stood betwene them a yong maid, whose wonderfulnesse tooke away all beautie from her, but that which it might seeme shee gaue her backe againe by her very shadow. And such difference (being knowne that it did in deed counterfeit a person liuing) was there betweene her and all the other, though Goddesses, that it seemd the skill of the painter bestowed on the other new beautie, but that the beautie of her bestowed new skill of the painter. Though he thought inquisitiuenes an vncomely guest, he could not choose but aske who shee was, that bearing shewe of one being in deed, could with natural gifts go beyond the reach of inuention. Kalander answered, that it was made by Philoclea, the yonger daughter of his prince, who also with his wife were contained in that Table: the painter meaning to represent the present condition of the young Ladie, vvho stood vvatched by an ouer-curious eye of her parents: and that he vvould also haue dravvne her eldest sister, esteemed her match for beautie, in her shepheardish attire; but that the rude clovvne her gardian vvould not suffer it: nether durst he aske leaue of the Prince for feare of suspition. Palladius perceaued that the matter vvas vvrapt vp in some secresie, and therfore vvould for modestie demaund no further: but yet his countenance could not but vvith dumme Eloquence desire it: Which Kalander perceauing, vvell said he, my deere guest, I knovv your minde, and I vvill satisfie it: neither vvill I doo it like a niggardly ansvverer, going no further than the boundes of the question, but I vvill discouer vnto you, asvvell that vvherein my knovvledge is common vvith others, as that vvhich by extraordinarie meanes is deliuered vnto me: knovving so much in you (though not long acquainted) that I shal find your eares faithfull treasurers. So then sitting downe in tvvo chaires, and sometimes casting his eye to the picture, hee thus spake.

This countrie Arcadia among all the prouinces of Greece, hath euer beene had in singular reputation: partly for the svveetnesse of the ayre, and other naturall benefites, but principally for the vvell tempered minds of the people, vvho (finding that the shining title of glorie so much affected by other natios, doth in deed helpe little to the happinesse of life) are the onely people, vvhich as by their Iustice and prouidence geue neither cause nor hope to their neighbours to annoy them, so are they not sturred vvith false praise to trouble others quiet, thinking it a small revvard for the vvasting of their ovvne liues in rauening, that their posteritie should long after saie, they had done so. Euen the Muses seeme to approue their good determination, by chosing this countrie for their cheife repairing place, and by bestovving their perfections so largely here, that the very shepheards haue their fancies lifted to so high conceits, as the learned of other nations are content both to borrow their names, and imitate their cunning.

Here dwelleth, and raigneth this Prince (whose picture you see) by name Basilius, a Prince of sufficient skill to gouerne so quiet a countrie, where the good mindes of the former princes had set downe good lawes, and the well bringing vp of the people doth serue as a most sure bond to hold them. But to be plaine with you, he excels in nothing so much, as in the zealous loue of his people, wherein he doth not onely passe all his owne fore-goers, but as I thinke all the princes liuing. Wherof the cause is, that though he exceed not in the vertues which get admiration; as depth of wisdome, height of courage and largenesse of magnificence, yet is he notable in those which stirre affection, as trueth of word, meekenesse, courtesie, mercifulnesse, and liberalitie.

He being already well striken in yeares, maried a young princes, named Gynecia, daughter to the king of Cyprus, of notable beautie, as by her picture you see: a woman of great wit, and in truth of more princely vertues, then her husband: of most vnspotted chastitie, but of so working a minde, and so vehement spirits, as a man may say, it was happie shee tooke a good course: for otherwise it would haue beene terrible.

Of these two are brought to the world two daughters, so beyond measure excellent in all the gifts allotted to reasoable creatures, that we may think they were borne to shewe, that Nature is no stepmother to that sex, howe much so euer some men (sharpe witted onely in euill speaking) haue sought to disgrace them. The elder is named Pamela; by many men not deemed inferiour to her sister: for my part, when I marked them both, me thought there was (if at least such perfections may receiue the worde of more) more sweetnesse in Philoclea, but more maiestie in Pamela: mee thought loue plaide in Philocleas eyes, and threatned in Pamelas: mee thought Philocleas beautie onely perswaded, but so perswaded as all harts must yeelde: Pamelas beautie vsed violence, and such violence as no hart could resist: and it semes that such proportion is betweene their mindes; Philoclea so bashfull as though her excellencies had stolne into her before shee was aware: so humble, that she will put all pride out of countenance: in summe, such proceeding as will stirre hope, but teach hope good manners. Pamela of high thoughts, who auoides not pride with not knowing her excellencies, but by making that one of her excellencies to bee voide of pride; her mothers wisdome, greatnesse, nobilitie, but (if I can ghesse aright) knit with a more constant temper. Now then; our Basilius being so publickly happie as to bee a Prince, and so happie in that happinesse as to be a beloued Prince, and so in his priuate blessed as to haue so excellent a wife, and so ouer excellent children, hath of late taken a course which yet makes him more spoken of then all these blessings. For, hauing made a iourney to Delphos, and safely returned, within short space he brake vp his court, and retired himselfe, his wife, and children into a certaine Forrest hereby, which he calleth his desert, wherein (besides a house appointed for stables and lodgings for certaine persons of meane calling, who do all houshold seruices,) he hath builded two fine lodges. In the one of them him selfe remaines with his younger daughter Philoclea, which was the cause they three were matched together in this picture, without hauing any other creature liuing in that lodge with him.

Which though it bee straunge, yet not so straunge, as the course hee hath taken with the princesse Pamela, whom he hath placed in the other lodge: but how thinke you accompanied? truly with none other, but one Dametas, the most arrant doltish clowne, that I thinke euer was without the priuiledge of a bable, with his wife Miso , and daughter Mopsa, in whom no witt can deuise anie thing wherein they may pleasure her, but to exercise her patience, and to serue for a foile of her perfections. This loutish clowne is such, that you neuer saw so ill fauourd a visar; his behauiour such, that he is beyond the degree of ridiculous; and for his apparrel, euen as I would wish him: Miso his wife, so handsome a beldame, that onely her face and her splay-foote haue made her accused for a witch; only one good point she hath, that she obserues decorum, hauing a froward minde in a wretched body. Betweene these two personages (who neuer agreed in any humor, but in disagreeing) is issued foorth mistresse Mopsa, a fitte woman to participate of both their perfections: but because a pleasant fellow of my acquaintance set foorth her praises in verse, I wil onely repeate them, and spare mine owne tongue, since she goes for a woman. The verses are these which I haue so often caused to be song, that I haue them without booke.



What length of verse can serue braue Mopsas good to shew?
Whose vertues strange, & beauties such, as no ma them may know
Thus shrewdly burdned the, how ca my Muse escape?
The gods must helpe, and pretious things must serue to shew her shape.
   Like great God Saturn faire, and like faire Venus chaste:
As smooth as Pan, as Iuno milde, like goddesse Iris faste.
With Cupid she fore-sees, and goes god Vulcans pace:
And for a tast of all these gifts, she steales god Momus grace,
   Her forhead iacinth like, her cheekes of opall hue,
Her twinkling eies bedeckt with pearle, her lips as Saphir blew:
Her haire like Crapal-stone; her mouth O heauenly wide;
Her skin like burnisht gold, her hands like siluer vre vntryde.
      As for her parts vnknowne, which hidden sure are best:
      Happie be they which well beleeue & neuer seeke the rest.

Now truely hauing made these descriptions vnto you, me thinks you should imagine that I rather faine some pleasant deuise, then recount a truth, that a Prince (not banished from his owne wits) could possibly make so vnworthie a choise. But truely (deare guest) so it is, that Princes (whose doings haue beene often soothed with good successe) thinke nothing so absurde, which they cannot make honourable. The beginning of his credite was by the Princes straying out of the way, one time hee hunted, where meeting this fellow, and asking him the way; and so falling into other questions, he found some of his answeres (as a dog sure if he could speake, had wit enough to describe his kennell) not vnsensible, and all vttered with such rudenes, which he interpreted plainnesse (though there be great difference betweene them) that Basilius conceauing a sodaine delight, tooke him to his Court, with apparant shew of his good opinion: where the flattering courtier had no sooner taken the Princes minde, but that there were straight reasons to confirme the Princes doing, and shadowes of vertues found for Dametas. His silence grew wit, his bluntnesse integritie, his beastly ignorance vertuous simplicitie: and the Prince (according to the nature of great persons, in loue with that he had done himselfe) fancied, that his weaknesse with his presence would much be mended. And so like a creature of his owne making, hee liked him more and more, and thus hauing first giuen him the office of principall heardman, lastly, since he tooke this strange determination, hee hath in a manner put the life of himselfe and his children into his hands. Which authoritie (like too great a sayle for so small a boate) doth so ouer-sway poore Dametas, that if before he weare a good foole in a chamber, he might bee allowed it now in a comedie: So as I doubt mee (I feare me in deede) my master will in the end (with his cost) finde, that his office is not to make men, but to vse men as men are; no more then a horse will be taught to hunt, or an asse to mannage. But in sooth I am afraid I haue geuen your eares too great a surfette, with the grosse discourses of that heauie peece of flesh. But the zealous greefe I conceue to see so great an error in my Lord, hath made me bestowe more words, then I confesse so base a subiect deserueth.

Thus much now that I haue tolde you, is nothing more then in effect any Arcadian knows. But what moued him to this strange solitarines hath bin imparted (as I thinke) but to one person liuing. My selfe can coniecture and in deede more then coniecture, by this accident that I will tell you: I haue an onely sonne, by name Clitophon, who is now absent, preparing for his owne mariage, which I meane shortly shalbe here celebrated. This sonne of mine (while the Prince kept his Court) was of his bed-chamber; now since the breaking vp thereof, returned home, and shewed me (among other things he had gathered) the coppie which hee had taken of a letter: which when the prince had read, he had laid in a windowe, presuming no body durst looke in his writings: but my sonne not only tooke a time to read it, but to copie it. In trueth I blamed Clitophon for the curiositie, which made him breake his dutie in such a kind, whereby kings secrets are subiect to be reuealed: but since it was done, I was content to take so much profite, as to know it. Now here is the letter, that I euer since for my good liking, haue caried about me: which before I read vnto you, I must tell you from whom it came. It is a noble-man of this countrie, named Philanax, appointed by the Prince, Regent in this time of his retiring, and most worthy so to be: for, there liues no man, whose excellent witte more simplye imbraseth integritie, beesides his vnfained loue to his master, wherein neuer yet any could make question, sauing whether he loued Basilius or the Prince better: a rare temper, while most men either seruile-ly yeeld to all appetites, or with an obstinate austeritie looking to that they fansie good, in effect neglect the Princes person. This then being the man, whome of all other (and most worthie) the Prince cheefly loues, it should seeme (for more then the letter I haue not to ghesse by) that the Prince vpon his returne from Delphos, (Philanax then lying sick) had written vnto him his determination, rising (as euidently appeares) vpon some Oracle hee had there receaued: whereunto he wrote this answere.

Philanax his letter to Basilius.

Most redouted and beloued prince, if aswel it had pleased you at your going to Delphos as now, to haue vsed my humble seruice, both I should in better season, and to better purpose haue spoken: and you (if my speech had preuailed) should haue been at this time, as no way more in danger, so much more in quietnes; I would then haue saide, that wisdome and vertue be the only destinies appointed to man to follow, whence wee ought to seeke all our knowledge, since they be such guides as cannot faile; which, besides their inwarde comfort, do lead so direct a way of proceeding, as either prosperitie must ensue; or, if the wickednes of the world should oppresse it, it can neuer be said, that euil happeneth to him, who falles accompanied with vertue: I would then haue said, the heauenly powers to be reuerenced, and not serched into; & their mercies rather by praiers to be sought, then their hidden councels by curiositie. These kinds of soothsayings (since they haue left vs in ourselues sufficient guides) to be nothing but fansie, wherein there must either be vanitie, or infalliblenes, & so, either not to be respected, or not to be preuented. But since it is weakenes too much to remember what should haue beene done and that your commandemet stretcheth to know what is to be done, I do (most deare Lord) with humble boldnes say, that the manner of your determination doth in no sorte better please me, then the cause of your going. These thirtie yeares you haue so gouerned this Region, that nether your Subiectes haue wanted iustice in you, nor you obedience in them; & your neighbours haue found you so hurtlesly strong, that they thought it better to rest in your friendshippe, then make new trial of your enmitie. If this then haue proceeded out of the good constitution of your state, and out of a wise prouidence, generally to preuent all those things, which might encober your happines: vvhy should you novv seeke nevve courses, since your ovvne ensample comforts you to continue, and that it is to me most certaine (though it please you not to tell me the very vvords of the Oracle) that yet no destinie, nor inflvence vvhatsoeuer, can bring mans vvit to a higher point, then vvisdome and goodnes? vvhy should you depriue your selfe of gouernment, for feare of loosing your gouernmet? like one that should kil him selfe for feare of death? nay rather, if this Oracle be to be accouted of, arm vp your courage ye more against it: for vvho vvil sticke to him that abandones him selfe; let your subiects haue you in their eyes; let them see the benefites of your iustice dayly more and more; and so must they needes rather like of present sureties, then vncertaine changes. Lastly, whether your time call you to liue or die, doo both like a prince. Nowe for your second resolution; which, is to suffer no worthie prince to be a suiter to either of your daughters, but while you liue to keepe them both vnmaried; &, as it weare to kil the ioy of posteritie, which in your time you may inioye: moued perchance by a misunderstoode Oracle: what shall I saye, if the affection of a father to his owne children, cannot plead sufficiently against such fancies? once certaine it is, the God which is God of nature, doth neuer teach vnnaturalnes: and euen the same minde hold I touching your banishing them from companie, least, I know not what strange loues should follow. Certainly Sir, in my ladies, your daughters, nature promiseth nothing but goodnes, and their education by your fatherly care, hath beene hetherto such, as hath beene most fit to restraine all euil: geuing there minds vertuous delightes, and not greeuing them for want of wel-ruled libertie. Now to fal to a sodain straightning them, what can it do but argue suspition, a thing no more vnpleasant, then vnsure, for the preseruing of vertue? Leaue womens minds, the most vntamed that way of any: see whether any cage can please a bird? or whether a dogge growe not fiercer with tying? what doth ielousie, but stirre vp the minde to thinke, what it is from which they are restrayned? for they are treasures, or things of great delight, which men vse to hide, for the aptnesse they haue to cach mans fancies: and the thoughtes once awaked to that, harder sure it is to keepe those thoughts from accomplishment, then it had beene beefore to haue kept the minde (which beeing the cheefe parte by this meanes is defiled) from thinking. Lastly, for the recommending so principall a charge of the Princesse Pamela, (whose minde goes beyond the gouerning of many thousands such) to such a person as Dametas is (besides that the thing in it selfe is strange) it comes of a very euil ground, that ignorance should be the mother of faithfulnes, O no; he cannot be good, that knowes not why he is good, but stands so farre good, as his fortune may keepe him vnassaied: but comming once to that, his rude simplicitie is either easily changed, or easily deceiued: & so growes that to be the last excuse of his fault, which seemed to haue been the first foundation of his faith. Thus farre hath your commaundement and my zeale drawen me; which I, like a man in a valley that may discern hills, or like a poore passenger that may spie a rock, so humbly submit to your gratious consideration, beseeching you againe, to stand wholy vpon your owne vertue, as the surest way to maintaine you in that you are, and to auoid any euill which may be imagined.

By the contents of this letter you may perceiue, that the cause of all, hath beene the vanitie which possesseth many, who (making a perpetuall mansion of this poore baiting place of mans life) are desirous to know the certaintie of things to come; wherein there is nothing so certaine as our continuall vncertaintie. But what in particular pointes the oracle was, in faith I know not: nether (as you may see by one place of Philanax letter) he him selfe distinctly knew. But this experience shewes vs, that Basilius iudgement, corrupted with a princes fortune, hath rather hard then followed the wise (as I take it) councell of Philanax. For hauing left the sterne of his gouernment, with much amazement to the people, among whom many strange bruits are receiued for currant, and with some apparance of danger in respect of the valiant Amphialus his nephew, & much enuy in the ambitious number of the Nobilitie against Philanax, to see Philanax so aduanced, though (to speake simply) he deserue more then as many of vs as there be in Arcadia: the prince him selfe hath hidden his head, in such sort as I tolde you, not sticking plainly to confesse, that he meanes not (while he breathes) that his daughters shall haue any husbad, but keepe the thus solitary with him: weher he gius no other body leaue to visit him at anytime but a certaine priest, who being excellent in poetrie, he makes him write out such thinges as he best likes, he being no les delightfull in conuersation, then needfull for deuotio, &, about twety specified shepheards, in who some (for exercises, & some for Eglogs) he taketh greater recreation.

And now you know as much as my selfe: wherin if I haue held you ouer long, lay hardly the fault vpon my olde age, which in the very disposition of it is talkatiue: whether it be (said he smiling) that nature loues to exercise that part most, which is least decayed, and that is our tongue: or, that knowledge being the onely thing whereof we poore olde men can brag, we cannot make it knowen but by vtterance: or, that mankinde by all meanes seeking to eternize himselfe so much the more, as he is neere his end, dooth it not onely by the children that come of him, but by speaches and writings recommended to the memorie of hearers and readers. And yet thus much I will say for my selfe, that I haue not laid these matters, either so openly, or largely to any as your selfe: so much (if I much faile not) doo I see in you, which makes me both loue and trust you. Neuer may he be olde, answered Palladius, that doth not reuerence that age, whose heauines, if it waie doune the frayl and fleshly ballance, it as much lifts vp the noble and spirituall part: and well might you haue alledged another reason, that their wisedome makes them willing to profite others. And that haue I receiued of you, neuer to be forgotten, but with vngratefulnes. But among many strange conceits you told mee, which haue shewed effectes in your Prince, truly euen the last, that he should conceiue such pleasure in shepheards discourses, would not seeme the least vnto me, sauing that you told me at the first, that this countrie is notable in those wits, & that in deed my selfe hauing beene brought not onely to this place, but to my life, by Strephon and Claius, in their conference found wits as might better become such shepheardes as Homer speakes of, that be gouernors of peoples, then such senatours who hold their councell in a sheepecoate: for them two (said Kalander) especially Claius, they are beeyond the rest by so much, as learning commonlie doth adde to nature: for, hauing neglected their wealth in respect of their knowledge, they haue not so much empayred the meaner, as they bettered the better. Which all notwithstanding, it is a sporte to heare howe they impute to loue, which hath indewed their thoughtes (saie they) with such a strength.

But certainely, all the people of this countrie from high to lowe, is giuen to those sportes of the vvitte, so as you would vvonder to heare hovv soone euen children vvill begin to versifie. Once ordinary it is among the meanest sorte, to make Songes and Dialogues in meeter, either loue vvhetting their braine, or longe peace hauing begun it, example and emulation amending it. Not so much, but the Clowne Dametas will stumble sometimes vpon some songes that might become a better braine: but no sorte of people so excellent in that kind as the pastors; for their liuing standing but vppon the looking to their beastes, they haue ease, the Nurse of Poetrie. Neither are our shepheards such, as (I heare) they be in other countries; but they are the verie owners of the sheepe, to which either them selues looke, or their children giue dayly attendance. And then truly, it would delight you vndersome tree, or by some riuers side (when two or three of them meet together) to heare their rurall muse, how pretily it will deliuer out, sometimes ioyes, sometimes lamentations, sometimes chalenginges one of the other, sometimes vnder hidden formes vttering such matters, as otherwise they durst not deale with. Then haue they most commonly one, who iudgeth the Price to the best doer, of which they are no lesse glad, then great Princes are of triumphes: and his parte is to sette downe in writing all that is saide, saue that it may be, his pen with more leasure doth polish the rudnesse of an vnthought-on songe. Nowe the choise of all (as you may well thinke) either for goodnes of voice, or plesantnes of wit, the Prince hath: among whome also there are two or three strangers, whom inwarde melancholies hauing made weery of the worldes eyes, haue come to spend their liues among the countrie people of Arcadia; & their conuersation being wel approued, the Prince vouchsafeth them his presence, and not onely by looking on, but by great curtesie and liberalitie, animates the shepheardes the more exquisitely to labour for his good liking. So that there is no cause to blame the Prince for sometimes hearing them; the blame-worthinesse is, that to heare them, he rather goes to solitarinesse, then makes them come to companie. Nether doe I accuse my maister for aduancing a countriman, as Dametas is, since God forbid, but where worthynesse is (as truely it is among diuers of that fellowship) any outward lownesse should hinder the hiest raysing, but that he would needs make election of one, the basenesse of whose minde is such, that it sinckes a thousand degrees lower, then the basest bodie coulde carrie the most base fortune: which although it might be answered for the prince, that it is rather a trust he hath in his simple plainnesse, then any great aduancement, being but chiefe heardman: yet all honest hartes feele, that the trust of their Lord goes beyond al aduancement. But I am euer too long vppon him, when he crosseth the waye of my speache, and by the shadovve of yonder tovver, I see it is a fitter time, vvith our supper to pay the duties we owe to our stomacks, then to break the aire with my idle discourses: And more witte I might haue learned of Homer (whom euen now you mentioned) who neuer entertayned eyther guestes or hostes with long speaches, till the mouth of hunger be throughly stopped. So withall he rose, leading Palladius through the gardeine againe to the parler, where they vsed to suppe; Palladius assuring him, that he had already been more fed to his liking, the he could be by the skillfullest trenchermen of Media.

But being come to the supping place, one of Kaladers seruants rouded in his eare; at which (his colour chaunging) he retired himselfe into his chamber; commaunding his men diligently to waite vpon Palladius, and to excuse his absence with some necessary busines he had presently to dispatch. Which they accordingly did, for some fewe daies forcing theselues to let no change appeare, but though they framed their countenaunces neuer so cunningly, Palladius perceaued there was some ill-pleasing accident fallen out. Wherupon, being againe set alone at supper, he called to the Steward, and desired him to tell him the matter of his suddaine alteration: who after some trifling excuses, in the ende confessed vnto him, that his maister had receiued newes, that his sonne before the daie of his neere marriage, chaunst to bee at a battaile, which was to bee fought betweene the Gentlemenne of Lacedæmon and the Helots: who winning the victorie, he was there made prisoner, going to deliuer a friend of his taken prisoner by the Helots; that the poore young Gentleman had offered great raunsome for his life: but that the hate those paysaunts conceaued agaynst all Gentlemen was such, that euerye houre hee was to looke for nothinge, but some cruell death: which hether-vnto had onelye beene delayed by the Captaines vehement dealing for him, who seemed to haue a hart of more manlie pittie then the rest. Which losse had stricken the old Gentleman with such sorrowe, as if abundance of teares did not seeme sufficiently to witnesse it, hee was alone retyred, tearing his bearde and hayre, and cursing his olde age, that had not made his graue to stoppe his eares from such aduertisementes: but that his faithfull seruantes had written in his name to all his friendes followers, and tennants (Philanax the gonernour refusing to deale in it as a priuate cause, but yet geuing leaue to seeke their best redresse, so as they, wronged not the state of Lacedæmon) of whom there were nowe gathered vpon the frontiers good forces, that he was sure would spende their liues by any way, to redeeme or reuenge Clitophon. Now sir (saide hee) this is my maysters nature, though his grief be such, as to liue is a griefe vnto him, & that euen his reason is darkned with sorrow; yet the lawes of hospitalitie (long and holily obserued by him) giue still such a sway to his proceeding, that he will no waie suffer the straunger lodged vnder his roofe, to receyue (as it were) any infection of his anguish, especially you, toward whom I know not whether his loue, or admiration bee greater. But Palladius could scarce heare out his tale with patience: so was his heart torne in peeces with compassion of the case, liking of Kalanders noble behauiour, kindenesse for his respect to him-warde, and desire to finde some remedie, beesides the image of his deerest friend Daiphantus, whom he iudged to suffer eyther a like or a worse fortune. Therefore rising from the boorde, hee desired the stewarde to tell him particularly, the ground and euent of this accident, because by knowledge of many circumstances, there might perhaps some waie of helpe be opened. Whereunto the Steward easilie in this sorte condiscended.

My Lorde (said he) when our good king Basilius, with better successe then expectation, tooke to wife (euen in his more then decaing yeares) the faire younge Princes Gynccia; there came with her a young Lord, cousin german to her selfe, named Argalus , led hether, partly with the loue and honour of his noble kinswoman, partlie with the humour of youth, which euer thinkes that good, whose goodnes hee sees not: & in this court he receiued so good increase of knowledge, that after some years spet, he so manifested a most vertuous mind in all his actions, that Arcadia gloried such a plant was transported vnto them, being a Gentleman in deede most rarely accomplished, excellentlie learned, but without all vayne glorie: friendly, without factiousnes: valiaunt, soe as for my part I thincke the earth hath no manne that hath done more heroicall actes then hee; howsoeuer now of late the fame flies of the two princes of Thessalia and Macedon, and hath long doone of our noble prince Amphialus: who indeed, in our partes is onely accounted likely to match him: but I say for my parte, I thinke no man for valour of minde, and habilitie of bodie to be preferred, if equalled to Argalus; and yet so valiant as he neuer durst doe any bodie iniurie: in behauiour some will say euer sadde, surely sober, and somewhat giuen to musing, but neuer vncourteous; his worde euer ledde by his thought, and followed by his deede; rather liberall then magnificent, though the one wanted not, and the other had euer good choise of the receiuer: in summe (for I perceiue I shall easily take a great draughte of his praises, whom both I and all this countrie loue so well) such a man was (and I hope is) Argalus, as hardly the nicest eye can finde a spot in, if the ouer-vehement constancie of yet spotles affection, may not in hard wrested constructions be counted a spot: which in this manner began that worke in him, which hath made both him, and it selfe in him, ouer all this countrie famous. My maisters sonne Chlitophon (whose losse giues the cause to this discourse, and yet giues me cause to beginne with Argalus. since his losse proceedes from Argalus) being a young Gentleman, as of great birth (being our kings sisters sonne) so truely of good nature, and one that can see good and loue it, haunted more the companie of this worthie Argalus, then of any other: so as if there were not a friendship (which is so rare, as it is to bee doubted whether it bee a thing in deede, or but a worde) at least there was such a likeing and friendlines, as hath brought foorth the effectes which you shall heare. About two years since, it so fell out, that hee brought him to a great Ladies house, sister to my maister, who had with her, her onely daughter, the faire Parthenia; faire in deede (fame I thinke it selfe daring not to call any fairer, if it be not Helena queene of Corinth and the two incomparable sisters of Arcadia) and that which made her fairenesse much the fairer, was, that it was but a faire embassadour of a most faire mind, ful of wit, and a wit which delighted more to iudge it selfe, then to shew it selfe: her speech being as rare as pretious; her silence without sullennesse; her modestie without affectation; her shamefastnes without ignorance: in summe, one, that to praise well, one must first set downe with himselfe, what it is to be excellent: for so shee is.

I thinke you thinke, that these perfections meeting, could not choose but find one another, and delight in that they found; for likenes of manners is likely in reason to drawe liking with affection. mens actions doo not alwayes crosse with reason: to be shorte, it did so in deed. They loued, although for a while the fire therof (hopes wings being cut of) were blowe by the bellows of dispaire vpo this ocasio.

There had beene a good while before, and so continued, a suter to this same lady, a great noble man, though of Laconia, yet neere nieghbour to Parthenias mother, named Demagoras: A man mightie in riches & power, and proude thereof, stubbornly stout, louing no bodie but him selfe, and for his owne delights sake Parthenia: and pursuing vehemently his desire, his riches had guilded ouer all his other imperfections, that the olde Ladie (though contrarie to my Lord her brothers minde) had giuen her consent; and vsing a mothers authoritie vppon her faire daughter, had made her yeeld therunto, not because shee liked her choice but because her obedient minde had not yet taken vpon it to make choice; and the daie of their assurance drew neere, when my yonge lord Clitophon brought this noble Argalus, perchaunce principallie to see so rare a sight, as Parthenia by all well iudging eyes was iudged.

But though fewe dayes were before the time of assurance appointed, yet loue that sawe hee had a great iourney to make in short time, hasted so him selfe, that before her word coulde tie her to Demagoras, her hart hath vowed her to Argalus, with so gratefull a receipte in mutuall affection, that if shee desired above all thinges to haue Argalus, Argalus feared nothing but to misse Parthenia. And now Parthenia had learned bothe lyking and misliking, louing and lothing, and out of passion began to take the authoritie of iudgement; in so much, that when the time came that Demagoras (ful of proude ioye) thought to receaue the gifte of her self, shee with woordes of resolute refusal (though with teares shewing she was sorie shee must refuse) assured her mother, shee woulde first be bedded in her graue, then wedded to Demagoras. The chaunge was no more strange, then vnpleasant to the mother: who beeyng determynatelye (least I shoulde saye of a greate Ladie wilfully) bent to mary her to Demagoras, tryed all waies which a wittie and hard harted mother coulde vse, vppon so humble a daughter: in whome the onely resisting power was loue. But the more shee assaulted, the more shee taught Parthenia to defende: and the more Parthenia defended, the more shee made her mother obstinate in the assault: who at length finding, that Argalus standing beetweene them, was it that moste eclipsed her affection from shining vpon Demagoras, she sought al means how to remoue him, so much the more, as he manifested himself an vnremoueable suiter to her daughter: first, by employing him in as many dangerous enterprises, as euer the euil stepmother Iuno recommended to the famous Hercules: but the more his vertue was tryed, the more pure it grewe, while all the things she did to ouerthrowe him, did set him vp vpon the hight of honour; inough to haue mooued her harte, especially to a man euery way so worthy as Argalus: but she strugling against all reason, because she would haue her wil and shew her authoritie in matching her with Demagoras, the more vertuous Argalus was, the more shee hated him: thinking her self conquered in his conquestes, and therfore stil imploying him in more & more dangerous attempts: in the meane while, shee vsed all extremities possible vpon her faire daughter, to make her giue ouer her selfe to her directio. But it was hard to iudge, whether he in doeing, or she insuffering, shewed greater constancie of affection: for, as to Argalus the world sooner wanted occasions, then he valour to goe thorow them; so to Parthenia, malice sooner ceased, then her vnchanged patience. Lastly, by treasons, Demagoras and she would haue made away Argalus: but he with prouidence and courage so past ouerall, that the mother tooke such a spitefull greefe at it, that her hart brake withall, and she died.

But then, Demagoras assuring him selfe, that now Parthenia was her owne, shee would neuer be his, and receiuing as much by her owne determinate answere, not more desiring his owne happines, then enuying Argalus, whom he saw with narrow eyes, euen ready to enioy the perfection of his desires; strengthning his conceite with all the mischieuous counsels which disdained loue, and enuious pride could geue vnto him; the wicked wretch (taking a time that Argalus was gone to his countrie, to fetch some of his principall frendes to honour the mariage, which Parthenia had most ioyfully consented vnto,) the wicked Demagoras (I say) desiring to speake with her, with vnmercifull force, (her weake armes in vaine resisting) rubd all ouer her face a most horrible poyson: the effect whereof was such, that neuer leaper lookt more vgly then shee did: which done, hauing his men & horses ready, departed away in spite of her seruants, as ready to reuenge as they could be, in such an vnexpected mischiefe. But the abhominablenes of this fact being come to my L. Kalander , he made such meanes, both by our kings intercession, and his owne, that by the king, & Senat of Lacedæmon, Demagoras was vpon paine of death, banished the countrie: who hating the punishment, where hee should haue hated the fault, ioynde himselfe, with all the powers he could make, vnto the Helots, lately in rebellion against that state: and they (glad to haue a man of such authority among them) made him their general: and vnder him haue committed diuers the most outragious villanies, that a base multitude (full of desperate reuenge) can imagine.

But within a while after this pitifull fact committed vpon Parthenia, Argalus returned (poore gentleman) hauing her faire image in his heart, and alredy promising his eies the vttermost of his felicitie, when they (no bodie els daring to tell it him) weare the first messengers to themselues of their owne misfortune. I meane not to mooue passions with telling you the greife of both, when hee knew her, for at first he did not, nor at first knowledge could possibly haue vertues aide so ready, as not euen weakly to lament the losse of such a iewell, so much the more, as that skilfull men in that arte assured it was vnrecouerable: but within a while, trueth of loue (which still held the first face in his memorie) a vertuous constancie, and euen a delight to be constant, faith giuen, and inward worthines shining through the foulest mistes, tooke so full holde of the noble Argalus, that not onely in such comfort which witty arguments may bestow vpon aduersitie, but euen with the most aboundant kindnesse that an eye rauished louer can expresse, he lauboured both to driue the extremitie of sorow from her, & to hasten the celebration of their mariage: wherunto he vnfainedly shewed himselfe no lesse cherefully earnest, then if she had neuer beene disinherited of that goodly portion, which nature had so liberally bequeathed vnto her: and for that cause deferred his intended reuenge vpon Demagoras, because he might continually be in her presence; shewing more humble seruiceablenes, and ioy to content her, then euer before.

But as he gaue this rare ensample, not to be hoped for of any other, but of an other Argalus: so of the other side, she tooke as strange a course in affection: for, where she desired to enioy him, more then to liue; yet did shee ouerthrow both her owne desire, and his, and in no sorte would yeeld to marry him; with a strange encounter of loues affects, and effects, that he by an affection sprong from excessiue beautie, should delight in horrible foulnesse; & she, of a vehement desire to haue him, should kindely buyld a resolution neuer to haue him: for trueth is, that so in heart she loued him, as she could not finde in her heart he should be tied to what was vnworthy of his presence.

Truely Sir, a very good Orator might haue a fayre fielde to vse eloquence in, if he did but onely repeate the lamentable, & truely affectionated speeches, while he coniured her by remembrance of her affection, & true oathes of his owne affection, not to make him so vnhappie, as to thinke hee had not onely lost her face, but her hart; that her face, when it was fayrest, had beene but as a marshal, to lodge the loue of her in his minde; which now was so well placed, as it needed no further help of any outward harbinger: beseeching her, euen with teares, to knowe, that his loue was not so superficial, as to go no further then the skin; which yet now to him was most faire, since it was hers: how could hee bee so vngratefull, as to loue her the lesse for that which she had onely receiued for his sake? that he neuer beheld it, but therein he saw the louelines of her loue towarde him: protesting vnto her, that hee would neuer take ioy of his life, if he might not enioy her, for whom principally he was glad he had life. But (as I heard by one that ouerheard them) shee (wringing him by the hand) made no other answere but this: my Lord (said she) God knowes I loue you: if I were Princesse of the whole world, and had withal, all the blessings that euer the world brought forth, I should not make delay, to lay my selfe, and them vnder your feete: or if I had continued but as I was, though (I must confesse) far vnworthy of you, yet would I, (with too great a ioy for my hart to think of) haue accepted your vouchsafing me to be yours, and with faith and obedience would haue supplied all other defects. But first let me bee much more miserable then I am, ere I match Argalus to such a Parthenia : Liue happy, deare Argalus, I geue you ful libertie, and I beseech you take it; and I assure you I shall reioyce (whatsoeuer become of me) to see you so coupled, as may be fitte, both for your honor, & satisfaction. With that she burst out in crying and weeping, not able longer to conteine her selfe from blaming her fortune, and wishing her owne death.

But Argalus with a most heauie heart still pursuing his desire, she fixt of minde to auoid further intreatie, and to flie all companie; which (euen of him) grew vnpleasant vnto her; one night she stole away: but whether, as yet is vnknowen, or in deed what is become of her.

Argalus sought her long, and in many places: at length (despairing to finde her, and the more he despaired, the more enraged) weerie of his life, but first determining to bee reuenged of Demagoras, he went alone disguysed into the cheefe towne held by the Helots: where comming into his presence, garded about by many of his souldiers, he could delay his fury no longer for a fitter time: but setting vpon him, in despight of a great many that helped him, gaue him diuers mortall wounds, and him selfe (no question) had been there presently murthered, but that Demagoras himselfe desired he might bee kept aliue; perchaunce with intention to feed his owne eyes with some cruell execution to bee layd vpon him, but death came soner then he lookt for; yet hauing had leisure to appoint his successor, a yong man, not long before deliuered out of the prison of the King of Lacedæmon, where he should haue suffered death for hauing slaine the kings Nephew: but him hee named, who at that time was absent, making roades vpon the Lacedæmonians, but Being returned, the rest of the Helots, for the great liking they conceiued of that yongman, especially because they had none among themselues to whom the others would yeeld) were content to follow Demagoras appointment. And wel hath it succeded with the, he hauing since done things beyond the hope of the yongest heads of whom I speake the rather, because he hath hetherto preserued Argalus aliue, vnder pretence to haue him publiquelie, and with exquisite tormentes executed, after the ende of these warres, of which, they hope for a soone and prosperous issue.

And he hath likewise hetherto kept my young Lord Clitophon aliue, who (to redeeme his friend) went with certaine other noble-men of Laconia, and forces gathered by them, to besiege this young and new successor: but hee issuing out (to the wonder of all men) defeated the Laconians, slew many of the noble-men, and tooke Clitophon prisoner, whom with much a doo he keepeth aliue: the Helots being villanously cruel; but he tempereth them so sometimes by following their humor, sometimes by striuing with it, that hetherto hee hath saued both their liues, but in different estates; Argalus being kept in a close & hard prison, Clitophon at some libertie. And now Sir, though (to say the truth) we can promise our selues litle of their safeties, while they are in the Helots handes, I haue deliuered all I vnderstande touching the losse of my Lords sonne, and the cause thereof: which, though it was not necessarie to Clitophons case, to be so particularly told, yet the strangenes of it, made mee think it would not be vnplesant vnto you.

Palladius thanked him greatly for it, being euen passionatly delighted with hearing so straunge an accident of a knight so famous ouer the world, as Argalus, with whome he had him selfe a long desire to meete: so had fame poured a noble emulation in him, towardes him.

But the (well bethinking himselfe) he called for armour, desiring them to prouide him of horse & guide, and armed all sauing the head, he wet vp to Kalader, whom he found lying vpo the groud, hauing euer since banished both sleepe and foode, as enemies to the mourning which passion perswaded him was reasonable. But Palladius raysed him vp, saying vnto him: No more, no more of this, my Lord Kalander ; let vs labour to finde, before wee lament the losse: you knowe my selfe misse one, who though he be not my sonne, I would disdayne the fauour of life after him: but while there is hope left, let not the weaknes of sorrow, make the strength of it languish: take comfort, and good successe wil follow. And with those wordes, comfort seemed to lighten in his eyes, and that in his face and gesture was painted victorie. Once, Kallanders spirits were so reuiued withall, that (receiuing some sustenance, and taking a little rest) he armed himselfe, & those few of his seruants hee had left vnsent, and so himselfe guided Palladius to the place vpon the frontiers: where alredy there were assembled betwene three and four thousand men, all wel disposed (for Kalanders sake) to abide any perill: but like men disused with a long peace, more determinate to doo, then skilfull how to doo: lusty bodies, and braue armours: with such courage, as rather grew of despising their enimies, whom they knew not, then of any confidence for any thing; which in them selues they knewe; but neither cunning vse of their weapons, nor arte shewed in their marching, or in caping. Which Palladius soone perceiuing, he desired to vnderstand (as much as could bee deliuered vnto him) the estate of the Helots.

And he was answered by a man well acquainted with the affaires of Laconia, that they were a kinde of people, who hauing beene of olde, freemen and possessioners, the Lacedæmonians had conquered them, and layd, not onely tribute, but bondage vpon them: which they had long borne; till of late the Lacedæmonians through greedinesse growing more heauie then they could beare, and through contempt lesse carefull howe to make them beare, they had with a generall consent (rather springing by the generalnes of the cause, then of any artificiall practise) set themselues in armes, and whetting their courage with reuenge, and grounding their resolution vpon despaire, they had proceeded with vnlooked-for succes: hauing alredy taken diuers Towns & Castels, with the slaughter of many of the getrie; for whom no sex nor age could be accepted for an excuse. And that although at the first they had fought rather with beastly furie, then any souldierly discipline, practise had now made them comparable to the best of the Lacedæmonians and more of late then euer; by reason, first of Demagoras a great Lorde, who had made him selfe of their partie, and since his death, of an other Captaine they had gotten, who had brought vp their ignorance, and brought downe their furie, to such a meane of good gouernment, and withall led them so valourouslie, that (besides the time wherein Clitophon was taken) they had the better in some other great conflicts: in such wise, that the estate of Lacedæmon had sent vnto them, offering peace with most reasonable and honorable conditions. Palladius hauing gotten this generall knowledge of the partie against whom, as he had already of the partie for whom hee was to fight, he went to Kalander, and tolde him plainlie, that by playne force there was small apparaunce of helping Clitophon: but some deuice was to bee taken in hande, wherein no lesse discretion then valour was to bee vsed.

Whereupon, the counsel of the cheefe men was called, and at last, this way Palladius (who by some experience, but especiallie by reading Histories, was acquainted with stratagemes) inuented, and was by all the rest approoued: that all the men there shoulde dresse themselues like the poorest forte of the people in Arcadia, hauing no banners, but bloudie shirtes hanged vpon long staues, with some bad bagge pipes in stead of drumme and fife, their armour they shoulde aswell as might bee, couer, or at least make them looke so rustilie, and ill-fauouredly as might wel become such wearers; and this the whole number shoulde doo, sauing two hundred of the best chosen Gentlemen, for courage and strength, whereof Palladius him selfe would be one, who should haue their armes chayned, and be put in cartes like prisoners. This being performed according to the agreement, they marched on towardes the towne of Cardamila where Clitophon was captiue; and beeing come two houres beefore Sunne-set within viewe of the walles, the Helots alreadie descrying their number, and beginning to sound the Allarum, they sent a cunning fellow, (so much the cunninger as that hee could maske it vnder rudenes) who with such a kinde of Rhetorike, as weeded out all flowers of Rhetorike, deliuered vnto the Helots assembled together, that they were countrie people of Arcadia, no lesse oppressed by their Lords, and no lesse desirous of liberty then they, and therfore had put themselues in the field, & had alreadie (besides a great number slain) taken nine or ten skore Gentleme prisoners who they had there well and fast chained. Now because they had no strong retiring place in Arcadia, & were not yet of number enough to keepe the fielde against their Princes forces they were come to them for succour; knowing, that daily more & more of their qualitie would flock vnto them. but that in the mean time, lest their Prince should pursue them, or the Lacedæmonian King and Nobilitie (for the likenes of the cause) fall vpon them, they desired that if there were not roome enough for them in the town, that yet they might encampe vnder the walles, and for surety haue their prisoners (who were such men as were euer able to make their peace) kept within the towne.

The Helots made but a short cosultatio, being glad that their contagio had spread it selfe into Arcadia, and making account that if the peace did not fall out betweene them and their King, that it was the best way to set fire in all the partes of Greece; besides their greedinesse to haue so many Gentlemen in their handes, in whose raunsomes they alreadie meant to haue a share; to which hast of concluding, two thinges well helped; the one, that their Captaine with the wisest of them, was at that time absent about confirming or breaking the peace, with the state of Lacedæmon: the second, that ouer-many good fortunes began to breede a proude recklesnesse in them: therefore sending to view the campe, and finding that by their speach they were Arcadians, with whom they had had no warre, neuer suspecting a priuate mans credite could haue gathered such a force, and that all other tokens witnessed them to bee of the lowest calling (besides the chaines vpon the Gentlemen) they graunted not onely leaue for the prisoners, but for some others of the companie, and to all, that they might harbour vnder the walles. So opened they the gates, and receiued in the carts; which being done, and Palladius seeing fit time, hee gaue the signe, and shaking of their chaynes, (which were made with such arte, that though they seemed most stronge and fast, hee that ware them might easily loose them) drew their swordes hidden in the cartes, and so setting vpon the warde, made them to flie eyther from the place, or from their bodies, and so gaue entrie to all the force of the Arcadians before the Helots could make any head to resist them.

But the Helots being men hardened against daungers, gathered (as well as they coulde) together in the market place, and thence woulde haue giuen a shrewd welcome to the Arcadians, but that Palladius (blaming those that were slowe, hartning them that were forward, but especially with his owne ensample leading them) made such an impression into the squadron of the Helots, that at first the great bodie of them beginning to shake, and stagger; at length, euerie particular bodie recommended the protection of his life to his feete, Then Kalander cried to goe to the prison, where he thought his sonne was, but Palladius wisht him (first scouring the streates) to house all the Helots, and make themselues maisters of the gates,

But ere that could bee accomplished, the Helots had gotten new heart, and with diuers sortes of shot from corners of streates, and house windowes, galled them; which courage was come vnto them by the returne of their Captaine; who though he brought not many with him (hauing disperst most of his companies to other of his holds) yet meeting a great number running out of the gate, not yet possest by the Arcadians, he made them turne face, and with banners displayed, his Trumpet gaue the lowdest testimonie he could of his returne, which once heard the rest of the Helots which were otherwise scattered, bent thetherwarde, with a newe life of resolution: as if their Captaine had beene a roote, out of which (as into braunches) their courage had sprong. Then beganne the fight to grow most sharpe, and the encounters of more cruell obstinacie. The Arcadians fighting to keepe that they had wonne, the Helots to recouer what they had lost. The Arcadians, as in an vnknowne place, hauing no succour but in their hands, the Helots, as in their own place fighting for their liuings, wiues & children. There was victorie and courage against reuenge and dispaire: safety of both sides being no otherwise to bee gotten, but by destruction.

At length, the left winge of the Arcadians began to loose ground; which Palladius seeing, he streight thrust himselfe with his choise bande against the throng that oppressed them, with such an ouerflowing of valour, that the Captaine of the Helots (whose eies soone iudged of that wherewith themselues were gouerned) sawe that he alone was worth al the rest of the Arcadians. Which he so wondred at, that it was hard to say, whether he more liked his doings, or misliked the effects of his doings: but determining that vpon that cast the game lay, and disdaining to fight with any other, sought onely to ioine with him: which minde was no lesse in Palladius, hauing easily marked, that he was as the first mouer of all the other handes. And so their thoughts meeting in one point, they consented (though not agreed) to trie each others fortune: and so drawing themselues to be the vttermost of the one side, they began a combat, which was so much inferior to the battaile in noise and number, as it was surpassing it in brauery of fighting, and (as it were) delightfull terriblenes. Their courage was guided with skill, and their skill was armed with courage; neither did their hardinesse darken their witte, nor their witte coole their hardines: both valiant, as men despising death; both confident, as vnwonted to bee ouercome; yet doubtefull by their present feeling, and respectfull by what they had already seene. Their feete stedy, their hands diligent, their eyes watchfull, and their harts resolute. The partes either not armed, or weakly armed, were well knowen, and according to the knowledge should haue bene sharpely visited, but that the aunswere was as quicke as the obiection. Yet some lighting; the smart bred rage, and the rage bred smarte againe: till both sides beginning to wax faint, and rather desirous to die accompanied, then hopefull to liue victorious, the Captaine of the Helots with a blow, whose violence grew of furie, not of strength, or of strength proceeding of furie, strake Palladius vpon the side of the head, that hee reelde astonied: and with all the helmet fell off, he remayning bare headed: but other of the Arcadians were redie to shield him from any harme might rise of that nakednes.

But little needed it, for his chiefe enemie in steed of pursuing that aduauntage, kneeled downe, offering to deliuer the pommell of his sworde, in token of yeelding, with all speaking aloud vnto him, that he thought it more libertie to be his prisoner, then any others generall. Palladius standing vpon himselfe, and misdoubting some craft, and the Helots (that were next their captaine) wauering betweene looking for some stratageme, or fearing treason, What, saide the captaine, hath Palladius forgotten the voice of Daiphantus?

By that watche worde Palladius knew that it was his onely friende Pyrocles, whom he had lost vpon the Sea, and therefore both mostfull of wonder, so to bee mett, if they had not bene fuller of ioye then wonder, caused the retraite to bee sounded, Daiphantus by authoritie and Palladius by persuasion; to which helped well the little aduantage that was of eyther side: and that of the Helots partie their Captaines behauiour had made as many amazed as sawe or heard of it: and of the Arcadian side the good olde Kalander striuing more then his old age could atchiue, was newly taken prisoner. But in deede the chiefe parter of the fraye was the night, which with her blacke armes pulled their malicious sightes one from the other. But he that tooke Kalander, meant nothing lesse then to saue him, but onelie so long, as the Captaine might learne the enemies secrets: towardes whom he led the old Gentleman, when hee caused the retreit to bee sounded: looking for no other deliuerie from that captiuitie, but by the painefull taking away of all paine: when whome should hee see nexte to the Captaine (with good tokens how valiantly hee had fought that daie against the Arcadians) but his sonne Clitophon? But now the Captaine had caused all the principall Helots to bee assembled, as well to deliberate what they had to do, as to receiue a message from the Arcadians; Among whom Palladius vertue (besides the loue Kalander bare him) hauing gotten principall authoritie, hee had persuaded them to seeke rather by parley to recouer the Father and the Sonne, then by the sworde: since the goodnes of the Captaine assured him that way to speede, and his value (wherewith hee was of old acquainted) made him thinke any other way dangerous. This therefore was donne in orderly manner, giuing them to vnderstand, that as they came but to deliuer Clitophon, so offering to leaue the footing, they already had in the towne, to goe away without any further hurte, so as they might haue the father, and the sonne without raunsome deliuered. Which conditions beyng heard and conceaued by the Helots, Daiphantus perswaded them without delay to accept them. For first (sayd he) since the strife is within our owne home, if you loose, you loose all that in this life can bee deare vnto you: if you winne, it will be a blouddy victorie with no profite, but the flattering in our selues that same badde humour of reuenge. Besides, it is like to stirre Arcadia vppon vs, which nowe, by vsing these persons wel, maie bee brought to some amitie. Lastly but especially, least the king and nobility of Laconia (with whom now wee haue made a perfect peace) should hope by occasio of this quarrell to ioyne the Arcadians with them, and so breake of the profitable agreement alreadie concluded. In summe, as in all deliberations (waying the profit of the good successe with the harme of the euill successe) you shall finde this way most safe and honorable.

The Helots asmuch moued by his authoritie, as perswaded by his reasons, were content therewith. Whereupon, Palladius tooke order that the Arcadians shoulde presently march out of the towne, taking with them their prisoners, while the night with mutuall diffidence might keepe them quiet, and ere day came they might be well on of their way, and so auoid those accidents which in late enemies, a looke, a word, or a particular mans quarell might engender. This being on both sides concluded on, Kalander and Clitophon, who now (with infinite ioy did knowe each other) came to kisse the hands and feete of Daiphantus: Clitophon telling his father, how Daiphantus (not without danger to himselfe) had preserued him from the furious malice of the Helots: and euen that day going to conclude the peace (least in his absence he might receiue some hurt) he had taken him in his companie, and geuen him armour, vpon promise he should take the parte of the Helots; which he had in his fight perfourmed, little knowing that it was against his father: but (saide Clitophon) here is he, who (as a father) hath new-begotten me, and (as a God) hath saued me from many deathes, which already laid hold on me: which Kalander with teares of ioy acknowledged (besides his owne deliuerance) onely his benefite. But Daiphantus, who loued doing well for it selfe, and not for thanks, brake of those ceremonies, desiring to know how Palladius (for so he called Musidorus) was come into that companie, and what his present estate was whereof receiuing a brief declaratio of Kalander, he sent him word by Clitophon, that he should not as now come vnto him, because he held himselfe not so sure a master of the Helots mindes, that hee would aduenture him in their power, who was so welknowen with an vnfriendly acquaintce, but that he desired him to returne with Kalander, whether also he within fewe dayes (hauing dispatched himselfe of the Helots) would repaire. Kalander would needes kisse his hand againe for that promise, protesting he would esteeme his house more blessed then a temple of the gods, if it had once receiued him. And then desiring pardon for Argalus. Daiphantus assured them that hee would dye but hee would bring him, (though till then kept in close prison, indeede for his safetie, the Helots being so animated against him as els he could not haue liued) and so taking their leaue of him, Kalander, Clitophon, Palladius and the rest of the Arcadians swearing that they would no further in any sorte molest the Helots , they straight way marched out of the towne, carying both their dead and wounded bodies with them; and by morning were already within the limits of Arcadia.

The Helots of the other side shutting their gates, gaue the selus to burye their dead to cure their wounds, and rest their wearied bodies: til (the next day bestowing the cheerefull vse of the light vpon them) Daiphantus making a generall conuocation spake vnto them in this manner. We are first (said he) to thank the Gods, that (further then wee had either cause to hope; or reason to imagine) haue deliuered vs out of this gulfe of daunger, wherein we were alredie swallowed. For all being lost, (had they not directed, my return so iust as they did) it had beene too late to recouer that, which being had, we could not keepe. And had I not happened to know one of the principal men among them, by which meanes the truce beganne betweene vs, you may easily conceiue, what little reason we haue to think, but that either by some supplie out of Arcadia, or from the Nobilitie of this Country (who would haue made fruits of wisdom grow out of this occasion) we should haue had our power turned to ruine, our pride to repentance and sorrow. But now the storme, as it fell, so it ceased: and the error committed, in retaining Clitophon more hardly then his age or quarrell deserued, becomes a sharply learned experience, to vse in other times more moderation.

Now haue I to deliuer vnto you the conclusion between the kings with the Nobilitie of Lacedæmon, and you; which is in all points as your selues desired: aswell for that you would haue graunted, as for the assurance of what is graunted. The Townes and Fortes you presently haue, are still left vnto you, to be kept either with or without garrison, so as you alter not the lawes of the Countrie, and pay such dueties as the rest of the Laconians doo: Your selues are made by publique decree, freemen, and so capable both to giue and receiue voice in election of Magistrates. The distinction of names betweene Helots and Lacedæmonians to bee quite taken away, and all indifferently to enioy both names and priuiledges of Laconians. Your children to be brought vp with theirs in the Spartane discipline: & so you (framing your selues to be good members of that estate) to bee hereafter fellowes, and no longer seruants.

Which conditions you see, cary in themselues no more contentation then assurance. For this is not a peace which is made with them, but this is a peace by which you are made of them. Lastly a forgetfulnesse decreed of all what is past, they shewing them selues glad to haue so valiant men as you are, ioyned with them. so that you are to take mindes of peace, since the cause of war is finished; and as you hated them before like oppressours, so now to loue them as brothers; to take care of their estate because it is yours, and to labour by vertuous doing, that the posteritie may not repent your ioyning. But now one Article onely they stoode vpon, which in the end I with your commissioners haue agreed vnto, that I shoulde no more tarry heere, mistaking perchance my humor, and thinking me as seditious as I am young, or els it is the king Amiclas procuring, in respect that it was my ill hap to kill his nephew Eurileon; but how so euer it be; I haue condiscended. But so will not we cried almost the whole assemblie, councelling one an other, rather to try the vttermost euent, then to loose him by whom they had beene victorious. But he as well with generall orations, as particular dealing with the men of most credit, made them throughly see how necessary it was to preferre such an opportunity before a vaine affection; but yet could not preuaile, till openly he sware, that he would (if at any time the Lacedæmonians brake this treatie) come back againe, and be their captaine.

So then after a few daies, setting them in perfect order, he tooke his leaue of them, whose eyes bad him farwell with teares, and mouthes with kissing the places where he stept, and after making temples vnto him as to a demi-God: thinking it beyond the degree of humanitie to haue a witt so farre ouergoing his age, and such dreadfull terror proceed from so excellent beautie. But he for his sake obtained free pardon for Argalus, whom also (vpon oath neuer to beare armes against the Helots) he deliuered: and taking onely with him certaine principall Iewells of his owne, he would haue parted alone with Argalus, (whose countenance well shewed, while Parthenia was lost he counted not himselfe deliuered) but that the whole multitude would needs gard him into Arcadia. Where again leauing them all to lament his departure, he by enquirie gotte to the well-knowne house of Kalander: There was he receiued with louing ioye of Kalander, with ioyefull loue of Palladius , with humble (though dolefull) demeanor of Argalus (whom specially both he and Palladius regarded) with gratefull seruisablenes of Clitophon, and honourable admiration of all. For being now well viewed to haue no haire of his face, to witnes him a man, who had done acts beyond the degree of a man, and to looke with a certaine almost bashfull kinde of modestie, as if he feared the eyes of men, who was vnmooued with sight of the most horrible countenaunces of death; and as if nature had mistaken her woorke to haue a Marses heart in a Cupids bodie: All that beheld him (and all that might behold him, did behold him) made their eyes quicke messengers to their minds, that there they had seene the vttermost that in mankind might be seene. The like wonder Palladius had before stirred, but that Daiphantus, as younger and newer come, had gotten now the aduantage in the moyst and ficle impression of eye-sight. But while all men (sauing poore Argalus) made the ioy of their eyes speake for their harts towardes Daiphantus: Fortune (that belike was bid to that banket, and ment then to playe the good fellow) brought a pleasant aduenture among them. It was that as they had newly dined, there came in to Kalander a messenger, that brought him word, a yong noble Lady, neere kinswoman to the faire Helen Queene of Corinth; was come thither, and desired to be lodged in his house. Kalander (most glad of such an occasion-went out, and all his other worthie guests with him, sauing onely Argalus, who remained in his chamber, desirous that this company were once broken vp, that he might goe in his solitarie quest after Parthenea . But when they met this Lady; Kalander streight thought hee sawe his neece Parthenea, and was about in such familiar sorte to haue spoken vnto her: But shee in graue aud honorable manner giuing him to vnderstande that he was mistaken, he halfe ashamed excused himselfe with the exceeding likenes was between them, though in deede it seemed that this Lady was of the more pure and daintie complexion; shee saide, it might very well bee, hauing beene many times taken one for another. But assoon as she was brought into the house, before she would rest her, she desired to speak with Argalus publickly, who she heard was in the house. Argalus came hastilie, and as hastilie thought as Kalander had done, with sodaine chaunges of ioye into sorrow. But she when she had staide their thoughts with telling them her name, and qualitie in this sorte spake vnto him. My Lord Argalus, sayd she, being of late left in the Court of Queene Helen of Corinth, as chiefe in her absence (she being vpon some occasion gone thence) there came vnto me the Lady Parthenia. so disfigured, as I think Greece hath nothing so ougly to behold. For my part, it was many daies, before with vehement oathes, and some good proofes, she could make me think that she was Parthenia. Yet at last finding certainlye it was she, and greatly pitying her misfortune, so much the more, as that all men had euer tolde me (as now you doo) of the great likenes between vs, I tooke the best care I could of her: and of her vnderstood the whole tragicall historie of her vndeserued aduenture: and therewithall, of that most noble constancie in you my Lord Argalus: which whosoeuer loues not, shewes himself to be a hater of vertue, and vnworthy to liue in the societie of mankind. But no outwarde cherishing could salue the inwarde sore of her minde, but a few dayes since she died: before her death earnestly desiring, and perswading me, to thinke of no husbande but of you; as of the onely man in the worlde worthie to be loued, with-al she gaue me this Ring to deliuer you; desiring you, & by the authoritie of loue commanding you, that the affection you bare her you should turne to me: assuring you, that nothing can please her soule more, then to see you and me matched together. Nowe my L. though this office be not (perchance) sutable to my estate nor sex, who should rather looke to be desired; yet, an extraordinarie desert requires an extraordinarie proceeding: and therefore I am come (with faithfull loue built vppon your worthines) to offer my selfe and to beseech you to accept the offer: & if these noble gentlemen present will say it is great folly, let the withall, say it is great loue. And then she staid, earnestly attending Argalus his answere, who first making most hartie sighes do such obsequies as he could, to Parthenia thus answered her.

Madame (said he) infinitly am I bound vnto you, for this, no more rare then noble courtesie; but most bound for the goodnes I perceiue you shewed to the lady Parthenia, (with that the teares ranne downe his eyes; but he followed on) and as much as so vnfortunate a man, fitte to be the spectacle of miserie, can doo you seruice; determine you haue made a purchase of a slaue (while I liue) neuer to faile you. But this great matter you propose vnto me, wherin I am not so blinde as not to se what happines it should be vnto me; Excellent Ladie, know, that if my hart were mine to giue, you before all other, should haue it; but Parthenias it is though dead: there I began, there I end all matter of affection: I hope I shall not longe tarry after her, with whose beautie if I had onely beene in loue, I should be so with you, who haue the same beautie: but it was Parthenias selfe I loued, and loue; which no likenes can make one; no commandemet dissolue, no foulnes defile, nor no death finish. And shall I receiue (said shee) such disgrace, as to be refused? Noble Ladie (saide he) let not that harde word be vsed; who know your exceeding worthinesse farre beyond my desert: but it is onely happines I refuse, since of the onely happines I could and can desire, I am refused.

He had scarce spoken those words, when shee ranne to him, and imbracing him, Why then Argalus (said she) take thy Parthenia ; and Parthenia it was in deede. But because sorow forbad him too soon to beleeue, she told him the trueth, with all circumstances; how being parted alone, meaning to die in some solitarie place, as she hapned to make her complaint, the Queene Helen of Corinth , (who likewise felt her part of miseries) being then walking also alone in that lonely place, hearde her and neuer lefte, till she had knowen the whole discourse. Which the noble Queene greatly pitying, she sent her to a Phisition of hers the most excellent man in the world, in hope he could helpe her: which in such sort as they saw he had perfourmed, and shee taking with her of the Queenes seruants, thought yet to make this triall, whether he would quickly forget his true Parthenia, or no. Her speach was confirmed by the Corinthian Gentlemen, who before had kept her councell, and Argalus easily perswaded to what more then ten thousand yeares of life he desired: and Kalander would needes haue the mariage celebrated in his house, principallie the longer to holde his deare guestes, towardes whom he was now (besides his owne habite of hospitallitie) carried with loue and dutie: & therefore omitted no seruice that his wit could inuent, and his power minister.

But no way he sawe he could so much pleasure them as by leauing the two friends alone, who being shruncke aside to the banqueting house where the pictures were; there Palladius recounted vnto him, that after they had btahbadoed the burnig ship (& either of them taken something vnder him the better to support him to the shore) he knew not how, but either with ouer-labouring in the fight and soddaine colde, or the to much receiuing of salt water, he was past him selfe: but yet holding fast (as the nature of dying men is to do) the chest that was vnder him, he was cast on the sandes, where he was taken vp by a couple of shepeheards, and by them brought to life againe, and kept from drowning himselfe, when he despaired of his safetie. How after hauing failed to take him into the fisher boate, he had by the shepherds perswasion come to this Gentlemans house; where being daungerouslie sicke, he had yeelded to seeke the recouerie of health, onely for that he might the sooner goe seeke the deliuerie of Pyrocles: to which purpose Kalander by some friends of his in Messena, had alreadie set a ship or two abroad, when this accident of Clitophons taking had so blessedly procured their meeting. Then did he setfoorth vnto him the noble intertainment and carefull cherishing of Kalander towards him, & so vpon occasion of the pictures present deliuered with the franknes of a friendes tongue, as neere as he could, word by word what Kalander had told him touching the strange storie (with all the particularities belonging) of Arcadia, which did in many sortes so delight Pyrocles to heare; that he would needes haue much of it againe repeated, and was not contented till Kalander himselfe had answered him diuers questions.

But first at Musidorus request, though in briefe manner, his mind much running vpon the strange storie of Arcadia, he did declare by what course of aduentures he was com to make vp their mutuall happines in meeting. When (cosin said he) we had stript our selues, and were both leapt into the Sea, and swom a litle toward the shoare, I found by reason of some wounds I had, that I should not be able to get the lande, and therefore turned backe againe to the mast of the shippe, where you found me, assuring my selfe, that if you came aliue to shore, you woulde seeke me; if you were lost, as I thought it as good to perishe as to liue, so that place as good to perish in as an other. There I found my sworde among some of the shrowds, wishing (I must confesse) if I died to bee found with that in my hande, and withall wauing it about my head, that saylers by might haue the better glimpse of me. There you missing mee, I was taken vp by Pyrates, who putting me vnder boorde prisoner, presentlie sett vppon another shippe, and mainteyning a long fight, in the ende, put them all to the sworde. Amongst whom I might heare them greatlie prayse one younge man, who fought most valiantlie, whom (as loue is carefull, and misfortune subiect to doubtfulnes) I thought certainely to bee you. And so holding you as dead, from that time till the time I sawe you, it trueth I sought nothing more then a noble ende, which perchaunce made me more hardie then otherwise I would haue beene. Tryall whereof came within two dayes after: for the Kinges of Lacedæmon hauing sett out some Galleys, vnder the charge of one of their Nephewes to skowre the Sea of the Pyrates, they met with vs, where our Captaine wanting men, was driuen to arme some of his prisoners, with promise of libertie for well fighting: among whom I was one, and beeing boorded by the Admirall, it was my fortune to kill Euryleon the Kinges nephew: but in the end they preuailed, & we were all taken prisoners: I not caring much what became of me (onely keeping the name of Daiphantus, according to the resolution you know is betweene vs,) but beyng laide in the iayle of Tenaria, with speciall hate to me for the death of Euryleon, the popular sorte of that towne conspired with the Helots, and so by night opened them the gates; where entring and killing all of the gentle and riche faction, for honestie sake brake open all prisons, and so deliuered me; and I mooued with gratefulnesse, and encouraged with carelesnesse of life so behaued my selfe in some conflictes they had with in few dayes, that they barbarouslie thinking vnsensible wonders of mee, and with all so much the better trusting mee, as they heard I was hated of the Kinge of Lacedæmon, their chiefe Captayne beyng slaine as you knowe by the noble Argalus, who helped thereunto by his perswasion) hauing borne a great affection vnto mee, and to auoyde the daungerous emulation whiche grewe among the chiefe, who shoulde haue the place, and also affected, as rather to haue a straunger then a competitour, they elected mee, (God wotte little prowde of that dignitie;) restoring vnto mee such thinges of mine as beeing taken first by the Pyrates, and they by the Lacedæmonians, they had gotten in the sacke of the towne. Now being in it, so good was my successe with manie victories, that I made a peace for them to their owne liking? the verie daye that you deliuered Clitophon, whom I with much a doo had preserued. And in my peace the Kinge Amiclas of Lacedæmon would needes haue mee bannished, and depriued of the dignitie whereunto I was exalted: which (and you may see howe much you are bounde to mee) for your sake I was content to suffer, a newe hope rising in mee, that you were not dead: and so meaning to trauaile ouer the worlde to seeke you; and now heere (my deere Musidorus) you haue mee. And with that (embracing and kissinge eche other) they called Kalander, of whom Daiphantus desired to heare the ful storie, which before he had recounted to Palladius, and to see the letter of Philanax, which hee read and well marked.

But within some daies after, the marriage betweene Argalus and the faire Parthenia beyng to bee celebrated Daiphantus and Palladius selling some of their Iewels furnished themselues of very faire apparell, meaning to doo honour to their louing hoste; who as much for their sakes, as for the marriage, set foorth each thing in most gorgeous manner. But all the cost bestowed did not so much enrich, nor all the fine deckinges so much beautyfie, nor all the daintye deuises so much delight, as the fairenesse of Parthenia, the pearle of all the maydes of Mantinæa: who as shee went to the Temple to bee maried, her eyes themselues seemed a temple, wherein loue and beautie were married: her lippes though they were kepte close with modest silence, yet with a pretie kinde of naturall swelling, they seemed to inuite the guestes that lookt on them; her cheekes blushing, and withall when shee was spoken vnto, a little smilyng, were like roses, when their leaues are with a little breath stirred: her hayre beeyng layed at the full length down her backe, bare shew as if the voward fayled, yet that woulde conquer. Daiphantus marking her, o Iupiter (said hee speaking to Palladius) how happens it, that beautie is only confined to Arcadia? But Palladius not greatly attending his speach, som daies were continued in the solemnising the marriage, withal conceipts that might deliuer delight to mens fancies.

But such a chaunge was growen in Daiphantus, that (as if cheerefulnesse had bene tediousnesse, & good entertainement were turnd to discourtesie) he would euer get himself alone, though almost whe he was in company, he was alone, so little attentio he gaue to any that spake vnto him: euen the colour & figure of his face began to receaue some alteration; which hee shewed little to heede: but euerie morning earlie going abroad, either to the garden, or to some woods towards the desert, it seemed his onely comfort was to be without a comforter. But long it could not be hid from Palladius, whom true loue made redy to marke, & long knowledge able to marke; & therefore being now growen weary of his abode in Arcadia, hauing informed him selfe fully of the strength and riches of the coutry, of the nature of the people, and manner of their lawes: & seeing the courte coulde not be visited, prohibited to all men, but to certaine sheapheardish people, hee greatly desired a speedy returne to his owne countrie, after the many mazes of fortune hee had troden. But perceauing this great alteration in his friend, hee thought first to breake with him thereof, and then to hasten his returne; whereto hee founde him but smally enclined: whereupon one day taking him alone with certaine graces and countenances, as if he were disputing with the trees, began in this manner to say vnto him.

A minde well trained and long exercised in vertue (my sweete and worthy cosin) doth not easily chaunge any course it once vndertakes, but vpon well grounded and well wayed causes. For being witnes to it selfe of his owne inward good, it findes nothing without it of so high a price, for which it should bee altered. Euen the very countenaunce and behauiour of such a man doth shewe foorth Images of the same constancie, by maintaining a right harmonie betwixt it and the inward good, in yeelding it selfe sutable to the vertuous resolution of the minde. This speech I direct to you (noble friende Pyrocles) the excellencie of whose minde and well chosen course in vertue, if I doo not sufficiently know, hauing seene such rare demonstrations of it, it is my weakenes, and not your vnworthynes, But as in deede I know it, and knowing it most dearely loue both it, and him that hath it; so must I needes saye, that since our late comming into this countrie, I haue marked in you, I will not saye an alteration, but a relenting truely, and a slacking of the maine career, you had so notablye begon and almost performed; and that in such sorte, as I cannot finde sufficient reason in my great loue toward you howe to allowe it; for (to leaue of other secreter argumentes which my acquaintaunce with you makes mee easilie finde) this in effect to any man may bee manifest, that whereas you weere wont in all places you came, to giue your selfe vehemently to the knowledge of those thinges which might better your minde; to seeke the familiaritye of excellent men in learning and souldiery: and lastly, to put all these thinges in practise both by continuall wise proceedinge, and worthie enterprises, as occasion fell for them; you now leaue all these thinges vndone: you let your minde fall a sleepe: beside your countenaunce troubled (which surely comes not of vertue; for vertue like the cleare heauen is without cloudes) and lastly you subiect your selfe to solitarines, the slye enimie, that doth most separate a man from well doinge. Pyrocles minde was all this while so fixed vpon another deuotion, that hee no more attentiuely marked his friendes discourse, then the childe that hath leaue to playe, markes the last parte of his lesson; or the diligent Pilot in a daungerous tempest doth attende the vnskilfull wordes of a passinger: yet the very sound hauing imprinted the generall pointe of his speech in his hart, pierced with any mislike of so deerelie an esteemed friende, and desirous by degrees to bring him to a gentler consideration of him, with a shamefast looke (witnessing he rather could not helpe, then did not know his fault) answered him to this purpose. Excellent Musidorus, in the praise you gaue mee in the beginning of your speech, I easily acknowledge the force of your good will vnto mee, for neither coulde you haue thought so well of me, if extremitie of loue had not made your iudgement partiall, nor you could haue loued me so intirelie, if you had not beene apt to make so great (though vndeserued) iudgementes of me; and euen so must I say to those imperfections, to which though I haue euer through weaknes beene subiect, yet you by the daily mending of your mind haue of late bin able to looke into them, which before you could not discerne; so that the chaunge you speake of, falles not out by my impairing, but by your bettering. And yet vnder the leaue of your better iudgement, I must needes say thus much, my deere cosin, that I finde not my selfe wholie to bee condemned, because I do not with continuall vehemency follow those knowledges, which you call the bettering of my minde; for both the minde it selfe must (like other thinges) sometimes be vnbent, or else it will be either weakned, or broken: And these knowledges, as they are of good vse, so are they not all the minde may stretch it selfe vnto: who knowes whether I feede not my minde with higher thoughts? Truelie as I know not all the particularities, so yet I see the boundes of all these knowledges: but the workinges of the minde I finde much more infinite, then can bee led vnto by the eye, or imagined by any, that distract their thoughts without themselues.

And in such contemplation, or as I thinke more excellent, I enioye my solitarines; and my solitarines perchaunce is the nurse of these contemplations. Eagles wee see flye alone; and they are but sheepe, which alwayes heard together; condemne not therefore my minde sometime to enioy it selfe; nor blame not the taking of such times as serue most fitte for it. And alas; deere Musidorus, if I be sadde, who knowes better then you the iust causes I haue of sadnes? And here Pyrocles sodainly stopped, like a man vnsatisfied in himselfe, though his witte might well haue serued to haue satisfied another. And so looking with a countenaunce, as though hee desired hee shoulde know his minde without hearring him speake, and yet desirous to speake, to breath out some part of his inwarde euil, sending againe new blood to his face, hee continued his speach in this manner. And Lord (dear cousin: said he) doth not the pleasauntnes of this place carry in it selfe sufficient reward for any time lost in it? Do you not see how all things conspire together to make this country a heauenly dwelling? Do you not see the grasse how in colour they excell the Emeralds, euerie one striuing to passe his fellow, and yet they are all kept of an equall height? And see you not the rest of these beautifull flowers, each of which would require a mans wit to know, and his life to expresse? Do not these stately trees seeme to maintaine their florishing olde age with the onely happines of their seat, being clothed with a continuall spring, because no beautie here should euer fade? Doth not the aire breath health, which the Birds (delightfull both to eare and eye) do dayly solemnize with the sweete consent of their voyces? Is not euery Eccho thereof a perfect Musicke? & these fresh and delightfull brookes how slowly they slide away, as loth to leaue the company of so many thinges vnited in perfection? and with how sweete a murmur they lament their forced departure? Certainely, certainely, cosin, it must needs be that som Goddesse enhabiteth this Region, who is the soule of this soyle: for neither is any lesse then a Goddesse, worthie to bee shrined in such a heape of pleasures: nor any lesse then a Goddesse coulde haue made it so perfect a plotte of the celestiall dwellings. And so ended with a deep sigh, rufully casting his eye vpon Musidorus as more desirous of pittie then pleading. But Musidorus had all this while helde his looke fixed vpon Pyrocles countenance; and with no lesse louing attention marked howe his wordes proceeded from him: but in both these he perceiued such strange diuersities, that they rather increased new doubtes, then gaue him ground to settle anie iudgement: for, besides his eyes sometimes euen great with teares, the oft changing of his colour, with a kinde of shaking vnstayednes ouer all his bodie, he might see in his countenance some great determination mixed with feare; and might perceiue in him store of thoughts, rather stirred then digested; his wordes interrupted continually with sighes (which serued as a burthen to each sentence) and the tenor of his speech (though of his wonted phrase) not knit together to one constant end, but rather dissolued in it selfe, as the vehemencie of the inwarde passion preuayled: which made Musidorus frame his aunswere neerest to that humor, which should soonest put out the secret. For hauing in the beginning of Pyrocles speech which defended his solitarines, framed in his minde a replie against it, in the praise of honourable action, in shewing that such a kind of contemplatio is but a glorious title to idlenes; that in action a man did not onely better himselfe but benefit others; that the gods would not haue deliuered a soule into the bodie, which hath armes and legges, onely instrumentes of doeing, but that it were intended the minde shoulde imploy them, and that the minde should best knowe his owne good or euill, by practise: which knowledge was the onely way to increase the one, and correct the other: besides many other argumentes, which the plentifulnesse of the matter yeelded to the sharpnes of his wit. When hee found Pyrocles leaue that, and fall into such an affected praising of the place, he left it likewise, and ioyned with him therein: because hee found him in that humor vtter more store of passion; and euen thus kindely embrasing him, he said: Your words are such (noble cousin) so sweetly and strongly handled in the praise of solitarinesse, as they would make mee likewise yeeld my selfe vp into it, but that the same words make me know, it is more pleasant to enioy the companie of him that can speake such wordes, then by such wordes to bee perswaded to follow solitarines. And euen so doo I geue you leaue (sweete Pyrocles euer to defende solitarines, so long as to defende it, you euer keep companie. But I maruell at the excessiue praises you giue to this countrie; in truth it is not vnpleasant: but yet if you would returne into Macedon you should either se many heauens or find this no more then earthlie. And euen Tempe in my Thessalia (where you and I to my great happynesse were brought vp together) is nothing inferiour vnto it. But I thinke you will make me see, that the vigor of your witte can shew it selfe in any subiect: or els you feede sometimes your solitarines with the conceites of the Poets, whose liberall pennes can as easilie trauaile ouer mountaines, as molehils: and so like well disposed men, set vp euery thing to the highest note; especially, when they put such wordes in the mouths of one of these fantasticall mind-infected people, that children & Musitias cal Louers. This word, Louer, did no lesse pearce poore Pyrocles, then the right tune of musicke toucheth him that is sicke of the Tarantula. There was not one parte of his body, that did not feele a sodaine motion, while his hart with panting, seemed to daunce to the sounde of that word, yet after some pause (lifting vp his eyes a litle from the ground, and yet not daring to place them in the eyes of Musidorus ) armed with the verie countenance of the poore prisoner at the barr, whose aunswere is nothing but guiltie: with much a do he brought forth this question. And alas, saide he, deare cosin, what if I bee not so much the Poet (the freedome of whose penne canne exercise it selfe in any thing) as euen that miserable subiect of his conning, whereof you speake? Now the eternall Gods forbid (mainely cryed out Musidorus ) that euer my eare should be poysoned with so euil news of you. O let me neuer know that any base affectio should get any Lordship in your thoughts- But as he was speaking more, Kalander came, and brake of their discourse, with inuiting them to the hunting of a goodly stagge, which being harbored in a wood thereby, he hoped vvould make them good sporte, and driue avvay some parte of Daiphantus melancholy. They condiscended, and so going to their lodgings, furnished them selues as liked them Daiphantus writing a fewe words which he left sealed in a letter against their returne.

Then wet they together abroad, the good Kalader entertaining the with pleasaunt discoursing, howe well he loued the sporte of hunting when hee was a young man, how much in the comparison thereof hee disdained all chamber delights, that the Sunne (how great a iornie soeuer he had to make) could neuer preuent him with earlines, nor the Moone (with her sober couutenance) disswade him from watching till midnight for the deeres feeding. O, saide he, you will neuer liue to my age, without you keepe your selues in breath vvith exercise, and in hart vvith ioifullnes: too much thinking doth consume the spirits and oft it falles out, that vvhile one thinkes too much of his doing, he leaues to doe the effect of his thinking. Then spared he not to remember how much Arcadia was chaunged since his youth: actiuitie and good fellowship being nothing in the price, it was then held in, but according to the nature of the old growing world, stil worse and worse. Then would he tell them stories of such gallaunts as he had knowe: and so with pleasant company beguiled the times hast, and shortned the wayes length, till they came to the side of the wood, where the hounds were in couples staying their comming, but with a whining Accent crauing libertie: many of them in colour and markes so resembling, that it showed they were of one kinde. The huntsmen handsomely attired in their greene liueries, as though they were children of Sommer, with staues in their handes to beat the guiltlesse earth, when the houndes were at a fault, and with hornes about their neckes to sounde an alarum vpon a sillie fugitiue. The houndes were straight vncoupled, and Erelong the Stagge thought it better to trust to the nimblenes of his feete, then to the slender fortification of his lodging: but euen his feete, betrayed him; for howsoeuer they went, they themselues vttered themselues to the sent of their enimies; who one taking it of an other, and sometimes beleeuing the windes aduertisements, sometimes the viewe of (their faithfull councellors) the huntsmen, with open mouthes then denounced warre, when the warre was alreadie begun. Their crie beeing composed of so well sorted mouthes, that any man would perceiue therein some kinde of proportion, but the skilfull woodmen did finde a musicke. Then delight and varietie of opinion drew the horsmen sundrie wayes; yet cheering their houndes with voyce & horne, kept still (as it were) together. The wood seemed to conspire with them against his own citizens, dispersing their noise through all his quarters, and euen the Nimph Echo left to bewayle the losse of Narcissus, and became a hunter. But the Stagge was in the end so hotly pursued, that (leauing his flight) hee was driuen to make courage of dispaire; and so turning his head, made the hounds (with change of speech) to testifie that he was at a bay: as if from hotte pursuite of their enemie, they were sodainly come to a parley.

But Kalander (by his skill of coasting the Countrey) was among the first that came in to the besieged Deere; whom when some of the younger sorte would haue killed with their swordes, he woulde not suffer: but with a Crossebowe sent a death to the poore beast, who with teares shewed the vnkindnes he tooke of mans crueltie.

But by the time that the vvhole companie vvas assembled, & that the Sagge had bestovved himselfe liberally among them that had killed him, Daiphantus vvas mist, for vvhom Palladius carefully enquiring, no nevves could bee giuen him, but by one that saide, he thought hee was returned home; for that hee markt him, in the chiefe of the hunting, take a by way, which might lead to Kalanders house. That answere for the time satisfying, and they hauing perfourmed all dueties, as well for the Stagges funerall, as the hounds triumph, they returned: some talking of the fatnes of the Deeres bodie; some of the fairenes of his head; some of the hounds cunning; some of their speed; and some of their cry: till comming home (about the time that the candles begin to inherit the Suns office) they found Daiphantus was not to bee found. Whereat Palladius greatly maruailing, and a day or tvvo passing, vvhile neither search nor inquirie could help him to knovvledge, at last he lighted vpo the letter, vvhich Pyrocles had vvritten before he vvent a hunting, and left in his studie among other of his vvritings. The letter vvas directed to Palladius himselfe, and conteyned these wordes.

My onely friend, violence of loue leades me into such a course, whereof your knowledge may much more vexe you, then helpe me. Therefore pardon my concealing it from you, since: if I wrong you, it is in the respect I beare you. Return into Thessalia, I pray you, as full of good fortune, as I am of desire: and if I liue, I will in short time follow you; if I die, loue my memorie.

This was all, and this Palladius read twise or thrise ouer. Ah (said hee) Pyrocles, what meanes this alteration? what haue I deserued of thee, to bee thus banished of thy counsels? Heretofore I haue accused the sea, condemned the Pyrats, and hated my euil fortune, that depriued me of thee; But now thy self is the sea, which drounes my comfort, thy selfe is the Pirat that robbes thy selfe of me: Thy owne wil becomes my euill fortune. Then turned he his thoughts to all formes of ghesses that might light vpon the purpose and course of Pyrocles: for hee was not so sure by his wordes, that it was loue, as hee was doubtfull where the loue was. One time he thought, some beautie in Laconia had layed hold of his eyes; an other time hee feared, that it might be Parthenias excellencie, which had broken the bands of al former resolution But the more he thought, the more he knew not what to thinke, armies of obiections rising against any accepted opinion.

Then as carefull he was what to doo himselfe: at length determined, neuer to leaue seeking him, till his search should bee either by meeting accomplished, or by death ended. Therfore (for all the vnkindnesse bearing tender respect, that his friends secrete determinatio should be kept from any suspition in others) he went to Kalander, and told him, that he had receaued a message from his friend, by which he vnderstood he was gone backe againe into Laconia , about some matters greatly importing the poore men, whose protection he had vndertaken, and that it was in any sort fit for him, to follow him, but in such priuate wise, as not to bee knowne, and that therefore he would as then bid him farewell: arming himselfe in a blacke armour, as either a badge, or prognostication of his minde: and taking onely with him good store of monie, and a fewe choise iewels, leauing the greatest number of them, and most of his apparell with Kalander: which he did partly to giue the more cause to Kalander to expect their returne, and so to be the lesse curiously inquisitiue after them: and partly to leaue those honorable thankes vnto him, for his charge and kindenes, which hee knewe hee woulde no other way receaue. The good old man hauing neither reason to dissuade, nor hope to persuade, receaued the things, with minde of a keeper, not of an owner; but before he went, desired he might haue the happines, fully to know what they were: which he saide, he had euer till then delaid, fearing to be any way importune: but now he could not be so much an enemy to his desires as any longer to imprison them in silence, Palladius tolde him that the matter was not so secrete, but that so worthie a friend deserued the knowledge, and should haue it as soone as he might speake with his friend: without whose consent (because their promise bound him otherwise) he could not reueale it: but bad him hold for most assured, that if they liued but a while, he should finde that they which bare the names of Daiphantus and Palladius, would giue him and his cause to thinke his noble courtesie well imploied. Kalander would presse him no further: but desiring that he might haue leaue to goe, or at least to sende his sonne and seruauntes with him, Palladius brake of all ceremonies, by telling him; his case stood so, that his greatest fauour should be in making lest adoo of his parting. Wherewith Kalander knowing it to bee more cumber then curtesie, to striue, abstained from further vrging him, but not from hartie mourning the losse of so sweete a conuersation.

Onely Clitophon by vehement importunitie obteyned to go with him, to come againe to Daiphantus, whom he named and accounted his Lord. And in such priuate guise departed Palladius, though hauing a companion to talke withall, yet talking much more with vnkindnes. And first they went to Mantinæa; wherof because Parthenia was, he suspected there might be some cause of his abode. But finding there no newes of him he went to Tegæa, Ripa, Enispæ, Stimphalus, and Pheneus, famous for the poisonous Stygian water, and through all the rest of Arcadia, making their eyes, their eares, and their tongue serue almost for nothing, but that enquirie. But they could know nothing but that in none of those places he was knowne. And so went they, making one place succeed to an other, in like vncertaintie to their search, many times encountring strange aduentures, worthy to be registred in the roulles of fame; but this may not be omitted. As they past in a pleasant valley, (of either side of which heigh hills lifted vp their beetle-browes, as if they would ouer looke the pleasantnes of their vnder-prospect) they were by the daintines of the place, & the wearienes of themselues, inuited to light from their horses; & pulling of their bits, that they might somthing refresh their mouthes vppon the grasse (which plentifully grewe, brought vp vnder the care of those well shading trees,) they them selues laid them downe hard by the murmuring musicke of certain waters, which spouted out of the side of the hills, & in the bottome of the vallie made of many springs a pretie brooke, like a common-wealth of many famylies: but when they had a while harkened to the perswasion of sleepe, they rose, and walkt onward in that shadie place, till Clitophon espied a peece of armour, & not far of an other peece: and so the sight of one peece teaching him to looke for more he at length found all, with headpeece and shield, by the deuice whereof, which was ..... he straight knew it to be the armour of his cousin, the noble Amphialus. Whereupo (fearing some inconuenience hapned vnto him) he told both his doubte and cause of doubte to Palladius, who (considering thereof) thought best to make no longer stay, but to follow on: least perchaunce some violence were offered to so worthie a Knight, who the fame of the world semed to sett in ballance with any Knight liuing. Yet with a soddaine coceipt, hauing long borne great honour to the name of Amphialus, Palladius thought best to take that armour, thinking thereby to learne by them that should know that armour, some newes of Amphialus , & yet not hinder him in the search of Daiphantus too. So he by the helpe of Clitophon quickly put on that armour, whereof there was no one piece wating, though hacked in some places, bewraying some fight not long since passed. It was some-thing to great, but yet serued well enough. And so getting on their horses, they trauailed but a litle way, when in opening of the mouth of the valley into a faire field, they met with a coach drawen with foure milke white-horses, furnished al in blacke, with a blacke a more boye vpon euerie horse, they all apparelled in white, the coach it selfe very richly furnished in blacke and white. But before they coulde come so neere as to discerne what was within, there came running vppon them aboue a dosen horsmen, who cried to them to yeelde themselues prisoners, or els they should die. But Palladius not accustomed to graunt ouer the possession of him selfe vppon so vniust titles, with sworde drawne gaue them so rude an answer, that diuers of them neuer had breath to reply again: for being well backt by Clitophon, & hauing an excellent horse vnder him, when he was ouerprest bysome, he auoided them, and ere th'other thought of it, punished in him his fellows faults: and so either with cunning or with force, or rather with a cunning force, left none of them either liuing, or able to make his life serue to others hurt. Which being done, he approched the coach, assuring the blacke boies they should haue no hurt, who were els readie to haue run away, and looking into the coach, he found in the one end a Lady of great beautie, & such a beautie, as shewed forth the beames both of wisdome & good nature, but all as much darkned, as might be, with sorrow. In the other, two Ladies, (who by their demeanure shewed well, they were but her seruants) holding before them a picture; in which was a goodly Gentleman (whom he knew not) painted, hauing in their faces a certaine waiting sorrow, their eies being infected with their mistres weeping. But, the cheife Ladie hauing not so much as once heard the noise of this coflict (so had sorrow closed vp all the entries of her mind, & loue tied her seces to that beloued picture (now the shadow of him falling vpon the picture made her cast vp her eie, and seing the armour which too well she knew, thinking him to be Amphialus the Lord of her desirs, (bloud coming more freely into her cheekes, as though it would be bolde, & yet there growing new again pale for feare) with a pitiful looke (like on vniustly condemned) My Lord Amphialus saide she you haue enough punished me: it is time for crueltie to leaue you, and euill fortune me; if not I praie you, (& to graunt, my praier fitter time nor place you can haue) accomplish the one euen now, & finish the other. With that, sorrow impatient to be slowly vttered in her ofte staying speeches, poured it self so fast in teares, that Palladius could not hold her longer in errour, but pulling of his helmet, Madam (said he) I perceaue you mistake me: I am a stranger in these parts, set vpon (without any cause giue by me) by some of your seruants, whom because I haue in my iust defence euill entreated, I came to make my excuse to you, whom seing such as I doo, I finde greater cause, why I should craue pardon of you. When she saw his face, & heard his speech, she looked out of the coach, & seing her men, some slaine, some lying vnder their dead horses, & striuing to get from vnder them, without making more account of the matter, Truly (said she) they are wel serued that durst lift vp their armes against that armour. But Sir Knight (said she) I pray you tell me, how come you by this armour? for if it be by the death of him that owed it, then haue I more to say vnto you. Palladius assured her it was not so; telling her the true manner howe hee found it. It is like enough (said shee) for that agrees with the manner he hath lately vsed. But I beseech you Sir (said she) since your prowes hath bereft me of my company: let it yet so farre heale the woundes it selfe hath giuen, as to garde me to the next towne. How great so euer my businesse bee fayre Ladie (saide hee) it shall willingly yeeld to so noble a cause: But first euen by the fauour you beare to the Lorde of this noble armour I coniure you to tell mee the storie of your fortune herein, lest hereafter when the image of so excellent a Ladie in so straunge a plight come before mine eyes, I condemne my selfe of want of consideration in not hauing demaunded thus much. Neither aske I without protestation, that wherein my sworde and faith may auaile you, they shall binde themselues to your seruice. Your coniuration, fayre Knight (saide she) is too strong for my poore spirite to disobey, and that shall make me (without any other hope, my ruine being but by one vnrelieueable) to graunt your will herein: and to say the truth, a straunge nicenesse were it in me to refraine that from the eares of a person representing so much worthinesse, which I am glad euen to rockes and woods to vtter. Know you then that my name is Helen, Queene by birth: & hetherto possession of the faire citie and territorie of Corinth. I can say no more of my selfe, but beloued of my people: & may iustly say, beloued, since they are content to beare with my absece, & folly. But I being left by my fathers death, & accepted by my people, in the highest degre, that coutry could receiue; assone, or rather, before that my age was ripe for it; my court quickely swarmed full of suiters; some perchance louing my state, others my person, but once I know all of them, howsoeuer my possessions were in their harts, my beautie (such as it is) was in their mouthes; many strangers of princely and noble blood, and all of mine owne countrie, to whom either birth or vertue gaue courage to avowe so high a desire.

Among the rest, or rather before the rest, was the Lorde Philoxenus, sonne and heire to the vertuous noble man Timotheus: which Timotheus was a man both in power, riches, parentage, and (which passed all these) goodnes, and (which followed all these) loue of the people, beyond any of the great men of my countrie. Now this sonne of his I must say truly, not vnworthye of such a father, bending himselfe by all meanes of seruiseablenes to mee, and setting forth of himselfe to win my fauour, wan thus farre of mee, that in truth I lesse misliked him then any of the rest: which in some proportion my countenaunce deliuered vnto him. Though I must protest it was a very false embassadour, if it deliuered at all any affection, whereof my hart was vtterly void, I as then esteeming my selfe borne to rule, & thinking foule scorne willingly to submit my selfe to be ruled.

But whiles Philoxenus in good sorte pursued my fauour, and perchance nourished himselfe with ouer much hope, because he found I did in some sorte acknowledge his valew, one time among the rest he brought with him a deare friend of his. With that she loked vpo the picture before her, and straight sighed, & straight teares followed, as if the Idol of dutie ought to be honoured with such oblations, and then her speach staied the tale, hauing brought her to that looke, but that looke hauing quite put her out of her tale. But Palladius greatly pitying so sweete a sorrow in a Ladie, whom by fame he had already knowen, & honoured, besought her for her promise sake, to put silence so longe vnto her moning, till she had recounted the rest of this story. Why saide she, this is the picture of Amphialus: what neede I say more to you? what eare is so barbarous but hath hard of Amphialus? who followes deeds of armes, but euery where findes monumets of Amphialus? who is courteous, noble, liberall, but he that hath the example before his eyes of Amphialus ? where are al heroical parts, but in Amphialus? O Amphialus I would thou were not so excellent, or I would I thought thee not so excellent, and yet would I not that I would so: with that she wept againe, till he againe solliciting the conclusion of her story: Then must you (saide shee) know the story of Amphialus: for his wil is my life, his life my history: and indeed in what can I better emploie my lippes the in speaking of Amphialus?

This Knight then whose figure you see, but whose minde can be painted by nothing, but by the true shape of vertue, is brothers sonne to Basilius King of Arcadia, and in his childhood esteemed his heir: till Basilius in his olde yeares marrying a yonge and a faire Lady, had of her those two daughters, so famous for their perfection in beautie: which put by their yong cosin from that expectation.

Wherevppon his mother (a woman of a hautie heart, being daughter to the King of Argos, either disdaining, or fearing, that her sonne should liue vnder the power of Basilius sent him to that Lorde Timotheus (betweene whome and her dead husband there had passed streight bands of mutuall hospitality to be brought vp in company with his sonne Philoxenus?

A happie resolution for Amphialus; whose excellent nature was by this meanes trained on with as good education, as any Princes sonne in the worlde could haue, which otherwise it is thought his mother (farre vnworthie of such a sonne) would not haue giuen him. The good Timotheus) no lesse louing him then his owne sonne: well they grew in yeeres; and shortly occasions fell aptly to trie Amphialus, and all occasions were but steppes for him to clime fame by. Nothing was so harde, but his valour ouercame: which yet still he so guided with true vertue, that although no man was in our parts spoken of but he for his manhood, yet, as though therin he excelled him selfe, he was comonly called the courteous Amphialus. An endlesse thing it were for me to tell, how many aduentures (terrible to be spoken of) he atchieued: what monsters, what Giants, what conquests of countries some times vsing policy, some times force, but alwaies vertue well followed, and but followed by Philoxenus: betweene whom, and him, so fast a frindship by educatio was knit, that at last Philoxenus hauing no greater matter to imploye his frindshipp in, then to winne me, therein desired, and had his vttermost furtheraunce: to that purpose brought he him to my court, where truely I may iustly witnes with him, that what his wit coulde conceiue (and his wit can conceiue as far as the limits of reason stretch) was all directed to the setting forwarde the suite of his friend Philoxenus: my eares could heare nothing from him, but touching the worthines of Philoxenus, and of the great happines it would be vnto mee to haue such a husband: with many arguments, which God knowes, I cannot well remember because I did not much beleue. For why should I vse many circumstances to come to that where alreadye I am, and euer while I liue must continue? in fewe wordes, while he pleaded for another, he wanne me for himselfe: if at least (with that she sighed) he would account it a winning, for his fame had so framed the way to my mind, that his presence so full of beautie, sweetnes, and noble couersation, had entred there before he vouchsafed to call for the keyes. O Lorde, how did my soule hang at his lippes while he spake! O when he in feeling maner would describe the loue of his frend, how well (thought I) dooth loue betweene those lippes! when he would with daintiest eloquence stirre pittie in me towarde Philoxenus, vvhy sure (said I to my selfe) Helen, be not afraid, this hart cannot vvant pittie: and vvhen he vvould extoll the deeds of Philoxenus , vvho indeede had but vvaited of him therin, alas (thought I) good Philoxenus hovv euil doth it become thy name to be subscribed to his letter? vvhat should I saie? nay, vvhat should I not say (noble Knight) vvho am not ashamed, nay am delighted, thus to expresse mine ovvne passions?

Dayes paste; his eagernes for his friend neuer decreased, my affection to him euer increased. At length, in vvay of ordinarie curtesie, I obteined of him (vvho suspected no such matter) this his picture, the onely Amphialus, I feare that I shall euer enioy: and grovven bolder, or madder, or bould vvith madnes, I discouered my affection vnto him. But, Lord, I shall neuer forget, how anger and curtesie, at one instant apeared in his eyes, vvhen he harde that motion: hovv vvith his blush he taught me shame. In summe, he left nothing vnassayed, vvhich might disgrace himselfe, to grace his fried; in svveet termes making me receiue a most resolute refusall of himselfe. But when he found that his presence did far more perswade for himselfe, then his speeche could doo for his frend, hee left my court: hoping, that forgetfulnesse (which commonly waits vpon absence) woulde make roome for his friende: to whome hee woulde not vtter thus much (I thinke) for a kinde feare not to grieue him, or perchance (though he cares litle for me) of a certain honorable gratefulnes, nor yet to discouer so much of my secrets: but as it should seeme, meant to trauell into farre countryes, vntill his friends affectio either ceased, or preuailed. But within a while, Philoxenus came to see how onward the fruites were of his friends labour, when (as in trueth I cared not much how he tooke it) he found me sitting, beholding this picture, I know not with how affectionate countenance, but I am sure with a most affectionate mind. I straight found ielousie and disdaine tooke holde of him: and yet the froward paine of mine owne harte made mee so delight to punish him, whom I esteemed the chiefest let in my way; that when he with humble gesture, and vehement speeches, sued for my fauor; I told him, that I would heare him more willingly, if hee woulde speake for Amphialus, as well as Amphialus had done for him: he neuer answered me, but pale & quaking, went straight away; and straight my heart misgaue me some euill successe: and yet though I had authoritie inough to haue stayed him (as in these fatall thinges it falles out, that the hie-working powers make second causes vnwittingly accessarie to their determinations) I did no further but sent a foot-man of mine (whose faithfulnes to me I will knew) from place to place to follow him, and bring me word of his proceedings: which (alas) haue brought foorth that which I feare I must euer rewe.

For hee had trauailed scarse a dayes iorney out of my Countrey, but that (not farre from this place) he ouer-tooke Amphialus, who (by succouring a distressed Lady) had bene here stayed: and by and by called him to fight with him, protesting that one of them two should die: you may easily iudge how straunge it was to Amphialus, whose hart could accuse it selfe of no fault, but too much affection towarde him, which he (refusing to fight with him) woulde faine haue made Philoxenus vnderstand, but (as my seruant since tolde me) the more Amphialus went back, the more he followed, calling him Traytor, and coward, yet neuer telling the cause of this strange alteration. Ah Philoxenus (saide Amphialus) I know I am no Traytor, and thou well knowest I am no coward: but I pray thee content thy selfe with this much, and let this satisfie thee, that I loue thee, since I beare thus much of thee, but hee leauing wordes drew his sworde and gaue Amphialus a great blow or two, which but for the goodnes of his armour would haue slaine him: and yet so farre did Amphialus containe himselfe, stepping aside, and saying to him, Well Philoxenus, and thus much villany am I content to put vp, not any longer for thy sake (whom I haue no cause to loue, since thou dost iniury mee, and wilt not tell me the cause) but for thy vertuous fathers sake, to whom I am so much bound. I pray thee goe awaye, and conquer thy owne passions, and thou shalt make mee soone yeeld to be thy seruant. But he would not attend his wordes, but still strake so fiercely at Amphialus, that in the end (nature preuailing aboue determination) he was faine to defend him selfe, and with-all to offend him, that by an vnluckye blow the poore Philoxenus fell dead at his feete; hauing had time onely to speake some wordes, whereby Amphialus knew it was for my sake: which when Amphialus sawe, he forthwith gaue such tokens of true felt sorrow; that as my seruant said no imagination could conceiue greater woe. But that by and by, and vnhappye occasion made Amphialus passe himselfe in sorrow: for Philoxenus was but newelie dead, when there comes to the same place, the aged and vertuous Timotheus , who (hauing heard of his sonnes sodaine and passionate manner of parting from my Court) had followed him as speedily as he coulde; but alas not so speedily, but that hee founde him dead before hee coulde ouertake him. Though my heart bee nothing but a stage for Tragedies; yet I must confesse, it is euen vnable to beare the miserable representation thereof: knowing Amphialus and Timotheus as I haue done. Alas what sorrowe, what amasement, what shame was in Amphialus, when hee sawe his deere foster father, finde him the killer of his onely sonne? In my heart I knowe, hee wished mountaines had laine vpon him, to keepe him from that meeting. As for Timotheus , sorrow of his sonne and (I thinke principally) vnkindenesse of Amphialus so deuoured his vitall spirites that able to say no more but Amphialus, Amphialus, haue I? he sancke to the earth, and presently died.

But not my tongue though daily vsed to complaints; no nor if my heart (which is nothing but sorrow) were turned to tongues, durst it vnder-take to shew the vnspeakeablenes of his griefe. But (because this serues to make you know my fortune) he threw away his armour, euen this which you haue now vppon you, which at the first sight I vainely hoped, hee had put on againe; and then (as ashamed of the light) hee ranne into thickest of the woods, lamenting, and euen crying out so pitifully, that my seruant, (though of a fortune not vsed to much tendernes) could not refraine weeping when he told it me. He once ouertooke him, but Amphialus drawing his sword, which was the onely part of his armes (God knowes to what purpose) he carried about him, threatned to kil him if he followed him, and withal, bad him deliuer this bitter message, that he wel inough found, I was the cause of all this mischiefe: and that if I were a man, he would go ouer the world to kill me: but bad me assure my selfe, that of all creatures in the world, he most hated mee. Ah sir Knight (whose eares I think by this time are tired with the rugged waies of these misfortunes) now weigh my case, if at least you know what loue is. For this cause haue I left my countrie, putting in hazard how my people will in time deale by me, aduenturing what perilles or dishonors might ensue, onely to follow him, who proclaimeth hate against me, and to bring my necke vnto him, if that may redeeme my trespasse and asswage his fury. And now sir (saide she) you haue your request, I pray you take paines to guide me to the next towne, that there I may gather such of my company againe, as your valor hath left me. Palladius willingly condiscended: but ere they began to go, there came Clitophon, who hauing bene something hurt by one of them, had pursued him a good way: at length ouertaking him, and ready to kill him, vnderstoode they were seruants to the faire Queene Helen, and that the cause of this enterprise was for nothing, but to make Amphialus prisoner, who they knew their mistresse sought; for she concealed her sorrow, nor cause of her sorrow fro no body.

But Clitophon (very sory for this accident) came backe to comfort the Queene, helping such as were hurt, in the best sort that he could, and framing friendly constructions of this rashly vnder-taken enmitie, when in comes an other (till that time vnseene) all armed, with his beuer downe, who first looking round about vpon the copany, as soone as he spied Palladius, he drew his sword, & making no other prologue, let flie at him. But Palladius (sorie for so much harme as had already happened) sought rather to retire, and warde, thinking he might be some one that belonged to the faire Queene, whose case in his heart he pitied. Which Clitophon seeing, stept betweene them, asking the new come knight the cause of his quarrel; who answered him, that hee woulde kill that theefe, who had stollen away his masters armour, if he did not restore it. With that Palladius lookt vpon him, and sawe that hee of the other side had Palladius owne armour vpon him: truely (saide Palladius) if I haue stolne this armour, you did not buy that: but you shall not fight with me vpon such a quarrell, you shall haue this armour willingly, which I did onely put on to doo honor to the owner. But Clitophon straight knewe by his words and voyce, that it was Ismenus, the faithfull and diligent Page of Amphialus : and therefore telling him that he was Clitophon, and willing him to acknowledge his error to the other, who deserued all honour, the yong Gentleman pulled of his head-peece, and (lighting) went to kisse Palladius hands; desiring him to pardon his follie, caused by extreame griefe, which easilie might bring foorth anger. Sweete Gentleman (saide Palladius) you shall onely make me this amendes, that you shall cary this your Lords armour from me to him, and tell him from an vnknowen knight (who admires his worthines) that he cannot cast a greater miste ouer his glory, then by being vnkind to so excellet a princesse as this Queene is. Ismenus promised he would as soone as he durst find his maister: and with that went to doo his duetie to the Queene, whom in al these encounters astonishment made hardy; but assoone as she saw Ismenus (looking to her picture) Ismenus (saide shee) here is my Lord, where is yours? or come you to bring me some sentence of death from him? if it be so, welcome be it. I pray you speake; and speake quickly. Alas Madame, said Ismenus, I haue lost my Lorde, (with that teares came vnto his eyes) for assoone as the vnhappie combate was concluded with the death both of father and sonne, my maister casting of his armour, went his way: forbidding me vpon paine of death to follow him. Yet diuers daies I followed his steppes; till lastly I found him, hauing newly met with an excellent Spaniell, belonging to his dead companion Philoxenns. The dog straight fawned on my master for old knowledge: but neuer was there thinge more pittifull then to heare my maister blame the dog for louing his maisters murtherer, renewing a fresh his complaints, with the dumbe counceller, as if they might comfort one another in their miseries. But my Lord hauing spied me, rase vp in such rage, that in truth I feared he would kill me: yet as then he said onely, if I would not displease him, I should not come neere him till he sent for me: too hard a commaundement for me to disobey: I yeelded, leauing him onely waited on by his dog, and as I thinke seeking out the most solitarie places, that this or any other country can graunt him: and I returning where I had left his armour, found an other in steede thereof, and (disdaining I must confesse that any should beare the armour of the best Knight liuing) armed my selfe therein to play the foole, as euen now I did. Faire Ismenus (said the Queene) a fitter messenger could hardly be to vnfold my Tragedie; I seethe end, I see my end.

With that (sobbing) she desired to be conducted to the next towne, where Palladius left her to be waited on by Clitophon, at Palladius earnest entreatie, who desired alone to take that melancholy course of seeking his friend: and therefore changing armours againe with Ismenus (who went withall to a castle belonging to his master) he continued his quest for his friend Daiphantus.

So directed he his course to Laconia, aswell among the Helots, as Spartans. There indeede hee found his fame flourishing, his monuments engraued in Marble, and yet more durably in mens memories; but the vniuersall lamenting his absented presence, assured him of his present absence. Thence into the Elean prouince, to see whether at the Olympian games (there celebrated) he might in such concourse blesse his eyes with so desired an encounter: but that huge and sportfull assemblie grewe to him a tedious louelinesse, esteeming no bodie founde, since Daiphantus was lost. Afterward he passed through Achaia and Sicyonia, to the Corinthians, prowde of their two Seas, to learne whether by the streight of that Isthmus, it were possible to know of his passage. But finding euerie place more dombe then other to his demaundes, and remembring that it was late-taken loue, which had wrought this new course, he returned againe (after two moneths trauaile in vaine) to make a freshe searche in Arcadia; so much the more, as then first he bethought him selfe of the picture of Philoclea (which resembling her he had once loued) might perhaps awake againe that sleeping passion. and hauing alreadie past ouer the greatest part of Arcadia, one daie comming vnder the side of the pleasant mountaine Mænalus, his horse (nothing guiltie of his inquisitiuenes) with flat-tyring taught him, that discrete stayes make speedie iourneis. And therefore lighting downe, and vnbrideling his horse, he him selfe went to repose him selfe in a little wood he sawe there by. Where lying vnder the protection of a shadie tree, with intention to make forgetting sleepe comfort a sorrowfull memorie, he sawe a sight which perswaded, and obteined of his eyes, that they would abide yet a while open. It was the appearing of a Ladie, who because she walked with her side toward him, he coulde not perfectly see her face; but so much he might see of her, that was a suretie for the rest, that all was excellent.

Well might he perceiue the hanging of her haire in fairest quantitie, in locks, some curled, and some as it were forgotten, with such a carelesse care, & an arte so hiding arte, that shee seemed she would lay them for a paterne, whether nature simply, or nature helped by cunning, be the more excellent: the rest whereof was drawne into a coronet of golde richly set with pearle, and so ioyned all ouer with golde wiers, & couered with feathers of diuers coulours, that it was not vnlike to an helmet, such, a glittering shew, it bare, & so brauely it was held vp from the head. Vpon her bodie she ware a doublet of Skie colour sattin, couerd with plates of golde & as it were nailed with pretious stones, that in it she might seeme armed; the nether part of her garment was so full of stuffe, & cut after such a fashion, that though the length of it reached to the ankles, yet in her going one might sometimes discerne the small of her leg, which with the foot was dressed in a shorte paire of crimson veluet buskins, in some places open (as the ancient manner was) to shew the fairenes of the skin. Ouer all this she ware a certaine mantell, made in such manner, that comming vnder her right arme, and couering most of that side, it had no fastning of the left side, but onley vpon the top of the shoulder: where the two endes met, and were closed together with a very riche iewell: the deuise whereof as he after saw was this: a Hercules made in litle fourme, but set with a distaffe in his hand as he once was by Omphales commaundement with a worde in Greeke, but thus to be interpreted, Neuer more valiant. On the same side, on her thigh she ware a sword, which as it witnessed her to be an Amazon, or one following that profession, so it seemed but a needlesse weapon, since her other forces were without withstanding. But this Ladie walked out-right, till he might see her enter into a fine close arbour: it was of trees whose branches so louingly interlaced one the other, that it could resist the strongest violence of eye-sight; but shee went into it by a doore she opened; which moued him as warely as he could to follow her, and by & by he might heare her sing this song, with a voice no lesse beautifull to his eares, then her goodlinesse was full of harmonie to his eyes.


Transformd in shew, but more transformd in minde,
I cease to striue with double conquest foild:
For (woe is me) my powers all I finde
With outward force, and inward treason spoild. For from without came to mine eyes the blowe,
Whereto mine inward thoughts did faintly yeeld;
Both these conspir'd poore Reasons ouerthrowe;
False in my selfe, thus haue I lost the fielde, Thus are my eyes still Captiue to one sight
Thus all my thoughts are slaues to one thought still:
Thus Reason to his seruants yeelds his right;
Thus is my power transformed to your will,
   What maruaile then I take a womans hew,
   Since what I see, thinke, know is all but you?

The dittie gaue him some suspition, but the voice gaue him almost assurance, who the singer was. And therefore boldly thrusting open the dore, and entring into the arbour, hee perceaued in deed that it was Pyrocles thus disguised, wherewith not receauing so much ioy to haue found him, as griefe so to haue found him, amazedly looking vpon him (as Apollo is painted when hee saw Daphne sodainlie turned into a Laurell) he was not able to bring forth a worde. So that Pyrocles (who had as much shame, as Musidorus had sorrow) rising to him, would haue formed a substantiall excuse; but his insinuation being of blushing, and his diuision of sighes, his whole oration stood vpon a short narration, what was the causer of this Metamorphosis? But by that time Musidorus had gathered his spirites together, and yet casting a gastfull countenaunce vpon him (as if he would coniure some strange spirits) he thus spake vnto him.

And is it possible, that this is Pyrocles, the onely yong Prince in the world, formed by nature, and framed by education, to the true exercise of vertue? or is it indeede some Amazon that hath counterfeited the face of my friend, in this sort to vexe me? for likelier sure I would haue thought it, that any outward face might haue bene disguised, then that the face of so excellent a mind could haue bene thus blemished. O sweete Pyrocles, separate your selfe a little (if it be possible) from your selfe, and let your owne minde looke vpon your owne proceedings: so shall my wordes be needlesse, and you best instructed. See with your selfe, how fitte it will be for you in this your tender youth, borne so great a Prince, and of so rare, not onely expectation, but proofe, desired of your olde Father, and wanted of your natiue Countrie, now so neere your home, to diuert your thoughtes from the way of goodnesse; to loose, nay to abuse your time. Lastly to ouerthrow all the excellent things you haue done, which haue filled the world with your fame; as if you should drowne your ship in the long desired hauen, or like an ill player, should marre the last act of his Tragedie. Remember (for I know you know it) that if we will be men, the reasonable parte of our soule, is to haue absolute commaundement; against which if any sensuall weaknes arise, wee are to yeelde all our sounde forces to the ouerthrowing of so vnnaturall a rebellion, wherein howe can we wante courage, since wee are to deale against so weake an aduersary, that in it selfe is nothinge but weakenesse? Nay wee are to resolue, that if reason direct it, we must doo it, and if we must doo it, we will doo it; for to say I cannot, is childish, and I will not, womanish. And see how extremely euery way you endaunger your minde; for to take this womanish habit (without you frame your behauiour accordinglie) is wholie vaine: your behauiour can neuer come kindely from you, but as the minde is proportioned vnto it. So that you must resolue, if you will plaie your parte to anie purpose, whatsoeuer peeuish imperfections are in that sexe, to soften your hart to receiue them, the verie first downe-steppe to all wickednesse: for doo not deceiue your selfe, my deere cosin, there is no man sodainelie either excellentlie good, or extremelie euill but growes either as hee holdes himselfe vp in vertue, or lettes himselfe slide to vitiousnes. And let vs see, what power is the aucthor of all these troubles: forsooth loue, loue, a passion, and the basest and fruitlessest of all passions: feare breedeth wit, Anger is the cradle of courage: ioy openeth and enhableth the hart: sorrow, as it closeth, so it draweth it inwarde to looke to the correcting of it selfe; and so all of them generallie haue power towardes some good by the direction of Reason. But this bastarde Loue (for indeede the name of Loue is most vnworthylie applied to so hatefull a humour) as it is engendered betwixt lust and idlenes; as the matter it workes vpon is nothing but a certaine base weakenes, which some gentle fooles call a gentle hart; as his adioyned companions bee vnquietnes, longings fond comforts, faint discomforts, hopes, ielousies, vngrounded rages, causlesse yeeldings; so is the highest end it aspires vnto, a litle pleasure with much paine before, and great repentaunce after. But that ende how endlesse it runes to infinite euils, were fit inough for the matter we speake of, but not for your eares, in whome indeede there is so much true disposition to vertue: yet thus much of his worthie effects in your selfe is to bee seene, that (besides your breaking lawes of hospitallitie with Kalander and of friendship with me) it vtterly subuerts the course of nature, in making reason giue place to sense, and man to woman. And truely I thinke heere-vpon it first gatte the name of Loue: for indeede the true loue hath that excellent nature in it, that it doth transforme the verie essence of the louer into the thing loued, vniting, and as it were incorporating it with a secret and inwarde working. And herein do these kinde of loues imitate the excellent; for as the loue of heauen makes one heauenly, the loue of vertue, vertuous; so doth the loue of the world make one become worldly, and this effeminate loue of a woman, doth so womanize a man, that (if hee yeeld to it) it will not onely make him an Amazon; but a launder, a distaff-spinner; or what so euer other vile occupation their idle heads can imagin and their weake hands performe. Therefore (to trouble you no longer with my tedious but louiug wordes) if either you remember what you are, what you haue bene, or what you must be: if you cosider what it is, that moued you, or by what kinde of creature you are moued, you shall finde the cause so small, the effect so daungerous, your selfe so vnworthie to runne into the one, or to bee driue by the other, that I doubt not I shal quicklie haue occasion rather to praise you for hauing conquered it, then to giue you further counsell, howe to doo it. But in Pyrocles this speech wrought no more, but that hee, who before hee was espied, was afraide; after, being perceiued, was ashamed, now being hardly rubd vpon, left both feare and shame, and was moued to anger. But the exceeding good will he bare to Musidorus striuing with it, hee thus, partly to satisfie him, but principally to loose the reines to his owne motions, made him answere. Cosin, whatsoeuer good disposition nature hath bestowed vpon me, or howsoeuer that disposition hath bene by bringing vp confirmed, this must I confesse, that I am not yet come to that degree of wisedome, to thinke light of the sexe, of whom I haue my life; since if I be any thing (which your friendship rather finds, then I acknowledge) I was to come to it, born of a woma, & nursed of a woma. And certely (for this point of your speach doth neerest touch me) it is strage to se the vnman-like cruelty of makind; who not content with their tyranous abition, to haue brought the others vertuous patience vnder them (like childish maisters) thinke their masterhood nothing, without doing iniury to them, who (if wee will argue by reason) are framed of nature with the same partes of the minde for the exercise of vertue, as we are. And for example, euen this estate of Amazons, (which I now for my greatest honor do seek to counterfait) doth well witnes, that if generally the sweetnes of their disposition did not make them see the vainnesse of these thinges, which wee accopt glorious, they nether want valor of mind, nor yet doth their fairnes take away their force. And truely we men, and praisers of men, should remember, that if wee haue such excellecies, it is reason to thinke them excellent creatures, of whom wee are: since a Kite neuer brought foorth a good flying Hauke. But to tell you true, as I thinke it superfluous to vse any wordes of such a subiect, which is so praysed in it selfe, as it needes no praises; so withall I feare lest my conceate (not able to reach vnto them) bring forth wordes, which for their vnworthines may be a disgrace to them I so inwardly honor. Let this suffice, that they are capable of vertue and vertue (ye your selues say) is to be loued, & I too truly: but this I willingly confesse, that it likes me much better, when I finde vertue in a faire lodging, then when I am bound to seeke it in an ill fauoured creature, like a pearle in a dounghill. As for my fault of being an vnciuill guest to Kalander, if you coulde feele what an inward guest my selfe am host vnto: ye would thinke it very excuseable, in that I rather performe the dueties of an host, then the ceremonies of a guest. And for my breaking the lawes of friendshippe with you, (which I would rather dye, then effectually doo) truely, I could finde in my hart to aske you pardon for it, but that your now handling of me giues me reason to my former dealing. And here Pyrocles stayed, as to breath himselfe, hauing beene transported with a litle vehemency, because it seemed him Musidorus had ouer-bitterly glaunsed against the reputation of woman-kinde: but then quieting his countenance (aswell as out of an vnquiet minde it might be) he thus proceeded on: And poore Loue (said he) deare cosin, is little beholding vnto you, since you are not contented to spoile it of the honor of the highest power of the mind, which notable me haue attributed vnto it; but ye deiect it below all other passions, in trueth somewhat strangely; since, if loue receiue any disgrace, it is by the company of these passions you preferre before it. For those kinds of bitter obiections (as, that lust, idlenes, and a weake harte, shoulde bee, as it were, the matter and forme of loue) rather touch me, deare Musidorus, then loue: But I am good witnesse of mine owne imperfections, and therefore will not defende myselfe: but herein I must say, you deale contrary to your selfe: for if I be so weak, then can you not with reason stir me vp as ye did, by remembrance of my owne vertue: or if indeed I be vertuous, then must ye confesse, that loue hath his working in a vertuous hart: and so no dout hath it, whatsoeuer I be: for if we loue vertue, in whom shall wee loue it but in a vertuous creature? without your meaning bee, I should loue this word vertue, where I see it written in a booke. Those troblesome effectes you say it breedes, be not the faults of loue, but of him that loues; as an vnable vessell to beare such a licour: like euill eyes, not able to looke on the Sun; or like a weake braine, soonest ouerthrowen with the best wine. Euen that heauenly loue you speake of, is a accompanied in some harts with hopes, griefes, longinges, and dispaires. And in that heauenly loue, since there are two parts, the one the loue it selfe, th'other the excellencie of the thing loued; I, not able at the first leap to frame both in me, do now (like a diligent workman) make ready the chiefe instrument, and first part of that great worke, which is loue it selfe; which when I haue a while practised in this sorte, then you shall see me turne it to greater matters. And thus gentlie you may (if it please you) thinke of me. Neither doubt ye, because I weare a womans apparell, I will be the more womannish, since, I assure you (for all my apparrel) there is nothing I desire more, then fully to proue my selfe a man in this enterprise. Much might be saide in my defence, much more for loue, and most of all for that diuine creature, which hath ioyned me and loue together. But these disputations are fitter for quiet schooles, then my troubled braines, which are bent rather in deeds to performe, then in wordes to defende the noble desire that possesseth me. O Lord (saide Musidorus) how sharp-witted you are to hurt your selfe? No (answered he) but it is the hurt you speake of, which makes me so sharp-witted. Euen so (saide Musidorus) as euery base occupation makes one sharp in that practise, and foolish in all the rest. Nay rather (answered Pyrocles) as each excellent thing once well learned, serues for a measure of all other knowledges. And is that become (saide Musidorus) a measure for other things, which neuer receiued measure in it selfe? It is counted without measure (answered Pyrocles,) because the workings of it are without measure but otherwise, in nature it hath measure, since it hath an end allotted vnto it. The beginning being so excellent, I would gladly know the ende. Enioying, answered Pyrocles, with a deepe sigh. O (saide Musidorus) now set ye foorth the basenes of it: since if it ende in enioying, it shewes all the rest was nothing. Ye mistake me (aunswered Pyrocles) I spake of the ende to which it is directed; which end ends not, no sooner then the life. Alas, let your owne braine disenchaunt you (saide Musidorus.) My hart is too farre possessed (saide Pyrocles.) But the head giues you direction. And the hart giues me life; aunswered Pyrocles.

But Musidorus was so greeued to see his welbeloued friend obstinat (as he thought) to his owne destruction, that it forced him with more then accustomed vehemency to speake these words; Well, well, (saide he) you list to abuse your selfe; it was a very white and red vertue, which you could pick out of a painterly glosse of a visage: Confesse the truth; and ye shall finde, the vtmost was but beautie; a thing, which though it be in as great excellencye in your selfe as may be in any, yet I am sure you make no further reckning of it, then of an outward fading benefite Nature bestowed vpon you. And yet such is your want of a true grounded vertue, which must be like it selfe in all points, that what you wisely account a trifle in your selfe, you fondly become a slaue vnto in another. For my part I now protest, I haue left nothing vnsaid, which my wit could make me know, or my most entier friendship to you requires of me; I doo now beseech you euen for the loue betwixt vs (if this other loue haue left any in you tovvards me) and for the remembrance of your olde careful father (if you can remeber him that forget your selfe) lastly for Pyrocles ovvn sake (who is novv vpon the point of falling or rising) to purge your selfe of this vile infection; other vvise giue me leaue, to leaue of this name of freindship, as an idle title of a thing vvhich cannot be, vvhere vertue is abolished. The length of these speaches before had not so much cloied Pyrocles, though he vvere very impatient of long deliberations, as this last farevvell of him he loued as his ovvne life, did vvound his soule for thinking him selfe afflicted, he vvas the apter to conceiue vnkindnesse deepely: insomuch, that shaking his head, and deliuering some shevve of teares, he thus vttered his greifes. Alas (said he) prince Musidorus, hovv cruelly you deale with me; if you seeke the victorie, take it and if ye list, the triumph; haue you all the reason of the world, and with me remaine all the imperfections; yet such as I can no more lay from me, then the Crow can be perswaded by the Swanne to cast of all his blacke fethers. But truely you deale with me like a Phisition, that seeing his patient in a pestilet feuer, should chide him, in steed of ministring helpe, and bid him be sick no more; or rather like such a fried, that visiting his friend condemned to perpetuall prison; and loaden with greeuous fetters, should will him to shake of his fetters, or he would leaue him. I am sick, and sick to the death; I am prisoner, neither is there any redresse, but by her to whom I am slaue. Now if you list, leaue him that loues you in the hiest degree: But remember euer to cary this with you, that you abandon your friend in his greatest extremitie.

And herewith the deepe wound of his loue being rubbed a fresh with this new vnkindnes, began (as it were to bleed againe, in such sort that he was vnable to beare it any longer, but gushing out aboundance of teares, and crossing his armes ouer his woefull hart, he suncke downe to the ground which sodaine trance went so to the hart of Musidorus, that falling downe by him and kissing the weping eyes of his friend, he besought him not to make account of his speach; which if it had beene ouer vehement, yet was it to be borne withall, because it came out of a loue much more vehement; that he had not thought fancie could haue receiued so deep a wound: but now finding in him the force of it, hee woulde no further contrary it; but imploy all his seruice to medicine it, in such sorte, as the nature of it required. But euen this kindnes made Pyrocles the more melte in the former vnkindenes, which his manlike teares well shewed, with a silent look vpon Musidorus, as who should say, And is it possible that Musidorus should threaten to leaue me? And this strooke Musidorus minde and senses so dumbe too, that for greefe being not able to say any thing, they rested with their eyes placed one vpon another, in such sort, as might well paint out the true passion of vnkindenes to be neuer aright, but betwixt them that most dearely loue.

And thus remained they a time; till at length, Musidorus embrasing him, said and will you thus shake of your friend? It is you that shake me of (sayde Pyrocles) being for my vnperfectnes vnworthie of your friendshippe. But this (said Musidorus) shewes you more vnperfect, to be cruell to him, that submits himselfe vnto you; but since you are vnperfect (said he smiling) it is reason you be gouerned by vs wise and perfect men. And that authoritie will I begin to take vpon me, with three absolute comandemets: The first, that you increase not your euill with further griefes: the second, that you loue her with all the powers of your mind: and the last commandement shalbe, ye command me to do what seruice I can, towardes the attaining of your desires. Pyrocles hart was not so oppressed with the two mighty passions of loue and vnkindnes, but that it yeelded to some mirth at his commaundement of Musidorus; that he should loue: so that some thing cleering his face from his former shewes of griefe; Well (said he) deare cousin, I see by the well choosing of your commandementes, that you are farre fitter to be a Prince, then a Counseller: & therfore I am resolued to imploy all my endeuour to obey you; with this condition that the commandementes ye commaund me to lay vpon you, shall onely bee, that you continue to loue me, and looke vpon my imperfections, with more affection then iudgement. Loue you? (said hee) alas, how can my hart be seperated from the true imbrasing of it, without it burst, by being too full of it? But (said he) let vs leaue of these flowers of newe begun frendship: and now I pray you againe tel me; but tell it me fully, omitting no circumstance, the storie of your affections both beginning, and proceeding: assuring your selfe, that there is nothing so great, which I will feare to doo for you: nor nothing so small, which I will disdaine to doo for you. Let me therefore receiue a cleere vnderstanding, which many times we misse, while those things we account small, as a speech, or a looke are omitted, like as a whole sentence may faile of his congruitie, by wanting one particle. Therefore betweene frends, all must be layd open, nothing being superfluous, nor tedious. You shalbe obeyed (said Pyrocles) and here are we in as fitte a place for it as may be; for this arbor no body offers to come into but my selfe; I vsing it as my melancholy retiring place, and therefore that respect is born vnto it; yet if by chance any should come, say that you are a seruant sent from the Queene of the Amazons to seeke mee and then let mee, alone for the rest. So sate they downe, and Pyrocles thus said.

Cousin (said he) then began the fatall ouerthrow of all my libertie when walking among the pictures in Kaladers house, you your selfe deliuerd vnto me what you had vnderstood of Philoclea, who much resembling (though I must say much surpassing) the Ladie Zelmane, whom so well I loued: there were mine eyes infected, and at your mouth did I drinke my poison. Yet alas so sweete was it vnto me, that I could not be contented, till Kalander had made it more and more strong with his declaration. Which the more I questioned, the more pittie I conceaued of her vnworthie fortune: and when with pittie once my harte was made tender, according to the aptnesse of he humour, it receaued quickly a cruell impression of that wonderfull passion which to be definde is impossible, because no wordes reach to the strange nature of it: they onely know it, which inwardly feele it, it is called loue. Yet did I not (poore wretch) at first know my disease, thinking it onely such a woonted kinde of desire, to see rare sights; and my pitie to be no other, but the fruits of a gentle nature. But euen this arguing with my selfe came of further thoughts; and the more I argued, the more my thoughts encreased. Desirous I was to see the place where she remained, as though the Architecture of the Iodges would haue beene much for my learning; but more desirous to see her selfe, to be iudge, for sooth, of the painters cunning. For thus at the first did I flatter my self, as though my wound had bene no deeper: but when within short time I came to the degree of vncertaine wishes, and that those wishes grew to vnquiet longinges, when I could fix my thoughts vpon nothing, but that within little varying, they should end with Philoclea: when each thing I saw, seemed to figure out some parte of my passions; when euen Parthenias faire face became a lecture to me of Philocleas imagined beautie; when I heard no word spoken, but that me thought it caried the sounde of Philocleas name: then indeed, then I did yeeld to the burthen, finding my selfe prisoner, before I had leasure to arme my selfe; and that I might well, like the spaniell, gnaw vpon the chaine that ties him, but I should sooner marre my teeth, then procure liberty. Yet I take to witnesse the eternall spring of vertue, that I had neuer read, heard, nor seene any thing; I had neuer any tast of Philosophy, nor inward feeling in my selfe, which for a while I did not call to my succour. But (alas) what resistance was there, when ere long my very reason was (you will say corrupted) I must confesse, conquered; and that me thought euen reason did assure me, that all eyes did degenerate from their creation, which did not honour such beautie? Nothing in trueth coulde holde any plea with it, but the reuerent friendship I beare vnto you. For as it went against my harte to breake any way from you, so did I feare more then any assault to breake it to you: finding (as it is indeed) that to a hart fully resolute, counsaile is tedious, but reprehension is lothsome: and that there is nothing more terrible to a guilty hart, then the eie of a respected friend. This made me determine with my selfe, (thinking it a lesse fault in frendship to do a thing without your knowledge, then against your will) to take this secret course: Which conceit was most builded vp in me, the last day of my parting and speaking with you; whe vpo your speach with me, & my but naming loue, (whe els perchauce I would haue gone further) I saw your voice and countenance so chaunge, as it assured me, my reuealing it should but purchase your griefe with my cumber: & therfore (deere Musidorus ) euen ran away from thy wel knowne chiding: for hauing writte a letter, which I know not whether you found or no, and taken my chiefe iewels with mee, while you were in the middest of your sport, I got a time (as I thinke) vnmarked by any, to steale away, I cared not whether so I might scape you & so came I to Ithonia in the prouince of Messenia; wher lying secret I put this in practise which before I had deuised. For remebring by Philanax his letter, & Kaladers speech, how obstinately Basilius was determined not to mary his daughters, & therefore fearing, lest any publike dealing should rather increase her captiuitie, then further my loue; Loue (the refiner of inuentio) had put in my head thus to disguise my selfe, that vnder that maske I might (if it were possible,) get accesse, and what accesse could bring foorth, commit to fortune & industry: determining to beare the countenance of an Amazon . Therefore in the closest maner I could, naming my selfe Zelmane , for that deere Ladies sake, to whose memorie I am so much bound, I caused this apparell to be made, and bringing it neere the lodges, which are heard at hand, by night, thus dressed my selfe, resting till occasion might make me to be found by them, whom I sought: which the next morning hapned as well, as my owne plot could haue laide it. For after I had runne ouer the whole petigree of my thoughts, I gaue my selfe to sing a little, which as you knowe I euer delighted in, so now especially, whether it be the nature of this clime to stir vp Poeticall fancies, or rather as I thinke, of loue; whose cope being plesure, wil not so much as vtter his griefes, but in some form of pleasure.

But I had song very little, when (as I thinke displeased with my bad musicke) comes master Dametas with a hedging bill in his hand, chasing, and swearing by the pantable of Pallas, & such other othes as his rusticall brauery could imagine; & when he saw me, I assure you my beauty was no more beholding to him then my harmony; for leaning his hands vpon his bil, and his chin vpon his hands, with the voice of one that plaieth Hercules in a play, but neuer had his fancie in his head, the first word he spake to me, was, am not I Dametas? why? am not I Dametas? hee needed not name himselfe: for Kalanders description had set such a note vpon him, as made him very notable vnto me, and therefore the height of my thoughts would not discend so much as to make him any answer, but continued on my inward discourses: which (he perchaunce witnes of his owne vnworthines, and therefore the apter to thinke himselfe contemned) tooke in so hainous manner, that standing vpon his tip-toes, and staring as if he would haue had a mote pulled out of his eie, Why (said he) thou woman, or boy, or both, whatsoeuer thou bee, I tell thee here is no place for thee, get thee gone, I tell thee it is the Princes pleasure, I tell thee it is Dametas pleasure. I could not choose, but smile at him, seeing him looke so like an Ape that had newly taken a purgation; yet taking my selfe with the manner, spake these wordes to my selfe: O spirite (saide I) of mine, how canst thou receaue anie mirth in the midst of thine agonies, and thou mirth howe darest thou enter into a minde so growne of late thy professed enemie? Thy spirite (saide Dametas) doost thou thinke me a spirite, I tell thee I am Basilius officer, and haue charge of him, and his daughters. O onely pearle (saide I sobbing) that so vile an oyster should keepe thee? By the combe-case of Diana sware Dametas) this woman is mad: oysters, and pearles? doost thou thinke I will buie oysters? I tell thee once againe get thee packing, and with that lifted vp his bill to hit me with the blunt ende of it: but indeede that put me quite out of my lesson, so that I forgat Zelmanes-ship, and drawing out my sworde, the basenesse of the villaine yet made me stay my hande, and he (who, as Kalander tolde mee, from his childehood euer feared the blade of a sworde) ran backe, backward (with his handes aboue his head) at lest twentie paces, gaping and staring, with the verie grace (I thinke) of the clownes, that by Latonas prayers were turned into Frogs. At length staying, findinge himselfe without the compasse of blowes, hee fell to a fresh scolding, in such mannerlie manner, as might well shewe hee had passed through the discipline of a Tauerne. But seeing mee walke vp and downe, without marking what he saide, he went his way (as I perceiued after) to Basilius: for within a while he came vnto mee, bearing in deede shewes in his countenaunce of an honest and well-minded gentleman, and with as much courtesie as Dametas with rudenesse saluting mee, Faire Lady (saide hee) it is nothing strange, that such a solitary place as this should receiue solitary persons; but much doe I maruaile howe such a beauty as yours is, should be suffered to be thus alone. I (that now knew it was my part to play) looking with a graue maiestie vpon him, as if I found in my selfe cause to be reuerenced. They are neuer alone (saide I) that are accompanied with noble thoughts. But those thoughts (replied Basilius) cannot in this your lonelines neither warrant you from suspition in others, nor defende you from melancholy in your selfe. I then shewing a mislike that he pressed me so farre, I seeke no better warrant (saide I) then my owne conscience, nor no greater pleasure, then mine owne contentation. Yet vertue seekes to satisfie others, (saide Basilius.) Those that bee good (saide I,) and they will bee satisfied as long as they see no euill. Yet will the best in this country, (saide Basilius) suspect so excellent beauty being so weakely garded. Then are the best but starke nought, (aunswered I) for open suspecting others, comes of secrete condemning themselues; But in my countrie whose manners I am in all places to maintaine and reuerence) the generall goodnes (which is nourished in our harts) makes euerye one thinke the strength of vertue in an other, whereof they finde the assured foundation in themselues. Excellent Ladie (said he) you praise so greatly, (and yet so wisely) your country, that I must needes desire to knowe what the nest is, out of which such Byrds doo flye. You must first deserue it (said I) before you may obtaine it. And by what meanes (saide Basilius) shall I deserue to know your estate? By letting me first knowe yours (aunswered I.) To obey you (said he) I will doe it, although it were so much more reason, yours should be knowen first, as you doo deserue in all points to be preferd. Know you (faire Lady) that my name is Basilius, vnworthily Lord of this country: the rest, either fame hath alreadie brought to your eares, or (if it please you to make this place happie by your presence) at more leasure you shall vnderstand of me. I that from the beginning assured my selfe it was he, but would not seeme I did so, to keepe my grauitie the better, making a peece of reuerence vnto him, Mightye Prince (said I) let my not knowing you serue for the excuse of my boldenes, and the little reuerence I doe you, impute it to the manner of my country, which is the inuincible Land of the Amazons; My selfe neece to Senicia, Queene thereof, lineally descended of the famous Penthesilea, slaine by the bloudie hand of Pyrrhus: I hauing in this my youth determined to make the worlde see the Amazons excellencies, aswell in priuate, as in publicke vertue, haue passed some daungerous aduentures in diuers countries, till the vnmercifull Sea depriued me of my company: so that shipwrack casting me not farre hence, vncertaine wandring brought me to this place. But Basilius (who now began to tast of that, which since he hath swallowed vp, as I will tell you) fell to more cunning intreating my aboad, then any greedy host would vse to well paying passengers. I thought nothing could shoot righter at the mark of my desires; yet had I learned alredye so much, that it was against my womanhood to be forward in my owne wishes. And therefore he (to prooue whether intercessions in fitter mouths might better preuaile) commaunded Dametas to bring forth with his wife and daughters thether; three Ladies, although of diuers, yet all of excellent beauty.

His wife in graue Matronlike attire, with countenaunce and gesture sutable, and of such fairenes (being in the strength of her age) as if her daughters had not bene by, might with iust price haue purchased admiration; but they being there, it was enough that the most dainty eye would thinke her a worthye mother of such children. The faire Pamela, whose noble hart I finde doth greatly disdaine, that the trust of her vertue is reposed in such a louts hands as Dametas, had yet to shewe an obedience, taken on shepeardish apparell, which was but of Russet cloth cut after their fashion, with a straight body, open brested, the nether parte full of pleights, with long and wide sleeues: but beleeue me she did apparell her apparell, and with the pretiousnes of her body made it most sumptuous. Her haire at the full length, wound about with gold lace, onely by the comparison to shew how farre her haire doth excell in colour: betwixt her breasts (which sweetlye rase vp like two faire Mountainettes in the pleasaunt vale of Tempe) there honge a verie riche Diamond set but in a blacke horne, the worde I haue since read is this; yet still my selfe. And thus particularlie haue I described them, because you may know that mine eyes are not so partiall, but that I marked them too. But when the ornament of the Earth, the modell of heauen, the Triumph of Nature, the life of beauty the Queene of Loue, young Philoclea appeared in her Nimphe-like apparell, so neare nakednes, as one might well discerne part of her perfections; and yet so apparelled, as did shew she kept best store of her beauty to her selfe: her haire (alas too poore a word, why should I not rather call the her beames) drawe vp into a net, able to haue caught Iupiter when he was in the forme of an Egle; her body (O sweet body) couered with a light Taffeta garment, so cut, as the wrought smocke came through it in many places, inough to haue made your restraind imagination haue thought what was vnder it: with the cast of her blacke eyes; blacke indeed, whether nature so made them, that we might be the more able to behold & bear their wonderfull shining, or that she, (goddesse like) would work this miracle with her selfe, in giuing blacknes the price aboue all beauty. Then (I say) indeede me thought the Lillies grew pale for enuie, the roses me thought blushed to see sweeter roses in her cheekes, and the apples me thought, fell downe from the trees, to do homage to the apples of her breast; Then the cloudes gaue place, that the heauens might more freely smile vpon her; at the lest the cloudes of my thoughts quite vanished: and my sight (then more cleere and forcible then euer) was so fixed there, that (I imagine) I stood like a well wrought image, with some life in shew, but none in practise. And so had I beene like inough to haue stayed long time, but that Gynecia stepping betweene my sight and the onely Philoclea, the chaunge of obiect made mee recouer my sences: so that I coulde with reasonable good manner receiue the salutation of her, and of the princesse Pamela, doing them yet no further reuerence then one Princesse vseth to another. But when I came to the neuer-inough praised Philoclea, I could not but fall downe on my knees, and taking by force her hand, and kissing it (I must confesse) with more then womanly ardency, Diuine Lady, (said I) let not the world, nor these great princesses maruaile, to se me (contrary to my manner) do this especiall honor vnto you, since all both men and women, do owe this to the perfection of your beauty. But she blushing (like a faire morning in May) at this my singularity, and causing me to rise, Noble Lady, (saide she) it is no maruaile to see your iudgemet much mistaken in my beauty, since you beginne with so great an errour, as to do more honour vnto me then to them, to whom I my selfe owe all seruice. Rather (answered I with a bowed downe countenaunce) that shewes the power of your beauty, which forced me to do such an errour, if it were an errour. You are so well acquainted (saide shee sweetely, most sweetely smiling, with your owne beautie, that it makes you easilie fall into the discourse of beauty. Beauty in me? (said I truely sighing) alas if there be any, it is in my eyes, which your blessed presence hath imparted vnto them.

But then (as I thinke) Basilius willing her so to do, Well (said she) I must needes confesse I haue heard that it is a great happines to bee praised of them that are most praise worthie; And well I finde that you are an inuincible Amazon, since you will ouercome, though in a wrong matter. But if my beauty bee any thing, then let it obtaine thus much of you, that you will remaine some while in this companie, to ease your owne trauail, and our solitarines. First let me dye (said I) before any word spoken by such a mouth, should come in vaine. And thus with some other wordes of entertaining, was my staying concluded, and I led among them to the lodge; truely a place for pleasantnes, not vnfitte to flatter solitarinesse for it being set vpon such an vnsensible rising of the ground, as you are come to a prety height before almost you perceiue that you ascend, it giues the eye Lordship ouer a good large circuit, which according to the nature of the countrey, being diuersified betwene hills and dales, woods and playnes, one place more cleere, an other more darksome, it seemes a pleasant picture of nature, with louely lightsomnes and artificiall shadowes. The Lodge is of a yellow stone, built in the forme of a starre; hauing round about a garden framed into like points: and beyond the gardein, ridings cut out, each aunswering the Angles of the Lodge: at the end of one of them is the other smaller Lodge, but of like fashion; where the gratious Pamela liueth: so that the Lodge seemeth not vnlike a faire Comete, whose taile stretcheth it selfe to a starre of lesse greatnes.

So Gynecia her selfe bringing me to my Lodging, anone after I was inuited and brought downe to sup with them in the gardein, a place not fairer in naturall ornaments, then artificiall inuentions: where, in a banquetting house among certaine pleasant trees, whose heads seemed curled with the wrappings about of Vine-branches The table was set neere to an excellent water-worke; for by the casting of the water in most cunning maner, it makes (with the shining of the Sunne vpon it) a perfect rainbow, not more pleasant to the eye then to the mind, so sensibly to see the proofe of the heauenly Iris. There were birds also made so finely, that they did not onely deceiue the sight with their figure, but the hearing with their songs; which the watrie instruments did make their gorge deliuer. The table at which we sate, was round, which being fast to the floore whereon we sate, and that deuided from the rest of the buildings (with turning a vice, which Basilius at first did to make me sport) the table, and we about the table, did all turne round, by meanes of water which ranne vnder, and carried it about as a Mille. But alas, what pleasure did it to mee, to make diuers times the full circle round about, since Philoclea (being also set) was carried still in equall distance from mee, and that onely my eyes did ouertake her? which when the table was stayed, and wee began to feede, dranke much more eagerlie of her beautie, then my mouth did of any other licour. And so was my common sense deceiued (being chiefly bent to her) that as I dranke the wine, and withall stale a looke on her, me seemed I tasted her deliciousnesse. But alas, the one thirste was much more inflamed, then the other quenched. Sometimes my eyes would lay themselues open to receiue all the dartes she did throwe, sometimes cloze vp with admiration, as if with a contrary fancie, they would preserue the riches of that sight they had gotten, or cast my liddes as curtaines ouer the image of beautie, her presence had painted in them. True it is, that my Reason (now growen a seruant to passion) did yet often tell his master, that he should more moderatly vse his delight. But he, that of a rebell was become a Prince, disdayned almost to allow him the place of a Counseller: so that my senses delights being too strong for any other resolution, I did euen loose the raines vnto them: hoping, that (going for a woman) my lookes would passe, either vnmarked, or vnsuspected.

Now thus I had (as me thought) well playd my first acte, assuring my selfe, that vnder that disguisment, I should find opportunitie to reueale my selfe to the owner of my harte. But who would thinke it possible (though I feele it true) that in almost eight weekes space, I haue liued here (hauing no more companie but her parents, and I being familiar, as being a woman, and watchfull, as being a louer) yet could neuer finde opportunitie to haue one minutes leasure of priuate conference: the cause whereof is as strange, as the effects are to me miserable. And (alas) this it is.

At the first sight that Basilius had of me (I thinke Cupid hauing headed his arrows with my misfortune) he was striken (taking me to be such as I professe) with great affection towards me, which since is growen to such a doting loue, that (till I was faine to get this place, sometimes to retire vnto freely) I was euen choaked with his tediousnes. You neuer saw fourscore yeares daunce vp and downe more liuely in a young Louer: now, as fine in his apparell, as if he would make me in loue with a cloake; and verse for verse with the sharpest-witted Louer in Arcadia. Doo you not thinke that this is a sallet of woormwood, while mine eyes feede vpon the Ambrosia of Philocleas beauty. But this is not all; no this is not the worst; for he (good man) were easy enough to be dealt with: but (as I thinke) Loue and mischeefe hauing made a wager, which should haue most power in me, haue set Gynecia also on such a fire towardes me, as will neuer (I feare) be quenched but with my destruction. For she (being a woman of excellent witte, and of strong working thoughts) whether she suspected me by my ouer-vehement showers of affection to Philoclea (which loue forced me vnwisely to vtter, while hope of my maske foolishly incouraged me) or that she hath take some other marke of me, that I am not a woman: or what deuill it is hath reuealed it vnto her, I know not; but so it is, that all her countenances, words and gestures, are euen miserable portraitures of a desperate affection. Whereby a man may learne, that these auoydings of companie, doo but make the passions more violent, when they meete with fitte subiects. Truely it were a notable dumb shew of Cupids kingdome, to see my eyes (languishing with ouervehement longing) direct themselues to Philoclea: and Basilius as busie about me as a Bee, and indeed as cumbersome; making such vehement suits to me, who neither could if I would; nor would if I could, helpe him: while the terrible witte of Gynecia, carried with the beere of violent loue, runnes thorow vs all. And so ielious is she of my loue to her daughter, that I could neuer yet beginne to ope my mouth to the vneuitable Philoclea, but that her vnwished presence gaue my tale a conclusion, before it had a beginning. And surely if I be not deceiued, I see such shewes of liking, and (if I bee acquainted with passions) of almost a passionate liking in the heauenly Philoclea, towardes me, that I may hope her eares would not abhorre my discourse. And for good Basilius, hee thought it best to haue lodged vs together, but that the eternall hatefulnes of my destinie, made Gynecias ielousie stoppe that, and all other my blessings. Yet must I confesse, that one way her loue doth me pleasure: for since it was my foolish fortune, or vnfortunate follie, to bee knowen by her, that keepes her from bewraying mee to Basilius . And thus (my Musidorus) you haue my Tragedie played vnta you by my selfe, which I pray the gods may not in deede prooue a Tragedie. And therewith he ended, making a full point of a hartie sigh.

Musidorus recommended to his best discourse, all which Pyrocles had told him. But therein he found such intricatenesse, that he could see no way to lead him out of the maze; yet perceauing his affection so grouded, that striuing against it, did rather anger then heale the wound, and rather call his friendshippe in question, then giue place to any friendly counsell. Well (said he) deare cosin, since it hath pleased the gods to mingle your other excellencies with this humor of loue, yet happie it is, that your loue is imployed vpon so rare a woman: for certainly, a noble cause dooth ease much a grieuous case. But as it stands now, nothing vexeth me, as that I cannot see wherein I can be seruisable vnto you. I desire no greater seruice of you (answered Pyrocles) the that you remayn secretly in this country, & some-times come to this place; either late in the night, or early in the morning, where you shall haue my key to enter, bicause as my fortune, eyther amends or empaires. I may declare it vnto you, and haue your counsell and furtheraunce: and hereby I will of purpose leade her, that is the prayse, and yet the staine of all womankinde, that you may haue so good a view, as to allowe my iudgement: and as I can get the most conuenient time, I will come vnto you; for though by reason of yonder wood you cannot see the Lodge; it is harde at hande. But now, (sayd she) it is time for me to leaue you, and towardes euening we will walke out of purpose hetherward, therefore keepe your selfe close in that time. But Musidorus bethinking him selfe that his horse might happen to bewray them, thought it best to returne for that day, to a village not farre of, and dispatching his horse in some sort, the next day early to come a foote thither, and so to keepe that course afterward, which Pyrocles very well liked of. Now farewell deere cousin (said he) from me, no more Pyrocles, nor Daiphantus now, but Zelmane: Zelmane is my name, Zelmane is my title, Zelmane is the onely hope of my aduauncement. And with that word going out, and seeing that the coast was cleare, Zelmane dismissed Musidorus , who departed as full of care to helpe his friend, as before he was to disswade him.

Zelmane returned to the Lodge, where (inflamed by Philoclea , watched by Gynecia, and tired by Basilius) she was like a horse, desirous to runne, and miserablie spurred, but so short raind, as he cannot stirre forward: Zelmane sought occasion to speake with Philoclea; Basilius with Zelmane; and Gynecia hindered them all. If Philoclea hapned to sigh (and sigh she did often) as if that sigh were to be wayted on, Zelmane sighed also; whereto Basilius and Gynecia soone made vp foure parts of sorrow. Their affection increased their conuersation; and their conuersation increased their affection. The respect borne bred due ceremonies; but the affection shined so through them, that the ceremonies seemed not ceremonious. Zelmanes eyes were (like children before sweet meate) eager, but fearefull of their ill-pleasing gouernors. Time in one instant, seeming both short, and long vnto them: short, in the pleasingnes of such presence: long, in the stay of their desires.

But Zelmane fayled not to intice them all many times abroad, because she was desirous her friend Musidorus (neere whom of purpose she led them) might haue full sight of them. Sometimes angling to a little Riuer neere hand, which for the moisture it bestowed vpon rootes of some flourishing Trees, was rewarded with their shadowe. There would they sit downe, and pretie wagers be made betweene Pamela and Philoclea, which could soonest beguile silly fishes; while Zelmane protested, that the fit pray for them was hartes of Princes. She also had an angle in her hand; but the taker was so taken, that she had forgotten taking. Basilius in the meane time would be the cooke himselfe of what was so caught, and Gynecia sit still, but with no still pensifnesse. Now she brought them to see a seeled Doue, who the blinder she was, the higher she straue. Another time a Kite, which hauing a gut cunningly pulled out of her, and so let flie, caused all the Kites in that quarter, who (as oftentimes the world is deceaued) thinking her prosperous, when indeede she was wounded, made the poore Kite find, that opinion of riches may well be dangerous.

But these recreations were interrupted by a delight of more gallant shew; for one euening as Basilius returned from hauing forced his thoughts to please themselues in such small conquests, there came a shepheard, who brought him word that a Gentleman desired leaue to do a message from his Lord vnto him. Basilius granted; whereupon the Gentleman came, and after the dutifull ceremonies obserued, in his maisters name tolde him, that he was sent from Phalantus of Corinth, to craue licence, that as he had done in many other courts, so he might in his presence defie all Arcadian Knights in the behalfe of his mistres beautie, who would besides, her selfe in person be present, to giue euident proofe what his launce should affirme. The conditions of his chalenge were, that the defendant should bring his mistresse picture, which being set by the image of Artesia (so was the mistresse of Phalantus named) who in sixe courses should haue better of the other, in the iudgement of Basilius, with him both the honors and the pictures should remaine. Basilius (though he had retired himselfe into that solitarie dwelling, with intention to auoid, rather then to accept any matters of drawing company; yet because he would entertaine Zelmane , (that she might not thinke the time so gainefull to him, losse to her) graunted him to pitch his tent for three dayes, not farre from the lodge, and to proclayme his chalenge, that what Arcadian Knight (for none els but vpon his perill was licensed to come) would defende what he honored against Phalantus, should haue the like freedome of accesse and returne.

This obteyned and published, Zelmane being desirous to learne what this Phalantus was, hauing neuer knowne him further then by report of his good iusting, in somuch as he was commonly called, The faire man of armes, Basilius told her that he had had occasion by one very inward with him, to knowe in part the discourse of his life, which was, that he was bastard-brother to the faire Helen Queene of Corinth, and deerly esteemed of her for his exceeding good parts, being honorablie courteous, and wronglesly valiaunt, considerately pleasant in conuersation, and an excellent courtier without vnfaithfulnes; who (finding his sisters vnperswadeable melancholy, thorow the loue of Amphialus) had for a time left her court, and gone into Laconia: where in the warre against the Helots, he had gotten the reputation of one, that both durst and knew. But as it was rather choise then nature, that led him to matters of armes, so as soone as the spur of honor ceased, he willingly rested in peaceable delightes, being beloued in all companies for his louely qualities, and (as a man may terme it) winning cherefulnes, whereby to the Prince and Court of Laconia , none was more agreable then Phalantus: and he not giuen greatly to struggle with his owne disposition, followed the gentle currant of it, hauing a fortune sufficient to content, and he content with a sufficient fortune. But in that court he sawe, and was acquainted with this Artesia, whose beautie he now defends, became her seruant, sayd himselfe, and perchaunce thought himselfe her louer. But certainly, said Basilius) many times it falles out, that these young companions make themselues beleeue they loue at the first liking of a likely beautie; louing, because they will loue for want of other businesse, not because they feele indeed that diuine power, which makes the heart finde a reason in passion: and so (God knowes) as inconstantly leaue vpon the next chaunce that beautie castes before them. So therefore taking loue vppon him like a fashion, he courted this Ladie Artesia, who was as fit to paie him in his owne monie as might be. For she thinking she did wrong to her beautie if she were not prowde of it, called her disdaine of him chastitie, and placed her honour in little setting by his honouring her: determining neuer to marrie, but him, whome she thought worthie of her: and that was one, in whome all worthinesse were harboured. And to this conceipt not only nature had bent her, but the bringing vp she receaued at my sister in lawe Cecropia, had confirmed her: who hauing in her widowhood taken this young Artesia into her charge; because her Father had bene a deare friend of her dead husbandes, had taught her to thinke that there is no wisdome but in including both heauen and earth in ones selfe: and that loue, courtesie, gratefulnesse, friendship, and all other vertues are rather to be taken on, then taken in ones selfe: And so good a disciple she found of her, that liking the fruits of her owne planting, she was content (if so her sonne could haue liked of it) to haue wished her in mariage to my Nephew Amphialus. But I thinke that desire hath lost some of his heate, since she hath knowne, that such a Queene as Helen is, doth offer so great a price as a Kingdome, to buie his fauour; for if I be not deceaued in my good sister Cecropia, she thinks no face so beautifull, as that which lookes vnder a Crowne. But Artesia indeede liked well of my Nephew Amphialus; for I can neuer deeme that loue, which in hauty harts proceeds of a desire onely to please, and as it were, peacock themselues; but yet she hath shewed vehemencie of desire that way, I thinke, because all her desires be vehement, in so much that she hath both placed her only brother (a fine youth called Ismenus) to be his squire, and her selfe is content to waite vpon my sister, till she may see the vttermost what she may worke in Amphialus: who being of a melancholie (though I must say truly courteous and noble) mind, seemes to loue nothing lesse then Loue: and of late hauing through some aduenture, or inward miscontentment, withdrawne himselfe from any bodies knowledge, where he is: Artesia the easier condiscended to goe to the court of Laconia, whether she was sent for by the Kings wife, to whome she is somewhat allied.

And there after the war of the Helots, this Knight Phalantus, (at least for tongue-delight) made him selfe her seruaunt, and she so little caring, as not to showe mislike thereof, was content onely to be noted to haue a notable seruaunt. For truely one in my court neerely acquainted with him, within these few dayes made me a pleasaunt description of their loue, while he with cheerefull lookes would speake sorowfull words, vsing the phrase of his affection in so high a stile, that Mercurie would not haue wooed Venus with more magnificent Eloquence: but els neyther in behauiour, nor action, accusing in himselfe anie great trouble in minde, whether he sped or no. And she of the other side, well finding how little it was, and not caring for more, yet taught him, that often it falleth out but a foolish wittinesse, to speake more then one thinkes.

For she made earnest benefite of his iest, forcing him in respect of his profession, to doo her such seruice, as were both cumbersome and costly vnto him, while he still thought he went beyond her, because his harte did not commit the idolatrie. So that lastlie, she (I thinke) hauing in minde to make the fame of her beautie an oratour for her to Amphialus, (perswading her selfe perhaps, that it might fall out in him, as it doth in some that haue delightfull meate before them, and haue no stomacke to it, before other folkes prayse it) shee tooke the aduauntage one daye vppon Phalantus vnconscionable praysinges of her, and certaine cast-awaie vowes, howe much hee would doo for her sake, to arrest his woord assoone as it was out of his mouth, and by the vertue thereof to charge him to goe with her thorow all the courts of Greece, and with the chalenge now made, to giue her beauty the principality ouer all other. Phalantus was entrapped, and saw round about him, but could not get out. Exceedingly perplexed he was (as he confest to him that tolde mee the tale) not for doubt hee had of him selfe (for indeede he had little cause, being accounted, with his Launce especially (whereupon the challenge is to be tryed) as perfect as any that Greece knoweth; but because he feared to offend his sister Helen, and withall (as he said) he could not so much beleeue his loue, but that he must thinke in his hart (whatsoeuer his mouth affirmed) that both she, my daughters, & the faire Parthenia (wife to a most noble Gentleman, my wiues neere kinsman) might far better put in their clayme for that prerogatiue. But his promise had bound him prentice, and therefore it was now better with willingnes to purchase thankes, then with a discontented doing to haue the paine, and not the reward: and therefore went on, as his faith, rather then loue, did lead him. And now hath he already passed the courts of Laconia, Elis, Argos & Corinth: and (as many times it happens) that a good pleader maks a bad cause to preuaile; so hath his Lawnce brought captiues to the triumph of Artesias beautie, such, as though Artesia be amog the fairest, yet in that copany were to haue the preheminece: for in those courts many knights (that had bene in other far countries) defended such as they had sene, & liked in their trauaile: but their defece had ben such; as they had forfaited the pictures of their Ladies, to giue a forced false testimonie to Artesias excellencie. And now lastly is he come hether where he hath leaue to trye his fortune. But I assure you, if I thought it not in dew and true consideration an iniurious seruice and churlish curtesie, to put the danger of so noble a title in the deciding of such a dangerles combat, I would make yong master Phalantus know, that your eyes can sharpen a blunt Launce, and that age, which my gray haires (onely gotten by the louing care of others) make seeme more then it is, hath not diminished in me the power to protect an vndeniable verity. With that hee bustled vp himselfe, as though his heart would faine haue walked abroad. Zelmane with an inwarde smiling gaue him outward thanks, desiring him to reserue his force for worthier causes. So passing their time according to their woont, they wayted for the comming of Phalantus, who the next morning hauing alredy caused his tents to be pitched, neere to a faire tree hard by the Lodge, had vppon the tree made a shield to be hanged vp, which the defendant should strike, that woulde call him to the mainteyning his challendge. The Impresa in the shield; was a heauen full of starres, with a speech signifying, that it was the beauty which gaue it the praise .

Himselfe came in next after a triumphant chariot, made of Carnation veluet inriched with purle and pearle, wherein Artesia sat, drawne by foure winged horses with artificiall flaming mouths, and fiery winges, as if she had newly borrowed them of Phoebus. Before her marched, two after two, certaine footemen pleasantly attired, who betweene them held one picture after another of them, that by Phalantus well running had lost the prize in the race of beauty, and at euery pace they stayed, turning the pictures to each side, so leasurely, that with perfect iudgement they might be discerned. The first that came in (following the order of the time wherein they had bene wonne) was the picture of Andromana, Queene of Iberia; whom a Laconian Knight hauing sometime (and with speciall fauour) serued, (though some yeares since retourned home) with more gratefulnes then good fortune defended. But therein Fortune had borrowed witte; for indeede she was not comparable to Artesia; not because she was a good deale elder (for time had not yet beene able to impouerish her store thereof) but an exceeding red haire with small eyes, did (like ill companions) disgrace the other assembly of most commendable beauties.

Next after her was borne the counterfaite of the princesse of Elis , a Lady that taught the beholders no other point of beauty, but this, that as lyking is, not alwaies the child of beauty, so whatsoeuer liketh; is beautyfull; for in that visage there was neither Maiestie, grace, fauour, nor fairenesse; yet she wanted not a seruaunt that woulde haue made her fairer then the faire Artesia. But he wrote her praises with his helmet in the dust, and left her picture to be as true a witnes of his ouerthrow, as his running was of her beauty.

After her was the goodly Artaxia, great Q. of Armenia, a Lady vpon whom nature bestowed, and well placed her most delightfull coulours; and withall, had proportioned her without any fault, quickly to be discouered by the senses, yet altogether seemed not to make vp that harmony, that Cupid delights in, the reason whereof might seeme a mannish countenance, which ouerthrew that louely sweetenes, the noblest power of womankinde, farre fitter to preuaile by parley, then by battell.

Of a farre contrary consideration was the representation of her that next followed, which was Erona Queene of Licia, who though of so browne a haire, as no man should haue iniuried it to haue called it blacke, and that in the mixture of her cheeks the white did so much ouercome the redde (though what was, was very pure) that it came neare to palenes, and that her face was a thought longer then the exacte Symmetrians perhaps would allow; yet loue plaid his part so well, in euerie part, that it caught holde of the iudgement, before it could iudge, making it first loue, and after acknowledge it faire, for there was a certaine delicacie, which in yeelding, conquered; and with a pitifull looke made one finde cause to craue helpe himselfe.

After her came two Ladies, of noble, but not of royall birth: the former was named Baccha, who though very faire, and of a fatnes rather to allure, then to mislike, yet her brests ouer-familiarly laide open, with a made countenaunce about her mouth, betweene simpring and smyling, her head bowed somewhat downe seemed to languish with ouer-much idlenes, and with an inuiting look cast vpwarde; disswaded with too much perswading, while hope might seem to ouerrunne desire.

The other (whose name was written Leucippe) was of a fine daintines of beauty, her face carying in it a sober simplicitie; like one that could do much good, and ment no hurt, her eyes hauing in them such a cheerefulnes, as nature seemed to smile in them: though her mouth and cheekes obeyed to that prety demurenes which the more one markte, the more one woulde iudge the poore soule apte to beleue; and therefore the more pitie to deceiue her.

Next came the Queene of Laconia, one that semed borne in the confines of beauties kingdome: for all her lineaments were neither perfect possessioners thereof, nor absolute strangers thereto but she was a Queene, and therefore beautifull.

But she that followed, conquered indeed with being conquered; and might wel haue made all the beholders waite vpo her triumph, while her selfe were led captiue. It was the excelletly-faire Queene Helen , whose Iacinth haire courled by nature, but intercurled by arte (like a fine brooke through golde fades) had a rope of faire pearle which now hiding, now hidden by the haire, did as it were play at fast and loose, each with other, mutually giuing & receiuing richnes. In her face so much beauty & fauour expressed, as if Helen had not bene knowen, some would rather haue iudged it the painters exercise, to shew what he could do, the the conterfaiting of any liuing patterne: for no fault the most fault finding wit could haue found, if it were not, that to the rest of the body the face was somewhat too little: but that little was such a sparke of beauty, as was able to enflame a world of loue. for euery thing was full of a choyce finenes, that if it wanted any thing in maiestie, it supplied it, with increase, in pleasure; and if at the first it strake not admiration, it rauished with delight. And no indifferent soule there was, which if it could resist fro subiecting it selfe to make it his princesse, that would not log to haue such a playfellow. As for her attire, it was costly and curious, though the look (fixt with more sadnes then it semed nature had bestowed to any that knew her fortune) bewraied, that as she vsed those ornaments, not for herselfe, but to preuaile with another so she feared, that all would not serue. Of a farre differing (though esteemed equall) beautie, was the faire Parthenia, who next wayted on Artesias triumph, though farre better she might haue sitte in the throne. For in her euery thing was goodly, and stately; yet so, that it might seeme that great-mindednes was but the auncient-bearer to the humblenes. For her great graie eye, which might seeme full of her own beautie:, a large, and exceedingly faire forhead, with all the rest of her face and body, cast in the mould of Noblenes; was yet so attired, as might shew, the mistres thought it either not to deserue, or not to neede any exquisite decking, hauing no adorning but cleanlines; and so farre from all arte, that it was full of carelesnesse: vnlesse that carelesnesse it selfe (in spite of it selfe) grewe artificiall. But Basilius coulde not abstaine from praising Parthenia, as the perfect picture of a womanly vertue, and wiuely faithfulnes: telling withall Zelmane, how he had vnderstoode, that when in the court of Laconia, her picture (maintained by a certaine Sycionian Knight) was lost, thorow want, rather of valour, then iustice: her husband (the famous Argalus) would in a chafe haue gone and redeemed it with a new triall. But shee (more sporting then sorrowing for her vndeserued champion) tolde her husbande, shee desired to bee beautifull in no bodies eye but his; and that shee would rather marre her face as euill as euer it was, then that it should be a cause to make Argalus put on armour. Then woulde Basilius haue tolde Zelmane that which she already knew, of the rare triall of that coupled affection: but the next picture made their mouthes giue place to their eyes.

It was of a young mayd, which sate pulling out a thorne out of a Lambes foote, with her looke so attentiue vppon it, as if that little foote coulde haue bene the circle of her thoughts, her apparell so poore, as it had nothing but the inside to adorne it; a shephooke lying by her with a bottle vpon it. But with all that pouertie, beauty plaid the prince, and commanded as many harts as the greatest Queene there did. Her beautie and her estate made her quicklie to be knowne to be the faire shepheardesse, Vrania, whom a rich knight called Lacemon, farre in loue with her, had vnluckely defended.

The last of all in place, because last in the time of her being captiue, was Zelmane, daughter to the King Plexirtus: who at the first sight seemed to haue some resembling of Philoclea , but with more marking (comparing it to the present Philoclea, who indeed had no paragon but her sister) they might see, it was but such a likenesse as an vnperfect glasse doth giue; aunswerable enough in some feitures and colors, but erring in others. But Zelmane sighing, turning to Basilius, Alas sir (said she) here be some pictures which might better become the tombes of their Mistresses, the the triumphe of Artesia. It is true sweetest Lady (saide Basilius) some of them bee dead, and some other captiue: But that hath happened so late, as it may bee the Knightes that defended their beauty, knew not so much: without we will say (as in some harts I know it would fall out) that death it selfe could not blot out the image which loue hath engrauen in them. But diuers besides these (said Basilius) hath Phalantus woon, but he leaues the rest, carying onely such, who either for greatnes of estate, or of beauty, may iustly glorifie the glory of Artesias triumph.

Thus talked Basilius with Zelmane, glad to make any matter subiect to speake of, with his mistresse, while Phalantus in this pompous maner, brought Artesia with her gentlewomen, into one Tent, by which he had another: where they both wayted who would first strike vpon the shielde, while Basilius the Iudge appointed sticklers and troumpets, to whom the other should obey. But non that day appeared, nor the next, till all ready it had consumed halfe his allowance of light; but then there came in a knight, protesting himselfe as contrarie to him in minde, as he was in apparrell. For Phalantus was all in white, hauing in his bases, and caparison imbroidered a wauing water: at each side whereof hee had nettings cast ouer, in which were diuers fishes naturally made, and so pretily, that as the horse stirred, the fishes seemed to striue, and leape in the nette.

But the other knight by name Nestor, by birth an Arcadian , & in affection vowed to the faire Shepherdesse, was all in black, with fire burning both vpo his armour and horse. His impresa in his shield, was a fire made of Iuniper, with this word, More easie, and more sweete. But this hote knight was cooled with a fall, which at the third course he receiued of Phalantus, leauing his picture to keepe companie with the other of the same stampe; hee going away remedilesly chafing at his rebuke. The next was Polycetes, greatly esteemed in Arcadia, for deedes he had done in armes: and much spoken of for the honourable loue he had long borne to Gynecia; which Basilius himselfe was content, not onely to suffer, but to be delighted with; he carried it in so honorable and open plainnes, setting to his loue no other marke, then to do her faithfull seruice. But neither her faire picture, nor his faire running, could warrant him from ouerthrow, and her from becomming as then the last of Artesias victories: a thing Gynecias vertues would little haue recked at another time, nor then, if Zelmane had not seene it. But her champion went away asmuch discomforted, as discomfited. Then Telamon for Polexena and Eurileon for Elpine, and Leon for Zoana ; all braue Knights, all faire Ladies, with their going downe, lifted vp the ballance of his praise for actiuitie, and hers for fairenes.

Vpon whose losse as the beholders were talking, there comes into the place where they ranne, a shepheard stripling (for his height made him more then a boy, and his face would not allow him a man) brown of complexion (whether by nature or by the Suns familiaritie) but very louely with all; for the rest so perfectly proportioned, that Nature shewed, shee dooth not like men. who slubber vp matters of meane account. And well might his proportion be iudged; for he had nothing vpon him but a paire of sloppes, and vpon his bodie a Gote-skinne, which hee cast ouer his shoulder doing all things with so pretie a grace, that it seemed ignorance could not make him do a misse, because he had a hart to do well, holding in his right hand a long staffe, & so coming with a lookeful of amiable fiercenes as in who choller could not take away the sweetnes, hee came towards the king, and making a reuerence (which in him was comely because it was kindly) My liege Lord (said he) I pray you heare a few words; for my heart wil break if I say not my mind to you I see here the picture of Vrania, which (I cannot tell how, nor why) these men when they fall downe, they say is not so faire as yonder gay woman. But pray God, I may neuer see my olde mother aliue, if I think she be any more match to Vrania, then a Goate is to a fine Lambe; or then the Dog that keepes our flock at home, is like your white Greihounde, that pulled downe the Stagge last day.

And therefore I pray you let me be drest as they be, and my hart giues me, I shall tumble him on the earth: for indeede hee might aswell say, that a Couslip is as white as a Lillie: or els I care not let him come with his great staffe, and I with this in my hand, and you shall see what I can doo to him. Basilius sawe it was the fine shepheard Lalus, whom once he had afore him in Pastorall sportes, and had greatly delighted in his wit full of prety simplicitie, and therefore laughing at his earnestnesse, he bad him be content, since hee sawe the pictures of so great Queenes, were faine to follow their champions fortune. But Lalus (euen weeping ripe) went among the rest, longing to see some bodie that would reuenge Vranias wronge; and praying hartely for euery bodie that ran against Phalantus, then beginning to feele pouerty, that he could not set him selfe to that triall. But by and by, euen when the Sunne (like a noble harte) began to shew his greatest countenaunce in his lowest estate, there came in a Knight, called Phebilus, a Gentleman of that country, for whom hatefull fortune had borrowed the dart of Loue, to make him miserable by the sight of Philoclea. For he had euen from her in fancie loued her, and was striken by her, before shee was able to knowe what quiuer of arrowes her eyes caried; but he loued and dispaired; and the more hee dispaired, the more hee loued. He sawe his owne vnworthines, and thereby made her excellencie haue more terrible aspect vpon him: he was so secrete therein, as not daring to be open, that to no creature he euer spake of it, but his hart made such silent complaintes within it selfe, that while all his senses were attentiue thereto, cunning iudges might perceaue his minde: so that hee was knowne to loue though hee denied, or rather was the better knowne, because hee denied it. His armour and his attire was of a Sea couler, his Impresa, the fish called Sepia, which being in the nette castes a blacke inke about it selfe, that in the darkenesse thereof it may escape: his worde was, Not so. Philocleas picture with almost an idolatrous magnificence was borne in by him. But straight ielousie was a harbinger for disdaine in Zelmanes harte, when shee sawe any (but her selfe) shoulde bee auowed a champion for Philoclea: in somuch that she wisht his shame, till shee sawe him shamed: for at the second course he was striken quite from out of the saddle, so full of griefe, and rage withall, that he would faine with the sworde haue reuenged it: but that being contrary to the order set downe, Basilius would not suffer; so that wishing him selfe in the bottome of the earth, hee went his way, leauing Zelmane no lesse angry with his losse, then she would haue bene with his victory. For if she thought before a riuals prayse would haue angred her, her Ladies disgrace did make her much more forget what she then thought, while that passion raigned so much the more, as shee sawe a pretie blush in Philocleas cheekes bewray a modest discontentment. But the night commaunded truce for those sportes, and Phalantus (though intreated) would not leaue Artesia, who in no case would come into the house, hauing (as it were) suckte of Cecropias breath a mortall mislike against Basilius.

But the night measured by the short ell of sleepe, was soone past ouer, and the next morning had giuen the watchfull stars leaue to take their rest, when a trumpet summoned Basilius to play his iudges parte: which he did, taking his wife and daughters with him; Zelmane hauing lockt her doore, so as they would not trouble her for that time: for already there was a Knight in the fielde, readie to proue Helen of Corinth had receaued great iniury, both by the erring iudgement of the challenger, and the vnlucky weakenesse of her former defender. The newe Knight was quickly knowne to be Clitophon (Kalanders sonne of Basilius his sister) by his armour, which all guilt, was so well handled, that it shewed like a glittering sande and grauell, enterlaced with siluer riuers: his deuice hee had put in the picture of Helen which hee defended. It was the Ermion with a speach that signified, Rather dead then spotted . But in that armour since hee had parted from Helen (who woulde no longer his companie, finding him to enter into termes of affection,) hee had performed so honourable actions, (still seeking for his two friends by the names of Palladius and Daiphantus ,) that though his face were couered, his being was discouered, which yet Basilius (which had brought him vp in his court) woulde not seeme to do; but glad to see triall of him, of whom he had heard very well, he commaunded the trumpets to sound; to which the two braue Knights obeying, they performed their courses, breaking their six staues, with so good, both skill in the hitting, and grace in the maner, that it bred some difficulty in the iudgement. But Basilius in the ende gaue sentence against Clitophon, because Phalantus had broken more staues vpon the head and that once Clitophon had receiued such a blowe, that hee had lost the raines of his horse, with his head well nie touching the croper of the horse. But Clitophon was so angry with the iudgemet, (where in he thought he had receiued wrong) that he omitted his duty to his Prince, and vncle; and sodainly went his way still in the quest of them, whom as then he had left by seeking: and so yeelded the field to the next commer.

who comming in about two houres after, was no lesse marked then all the rest before, because he had nothing worth the marking. For he had neither picture, nor deuice, his armour of as old a fashion (besides the rustie poorenesse,) that it might better seeme a monument of his graundfathers courage: about his middle he had in steede of bases, a long cloak of silke, which as vnhandsomely, as it needes must, became the wearer: so that all that lookt on, measured his length on the earth alreadie, since hee had to meete one who had beene victorious of so many gallants. But hee went on towardes the shielde, and with a sober grace strake it; but as he let his sworde fall vpon it, another Knight, all in blacke came rustling in, who strake the shielde almost assoone as hee, and so strongly, that hee brake the shielde in two: the ill appointed Knight (for so the beholders called him) angrie with that, (as hee accounted,) insolent iniurie to himselfe, hit him such a sound blowe, that they that looked on saide, it well became a rude arme. The other aunswered him againe in the same case, so that Launces were put to silence, the swords were so busie.

But Phalantus angry of this defacing his shield, came vpon the blacke Knight, and with the pommell of his sworde set fire to his eyes, which presently was reuenged, not onely by the Blacke, but the ill apparelled Knight, who disdained another should enter into his quarrell, so as, who euer sawe a matachin daunce to imitate fighting, this was a fight that did imitate the matachin: for they being but three that fought, euerie one had two aduersaries, striking him, who strooke the third, and reuenging perhaps that of him, which he had receaued of the other.

But Basilius rising himselfe came to parte them, the sticklers authoritie scarslie able to perswade cholerike hearers; and parte them he did.

But before he could determine, comes in a fourth, halting on foote, who complained to Basilius, demaunding iustice on the blacke Knight, for hauing by force taken away the picture of Pamela from him, whiche in little forme hee ware in a Tablet, and couered with silke had fastened it to his Helmet, purposing for want of a bigger, to paragon the little one with Artesias length, not doubting but euen in that little quantitie, the excellencie of that would shine thorowe the weakenesse of the other: as the smallest starre doth thorow the whole Element of fire. And by the way he had met with this blacke Knight, who had (as hee saide) robbed him of it. The iniurie seemed grieuous, but when it came fully to be examined, it was found, that the halting Knight meeting the other, asking the cause of his going thetherward, and finding it was to defende Pamelas diuine beautie against Artesias, with a prowde iollitie commaunded him to leaue that quarrell onely for him, who was onely worthy to enter into it. But the blacke Knight obeying no such commandements, they fell to such a bickering, that hee gat a halting, and lost his picture. This vnderstoode by Basilius, he told him hee was now fitter to looke to his owne bodie, then an others picture: and so (vncomforted therein) sent him away to learne of Æsculapius that he was not fit for Venus. But then the question arising who should be the former against Phalantus, of the blacke, or the ill apparelled Knight (who now had gotten the reputation of some sturdy loute, hee had so well defended himselfe) of the one side, was, alleged the hauing a picture which the other wanted: of the other side, the first striking the shield; but the conclusion was, that the ill apparelled Knight should haue the precedence, if he deliuered the figure of his mistresse to Phalantus; who asking him for it, Certainely (said he) her liueliest picture, (if you could see it) is in my hart, and the best comparison I could make of her, is of the Sunne and of all the other heauenly beauties. But because perhappes all eyes cannot taste the Diuinitie of her beautie, and would rather be dazeled, then taught by the light, if it bee not clowded by some meaner thing; know you then, that I defend that same Ladie, whose image Phebilus so feebly lost yesternight, and in steede of an other (if you ouercome mee) you shall haue mee your slaue to carrie that image in your mistresse triumphe. Phalantus easilie agreed to the bargaine, which alreadie he made his owne.

But when it came to the triall, the ill apparelled Knight choosing out the greatest staues in all the store, at the first course gaue his head such a remembraunce, that he lost almost his remembraunce, he himselfe receyuing the incounter of Phalantus without any extraordinarie motion. And at the seconde gaue him such a counterbuffe, that because Phalantus was so perfite a horseman, as not to bee driuen from the saddle, the saddle with broken girthes was driuen from the horse: Phalantus remaining angrie and amazed, because now being come almost to the last of his promised enterprise, that disgrace befell him, which he had neuer before knowne.

But the victorie being by the iudges giuen, and the trumpets witnessed to the ill by apparelled Knight; Phalantus disgrace was ingrieued in lieu of cofort of Artesia who telling him she neuer lookt for other, bad him seeke some other mistresse. He excusing himselfe, and turning ouer the fault to Fortune, Then let that be your ill Fortune too (saide she) that you haue lost me.

Nay truely Madame (said Phalantus) it shall not be so: for I thinke the losse of such a Mistresse will prooue a great gaine: and so concluded; to the sport of Basilius, to see young folkes loue, that came in maskt with so great pompe, goe out with so little constancie. But Phalantus first professing great seruice to Basilius for his curteous intermitting his solitary course for his sake, would yet conduct Artesia to the castle of Cecropia , whether she desired to goe: vowing in himselfe, that neither hart, nor mouth-loue, should euer any more intangle him. And with that resolution he left the company. Whence all being dismissed (among whom the black Knight went away repining at his luck, that had kept him from winning the honor, as he knew he should haue done, to the picture of Pamela) the ill apparelled Knight (who was only desired to stay, because Basilius meant to shew him to Zelmane) puld off his Helmet, and then was knowen himselfe to be Zelmane: who that morning (as she told) while the others were busie, had stolne out to the Princes stable, which was a mile off from the Lodge, had gotten a horse (they knowing it was Basilius pleasure she should be obeyed) and borrowing that homely armour for want of a better, had come vpon the spur to redeeme Philocleas picture, which she said, she could not beare, (being one of that little wildernesse-company) should be in captiuitie, if the cunning she had learned in her countrye of the noble Amazons, could withstand it: and vnder that pretext faine she would haue giuen a secret pasport to her affection. But this act painted at one instant rednesse in Philocleas face, and palenesse in Gynecias, but brought forth no other countenances but of admiration, no speeches but of commendations: all these few (besides loue) thinking they honoured themselues, in honouring so accomplished a person as Zelmane: whom dayly they sought with some or other sports to delight, for which purpose Basilius had in a house not farre off, seruants, who though they came not vncalled, yet at call were redye.

And so many daies were spent, and many waies vsed, while Zelmane was like one that stoode in a tree waiting a good occasion to shoot, and Gynecia a blauncher, which kept the dearest deere from her. But the day being come, on which according to an apointed course, the sheapheards were to assemble, and make their pastorall sports afore Basilius: Zelmane (fearing, lest many eyes, and comming diuers waies, might hap to spy Musidorus) went out to warne him thereof.

But before she could come to the Arbour, she sawe walking from her-ward, a man in sheapperdish apparrell who being in the sight of the Lodge it might seeme he was allowed there. A long cloke he had on, but that cast vnder his right arme, wherein he held a sheephooke, so finely wrought, that it gaue a brauery to pouerty; and his rayments, though they were meane, yet receiued they hansomnes by the grace of the wearer; though he himselfe went but a kinde of languishing pace, with his eies sometimes cast vp to heauen, as though his fancies straue to mount higher; sometimes throwne downe to the ground, as if the earth could not beare the burthen of his sorrowes; at length, with a lamentable tune, he song these fewe verses.


Come shepheards weedes, become your masters minde:
Yeld outward shew, what inward change he tryes:
Nor be abasht, since such a guest you finde,
Whose strongest hope in your weake comfort lyes. Come shepheards weedes, attend my woefull cryes:
Disuse your selues from sweete Menalcas voice:
For other be those tunes which sorrow tyes,
From those cleere notes which freely may reioyce.
   Then power out plaint, and in one word say this:
   Helples his plaint, who spoyles himselfe of blisse.

And hauing ended, he strake himselfe on the brest; saying, O miserable wretch, whether do thy destenies guide thee? The voice made Zelmane hasten her pace to ouertake him: which hauing done, she plainly perceaued that it was her deare friend Musidorus, whereat maruailing not a little, she demaunded of him, whether the Goddesse of those woods had such a powre to transforme euery body, or whether, as in all enterprises else he had done, he meant thus to match her in this newe alteration. Alas, (said Musidorus) what shall I say, who am loth to say, and yet faine would haue said? I find indeed, that all is but lip-wisdome, which wants experience. I now (woe is me) do try what loue can doo. O Zelmane, who will resist it, must either haue no wit, or put out his eyes? can any man resist his creation? certainely by loue we are made, and to loue we are made. Beasts only cannot discerne beauty, and let them be in the role of Beasts that doo not honor it. The perfect friendship Zelmane bare him, and the great pitie she (by good triall) had of such cases, could not keepe her from smiling at him, remembring how vehemently he had cryed out against the folly of louers. And therefore a litle to punish him, Why how now deere cousin (said she) you that were last day so hie in the Pulpit against louers, are you now become so meane an auditor? Remember that loue is a passion; and that a worthie mans reason must euer haue the masterhood. I recant, I recant (cryed Musidorus,) and withall falling downe prostrate, O thou celestiall, or infernall spirit of Loue, or what other heauenly or hellish title thou list to haue (for effects of both I finde in my selfe) haue compassion of me, and let thy glory be as great in pardoning them that be submitted to thee, as in conquering those that were rebellious. No, no saide Zelmane, I see you well enough: you make but an enterlude of my mishaps, and doo but counterfaite thus, to make me see the deformitie of my passions: but take heede, that this iest do not one day turne to earnest. Now I beseech thee (said Musidorus taking her fast by the hand) euen for the truth of our friendship, of which (if I be not altogether an vnhappy man) thou hast some rememberance, and by those secret flames which (I know) haue likewise neerely touched thee; make no iest of that, which hath so ernestly pearced me thorow, nor let that be light to thee, which is to me so burdenous, that I am not able to beare it. Musidorus both in words and behauiour, did so liuely deliuer out his inward griefe, that Zelmane found indeede, he was thorowly wounded: but there rose a new ielousy in her minde, lest it might be with Philoclea, by whome, as Zelmane thought, in right all hartes and eyes should be inherited. And therefore desirous to be cleered of that doubt, Musidorus shortly (as in hast and full of passionate perplexednes,) thus recounted his case vnto her.

The day (said he) I parted from you, I being in mind to returne to a towne, from whence I came hether, my horse being before tired, would scarce beare me a mile hence: where being benighted, the light of a candle (I saw a good way off) guided me to a young shepheards house, by name Menalcas, who seing me to be a straying stranger, with the right honest hospitalitie which seemes to be harboured in the Arcadian brests, and though not with curious costlines, yet with cleanly sufficiencie, entertained me: and hauing by talke with him, found the manner of the countrie, something more in particular, then I had by Kalanders report, I agreed to soiourne with him in secret, which he faithfully promised to obserue. And so hether to your arbour diuers times repaired: and here by your meanes had the sight (O that it had neuer bene so, nay, O that it might euer be so) of the Goddesse, who in a definite compasse can set forth infinite beauty. All this while Zelmane was racked with iealousie. But he went on, For (saide he) I lying close, and in truth thinking of you, and saying thus to my selfe, O sweet Pyrocles, how art thou bewitched? where is thy vertue? where is the vse of thy reason? how much am I inferior to thee in the state of the mind? And yet know I, that all the heauens cannot bring me to such thraldome. Scarcely, thinke I, had I spoken this word, whe the Ladies came foorth; at which sight, I thinke the very words returned backe againe to strike my soule; at least, an vnmeasurable sting I felt in my selfe, that I had spoke such words. At which sight? said Zelmane, not able to beare him any longer. O (said Musidorus) I know your suspition; No, no, banish all such feare, it was, it is, and must be Pamela: Then all is safe (sayd Zelmane) proceede, deare Musidorus . I will not (said he) impute it to my late solitarie life (which yet is prone to affections) nor, to the much thinking of you (though that cald the consideration of loue into my mind, which before I euer neglected) nor to the exaltation of Venus; nor reuenge of Cupid; but euen to her, who is the Planet, nay, the Goddesse, against which, the onely shield must be my Sepulchre. When I first saw her, I was presently striken, and I (like a foolish child, that when any thing hits him, will strike himselfe againe vpon it) would needs looke againe; as though I would perswade mine eyes, that they were deceiued. But alas, well haue I found, that Loue to a yeelding hart is a king; but to a resisting, is a tyrant. The more with arguments I shaked the stake, which he had planted in the ground of my harte, the deeper still it sanke into it. But what meane I to speake of the causes of my loue, which is as impossible to describe, as to measure the backside of heauen? Let this word suffice, I loue.

And that you may know I doo so, it was I that came in black armour to defende her picture, where I was both preuented, and beaten by you. And so, I that waited here to do you seruice, haue now my selfe most need of succor. But whereupon got you your selfe this aparrell? said Zelmane. I had forgotten to tell you (said Musidorus) though that were one principall matter of my speech; so much am I now master of my owne minde. But thus it happened: being returned to Menalcas house, full of tormenting desire, after a while faynting vnder the weight, my courage stird vp my wit to seeke for some releefe, before I yeelded to perish. At last this came into my head, that very euening, that I had to no purpose last vsed my horse and armour. I tolde Menalcas, that I was a Thessalian Gentle-man, who by mischaunce hauing killed a great fauorit of the Prince of that country, was pursued so cruelly, that in no place, but either by fauour, or corruption, they would obtaine my destruction; and that therefore I was determined (till the fury of my persecutors might be asswaged) to disguise my selfe among the shephards of Arcadia , and (if it were possible) to be one of them that were allowed the Princes presence; Because if the woorst should fall, that I were discouered, yet hauing gotten the acquaintance of the Prince, it might happen to moue his hart to protect me. Menalcas (being of an honest disposition) pittied my case, which my face through my inward torment made credible; and so (I giuing him largely for it) let me haue this rayment, instructing me in all the particularities, touching himselfe, or my selfe, which I desired to know: yet not trusting so much to his constancie, as that I would lay my life, and life of my life, vpon it, I hired him to goe into Thessalia to a friend of mine, and to deliuer him a letter from me; coniuring him to bring me as speedy an answere as he could, because it imported me greatly to know, whether certaine of my friends did yet possesse any fauour, whose intercessions I might vse for my restitution. He willingly tooke my letter, which being well sealed, indeed conteyned other matter. For I wrote to my trustie seruant Calodoulus (whome you know) that assoone as he had deliuered the letter, he should keepe him prisoner in his house, not suffering him to haue conference with any body, till he knew my further pleasure: in all other respects that he should vse him as my brother. And thus is Menalcas gone, and I here a poore shepheard; more proud of this estate, then of any kingdome: so manifest it is, that the highest point outward things can bring one vnto, is the contentment of the mind: with which, no estate; without which, all estates be miserable. Now haue I chosen this day, because (as Menalcas told me) the other shepheards are called to make their sports, and hope that you will with your credite, finde meanes to get me allowed among them. You need not doubt (answered Zelmane ) but that I will be your good mistresse: marrie the best way of dealing must be by Dametas, who since his blunt braine hath perceiued some fauour the Prince dooth beare vnto me (as without doubt the most seruile flatterie is lodged most easilie in the grossest capacitie; for their ordinarie conceite draweth a yeelding to their greaters, and then haue they not wit to discerne the right degrees of duetie) is much more seruiceable vnto me, then I can finde any cause to wish him. And therefore dispaire not to winne him: for euery present occasion will catch his senses, and his senses are masters of his sillie mind; onely reuerence him, and reward him, and with that bridle and saddle you shall well ride him. O heauen and earth (said Musidorus) to what a passe are our mindes brought, that from the right line of vertue, are wryed to these crooked shifts? But ô Loue, it is thou that doost it: thou changest name vpon name; thou disguisest our bodies, and disfigurest our mindes. But in deed thou hast reason, for though the wayes be foule, the iourneys end is most faire and honourable.

No more sweete Musidorus (said Zelmane) of these philosophies; for here comes the very person of Dametas. And so he did in deed, with a sword by his side, a forrest-bill on his neck, and a chopping-knife vnder his girdle: in which well prouided sort he had euer gone, since the feare Zelmane had put him in. But he no sooner sawe her, but with head and armes he laid his reuerence afore her; inough to haue made any man forsweare all courtesie. And then in Basilius name, he did inuite her to walke downe to the place, where that day they were to haue the Pastoralles.

But when he spied Musidorus to be none of the shepheards allowed in that place, he would faine haue perswaded himselfe to vtter some anger, but that he durst not; yet muttering, and champing, as though his cudde troubled him; he gaue occasion to Musidorus to come neare him, and feine this tale of his owne life: That he was a younger brother of the shepheard Menalcas, by name Dorus, sent by his father in his tender age to Athens, there to learne some cunning more then ordinarie, that he might be the better liked of the Prince: and that after his fathers death, his brother Menalcas (latelie gone thether to fetch him home) was also deceased: where (vpon his death) he had charged him to seeke the seruice of Dametas , and to be wholy, and euer guyded by him; as one in whose iudgement and integritie, the Prince had singular confidence. For token whereof, he gaue to Dametas a good summe of golde in redy coine, which Menalcas had bequeathed vnto him, vpon condition he should receiue this poore Dorus into his seruice, that his mind and manners might grow the better by his dayly example. Dametas, that of all manners of stile could best conceiue of golden eloquence, being withall tickled by Musidorus prayses, had his brayne so turned, that he became slaue to that, which he, that sued to be his seruant, offered to giue him: yet for countenance sake, he seemed very squeimish; in respect of the charge he had of the Princesse Pamela . But such was the secrete operation of the golde, helped with the perswasion of the Amazon Zelmane, (who sayde it was pittie so handsome a young man should be any where els, then with so good a master) that in the ende he agreed (if that day he behaued himselfe so to the lyking of Basilius, as he might be contented) that then he would receiue him into his seruice.

And thus went they to the Lodge, where they found Gynecia and her daughters ready to go to the field, to delight themselues there a while, vntill the shepheards comming: whether also taking Zelmane with them, as they went, Dametas told them of Dorus, and desired he might be accepted there that day, in steed of his brother Menalcas. As for Basilius, he staied behind to bring the shepherds, with whome he meant to confer, to breed the better Zelmanes liking (which he onely regarded) while the other beautifull band came to the faire field, appointed for the shepherdish pastimes. It was indeed a place of delight; for thorow the middest of it, there ran a sweete brooke, which did both hold the eye open with her azure streames, and yet seeke to close the eie with the purling noise it made vpon the pibble stones it ran ouer: the field it selfe being set in some places with roses, and in all the rest constantly preseruing a florishing greene; the Roses added such a ruddy shew vnto it, as though the field were bashfull at his owne beautie: about it (as if it had bene to inclose a Theater) grew such sort of trees, as eyther excellency of fruit, statelines of grouth, continuall greennes, or poeticall fancies haue made at any time famous. In most part of which there had bene framed by art such pleasant arbors, that (one answering another) they became a gallery aloft from tree to tree almost round about, which below gaue a perfect shadow, a pleasant refuge then from the cholericke looke of Phoebus .

In this place while Gynecia walked hard by them, carying many vnquiet contentions about her, the Ladies sate them downe, inquiring diuerse questions of the shepheard Dorus; who (keeping his eie still vpon Pamela) answered with such a trembling voice, and abashed countenance, and oftentimes so far from the matter, that it was some sport to the young Ladies, thinking it want of education, which made him so discountenaunced with vnwoonted presence. But Zelmane that saw in him the glasse of her owne miserie, taking the hand of Philoclea, and with burning kisses setting it close to her lips (as if it should stand there like a hand in the margine of a Booke, to note some saying worthy to be marked) began to speake these words. O Loue, since thou art so changeable in mens estates, how art thou so constant in their torments? when sodainly there came out of a wood a monstrous Lion, with a she Beare not far from him, of litle lesse fiercenes, which (as they ghest) hauing bene hunted in Forests far off, were by chaunce come thether, where before such beastes had neuer bene seene. Then care, not feare; or feare, not for themselues, altered some thing the countenances of the two Louers, but so, as any man might perceiue, was rather an assembling of powers, then dismaiednes of courage. Philoclea no sooner espied the Lion, but that obeying the commandement of feare, she lept vp, and ran to the lodge-ward, as fast as her delicate legs could carrie her, while Dorus drew Pamela behind a tree, where she stood quaking like the Partridge, on which the Hawke is euen ready to seaze. But the Lion (seing Philoclea run away) bent his race to her-ward, and was ready to seaze him selfe on the pray, when Zelmane (to whome daunger then was a cause of dreadlesnes, all the composition of her elements being nothing but fierie) with swiftnesse of desire crost him, and with force of affection strake him such a blow vpon his chine, that she opened all his body: wherewith the valiant beast turning vpon her with open iawes, she gaue him such a thrust thorow his brest, that all the Lion could do, was with his paw to teare of the mantle and sleeue of Zelmane, with a little scratch, rather then a wound; his death-blow hauing taken away the effect of his force. But there withall he fell downe, and gaue Zelmane leasure to take of his head, to carrie it for a present to her Ladie Philoclea: who all this while (not knowing what was done behind her) kept on her course, like Arethusa when she ran from Alpheus; her light apparell being carried vp with the winde, that much of those beauties she would at another time haue willingly hidden, was presented to the sight of the twise wounded Zelmane. Which made Zelmane not folow her ouer hastily, lest she should too soone depriue her selfe of that pleasure: But carying the Lions head in her hand, did not fully ouertake her, till they came to the presence of Basilius. Neither were they long there, but that Gynecia came thether also: who had bene in such a traunce of musing, that Zelmane was fighting with the Lion, before she knew of any Lions comming: but then affection resisting, and the soone ending of the fight preuenting all extremitie of feare, she marked Zelmanes fighting. And when the Lions head was of, as Zelmane ran after Philoclea, so she could not find in her hart but run after Zelmane: so that it was a new sight, Fortune had prepared to those woods, to see these great personages thus runne one after the other: each carried forward with an inward violence: Philoclea with such feare, that she thought she was still in the Lions mouth: Zelmane with an eager and impatient delight; Gynecia with wings of Loue, flying she neither knew, nor cared to know whether. But now, being all come before Basilius amazed with this sight, and feare hauing such possession in the faire Philoclea, that her bloud durst not yet to come to her face, to take away the name of palenesse from her most pure whitenes, Zelmane kneeled downe, and presenting the Lions head vnto her. Only Ladie (said she) here see you the punishment of that vnnaturall beast, which contrary to his owne kind would haue wronged Princes bloud, guided with such traiterous eies, as durst rebell against your beauty. Happy am I, and my beautie both (answered the sweete Philoclea then blushing, for feare had bequeathed his roome to his kinsman bashfulnes) that you excellent Amazon, were there to teach him good manners. And euen thankes to that beautie (answered Zelmane) which can giue an edge to the bluntest swords. There Philoclea told her father, how it had hapned: but as she had turned her eyes in her table to Zelmane, she perceiued some bloud vpo Zelmanes shoulder, so that starting with the louely grace of pitty, she shewed it to her Father and mother: who, as the nurse sometimes with ouer-much kissing may forget to giue the babe sucke, so had they with too much delighting, in beholding and praysing Zelmane, left of to marke whether she needed succour. But then they ran both vnto her, like a father & mother to an onely childe, and (though Zelmane assured them it was nothing) would needes see it; Gynecia hauing skill in surgery, an arte in those daies much esteemed, because it serued to vertuous courage, which euen Ladies would (euer with the contempt of cowardes) seeme to cherish. But looking vpon it (which gaue more inward bleeding wounds to Zelmane, for she might sometimes feele Philocleas touch, whiles she helped her mother) she found it was indeed of no importance: yet applied shee a pretious baulme vnto it, of power to heale a greater griefe.

But euen then, and not before, they remembred Pamela, and therefore Zelmane (thinking of her friend Dorus) was running back to be satisfied, when they might all see Pamela comming between Dorus and Dametas, hauing in her hand the paw of a Beare, which the shepheard Dorus had newly presented vnto her, desiring her to accept it, as of such a beast, which though she deserued death for her presumption, yet was her witt to be esteemed, since she could make so sweet a choice. Dametas for his part came piping and dauncing, the meriest man in a parish. But when he came so neere, as he might be heard of Basilius, hee would needs breake thorow his eares with this ioyfull song of their good successe,


Now thanked be the great God Pan,
   which thus preserues my loued life:
Thanked be I that keepe a man,
   who ended hath this bloodie strife:
For if my man must praises haue,
   what then must I that keepe the knaue? For as the Moone the eie doth please,
   with gentle beames not hurting sight:
Yet hath sir Sunne the greatest praise,
   because from him doth come her light:
So if my man must praises haue,
   what then must I that keepe the knaue?

Being all now come together, and all desirous to know each others aduetures, Pamelas noble hart would needs gratefully make known the valiat mean of her safety which (directing her speach to her mother) she did in this maner. As soone (said she) as ye were all runne away, and that I hoped to bee in safetie, there came out of the same woods a foule horrible Beare, which (fearing belike to deale while the Lion was present, as soone as he was gone) came furiously towardes the place where I was, and this young shepheard left alone by me; I truly (not guilty of any wisedom which since they lay to my charge, because they say, it is the best refuge against that beast, but euen pure feare bringing forth that effect of wisedome) fell downe flat of my face, needing not counterfait being dead for indeed I was litle better. But this yong shepheard with a wonderfull courage hauing no other weapon, but that knife you see standing before the place where I lay, so behaued himselfe that the first sight I had (when I thought my selfe already neare Charons ferry,) was the shepheard shewing me his bloudy knife in token of victory. I pray you (said Zelmane, speaking to Dorus, whose valour she was carefull to haue manifested) in what sorte, so ill weaponed, could you atchiue this enterprise? Noble Ladie (saide Dorus) the manner of these beastes fighting with any man, is to stande vp vpon their hinder feete: and so this did, and being ready to giue me a shrewd imbracement, I thinke, the God Pan, (euer carefull of the chiefe blessings of Arcadia) guided my hand so iust to the hart of the beast, that neither she could once touch me, nor (which is the only matter in this worthy remembrance) breed any danger to the Princesse. For my part, I am rather (withall subiected humblenes) to thanke her excellencies, since the duety thereunto gaue me harte to saue my selfe, then to receiue thankes for a deede which was her onely inspiring. And this Dorus spake, keeping affection as much as he could, backe from comming into his eyes and gestures. But Zelmane (that had the same Character in her heart) could easily discipher it, and therefore to keepe him the longer in speach, desired to vnderstand the conclusion of the matter; and how the honest Dametas was escaped. Nay (sayd Pamela) none shall take that office from my selfe, being so much bound to him as I am, for my education. And with that word (scorne borrowing the countenance of myrth) somewhat shee smiled, and thus spake on? When (said she) Dorus made me assuredly perceiue, that all cause of feare was passed (the truth is) I was ashamed to finde my selfe alone with this shepheard: and therefore looking about me, if I could see any bodie; at length wee both perceiued the gentle Dametas, lying with his head and breast as farre as hee could thrust himselfe into a bush, drawing vp his legges as close vnto him as hee coulde: for, like a man of a very kinde nature, soone to take pittie of himselfe, hee was full resolued not to see his owne death. And when this sheephearde pushed him, bidding him to be of good cheere; it was a great while, ere we coulde perswade him, that Dorus was not the beare: so that he was faine to pull him out by the heeles, and shew him the beast, as deade as he could wish it: which you may beleeue me, was a very ioyfull sight vnto him. But then he forgate all courtesie, for he fell vpon the beast, giuing it many a manfull wound: swearing by much, it was not well such beasts should be suffered in a common welth. And then my gouernour, as full of ioy, as before of feare came dauncing and singing before as euen now you saw him. Well wel (said Basilius ) I haue not chosen Dametas for his fighting, nor for his discoursing, but for his plainnesse & honestie, & therin I know he wil not deceaue me. But then he told Pamela (not so much because she should know it, as because he would tell it) the wonderfull act Zelmane had perfourmed, which Gynecia likewise spake off, both in such extremitie of praising, as was easie to be seene, the construction of their speach might best be made by the Grammer rules of affectio. Basilius told with what a gallant grace shee ranne with the Lyons head in her hand, like another Pallas with the spoiles of Gorgon. Gynecia sware, shee sawe the very face of the young Hercules killing the Nemean Lio, & al with a grateful assent cofirmed the same praises: only poore Dorus (though of equal desert, yet not proceeding of equal estate) should haue bene left forgotte, had not Zelmane again with great admiratio begun to speake of him; asking, whether it were the fashion or no, in Arcadia, that shepherds shoulde performe such valorous enterprises.

This Basilius (hauing the quicke sence of a louer) tooke, as though his Mistres had giuen him a secret reprehension, that he had not shewed more gratefulnesse to Dorus; and therefore (as nymblie as he could) enquired of his estate, adding promise of great rewards: among the rest, offering to him, if hee would exercise his courage in souldierie, he would commit some charge vnto him vnder his Lieutenant Philanax. But Dorus (whose ambition clymed by another stayre) hauing first answered touching his estate, that he was brother to the shepheard Menalcas; who among other, was wont to resort to the Princes presence, and excused his going to souldierie, by the vnaptenesse he found in himselfe that way: he tolde Basilius , that his brother in his last testament had willed him to serue Dametas; and therefore (for due obedience thereunto) he would thinke his seruice greatly rewarded, if hee might obtaine by that meane to liue in the sight of his Prince; and yet practise his owne chosen vocation. Basilius (liking well his goodly shape and handsome manner) charged Dametas to receiue him like a sonne into his house: saying, that his valour, and Dametas truth would be good bulwarkes against such mischiefes, as (hee sticked not to say) were threatned to his daughter Pamela.

Dametas, no whit out of countenance with all that had bene said (because he had no worse to fall into then his owne) accepted Dorus: and withall telling Basilius, that some of the shepheards were come; demaunded in what place hee would see their sports: who first curious to know whether it were not more requisite for Zelmanes hurte to rest, then sit vp at those pastimes; and she (that felt no wound but one) earnestly desiring to haue the Pastorals, Basilius commanded it should bee at the gate of the lodge: where the throne of the Prince being (according to the auncient manner) he made Zelmane sit betweene him and his wife therein, who thought her selfe betweene drowning and burning: & the two young Ladies of either side the throne and so prepared their eyes and eares to be delighted by the shepheards.

But before all of them were assembled to begin their sports, there came a fellow, who being out of breath (or seeming so to be for haste) with humble hastines tolde Basilius, that his Mistres, the Lady Cecropia, had sent him to excuse the mischance of her beastes ranging in that dangerous sort, being happened by the folly of the keeper; who thinking himselfe able to rule them, had caried them abroad, and so was deceiued: whom yet (if Basilius would punish for it) she was readie to deliuer. Basilius made no other answere, but that his Mistres if she had any more such beastes, should cause them to be killed: and then hee told his wife and Zelmane of it, because they should not feare those woods; as though they harbored such beasts, where the like had neuer bene seene. But Gynecia tooke a further conceit of it mistrusting greatly Cecropia, because she had heard much of the diuellish wickednesse of her heart, and that particularly she did her best to bring vp her sonne Amphialus (being brothers sonne to Basilius) to aspire to the crowne, as next heire male after Basilius; and therefore saw no reason, but that she might coniecture, it proceeded rather of some mischieuous practise, than of misfortune. Yet did shee onely vtter her doubt to her daughters, thinking, since the worst was past, shee would attend a further occasion, least ouer much haste might seeme to proceede of the ordinarie mislike betweene sisters in Lawe: onely they maruelled, that Basilius looked no further into it, who (good man) thought so much of his late conceiued common wealth, that all other matters were but digressions vnto him. But the shepheards were ready, and with well handling themselues, called their senses to attend their pastimes,

The first Ecloges.

Basilius, because Zelmane so would haue it, vsed the artificiall day of torches, to lighten the sportes their inuentions could minister. And because many of the shepheardes were but newlie come, hee did in a gentle manner chastise their negligence with making them (for that night) the Torchbearers; and the others, he willed with all freedome of speech and behauiour, to keepe their accustomed method. Which while they prepared to do, Dametas, who much disdayned (since his late authority) all his old companions, brought his seruant Dorus in good acquaintance and allowance of them; and himself stood like a directer ouer them, with nodding, gaping, winking, or stamping shewing how he did like, or mislike those things he did not vnderstand. The first sports the shepheards shewed, wear ful of such leapes and gambols, as being accorded to the pipe (which they bare in their mouthes, euen as they daunced (made a right picture of their chiefe God Pan, and his companions the Satyres. Then would they cast away their Pipes; and holding hand in hand daunce as it were in a braule, by the only cadence of their voices, which they would vse in singing some short coplets, whereto the one halfe beginning, the other halfe should answere as the one halfe saying.



We loue, and haue our loues rewarded

The others would answere.



We loue, and are no whit regarded,

The first againe.



We finde moste sweete affections snare.

With like tune it should be as in a quire sent backe againe,



That sweete, but sower dispairefull care.

A third time likewise thus:



Who can dispaire, whom hope doth beare?

The answere:



And who can hope that feeles despaire?

Then all ioyning their voyces, and dauncing a faster measure, they would conclude with some such wordes:



As without breath, no pipe doth mone:
   No musicke kindlye without loue.

Hauing thus varied both their songs and daunces into diuers sorts of inuentions; their last sport was one of them to prouoke an other to a more large expressing of his passions: which Thyrsis (accounted one of the best singers amongst them) hauing marked in Dorus dauncing no lesse good grace & hansome behauiour, then extreame tokens of a troubled mind; began first with his Pipe, and then with his voice, thus to chalenge Dorus, and was by him answered in the vnder-written sorte.


Thyrsis and Dorus.


Thyrsis.

Come Dorus, come, let songs thy sorrowes signifie
And if for want of vse thy minde ashamed is,
That very shame with loues high title dignifie.
No stile is held for base, where loue well named is:
Each eare suckes vp the words, a true loue scattereth,
And plaine speach oft, then quaint phrase better framed is.

Dorus.

Nightingales seldome sing, the Pie still chattereth
The wood cries most, before it throughly kindled be,
Deadly wounds inward bleed, each sleight sore mattereth.
Hardly they heard, which by good hunters singled be.
Shallow brookes murmure most, deep silent slide away,
Nor true loue loues his loues with others mingled be.

Thyrsis.

If thou wilt not be seene, thy face goe hide away,
Be none of vs, or els maintaine our fashion:
Who frownes at others feastes, doth better bide away.
But if thou hast a loue, in that loues passion,
I challenge thee by shew of her perfection,
Which of vs two deserueth most compassion.

Dorus.

Thy challenge great, but greater my protection:
Sing then, and see (for now thou hast inflamed me)
Thy health too meane a match for my infection.
No though the heau'ns for high attempts haue blamed me,
Yet high is my attempt. O Muse historifie
Her praise, whose praise to learne your skill hath framed me.

Thyrsis.

Muse holde your peace: but thou my God Pan glorifie
My Kalas giftes: who with all good gifts filled.
Thy pipe, ô Pan, shall help, though I sing sorilie
A heape of sweetes she is, where nothing spilled is;
Who though she be no Bee, yet full of honie is:
A Lillie field, with plowe of Rose which tilled is.
Milde as a Lambe, more daintie then a Conie is:
Her eyes my eyesight is, her conuersation
More gladde to me, then to a miser monie is.
What coye account she makes of estimation?
How nice to touch? how all her speeches peized be?
A Nimph thus turnde, but mended in translation.

Dorus.

Such Kala is: but ah my fancies raised be
In one, whose name to name were high presumption,
Since vertues all, to make her title, pleased be
O happie Gods, which by inward assumption
Enioy her soule, in bodies faire possession,
And keepe it ioynde, fearing your seates consumption.
How oft with rayne of teares skies make confession,
Their dwellers rapt with sight of her perfection
From heau'nly throne to her heau'n vse disgression?
Of best things then what world can yeeld confection
To liken her? decke yours with your comparison:
She is herselfe, of best things the collection.

Thyrsis.

How oft my dolefull Sire cried to me, tarrie sonne
When first he spied my loue? how oft he said to me,
Thou art no souldier fitt for Cupids garrison?
My sonne, keepe this, that my long toyle hath laide to me:
Loue well thine owne: me thinkes woolles, whitenes passeth all:
I neuer found long loue such wealth hath paide to me.
This wind he spent: but when my Kala glasseth all
My sight in her faire limmes I then assure my selfe,
Not rotten sheepe, but high crownes she surpasseth all.
Can I be poore, that her golde haire procure my selfe?
Want I white wooll, whose eyes her white skinne garnished?
Till I get her, shall I to keepe enure my selfe?

Dorus.

How oft, when reason saw, loue of her harnised
With armour of my hart he cried, O vanitie
To set a pearle in steele so meanly varnished?
Looke to thy selfe reach not beyond humanitie.
Her minde, beames, state, farre from thy weake wings banished:
And loue which louer hurts is inhumanitie
Thus Reason said: but she came, Reason vanished;
Her eyes so maistering me, that such obiection
Seem'd but to spoyle the foode of thoughts long famished,
Her peereles height my minde to high erection
Drawes vp; and if hope fayling end liues pleasure,
Of fayrer death how can I make election?

Thyrsis.

Once my well waiting eyes espied my treasure,
With sleeues turnde vp, loose hair, and brest enlarged,
Her fathers corne (mouing her fair limmes) measure.
O cried I, of so meane worke be discharged:
Measure my case, how by thy beauties filling
With seed of woes my hart brimme full is charged.
Thy father bids thee saue, and chides for spilling.
Saue then my soule, spill not my thoughts well heaped,
No louely praise was euer got by killing.
These bolde words she did beare, this fruite I reaped,
That she, whose looke alone might make me blessed,
Did smile on me and then away she leaped.

Dorus.

Once, O sweete once, I saw with dread oppressed
Her whom I dread: so that with prostrate lying
Her length the earth in Loues chiefe clothing dressed.
I saw that riches fall, and fell a crying;
Let not dead earth enioy so deare a couer,
But deck therwith my soule for your sake dying.
Lay all your feare vpon your fearefull louer:
Shine eyes on me, that both our liues be guarded;
So I your sight, you shall your selues recouer.
I cried and was with open rayes rewarded:
But straight they fledd, summond by cruell honor,
Honor, the cause desart is not regarded.

Thyrsis.

This mayde, thus made for ioyes, ô Pan bemone her,
That without loue she spends her yeares of loue:
So faire a field would well become an owner.
And if enchantment can a hard hart moue,
Teach me what circle may acquaint her sprite,
Affections charmes in my behalfe to proue.
The circle is my (round about her) sight,
The power I will inuoke dwelles in her eyes:
My charme should be she haunt me day and night.

Dorus.

Farre other case, ô Muse, my sorrow tries,
Bent to such one in whome my selfe must say,
Nothing can mend that point that in her lies.
What circle then in so rare force beares sway?
Whose sprite all sprites can foile, raise damne, or saue:
No charme holdes hir but well possesse she may,
Possesse she doth, and makes my soule her slaue:
My eyes the bandes, my thoughts the fatall knot.
No thrall like them that inward bondage haue.

Thyrsis.

Kala at length conclude my lingring lotte:
Disdaine me not, although I be not faire.
Who is an heir of many hundreth sheep
Doth beawties keep which neuer sunne can burne,
Nor stormes doo turne: fairnes serues oft to wealth:
Yet all my health I place in your good will.
Which if you will (ô doo) bestow on me,
Such as you see, such still you shall me finde,
Constant and kind, my sheep your foode shall breed,
Their wooll your weede, I will you musique yeeld
In flowrie field, and as the day begins
With twentie ginnes we will the small birds take,
And pastimes make, as nature things hath made.
But when in shade we meete of mirtle bowes,
Then loue allowes, our pleasures to enrich,
The thought of which doth passe all worldlie pelfe.

Dorus.

Lady your selfe whome neither name I dare,
And titles are but spots to such a worth,
Heare plaints come forth from dungeon of my mind.
The noblest kinde reiects not others woes.
I haue no shewes of wealth: my wealth is you,
My beauties hewe your beames, my health your deeds;
My minde for weeds your vertues liuerie weares.
My foode is teares; my tunes wamenting yeeld:
Dispaire my fielde; the flowers spirits warrs:
My day new cares; my ginnes my daily sight,
In which doe light small birds of thoughts orethrowne:
My pastimes none: time passeth on my fall.
Nature made all but me of dolours made
I find no shade, but where my Sunne doth burne:
No place to turne; without, within it fries:
Nor helpe by life or death who liuing dyes.

Thyrsis.

But if my Kala thus my sute denyes,
Which so much reason beares:
Let crowes pick out mine eyes which too much sawe.
If shee still hate loues lawe,
My earthy mould, doth melt in watrye teares.

Dorus.

My earthy mould doth melt in watrye teares,
And they againe resolue,
To aire of sighes, sighes to the hartes fire turne
Which doth to ashes burne.
Thus doth my life within it selfe dissolue.

Thyrsis.

Thus doth my life within it selfe dissolue
That I growe like the beaste,
Which beares the bytt a weaker force doth guide,
Yet patient must abide.
Such weight it hath which once is full possest.

Dorus.

Such weight it hath which once is full possest
That I become a vision,
Which hath in others head his only being
And liues in fancie seing.
O wretched state of man in selfe diuision!

Thyrsis.

O wretched state of man in selfe diuision
O well thou saiest! a feeling declaration
Thy toong hath made of Cupids deepe incision.
But now hoarse voyce, doth faile this occupation,
And others long to tell their loues condicion.
Of singing thou hast got the reputation.

Dorus.

Of singing thou hast got the reputation
Good Thyrsis mine, I yeld to thy abilitie;
My hart doth seek an other estimation.
But ah my Muse, I would thou hadst facilitie
To worke my goddesse, so by thy inuention,
On me to cast those eyes where shine nobilitie:
Seene and vnknowne, hearde, but without attention.

Dorus did so well in answering Thyrsis, that euery one desired to heare him sing something alone. Seing therfore a Lute lying vnder the Princesse Pamelas feete glad to haue such an errand to approch her, he came, but came with a dismaied grace, all his bloud stirred betwixt feare and desire. And playing vpon it with such sweetenes, as euery bodie wondered to see such skill in a shepeheard, he sang vnto it with a sorrowing voice these Elegiake verses:



Dorus.


—Fortune, Nature, Loue, long haue contended about me,
Which should most miseries, cast on a worme that I am.
—Fortune thus gan say; misery and misfortune is all one,
And of misfortune, fortune hath only the gift.
—With strong foes on land, on seas with contrary tempests
Still doo I crosse this wretch, what so he taketh in hand.
—Tush, tush, said nature, this is all but a trifle, a mans selfe
Giues happs or mishapps, eu'n as he ordreth his hearte.
—But so his humor I frame, in a mould of choller adusted,
That the delights of life shall be to him dolorouse.
—Loue smiled, and thus said; Want ioynd to desire is vnhappy.
But if he nought do desire, what can Heraclitus aile?
—None but I, workes by desire: by desire haue I kindled in his soule
Infernall agonies vnto a bewtye diuine,
—Where thou poore nature left'st all thy due glory, to fortune
Her vertue is soueraine, fortune a vassal of hers.
—Nature abasht went back: fortune blusht: yet she replide thus:
And eu'n in that loue, shall I reserue him a spite.
—Thus, thus, alas! wofull in nature, vnhappy by fortune,
But most wretched I am, now loue awakes my desire.

Dorus when he had soong this, hauing had all the while a free beholding of the faire Pamela (who could well haue spared such honor, and defended the assault he gaue vnto hir face with bringing a faire staine of shamefastnes vnto it) let fall his armes, and remained so fastened in his thoughts, as if Pamela had graffed him there to growe in continuall imagination. But Zelmane espying it, and fearing he should too much forget himselfe, she came to him, and tooke out of his hand the Lute, and laying fast hold of Philocleas face with her eyes, she soong these Sapphikes speaking as it were to hir owne hope.


If mine eyes can speake to doo harty errande,
Or mine eyes language she doo hap to iudge of,
So that eyes message be of her receaued,
Hope we do liue yet. But if eyes faile then, when I most doo need them,
Or if eyes language be not vnto her knowne,
So that eyes message doo returne reiected,
Hope we doo both dye. Yet dying, and dead, doo we sing her honour;
So become our tombes monuments of her praise;
So becomes our losse the triumph of her gaine;
Hers be the glory. If the spheares senselesse doo yet hold a musique,
If the Swannes sweet voice be not heard, but at death,
If the mute timber when it hath the life lost,
Yeldeth a Lutes tune: Are then humane mindes priuiledg'd so meanly
As that hatefull death can abridge them of powre
With the vowe of truth to record to all worlds
That we be her spoiles? Thus not ending, ends the due praise of her praise:
Fleshly vaile consumes; but a soule hath his life,
Which is held in loue; loue it is, that hath ioynd
Life to this our soule. But if eyes can speake to doo harty errand,
Or mine eyes language she doo hap to iudge of,
So that eyes message be of her receaued,
Hope we do liue yet.

Great was the pleasure of Basilius, and greater would haue bene Gynæcias, but that she found too well it was intended to her daughter, As for Philoclea she was swetely rauished withall. When Dorus desiring in a secret maner to speake of their cases, as perchance the parties intended might take some light of it, making lowe reuerence to Zelmane, began this prouoking song in hexameter verse vnto her. Wherevnto she soone finding whither his words were directed (in like tune and verse) answered as foloweth:


Dorus. Zelmane.


Dorus.

Lady reserud by the heau'ns to do pastors company honnor,
Ioyning your sweete voice to the rurall muse of a deserte,
Here you fully do finde this strange operation of loue,
How to the woods loue runnes as well as rydes to the Pallace,
Neither he beares reuerence to a Prince nor pittie to begger,
But (like a point in midst of a circle) is still of a neernesse,
All to a lesson he draw's, nether hills nor caues can auoide him.

Zelmane.

Worthy shepeheard by my song to my selfe all fauor is happned,
That to the sacred Muse my anoyes somewhat be reuealed,
Sacred Muse, who in one contaynes what nine do in all them.
But ô happy be you, which safe from fyry reflection
Of Phoebus violence in shade of sweet Cyparissus,
Or pleasant mirtell, may teach th'vnfortunate Echo
In these woods to resounde the renowmed name of a goddesse.
Happy be you that may to the saint, your onely Idea,
(Although simply atyrde) your manly affection vtter.
Happy be those mishapps which iustly proportion holding
Giue right sound to the eares, and enter aright to the iudgement,
But wretched be the soules, which vaild in a contrary subiect:
How much more we do loue, so the lesse our loues be beleeued.
What skill salueth a soare of a wrong infirmity iudged?
What can iustice auaile, to a man that tells not his owne case?
You though feares do abash, in you still possible hopes be:
Nature against we do seeme to rebell, seeme fooles in a vaine sute.
But so vnheard, condemn'd, kept thence we do seeke to abide in,
Selfe-lost in wandring, banished that place we doe come from,
What meane is there, alas, we can hope our losse to recouer?
What place is there left, we may hope our woes to recomfort?
Vnto the heau'ns? our wings be too short: earth thinks vs a burden.
Aire we do still with sighes encrease, to the fire? we do want none.
And yet his outward heate our teares would quench, but an inward
Fire no liquor can coole: Neptunes realme would not auaile vs.
Happy shepheard, with thanks to the Gods, still thinke to be thankfull,
That to thy aduauncement their wisdomes haue thee abased.

Dorus.

Vnto the Gods with a thanckfull heart all thankes I do render,
That to my aduauncement their wisdomes haue me abased.
But yet, alas! O but yet alas! our happs be but hard happs,
Which must frame contempt to the fittest purchase of honnour.
Well may a Pastor plaine, but alas his plaints be not esteem'de
Silly shepheards poore pype, when his harsh sound testifi's anguish,
Into the faire looker on, pastime, not passion, enters.
And to the woods or brookes, who do make such dreery recitall
What be the pangs they beare, and whence those pangs be deriued,
Pleasd to receaue that name by rebounding answere of Echo,
May hope therby to ease their inward horrible anguish,
When trees daunce to the pype, and swift streames stay by the musicke,
Or when an Echo begins vnmou'd to sing them a loue song.
Say then what vantage do we get, by the trade of a Pastor?
(Since no estates be so base, but loue vouchsafeth his arrow,
Since no refuge doth serue from woundes we do carry about vs,
Since outward pleasures be but halting helpes to decayd soules)
Saue that dayly we may discerne what fire we do burne in.
Farre more happy be you, whose greatnes gets a free accesse,
Whose faire bodily gifts are fram'd most louely to each ey.
Vertue you haue, of vertue you haue left proofe to the whole world.
And vertue is gratefull with bewty and richnes adorned,
Neither doubt you awhit, time will your passion vtter.
Hardly remains fyer hid, where skill is bent to the hiding,
But in a minde that would his flames should not be repressed,
Nature worketh enough with a small help for the reuealing.
Giue therefore to the Muse great praise in whose very likenes
You doo approch to the fruite your onely desir's be to gather.

Zelmane.

First shall fertill grounds not yeeld increase of a good seed:
First the riuers shall ceasse to repay their fludds to the Occean:
First may a trusty Greyhounde transforme himselfe to a Tigre:
First shall vertue be vice, and bewty be counted a blemishe,
Ere that I leaue with song of praise her praise to solemnize,
Her praise, whence to the world all praise hath his only beginning:
But yet well I doo finde each man most wise in his owne case.
None can speake of a wound with skill, if he haue not a wound felt.
Great to thee my state seemes, thy state is blest by my iudgement:
And yet neither of vs great or blest deemeth his owne selfe.
For yet (weigh this alas!) great is not great to the greater.
What iudge you doth a hillocke shew, by the lofty Olympus?
Such my minute greatnes, doth seeme compar'd to the greatest.
When Cedars to the ground fall downe by the weight of an emmott,
Or when a rich rubies iust price be the worth of a walnut,
Or to the Sun for wonders seeme small sparks of a candle:
Then by my high Cedar, rich Ruby, and only shining Sunne,
Vertue, richesse, beawties of mine shall great be reputed.
Oh no, no, worthy shepeheard, worth can neuer enter a title,
Where proofes iustly do teach, thus matcht, such worth to be nought worth,
Let not a puppet abuse thy sprite, Kings Crownes do not helpe them
From the cruell headache, nor shooes of golde doo the gowt heale,
And preciouse couches full oft are shak't with a feauer.
If then a boddily euill in a boddily gloze be not hidden,
Shall such morning deaws be an ease to the heate of a loues fire?

Dorus.

O glittring miseries of man, if this be the fortune
Of those fortune lulls? so small rest rests in a kingdome?
What maruaile tho a Prince transforme himselfe to a Pastor?
Come from marble bowres many times the gay harbor of anguish,
Vnto a silly caban, though weake, yet stronger against woes.
Now by thy words I begin, most famous Lady, to gather
Comfort into my soule I do finde, I do find what a blessing
Is chaunced to my life, that from such muddy abundance
Of carking agonies (to states which still be adherent)
Desteny keepes me aloofe, for if all this state to thy vertue
Ioyn'd, by thy beauty adorn'd be no meanes these greefes to abolish:
If neither by that helpe, thou canst clime vp to thy fancie,
Nor yet fancy so drest do receiue more plausible hearing:
Then do I thinke in deed, that better it is to be priuate
In sorrows torments, then, tyed to the pompes of a pallace,
Nurse inwarde maladyes, which haue not scope to be breath'd out.
But perforce disgest, all bitter ioyces of horror
In silence, from a mans owne selfe with company robbed.
Better yet do I liue, that though by my thoughts I be plunged
Into my liues bondage, yet may disburden a passion
(Opprest with ruinouse conceites) by the helpe of an outcrye:
Not limited to a whispringe note, the Lament of a Courtier.
But sometimes to the woods somtimes to the heau'n do decyphire
With bolde clamor vnheard, vnmarckt, what I seeke what I suffer:
And when I meete these trees, in the earths faire liuory clothed,
Ease I do feele (such ease as falls to one wholy diseased)
For that I finde in them parte of my state represented.
Lawrell shew's what I seeke, by the Mirre is show'd how I seeke it,
Oliue paintes me the peace that I must aspire to by the conquest:
Mirtle makes my request, my request is crown'd with a willowe?
Cyprus promiseth helpe, but a helpe where comes no recomforte
Sweete Iuniper, saith this, thoh I burne, yet I burne in a sweete fire.
Evve doth make me thinke what kind of bow the boy holdeth
Which shootes strongly with out any noyse and deadly without smarte.
Firr trees great and greene, fixt on a hye hill but a barrein,
Lyke to my noble thoughtes, still new, well plac'd, to me fruteles.
Figge that yeeldes most pleasante fru'te, his shaddow is hurtefull
Thus be her giftes most sweet, thus more danger to be neere her,
Now in a palme when I marke, how he doth rise vnder a burden,
And may I not (say I then) gett vp though griefs be so weightie?
Pine is a maste to a shippe, to my shippe shall hope for a maste serue,
Pine is hye, hope is as hie, sharpe leau'd, sharpe yet be my hopes budds.
Elme embraste by a vine, embracing fancy reuiueth
Popler changeth his hew from a rising sunne to a setting:
Thus to my sonne do I yeeld, such lookes her beames do aforde me
Olde aged oke cutt downe, of newe works serues to the building:
So my desires by my feare, cutt downe, be the frames of her honour.
Ashe makes speares which shieldes do resist, her force no repulse takes.
Palmes do reioyce to be ioynd by the match of a male to a female,
And shall sensiue things be so sencelesse as to resist sence?
Thus be my thoughts disperst, thus thinking nurseth a thinking,
Thus both trees and each thing ells, be the bookes of a fancy.
But to the Cedar Queene of woods when I lifte my beteard eyes,
Then do I shape to my selfe that forme which raign's so with in me,
And thinke ther she do dwell & heare what plants I do vtter:
When that noble toppe doth nodd, I beleeue she salutes me;
When by the winde it maketh a noyse, I do thinke she doth answer.
Then kneling to the ground, oft thus do I speake to that Image:
Onely Iuell, O only Iuell, which only deseruest
That mens harts be thy seate and endlesse fame be thy seruant,
O descende for a while, from this greate height to behold me,
But nought els do, behold (else is nought worth the beholding)
Saue what a worke, by thy selfe is wrought: & since I am altred
Thus by thy worke, disdaine not that which is by thy selfe done.
In meane caues of treasure abides, to an hostry a king comes.
And so behinde foule clowdes full oft faire starres do ly hidden.

Zelmane.

Hardy shephearde, such as thy meritts, such may be her insight
Iustely to graunt thee rewarde, such enuie I beare to thy fortune.
But to my selfe what wish can I make for a salue to my sorrowes,
Whom both nature seemes to debarr from meanes to be helped,
And if a meane were found, fortune th'whole course of it hinders.
This plag'de how can I frame to my soare any hope of amendemente?
Whence may I show to my minde any light of possible escape?
Bownd & bownd by so noble bandes, as loth to be vnbownd,
Iaylor I am to my selfe, prison & prisoner to myne owne selfe.
Yet be my hopes thus plast, here fix'd liues all my recomforte,
That that deare Dyamond, where wisdome holdeth a sure seate,
Whose force had such force so to transforme, nay to reforme me,
Will at length perceaue these flames by her beames to be kindled,
And will pitty the wound festred so strangely within me.
O be it so, graunte such an euent, O Gods, that euent giue.
And for a sure sacrifice I do dayly oblation offer
Of mine owne harte, where thoughts be the temple, sighte is a aultar.
But ceasse worthy shepheard, nowe ceasse we to weery the hearers
With monefull melodies, for enough our greefes be reuealed,
If by the parties ment our meanings rightly be marked,
And sorrow's do require some respitt vnto the sences.

What exclaming praises Basilius gaue to this Ecloge any man may ghesse, that knowes loue is better then a paire of spectacles to make euery thing seeme greater which is sene through it: and then is neuer tongue tied where fitt commendation (whereof womankinde is so likerouse) is offered vnto it. But before any other came in to supplie the place, Zelmane hauing heard some of the shepheards by chaunce name Strephon and Klaius, supposing thereby they had bene present, was desirous both to heare them for the fame of their frindly loue, and to know them, for their kindenesse towardes her best loued frinde. Much grieued was Basilius, that any desire of his mistresse should bee vnsatisfied, and therefore to represent them vnto hir (aswell as in their absence it might be) he commaunded on Lamon, who had at large sett down their country pastimes and first loue to Vrania to sing the whole discourse which he did in this manner.


A shepheards tale no height of stile desires
To raise in words what in effect is lowe:
A plaining songe plaine-singing voice requires,
For warbling notes from inward chearing flow.
I then, whose burd'ned brest but thus aspires
Of shepheards two the seely case to show,
   Nede not the stately Muses helpe inuoke
   For creeping rimes, which often sighings choke. But you, ô you, that thinke not teares to deare
To spend for harms, although they touch you not:
And deigne to deeme your neighbors mischefe neare,
Although they be of meaner parents gott:
You I inuite with easie eares to heare
The poore-clad truth of loues wrong-ordred lot.
   Who may be glad, be glad you be not such:
   Who share in woe, weygh others haue as much. Ther was (ô seldome blessed word of was!)
Apaire of frends, or rather one cal'd two,
Train'd in the life which on short-bitten grasse
In shine or storme must sett the doubted shoe:
He, that the other in some years did passe,
And in those gifts that years distribute doe,
   Was Klaius cald, (ah Klaius, wofull wight!)
   The later borne, yet too soone, Strephon hight. Epeirus high, was honest Klaius nest,
To Strephon Æoles land first breathing lent:
But East & West were ioin'd by frendships hest.
As Strephons eare & heart to Klaius bent:
So Klaius soule did in his Strephon rest.
Still both their flocks flocking togither went,
   As if they would of owners humour be,
   And eke their pipes did well, as frends agree. Klaius for skill of hearb's & shepheards art
Among the wisest was accounted wise,
Yet not so wise, as of vnstained harte:
Strephon was yonge, yet markt with humble eies
How elder rul'd their flocks, & cur'd their smart,
So that the graue did not his words despise.
   Both free of minde, both did clear-dealing loue,
   And both had skill in verse their voice to moue. Their chearfull minds, till pois'ned was their cheare,
The honest sports of earthy lodging proue;
Now for a clod-like hare in fourm they peere,
Now bolt & cudgill squirrels leape do moue.
Now the ambitiouse Larke with mirror cleare
They catch, while he (foole!) to himself makes loue:
   And now at keels they trie a harmles chaunce,
   And now their curr they teach to fetch & daunce. When mery May first early calls the morne,
With mery maids a mayeng they do go,
Then do they pull from sharpe & niggard thorne
The plenteous sweets, (can sweets so sharply grow?)
Then some grene gowns are by the lasses worne
In chastest plaies, till home they walke a rowe,
   While daunce about the may-pole is begun,
   When, if nede were, they could at quintain run: While thus they ran a low, but leaueld race,
While thus they liu'd, (this was indede a life)
With nature pleas'd, content with present case.
Free of proud feares, braue begg'ry, smiling strife
Of clime-fall Court, the enuy-hatching place:
While those restles desires in great men rise
   To visite so low folkes did much disdaine,
   This while, though poore, they in themselues did raigne. One day (ô day, that shin'de to make them darke!)
While they did ward sun-beames with shady bay,
And Klaius taking for his yongling carke,
(Lest greedy eies to them might challenge lay)
Busy with oker did their shoulders marke,
(His marke a Piller was deuoid of stay,
   As bragging that free of all passions mone
   Well might he others beare, but leane to none) Strephon with leauy twiggs of Laurell tree
A garland made on temples for to weare,
For he then chosen was the dignitie
Of village-Lord that whitsontide to beare:
And full, poore foole of boyish brauery
With triumphs shews would shew he nought did feare.
   But fore-accounting oft makes builders misse,
   They found, they felt, they had no lease of blisse. For ere that either had his purpose done,
Behold (beholding well it doth deserue)
They saw a maid who thitherward did runne,
To catch hir sparrow which from hir did swerue,
As she a black-silke cap on him begunne
To sett, for foile of his milke-white to serue.
   She chirping ran, he peeping flew away,
   Till hard by them both he & she did stay. Well for to see they kept themselues vnsene,
And saw this fairest maid of fairer minde,
By, fortune meare, in Nature borne a Queene,
How well apaid she was hir birde to finde:
How tenderly hir tender hands betweene
In iuory cage she did the micher binde:
   How rosy moist'ned lipps about his beake
   Mouing, she seem'd at once to kisse, & speake. Chastned but thus, & thus his lesson tought
The happy wretch she putt into hir breast,
Which to their eies the bowles of Venus brought,
For they seem'd made euen of skie-mettall best,
And that the bias of hir bloud was wrought.
Betwixt them two the peeper tooke his nest,
   Where snugging well he well appear'd content
   So to haue done amisse, so to be shent. This done, but done with captiue-killing grace,
Each motion seeming shott from beauties bow,
With length laid downe she deckt the lonely place.
Proud grew the grasse that vnder hir did growe,
The trees spred out their armes to shade hir face,
But she on elbow lean'd with sigh's did show
   No grasse, no trees, nor yet hir sparrow might
   To long-perplexed minde breed long delight. She troubled was (alas that it mought be!)
With tedious brawlings of her parents deare,
Who would haue hir in will & worde agree
To wedd Antaxius their neighbour neare.
A heardman rich of much account was he
In whome no euill did raigne, nor good appeare.
   In some such one she lik'd not his desire,
   Faine would be free, but dreadeth parents ire. Kindly, sweete soule, she did vnkindnes take
That bagged baggage of a misers mudd,
Should price of hir, as in a market, make.
But golde can guild a rotten piece of wood,
To yeeld she found hir noble heart did ake:
To striue she fear'd how it with vertue stoode.
   This doubting clouds ore-casting heau'nly braine,
   At length in rowes of Kisse-cheeke teares they raine. Cupid the wagg, that lately conquer'd had
Wise Counsellors, stout Captaines puissant Kings,
And ti'de them fast to leade his triumph badd,
Glutted with them now plaies with meanest things.
So oft in feasts with costly chaunges cladd
To crammed mawes a spratt new Stomake brings.
   So Lords with sport of Stagg & Hearon full
   Sometimes we vse small birds from nests do pull. So now for pray these shepheards two he tooke
Whose mettall stiff he knew he could not bende
With hear-say, pictures, or a window looke,
With one good dawnce, or letter finely pend,
That were in Court a well proportion'd hooke,
Where piercing witts do quickly apprehend,
   Their sences rude plaine obiects only moue,
   And so must see great cause before they loue. Therfore Loue arm'd in hir now takes the fielde,
Making hir beames his brauery & might:
Hir hands which pierc'd the soules seau'n-double shield,
Were now his darts leauing his wonted fight.
Braue crest to him hir scorn-gold haire did yeeld,
His compleat harneis was hir purest white.
   But fearing lest all white might seeme too good,
   In cheeks & lipps the Tyran threatens bloud. Besides this force within hir eies he kept
A fire, to burne the prisoners he gaines,
Whose boiling heat encreased as she wept:
For eu'n in forge colde water fire maintaines.
Thus proud & fierce vnto the hearts he stept
Of them poore soules: & cutting Reasons raines,
   Made them his owne before they had it wist.
   But if they had, could shephookes this resist? Klaius streight felt, & groned at the blowe,
And cal'd, now wounded, purpose to his aide:
Strephon, fond boy, delighted did not knowe,
That it was Loue that shin'de in shining maid:
But lickrous, Poison'd, faine to her would goe,
If him new-learned manners had not staid.
   For then Vrania homeward did arise,
   Leauing in paine their wel-fed hungry eies. She went, they staid; or rightly for to say,
She staid in them, they went in thought with hyr:
Klaius in deede would faine haue puld a way
This mote from out his eye, this inward burre,
And now, proud Rebell gan for to gainsay
The lesson which but late he learn'd too furre:
   Meaning with absence to refresh the thought
   To which hir presence such a feauer brought. Strephon did leape with ioy & iolitie,
Thinking it iust more therein to delight
Then in good Dog, faire field, or shading tree.
So haue I sene trim bookes in veluet dight
With golden leaues, & painted babery
Of seely boies please vnacquainted sight:
   But when the rod began to play his part,
   Faine would, but could not fly from golden smart. He quickly learn'd Vrania was her name,
And streight for failing, grau'd it in his heart:
He knew hir haunt, & haunted in the same,
And taught his shepe hir shepe in food to thwart.
Which soone as it did batefull question frame,
He might on knees confesse his faulty part,
   And yeeld himselfe vnto hir punishment,
   While nought but game, the selfe-hurt wanton ment. Nay eu'n vnto hir home he oft would go,
Where bold and hurtles many play he tries,
Her parents liking well it should be so,
For simple goodnes shined in his eyes.
There did he make hir laugh in spite of woe,
So as good thoughts of him in all arise,
   While into none doubt of his loue did sinke,
   For not himselfe to be in loue did thinke. But glad Desire, his late embosom'd guest,
Yet but a babe, with milke of Sight he nurst:
Desire the more he suckt, more sought the brest,
Like dropsy folke still drinke to be a thyrst.
Till one faire eau'n an howr ere Sun did rest,
Who then in Lions caue did enter fyrst,
   By neighbors prai'd she went abroad therby.
   At Barly brake hir swete swift foot to trie. Neuer the earth on his round shoulders bare
A maid train'd vp from high or low degree,
That in her doings better could compare
Mirth with respect, few words with curtesy,
A careles comelines with comely care,
Self-gard with mildnes, Sport with Maiesty:
   Which made hir yeeld to deck this shepheards band,
   And still, beleue me, Strephon was at hand. A field they goe, where many lookers be,
And thou seke-sorow Klaius them among:
In dede thou said'st it was thy frend to see
Strephon, whose absence seem'd vnto thee long,
While most with hir he lesse did kepe with thee.
No, no, it was in spite of wisdomes song
   Which absence wisht: loue plai'd a victors part:
   The heau'n-loue lodestone drew thy iron hart. Then couples three be streight allotted there,
They of both ends the middle two doe flie,
The two that in mid place, Hell called were,
Must striue with waiting foot, and watching eye
To catch of them, and them to hell to beare,
That they, aswell as they, Hell may supplie:
   Like some which seeke to salue their blotted name
   With others blott, till all do tast of shame. There may you see, soone as the middle two
Do coupled towards either couple make,
They false and fearfull do their hands vndoe,
Brother his brother, frend doth frend forsake,
Heeding himselfe, cares not how fellow doe,
But of a straunger mutuall help doth take:
   As periur'd cowards in aduersity
   With sight of feare from frends to fremb'd do flie. These sports shepheards deuiz'd such faults to show.
Geron, though olde yet gamesome, kept one ende
With Cosma, for whose loue Pas past in woe.
Faire Nous with Pas the lott to hell did sende:
Pas thought it hell, while he was Cosma fro.
At other end Vran did Strephon lend
   Her happy-making hand, of whome one looke
   From Nous and Cosma all their beauty tooke. The play began: Pas durst not Cosma chace,
But did entend next bout with her to meete,
So he with Nous to Geron turn'd their race,
With whome to ioyne fast ran Vrania sweet:
But light-legd Pas had gott the middle space.
Geron straue hard, but aged were his feet,
   And therfore finding force now faint to be,
   He thought gray haires afforded subtletie. And so when Pas hand-reached him to take,
The fox on knees and elbowes tombled downe:
Pas could not stay, but ouer him did rake,
And crown'd the earth with his first touching crowne:
His heels grow'n proud did seme at heau'n to shake.
But Nous that slipt from Pas, did catch the clowne.
   So laughing all, yet Pas to ease some dell
   Geron with Vran were condemn'd to hell. Cosma this while to Strephon safely came,
And all to second barly-brake are bent:
The two in hell did toward Cosma frame,
Who should to Pas, but they would her preuent.
Pas mad with fall, and madder with the shame,
Most mad with beames which he thought Cosma sent,
   With such mad haste he did to Cosma goe,
   That to hir breast he gaue a noysome blowe. She quick, and proud, and who did Pas despise,
Vp with hir fist, and tooke him on the face,
Another time, quoth she, become more wise.
Thus Pas did kisse hir hand with little grace,
And each way luckles, yet in humble guise
Did hold hir fast for feare of more disgrace,
   While Strephon might with preatie Nous haue met,
   But all this while another course he fet. For as Vrania after Cosma ran,
He rauished with sight how gracefully
She mou'd hir lims, and drew the aged man,
Left Nous to coast the loued beauty ny.
Nous cri'de, and chafd, but he no other can.
Till Vran seing Pas to Cosma fly,
   And Strephon single, turned after him.
   Strephon so chas'd did seme in milke to swimme. He ran, but ran with eye ore shoulder cast,
More marking hir, then how himselfe did goe,
Like Numid Lions by the hunters chas'd,
Though they do fly, yet backwardly do glowe
With proud aspect, disdaining greater hast.
What rage in them, that loue in him did show.
   But God giues them instinct the man to shun,
   And he by law of Barly-brake must run. But as his heate with running did augment,
Much more his sight encreast his hote desire:
So is in her the best of Nature spent,
The aire hir swete race mou'd doth blow the fire.
Hir feet be Purseuants from Cupid sent,
With whose fine stepps all loues and ioyes conspire.
   The hidden beauties seem'd in waite to lye,
   To downe proud hearts that would not willing dye. Thus, fast he fled from her he follow'd sore,
Still shunning Nous to lengthen pleasing race,
Till that he spied old Geron could no more,
Then did he slack his loue-enstructed pace.
So that Vrán, whose arme old Geron bore,
Laid hold on him with most lay-holding grace.
   So caught, him seem'd he caught of ioyes the bell,
   And thought it heau'n so to be drawn to hell. To hell he goes, and Nous with him must dwell.
Nous sware it was no right; for his default
Who would be caught, that she should go to hell:
But so she must. And now the third assault
Of Barly-brake among the six befell.
Pas Cosma matcht, yet angry with his fault,
   The other end Geron with Vrán garde.
   I thinke you thinke Strephon bent thitherward. Nous counseld Strephon Geron to pursue,
For he was olde, and easly would be cought:
But he drew hir as loue his fancy drew,
And so to take the gemme Vrania sought.
While Geron olde came safe to Cosma true,
Though him to meete at all she sturred nought.
   For Pas, whither it were for feare, or loue,
   Mou'd not himselfe, nor suffred hir to moue. So they three did togither idly stay,
While deare Vrán, whose course was Pas to meet,
(He staying thus) was faine abroad to stray
With larger round, to shun the folowing feet.
Strephon, whose eies on hir back-parts did play,
With loue drawne on, so fast with pace vnmeet
   Drew dainty Nous, that she not able so
   To runne, brake from his hands, and let him goe. He single thus, hop'd soone with hir to be,
Who nothing earthly, but of fire and aire,
Though with soft leggs, did run as fast as he.
He thrise reacht, thrise deceiu'd, when hir to beare
He hopes, with dainty turns she doth him flee.
So on the down's we see, neere Wilton faire,
   A hast'ned Hare from greedy Grayhound goe,
   And past all hope his chapps to frustrate so. But this straunge race more straunge conceits did yeeld:
Who victor seem'd, was to his ruine brought:
Who seem'd orethrown was mistresse of the field:
She fled, and tooke: he folow'd, and was cought.
So haue I heard to pierce pursuing shield
By Parents train'd the Tartars wilde are tought,
   With shafts shott out from their back-turned bow.
   But, ah! hir darts did farre more depely goe. As Venus bird the white, swift, louely Doue
(O happy Doue that art compar'd to hir!)
Doth on hir wings hir vtmost swiftnes proue,
Finding the gripe of Falcon fierce not furr:
So did Vran, the narr the swifter moue,
(Yet beauty still as fast as she did sturre)
   Till with long race deare she was breathles brought,
   And then the Phoenix feared to be cought. Among the rest that there did take delight
To see the sportes of double-shining day,
And did the tribute of their wondring sight
To Natures heir, the faire Vrania, pay,
I tolde you Klaius was the haples wight
Who earnest found what they accounted play.
   He did not there doe homage of his eies,
   But on his eies his heart did sacrifise. With gazing looks, short sighs, vnsettled feet,
He stood, but turn'd, as Girosol, to Sun:
His fancies still did hir in half-way meet,
His soule did fly as she was seen to run.
In sum proud Boreas neuer ruled fleet
(Who Neptunes webb on daungers distaff spun)
   With greater powr then she did make them wend
   Each way, as she, that ages praise, did bend. Till spieng well she welnigh weary was,
And surely taught by his loue-open eye,
His eye, that eu'n did marke hir troden grasse,
That she would faine the catch of Strephon flie,
Giuing his reason pasport for to passe
Whither it would, so it would let him dy,
   He that before shund hir to shun such harmes,
   Now runnes, and takes hir in his clipping armes. For with pretence from Strephon hir to garde,
He met hir full, but full of warefulnes,
With inbow'd bosome well for hir prepar'd,
When Strephon cursing his owne backwardnes
Came to hir back, and so with double warde
Emprison hir, who both them did possesse
   As heart-bound slaues: and happy then embrace
   Vertues proofe, fortunes victor, beauties place. Hir race did not hir beauties beames augment,
For they were euer in the best degree,
But yet a setting foorth it some way lent:
As rubies lustre, when they rubbed be.
The dainty dew on face and body went
As on sweet flowrs when mornings drops we see.
   Her breath then short seem'd loth from home to pas,
   Which more it mou'd, the more it sweeter was. Happy, ô happy! if they so might bide,
To see hir eies, with how true humblenes
They looked down to triumph ouer pride:
With how sweet sawes she blam'd their sawcines:
To feele the panting heart, which through hir syde
Did beate their hands, which durst so neere to presse.
   To see, to feele, to heare, to tast, to know
   More then, besides hir, all the earth could show. But neuer did Medeas golden weed
On Creons child his poison sooner throw,
Then those delights through all their sinews breed
A creeping serpentlike of mortall woe.
Till she brake from their armes (although indeed
Going from them, from them she could not go)
   And fare-welling the flocke did homeward wend,
   And so that euen the barly-brake did end. It ended, but the others woe began,
Began at least to be conceiu'd as woe,
For then wise Klaius found no absence can
Help him, who can no more hir sight foregoe.
He found mans vertue is but part of man,
And part must folowe where whole man doth goe.
   He found that Reasons self now reasons found
   To fasten knotts, which fancy first had bound. So doth he yeeld, so takes he on his yoke,
Not knowing who did draw with him therin;
Strephon, poore youth, because he saw no smoke
Did not conceiue what fire he had within.
But after this to greater rage it broke,
Till of his life it did full conquest win,
   First killing mirth, then banishing all rest,
   Filling his eies with teares, with sighs his brest. Then sports grew paines, all talking tediouse,
On thoughts he feeds, his lookes their figure chaunge,
The day seemes long, but night is odious,
No sleeps, but dream's, no dream's, but visions straunge,
Till finding still his euill encreasing thus,
One day he with his flock abroad did raunge:
   And comming where he hop'd to be alone,
   Thus on a hillock set, he made his mone. Alas! what weights are these that lode my heart!
I am as dull as winter-sterued sheep,
Tir'de as a iade in ouerloden carte,
Yet thoughts do flie, though I can scarcely creep.
All visions seeme, at euery bush I start:
Drowsy am I, and yet can rarely slepe.
   Sure I bewitched am, it is euen that:
   Late neere a crosse I met an ougly Cat. For, but by charms, how fall these things on me,
That from those eies where heau'nly apples bene,
Those eies, which nothing like themselues can see,
Of faire Vrania, fairer then a greene,
Proudly bedeckt in Aprills liuory,
A shot vnheard gaue me a wound vnseene?
   He was inuisible that hurt me so,
   And none vnuisible, but Spirites, can goe. When I see her, my sinewes shake for feare,
And yet, deare soule, I know she hurteth none:
Amid my flock with woe my voice I teare,
And, but bewitch'd, who to his flock would mone?
Her chery lipps, milke hands, and golden haire
I still do see, though I be still alone.
   Now make me thinke that there is not a fende,
   Who hid in Angels shape my life would ende. The sportes wherin I wonted to do well,
Come she, and sweet the aire with open brest,
Then so I faile, when most I would do well,
That at me so amaz'd my fellowes iest:
Sometimes to her newes of my selfe to tell
I go about, but then is all my best
   Wry words, and stam'ring, or els doltish dombe,
   Say then, can this but of enchantment come? Nay each thing is bewitcht to know my case:
The Nightingales for woe their songs refraine:
In riuer as I look'd my pining face,
As pin'd a face as mine I saw againe.
The courteous mountaines grieu'd at my disgrace
Their snowy haire teare of in melting paine.
   And now the dropping trees do wepe for me,
   And now faire euenings blush my shame to see. But you my pipe, whilome my chief delight,
Till straunge delight, delight to nothing ware;
And you my flock, care of my carefull sight,
While I was I, & so had cause to care;
And thou my dogg, whose truth & valiant might
Made wolues (not inward wolues) my ewes to spare;
   Go you not from your master in his woe:
   Let it suffise that he himselfe forgoe. For though like waxe, this magique makes me waste,
Or like a lambe whose dam away is fet,
(Stolne from her yoong by theeues vnchoosing hast)
He treble beas for helpe, but none can get:
Though thus, and worse, though now I am at last,
Of all the games that here ere now I met:
   Do you remember still you once were mine,
   Till my eies had their curse from blessed eine. Be you with me while I vnheard do cry,
While I do score my losses on the winde,
While I in heart my will write ere I die.
In which by will, my will and wits I binde:
Still to be hers, about her aye to flie,
As this same sprite about my fancies blinde,
   Doth daily haunt: but so that mine become
   As much more louing, as lesse combersome. Alas! a cloud hath ouer cast mine eies:
And yet I see her shine amid the cloud.
Alas! of ghostes I heare the gastly cries:
Yet there, me seemes, I heare her singing loud.
This song she singes in most commaunding wise:
Come shepheards boy, let now thy heart be bowd
   To make it selfe to my least looke a slaue:
   Leaue sheepe leaue all, I will no piecing haue. I will, I will, alas! alas! I will:
Wilt thou haue more? more haue, if more I be.
Away ragg'd rams, care I what murraine kill?
Out shreaking pipe made of some witched tree.
Go bawling curre, thy hungry maw go fill,
On yond foule flocke belonging not to me.
   With that his dogge he henst his flocke he curst:
   With that (yet kissed first) his pipe he burst. This said, this done, he rase euen tir'd with rest,
With heart as carefull, as with carelesse grace,
With shrinking legges, but with a swelling brest,
With eyes which threatned they would drowne his face,
Fearing the worst, not knowing what were best,
And giuing to his sight a wandring race,
   He saw behind a bush where Klaius sate:
   His well know'ne friend, but yet his vnknowne mate, Klaius the wretch, who lately yelden was
To beare the bondes which Time nor wit could breake,
(With blushing soule at sight of iudgements glasse,
While guilty thought accus'd his Reason weake)
This morne alone to lonely walke did passe,
With in himselfe of hir deare selfe to speake.
   Till Strephons planning voice him nearer drew,
   Whereby his words his self-like cause he knew. For hearing him so oft with wordes of woe
Vrania name, whose force he knew so well,
He quickly knew what witchcraft gaue the blow
Which made his Strephon think himselfe in hell.
Which when he did in perfect image show,
To his owne witt, thought vpon thought did swell,
   Breeding huge stormes with in his inward parte,
Which thus breath'd out with earthquake of his hart.

As Lamon would haue proceded, Basilius knowing, by the wasting of the torches that the night also was farre wasted, and withall remembring Zelmanes hurt, asked hir whither she thought it not better to reserue the complaint of Klaius till an other day. Which she, perceiuing the song had alreadie worne out much time, and not knowing when Lamon would ende, being euen now stepping ouer to a new matter, though much delighted with what was spoken, willingly agreed vnto. And so of all sides they went to recommend themselues to the elder brother of death.


The end of the first Booke.

THE SECOND BOOKE OF THE COVNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA.

In these pastorall pastimes a great number of daies were sent to follow their flying predecessours, while the cup of poison (which was deepely tasted of this noble companie) had left no sinewe of theirs without mortally searching into it; yet neuer manifesting his venomous work, til once; that the night (parting away angry, that she could distill no more sleepe into the eies of louers) had no sooner giuen place to the breaking out of the morning light, and the Sunne bestowed his beames vpon the tops of the mountaines, but that the woefull Gynecia (to whom rest was no ease) had left her loathed lodging, and gotten her selfe into the solitary places those deserts were full of, going vp and downe with such vnquiet motions, as a grieued and hopeles minde is wont to bring forth. There appeered vnto the eies of her iudgement the euils she was like to run into, with ougly infamie waiting vpon them: shee felt the terrors of her owne conscience: shee was guilty of a long exercised vertue, which made this vice the fuller of deformitie. The vttermost of the good she could aspire vnto, was a mortal woud to her vexed spirits: and lastly no small part of her euils was, that she was wise to see her euils. In so much, that hauing a great while throwne her countenaunce ghastly about her (as if shee had called all the powers of the world to be witnesse of her wretched estate) at length casting vp her watrie eyes to heaue, O Sunne (said she) whose vnspotted light directs the steps of mortall mankind, art thou not ashamed to impart the clearnesse of thy presence to such a dust-creeping worme as I am? O you heauens (which continually keepe the course allotted vnto you) can none of your influences preuaile so much vpon the miserable Gynecia, as to make her preserue a course so long imbraced by her? O deserts, deserts, how fit a guest am I for you, since my hart can people you with wild rauenous beastes, which in you are wanting? O Vertue, where doost thou hide thy selfe? What hideous thinge is this which doeth Eclips thee? Or is it true that thou weart neuer but a vaine name, and no essentiall thing, which hast thus left thy professed seruant, when she had most need of thy louely presence? O imperfect proportio of reason, which can too much foresee, & too little preuent. Alas, alas (said she) if there were but one hope for all my paines, or but one excuse for all my faultinesse. But wretch that I am, my torment is beyond all succour, and my euill deseruing doth exceed my euill fortune. For nothing els did my husband take this straunge resolution to liue so solitarily: for nothing els haue the windes deliuered this straunge guest to my country: for nothing els haue the destinies reserued my life to this time, but that onely I (most wretched I) should become a plague to my selfe, and a shame to womankind. Yet if my desire (how vniust so euer it be) might take effect, though a thousand deaths folowed it, and euery death were followed with a thousand shames; yet should not my sepulcher receiue mee without some contentment. But alas, though sure I am, that Zelmane is such as can answer my loue; yet as sure I am, that this disguising must needs come for some foretaken coceipt. And then, wretched Gynecia, where canst thou find any small ground plot for hope to dwel vpon? No, no, it is Philoclea his hart is sett vpo: it is my daughter I haue borne to supplant me. But if it bee so, the life I haue giuen thee (vngratefull Philoclea) I will sooner with these handes bereaue thee of, then my birth shall glory, she hath bereaued me of my desires. In shame there is no comfort, but to bee beyond all bounds of shame.

Hauing spoken thus, she began to make a piteous war with hir faire haire, when she might heare (not far fro her) an extremely dolefull voice, but so suppressed with a kind of whispering note, that she could not conceaue the wordes distinctly. But (as a lamentable tune is the sweetest musicke to a wofull mind) shee drewe thether neere-away, in hope to find some companio of her misery. And as she paced on, she was stopped with a number of trees, so thickly placed together, that she was afraide shee should (with rushing thorow) stop the speach of the lamentable partie, which shee was so desirous to vnderstand. And therefore setting her downe as softlie as she could (for she was now in distaunce to heare) she might first perceaue a Lute excellentlie well played vppon, and then the same dolefull voyce accompanyinge it with these verses.


In vaine, mine Eyes, you labour to amende
   With flowing teares your fault of hasty sight:
Since to my hart her shape you so did sende;
   That her I see, though you did lose your light. In vaine, my Hart, now you with sight are burnd,
   With sighes you seeke to coole your hotte desire:
Since sighes (into mine inward fornace turnd)
   For bellowes serue to kindle more the fire. Reason, in vaine (now you haue lost my hart)
   My head you seeke, as to your strongest forte:
Since there mine eyes haue played so false a parte,
   That to your strength your foes haue sure resorte.
      Then since in vaine I find were all my strife,
      To this strange death I vainely yeeld my life.

The ending of the song serued but for a beginning of new plaints, as if the mind (oppressed with too heauy a burthe of cares) was faine to discharge it self of al sides, & as it were, paint out the hideousnes of the paine in all sortes of coulours. For the wofull person (as if the lute had euill ioined with the voice) threw it to the ground with such like words: Alas, poore Lute, how much art thou deceiu'd to think, that in my miseries thou couldst ease my woes, as in my careles times thou was wont to please my fancies? The time is changed, my Lute, the time is changed; and no more did my ioyfull minde then receiue euery thing to aioyful consideration, then my carefull mind now makes ech thing tast like the bitter iuyce of care. The evill is inward, my Lute, the euill is inward; which all thou doost, doth serue but to make methinke more freely off. And alas, what is then thy harmony, but the sweete meats of sorrow? The discord of my thoughts, my Lute, doth ill agree to the concord of thy strings; therefore be not ashamed to leaue thy master, since hee is not afraide to forsake himselfe.

And thus much spoke (in steede of a conclusion) was closed vp with so harty a groning, that Gynecia could not refraine to shew her selfe, thinking such griefes could serue fitly for nothing, but her owne fortune. But as she came into the little Arbour of this sorrowful musicke, her eyes met with the eyes of Zelmane, which was the party that thus had indited her selfe of miserie: so that either of them remained cofused with a sodaine astonishment. Zelmane fearing, least she had heard some part of those complaints, which she had risen vp that morning early of purpose, to breath out in secret to her selfe. But Gynecia a great while stood still, with a kind of dull amasement, looking stedfastly vpon her: at length returning to some vse of her selfe, she began to aske Zelmane, what cause carried her so early abroad? But as if the opening of her mouth to Zelmane, had opened some great flood gate of sorrow (whereof her heart could not abide the violet issue) she sanke to the ground, with her hads ouer her face crying vehemently, Zelmane helpe me, O Zelmane haue pittie on me. Zelmane ranne to her, maruelling what sodaine sicknesse had thus possessed her: & beginning to aske her the cause of her paine, & offering her seruice to be imployed by her: Gynecia opening her eyes wildly vpon her, pricked with the flames of loue, & the torments of her owne conscience; O Zelmane, Zelmane , (said she) doost thou offer me phisicke, which art my only poyson? Or wilt thou doo me seruice, which hast alredy brought me into eternall slauerie? Zelmane then knowing well at what marke shee shot, yet loth to enter into it; Most excellet Ladie (said she) you were best retire your selfe into your lodging, that you the better may passe this sodaine fitte. Retire my selfe? (said Gynecia) If I had retyred my selfe into my selfe, when thou to me (vnfortunate guest) camest to draw me from my selfe; blessed had I bene, & no neede had I had of this counsaile. But now alas, I am forced to flie to thee for succour, whom I accuse of all my hurt; & make thee iudge of my cause, who art the only author of my mischiefe Zelmane the more astonished, the more she vnderstood her; Madam (said she) whereof do you accuse me, that I will not cleere my selfe? Or wherein may I steed you, that you may not command me? Alas, answered Gynecia, what shall I say more? Take pitty of me, O Zelmane, but not as Zelmane, and disguise not with me in words, as I know thou doost in apparell.

Zelmane was much troubled with that worde, finding her selfe brought to this streight. But as she was thinking what to answere her; they might see olde Basilius passe harde by them, without euer seeing them: complayning likewise of loue very freshly; and ending his complaint with this song, Loue hauing renewed both his inuention, and voyce.


Let not old age disgrace my high desire,
   O heauenly soule, in humaine shape conteind:
Old wood in flam'de, doth yeeld the brauest fire,
   When yonger dooth in smoke his vertue spend. Ne let white haires, which on my face doo grow,
   Seeme to your eyes of a disgracefull hewe:
Since whitenesse doth present the sweetest show,
   Which makes all eyes doo homage vnto you. Old age is wise and full of constant truth;
   Old age well stayed from raunging humor liues:
Old age hath knowne what euer was in youth:
   Old age orecome, the greater honour giues.
      And to old age since you your selfe aspire,
      Let not old age disgrace my high desire.

Which being done, he looked verie curiously vpon himselfe, somtimes fetching a little skippe, as if he had saide, his strength had not yet forsaken him. But Zelmane hauing in this time gotten some leasure to thinke for an answere; looking vpon Gynecya, as if she thought she did her some wrong: Madam (said she) I am not acquainted with those words of disguising, neither is it the profession of an Amazon, neither are you a partie with whom it is to bee vsed. If my seruice may please you, imploy it, so long as you do me no wrong in misiudgeing of mee. Alas Zelmane (said Gynecia) I perceiue you know full little, howe percing the eyes are of a true louer. There is no one beame of those thoughts you haue planted in me, but is able to discerne a greater cloude then you doo goe in. Seeke not to conceale your selfe further from mee, nor force not the passion of loue into violent extremities. Nowe was Zelmane brought to an exigent, when the king, turning his eyes that waye thorow the trees, perceiued his wife and mistres togither: so that framing the most louely countenance hee could, hee came straightway towardes them; and at the first word (thanking his wife for hauing entertained Zelmane,) desired her shee woulde now returne into the lodge, because hee had certaine matters of estate to impart to the Ladie Zelmane. The Queene (being nothing troubled with ielousie in that point) obeyed the kinges commaundement; full of raging agonies and determinately bent, that as she would seeke all louing meanes to winne Zelmane, so she woulde stirre vp terrible tragedies, rather then saile of her intent. And so went she from them to the lodge-ward, with such a battaile in her thoughts, and so deadly an ouerthrow giuen to her best resolutions, that euen her bodie (where the fielde was fought) was oppressed withall: making a languishing sickenesse waite vpon the triumph of passion; which the more it preuailed in her, the more it made her ielousie watchfull, both ouer her daughter, and Zelmane; hauing euer one of them entrusted to her owne eyes.

But as soone as Basilius was ridde of his wiues presence, falling downe on his knees, O Lady (saide hee) which hast onely had the power to stirre vp againe those flames which had so long layne deade in mee; see in mee the power of your beautie, which can make olde age come to aske counsaile of youth; and a Prince vnconquered, to become a slaue to a stranger. And when you see that power of yours, loue that at lest in me, since it is yours, although of me you see nothing to be loued. Worthy Prince (answered Zelmane, taking him vp from his kneeling) both your manner, and your speech are so straunge vnto me, as I know not how to answere it better then with silence. If silence please you (said the king) it shall neuer displease me, since my heart is wholly pledged to obey you: otherwise if you would vouchsafe mine eares such happinesse, as to heare you, they shall conuay your words to such a mind, which is with the humblest degree of reuerence to receiue them. I disdaine not to speake to you (mightie Prince said Zelmane,) but I disdaine to speake to any matter which may bring my honor into question. And therewith, with a braue counterfeited scorne she departed from the king; leauing him not so sorie for his short answere, as proud in himselfe that he had broken the matter. And thus did the king (feeding his minde with those thoughts) passe great time in writing verses, and making more of himselfe, then he was wont to doo: that with a little helpe, he would haue growne into a prettie kind of dotage.

But Zelmane being ridde of this louing, but little-loued company, Alas (said she) poore Pyrocles, was there euer one, but I, that had receiued wrong, and could blame no body? that hauing more then I desire, am still in want of that I woulde? Truly Loue, I must needes say thus much on thy behalfe; thou hast imployed my loue there, where all loue is deserued; and for recompence hast sent me more loue then euer I desired. But what wilt thou doo Pyrocles? which way canst thou finde to ridde thee of thy intricate troubles? To her whom I would be knowne to, I liue in darkenesse: and to her am reuealed, from whom I would be most secret. What shift shall I finde against the diligent loue of Basilius? what shield against the violent passions of Gynecia? And if that be done, yet how am I the neerer to quench the fire that consumes me? Well, well, sweete Philoclea, my whole confidence must be builded in thy diuine spirit, which cannot be ignorant of the cruell wound I haue receiued by you.

But as sicke folkes, when they are alone, thinke companie would relieue them, and yet hauing company do find it noysome; changing willingly outward obiects, when indeed the euill is inward: So poore Zelmane was no more weery of Basilius, then she was of her selfe, when Basilius was gone: and euer the more, the more she turned her eyes to become her owne iudges. Tyred wherewith, she longed to meete her friende Dorus; that vpon the shoulders of friendship she might lay the burthen of sorrow: and therefore went toward the other lodge: where among certaine Beeches she found Dorus , apparelled in flanen, with a Goats skin cast vpon him, and a garland of Laurell mixt with Cypres leaues on his head, wayting on his master Dametas, who at that time was teaching him how with his sheephooke to catch a wanton Lambe, and how with the same to cast a litle clod at any one that strayed out of companie. And while Dorus was practising, one might see Dametas holding his hand vnder his girdle behind him, nodding from the wast vpwards, and swearing he neuer knew man go more aukewardly to worke: and that they might talke of booke-learning what they would; but for his part, he neuer saw more vnfeatie fellowes, then great clearks were.

But Zelmanes comming saued Dorus from further chiding. And so she beginning to speake with him of the number of his masters sheepe, and which Prouince of Arcadia bare the finest wooll, drewe him on to follow her in such countrie discourses, till (being out of Dametas hearing) with such vehemencie of passion, as though her hart would clime into her mouth, to take her tongues office, she declared vnto him, vpon what briers the roses of her affections grew: how time still seemed to forget her, bestowing no one houre of comfort vpon her; she remaining stil in one plight of ill fortune, sauing so much worse, as continuance of euill doth in it selfe increase euill. Alas my Dorus (said she) thou seest how long and languishingly the weekes are past ouer vs since our last talking. And yet am I the same, miserable I, that I was: onely stronger in longing, and weaker in hoping. Then fell she to so pitifull a declaration of the insupportablenes of her desires, that Dorus eares (not able to shew what woundes that discourse gaue vnto them) procured his eyes with teares to giue testimonie, how much they suffered for her suffering: till passion (a most cumbersome guest to it selfe) made Zelmane (the sooner to shake it off) earnestly intreate Dorus, that he also (with like freedome of discourse) would bestow a Mappe of his little world, vpon her; that she might see, whether it were troubled with such vnhabitable climes of colde despaires, and hot rages, as hers was. And so walking vnder a few Palmetrees, (which being louing in their own nature, seemed to giue their shadow the willinglier, because they held discourse of loue) Dorus thus entred to the description of his fortune. Alas (said he) deare Cosin, that it hath pleased the high powers to throw vs to such an estate, as the onely entercourse of our true friendship, must be a bartring of miseries. For my part, I must confesse indeede, that from a huge darkenes of sorrowes, I am crept (I cannot say to a lightsomnes, but) to a certaine dawning, or rather, peeping out of some possibilitie of comfort: But woe is me, so farre from the marke of my desires, that I rather thinke it such a light, as comes through a small hole to a dungeon, that the miserable caitife may the better remember the light, of which he is depriued: or like a scholler, who is onely come to that degree of knowledge, to finde himselfe vtterly ignorant. But thus stands it with me: After that by your meanes I was exalted to serue in yonder blessed lodge, for a while I had, in the furnace of my agonies, this refreshing; that (because of the seruice I had done in killing of the Beare) it pleased the Princesse (in whome indeede statelines shines through courtesie) to let fall some gratious looke vpon me. Sometimes to see my exercises, sometimes to heare my songs. For my part, my hart would not suffer me to omit any occasion, whereby I might make the incomparable Pamela, see how much extraordinarie deuotion I bare to her seruice: and withall, straue to appeare more worthy in her sight; that small desert, ioyned to so great affection, might preuaile something in the wisest Ladie. But too well (alas) I found, that a shepheards seruice was but considered of as from a shepheard, and the acceptation limitted to no further proportion, then of a good seruant. And when my countenance had once giuen notice, that there lay affection vnder it, I sawe straight, Maiesty (sitting in the throne of Beautie) drawe foorth such a sword of iust disdaine, that I remayned as a man thunder-striken; not daring, no not able, to behold that power. Now, to make my estate knowen, seemed againe impossible, by reason of the suspitiousnes of Dametas, Miso, and my young Mistresse, Mopsa. For, Dametas (according to the constitution of a dull head) thinkes no better way to shew himselfe wise, then by suspecting euery thing in his way. Which suspition Miso (for the hoggish shrewdnesse of her braine) and Mopsa (for a very vnlikely enuie she hath stumbled vpon, against the Princesses vnspeakeable beautie) were very glad to execute. So that I (finding my seruice by this meanes lightlie regarded, my affection despised, and my selfe vnknowen) remayned no fuller of desire, then voyd of counsell how to come to my desire. Which (alas) if these trees could speake, they might well witnesse. For, many times haue I stoode here, bewailing my selfe vnto them: many times haue I, leaning to yonder Palme, admired the blessednes of it, that it could beare Loue without sence of paine. Many times, when my masters cattle came hether to chewe their cudde, in this fresh place, I might see the young Bull testifie his loue. But how? with proud lookes, and ioyfulnes. O wretched mankind (said I then to my selfe) in whom wit (which should be the gouerner of his welfare) becomes the traitor to his blessednes. These beasts, like children to nature, inherit her blessings quietly; we, like bastards, are layd abroad, euen as foundlings to be trayned vp by griefe and sorrow. Their mindes grudge not at their bodies comfort, nor their sences are letted from enioying their obiects: we haue the impediments of honor, and the torments of conscience. Truely in such cogitations haue I somtimes so long stood, that me thought my feet began to grow into the ground, with such a darkenes and heauines of minde, that I might easilie haue bene perswaded to haue resigned ouer my very essence. But Loue, (which one time layeth burthens, another time giueth wings) when I was at the lowest of my downward thoughts, pulled vp my hart to remember, that nothing is atchieued before it be throughlie attempted; and that lying still doth neuer goe forward: and that therefore it was time, now or neuer, to sharpen my inuention, to pearce thorow the hardnes of this enterprise; neuer ceasing to assemble all my conceites, one after the other, how to manifest both my mind and estate. Till at last, I lighted and resolued on this way, which yet perchaunce you will thinke was a way rather to hide it. I began to counterfeite the extremest loue towards Mopsa, that might be: and as for the loue, so liuely it was indeed within me, (although to another subiect) that litle I needed to counterfait any notable demonstrations of it: and so making a contrariety the place of my memory, in her fowlnes I beheld Pamelas fayrenesse, still looking on Mopsa, but thinking on Pamela; as if I sawe my Sunne shine in a puddled water: I cryed out of nothing but Mopsa: to Mopsa my attendance was directed: to Mopsa the best fruites I could gather were brought: to Mopsa it seemed still that mine eye conueyed my tongue. So that Mopsa was my saying; Mopsa was my singing; Mopsa, (that is onely suteable in laying a foule complexion vpon a filthy fauour, setting foorth both in sluttishnes) she was the load-starre of my life, she the blessing of mine eyes, she the ouerthrowe of my desires, and yet the recompence of my ouerthrowe; she the sweetnesse of my hart, euen sweetning the death, which her sweetnesse drew vpo me. In summe, what soeuer I thought of Pamela , that I saide of Mopsa; whereby as I gatte my maisters good-will, who before spited me, fearing lest I should winne the Princesse fauour from him, so did the same make the Princesse the better content to allow me her presence: whether indeede it were, that a certaine sparke of noble indignation did rise in her, not to suffer such a baggage to winne away any thing of hers, how meanely soeuer she reputed of it; or rather (as I thinke) my words being so passionate; and shooting so quite contrarie from the markes of Mopsaes worthinesse, she perceiued well enough, whither they were directed: and therfore being so masked, she was contented, as a sporte of witte to attend them. Whereupon one day determining to finde some means to tell (as of a third person) the tale of mine owne loue, and estate, finding Mopsa (like a Cuckoo by a Nightingale) alone with Pamela, I came in vnto them, and with a face (I am sure) full of clowdy fancies, tooke a harpe, and soong this song.


Since so mine eyes are subiect to your sight,
That in your sight they fixed haue my braine;
Since so my harte is filled with that light,
That onely light doth all my life maintaine; Since in sweete you all goods so richly raigne,
That where you are no wished good can want;
Since so your liuing image liues in me,
That in my selfe your selfe true loue doth plant;
   How can you him vnworthy then decree,
   In whose chiefe parte your worthes implanted be?

The song being ended, which I had often broken of in the middest with grieuous sighes, which ouertooke euery verse I sang, I let fall my harpe from me; and casting my eye sometime vpon Mopsa, but setling my sight principally vpon Pamela, And is it the onely fortune most bewtifull Mopsa (said I) of wretched Dorus, that fortune must be the measure of his mind? Am I onely he that because I am in miserie, more miserie must be laid vpon me? must that which should be cause of compassion, become an argument of cruelty against me? Alas excellent Mopsa, consider, that a vertuous Prince requires the life of his meanest subiect, and the heauenly Sunne disdaines not to giue light to the smallest worme. O Mopsa, Mopsa, if my hart could be as manifest to you, as it is vncomfortable to me, I doubt not the height of my thoughts should well counteruaile the lownesse of my qualitie. Who hath not heard of the greatnes of your estate? who seeth not, that your estate is much excelled with that sweet vniting of all beauties, which remaineth and dwelleth with you? who knowes not, that all these are but ornaments of that diuine sparke within you, which being descended from heauen, could not els-where picke out so sweete a mansion? But if you will knowe what is the bande that ought to knit all these excellencies together, it is a kinde mercyfulnesse to such a one, as is in his soule deuoted to those perfections. Mopsa (who already had had a certaine smackring towards me) stood all this while with her hand sometimes before her face, but most commonly with a certaine speciall grace of her owne, wagging her lips, and grinning in steede of smiling: but all the words I could get of her, was, wrieng her waste, and thrusting out her chinne, In faith you iest with me: you are a merry man indeede. But the euer-pleasing Pamela (that well found the Comedie would be marred, if she did not helpe Mopsa to her part) was content to vrge a little further of me. Maister Dorus (said the faire Pamela) me thinks you blame your fortune very wrongfully, since the fault is not in Fortune, but in you that cannot frame your selfe to your fortune: and as wrongfully do require Mopsa to so great a disparagement as to her Fathers seruaunt; since she is not worthy to be loued, that hath not some feeling of her owne worthines. I staied a good while after her words, in hope she would haue continued her speech (so great a delight I receaued in hearing her) but seeing her say no further, (with a quaking all ouer my body) I thus answered her. Ladie, most worthie of all dutie, how falles it out that you in whom all vertue shines, will take the patronage of fortune, the onely rebellious handmaide against vertue? Especially, since before your eyes, you haue a pittifull spectacle of her wickednesse, a forlorne creature, which must remaine not such as I am, but such as she makes me, since she must be the ballance of worthinesse or disparagement. Yet alas, if the condemned man (euen at his death) haue leaue to speake, let my mortall wound purchase thus much consideration; since the perfections are such in the partie I loue, as the feeling of them cannot come into any vnnoble hart; shall that hart, which doth not onely feele them, but hath all the working of his life placed in them, shall that hart I saie, lifted vp to such a height, be counted base? O let not an excellent spirit doo it selfe such wrong, as to thinke, where it is placed, imbraced, and loued; there can be any vnworthinesse, since the weakest mist is not easilier driuen away by the Sunne, then that is chased away with so high thoughts. I will not denie (answered the gratious Pamela) but that the loue you beare to Mopsa; hath brought you to the consideration of her vertues, and that consideration may haue made you the more vertuous, and so the more worthie: But euen that then (you must confesse) you haue receiued of her, and so are rather gratefully to thanke her, then to presse any further, till you bring something of your owne whereby to claime it. And truely Dorus, I must in Mopsaes behalfe say thus much to you, that if her beauties haue so ouertaken you, it becomes a true Loue to haue your harte more set vpon her good then your owne, & to beare a tenderer respect to her honour, then your satisfaction. Now by my hallidame, Madame (said Mopsa , throwing a great number of sheeps eyes vpon me) you haue euen touched mine owne minde to the quicke, forsooth. I (finding that the pollicie that I had vsed, had at lest wise procured thus much happinesse vnto me, as that I might euen in my Ladies presence, discouer the sore which had deepely festered within me, and that she could better conceaue my reasons applied to Mopsa, then she would haue vouchsafed them, whilest her selfe was a partie) thought good to pursue on my good beginning, vsing this fit occasion of Pamelaes wit, and Mopsaes ignorance. Therefore with an humble pearcing eye, looking vpon Pamela, as if I had rather bene condemned by her mouth, then highly exalted by the other, turning my selfe to Mopsa, but keeping mine eye where it was, faire Mopsa (said I) well doo I finde by the wise knitting together of your answere, that any disputation I can vse is asmuch too weake, as I vnworthy. I find my loue shalbe proued no loue, without I leue to loue, being too vnfit a vessell in whom so high thoughts should be engraued. Yet since the Loue I beare you, hath so ioyned it selfe to the best part of my life, as the one can not depart, but that th'other will follow, before I seeke to obey you in making my last passage, let me know which is my vnworthines, either of mind, estate, or both? Mopsa was about to say, in neither; for her hart I thinke tumbled with ouermuch kindnesse, when Pamela with a more fauourable countenance then before (finding how apt I was to fall into despaire) told me, I might therein haue answered my selfe; for besides that it was graunted me, that the inward feeling of Mopsaes perfections had greatly beautified my minde, there was none could denie, but that my minde and bodie deserued great allowance. But Dorus (sayd she) you must be so farre maister of your loue, as to consider, that since the iudgement of the world stands vpon matter of fortune, and that the sexe of womankind of all other is most bound to haue regardfull eie to mens iudgements, it is not for vs to play the philosophers, in seeking out your hidden vertues: since that, which in a wise prince would be counted wisdome, in vs will be taken for a light-grounded affection: so is not one thing, one, done by diuers persons. There is no man in a burning feuer feeles so great contentment in cold water greedily receiued (which assoone as the drinke ceaseth, the rage reneweth) as poore I found my soule refreshed with her sweetly pronounced words; and newly, and more violently againe enflamed, assoone as she had closed vp her delightfull speech, with no lesse well graced silence. But remembring in my selfe that aswell the Souldier dieth which standeth still, as he that giues the brauest onset: and seeing that to the making vp of my fortune, there wanted nothing so much as the making knowne of mine estate, with a face well witnessing how deeply my soule was possessed, and with the most submissiue behauior, that a thralled hart could expresse, euen as my words had bene too thicke for my mouth, at length spake to this purpose. Alas, most worthy Princesse (said I) and do not then your owne sweet words sufficiently testifie, that there was neuer man could haue a iuster action against filthy fortune, then I, since all other things being granted me, her blindnesse is my onely let? O heauenly God, I would either she had such eyes as were able to discerne my deserts, or I were blind not to see the daily cause of my misfortune. But yet (said I) most honoured Lady, if my miserable speeches haue not already cloied you, and that the verie presence of such a wretch become not hatefull in your eyes: let me reply thus much further against my mortall sentence, "by telling you a storie, which happened in this same country long since (for woes make the shortest time seeme long) whereby you shall see that my estate is not so contemptible, but that a Prince hath bene content to take the like vpon him, and by that onely hath aspired to enioy a mightie Princesse. Pamela gratiously harkened, and I told my tale in this sort.

In the countrie of Thessalia, (alas why name I that accursed country, which brings forth nothing, but matters for tragedies? but name it I must) in Thessalia (I say) there was (well may I say, there was) a Prince (no, no Prince, whome bondage wholly possessed; but yet accounted a Prince, and) named Musidorus. O Musidorus, Musidorus; but to what serue exclamations, where there are no eares to receiue the sound? This Musidorus, being yet in the tendrest age, his worthy father paied to nature (with a violent death) her last duties, leauing his childe to the faith of his friends, and the proofe of time: death gaue him not such pangs as the foresight-full care he had of his silly successour. And yet if in his foresight he could haue seene so much, happie was that good Prince in his timely departure, which barred him from the knowledge of his sonnes miseries, which his knowledge could neither haue preuented, nor relieued. The young Musidorus (being thus, as for the first pledge of the destenies good will, depriued of his principall stay) was yet for some yeares after (as if the starres would breath themselues for a greater mischiefe) lulled vp in as much good luck, as the heedfull loue of his dolefull mother, and the florishing estate of his country could breed vnto him.

But when the time now came, that miserie seemed to be ripe for him, because he had age to knowe misery, I thinke there was a conspiracy in all heauenly and earthly things, to frame fit occasions to leade him vnto it. His people (to whom all matters in foretime were odious) beganne to wish in their beloued Prince, experience by trauaile: his deare mother (whose eyes were held open, onely with the ioy of looking vpon him) did now dispense with the comfort of her widowhead life, desiring the same her subiectes did, for the increase of her sonnes worthinesse. And hereto did Musidorus owne vertue (see how vertue can bee a minister to mischiefe) sufficiently prouoke him: for indeed thus much I must say for him, although the likenesse of our mishaps makes me presume to patterne my selfe vnto him) that well-doing was at that time his scope, from which no faint pleasure could with-hold him. But the present occasion which did knit al this together, was his vncle the king of Macedon; who hauing lately before gotten such victories, as were beyond expectation, did at this time send both for the Prince his sonne (brought vp together, to auoid the warres, with Musidorus) and for Musidorus himselfe, that his ioy might be the more full, hauing such partakers of it. But alas, to what a sea of miseries my plaintfull toong doth lead me; & thus out of breath, rather with that I thought, then that I said, I stayed my speech, til Pamela shewing by countenace that such was her pleasure, I thus continued it. These two young Princes to satisfie the king, tooke their way by sea, towards Thrace, whether they would needs go with a Nauie to succour him: he being at that time before Bizantium with a mighty Army beseeging it; wher at that time his court was. But whe the cospired heauens had gotten this Subiect of their wrath vpo so fit a place as the sea was, they streight began to breath out in boystrous winds some part of their malice against him; so that with the losse of al his Nauie, he only with the Prince his cosin, were cast a land, farre off from the place whether their desires would haue guided them. O cruell winds in your vnconsiderate rages, why either began you this furie, or why did you not end it in his end? But your cruelty was such, as you would spare his life for many deathfull tormets. To tell you what pittiful mishaps fel to the young Prince of Macedon his cose I should too much fill your eares with strange horrors; neither will I stay vpo those laborsome aduentures, nor loathsome misaduentures to which, and through which his fortune & courage coducted him; My speach hastneth it selfe to come to the fulpoint of Musidorus infortunes. For as wee find the most pestilent diseases do gather into themselues all the infirmities with which the body before was annoyed; so did his last misery embrace in the extremitie of it selfe all his former mischiefes.

Arcadia, Arcadia was the place prepared to be the stage of his endlesse ouer-throw. Arcadia was, (alas wel might I say it is) the charmed circle, wher all his spirits for euer should be enchauted. For here (& no where els) did his infected eyes make his mind know, what power heauenly beauty hath to throw it down to hellish agonies. Here, here did he see the Arcadian Kings eldest daughter in whom he forthwith placed so all his hopes of ioy, and ioyfull parts of his heart, that he left in himselfe nothing, but a maze of longing, and a dungeon of sorrow. But alas what can saying make them beleue, whom seeing cannot perswade? Those paines must be felt before they ca be vnderstood; no outward vtterance can command a conceipt. Such vvas as then the state of the King, as it vvas no time by direct meanes to seeke her. And such vvas the state of his captiued vvill, as he could delay no time of seeking her.

In this intangled case, he cloathed himselfe in a shepheards vveede, that vnder the basenesse of that forme, he might at lest haue free accesse to feed his eyes vvith that, vvhich should at length eate vp his hart. In vvhich doing, thus much vvithout doubt he hath manifested, that this estate is not alvvayes to be reiected, since vnder that vaile there may be hidden things to be esteemed. And if he might vvith taking on a shepherds looke cast vp his eyes to the fairest Princesse Nature in that time created; the like, nay the same desire of mine neede no more to be disdained, or held for disgracefull. But now alas mine eyes waxe dimme, my toong beginnes to falter, and my hart to want force to helpe, either with the feeling remembrance I haue, in what heape of miseries the caitife Prince lay at this time buried. Pardon therefore most excellent Princesse, if I cut off the course of my dolorous tale, since if I be vnderstood, I haue saide enough, for the defence of my basenesse; and for that which after might befal to that patterne of ill fortune, (the matters are too monstrous for my capacitie) his hatefull destinies must best declare their owne workemanship.

Thus hauing deliuered my tale in this perplexed manner, to the end the Princesse might iudge that hee ment himselfe, who spake so feelingly; her aunswere was both strange, and in some respect comfortable. For would you thinke it? shee hath heard heretofore of vs both, by meanes of the valiant Prince Plangus, and particularly of our casting away: which she (following my owne stile) thus delicately brought foorth. You haue told (said she) Dorus, a prettie tale; but you are much deceiued in the latter end of it. For the prince Musidorus with his cosen Pyrocles did both perish vpon the coast of Laconia; as a noble gentleman, called Plangus (who was well acquainted with the historie) did assure my father. O how that speach of hers did poure ioyes in my hart? ó blessed name (thought I) of mine, since thou hast bene in that toong, and passed through those lips, though I can neuer hope to approch them. As for Pyrocles (said I) I will not denie it, but that he is perished: (which I said, least sooner suspition might arise of your being here, then your selfe would haue it) and yet affirmed no lye vnto her, since I onely said, I would not deny it. But for Musidorus (said I) I perceiue indeed you haue either heard or read the story of that vnhappy Prince; for this was the verie obiection, which that peerelesse Princesse did make vnto him, when he sought to appeare such as he was before her wisdome: and thus as I haue read it faire written in the certaintie of my knowledge he might answere her, that indeed the ship wherein he came, by a treason was perished, and therefore that Plangus might easily be deceaued: but that he himselfe was cast vpon the coast of Laconia, where hee was taken vp by a couple of shepheardes, who liued in those dayes famous; for that both louing one faire maide, they yet remained constant frinds; one of whose songs not long since was song before you by the shepheard Lamon, and brought by them to a noble-mans house, neere Mantinea , whose sonne had a little before his mariage, bene taken prisoner, and by the helpe of this Prince, Musidorus (though naming himselfe by an other name) was deliuered. Now these circumlocutions I did vse, because of the one side I knewe the Princesse would knowe well the parties I ment; and of the other, if I should haue named Strephon, Claius, Kalander, and Clitophon, perhappes it would haue rubd some coniecture into the heauie heade of Mistresse Mopsa.

And therefore (said I) most diuine Lady, he iustly was thus to argue against such suspitions; that the Prince might easily by those parties be satisfied, that vpon that wrack such a one was taken vp: and therefore that Plangus might well erre, who knew not of anies taking vp againe that hee that was so preserued, brought good tokens to be one of the two, chiefe of that wracked companie: which two since Plangus knew to be Musidorus and Pyrocles, hee must needes bee one of them, although (as I saide) vpon a foretaken vowe, he was otherwise at that time called. Besides, the Princesse must needes iudge, that no lesse then a Prince durst vndertake such an enterprise, which (though he might gette the fauour of the Princesse) he could neuer defend with lesse then a Princes power, against the force of Arcadia. Lastly, (saide he) for a certaine demonstration, he presumed to shew vnto the Princesse a marke he had on his face, as I might (said I) shew this of my neck to the rare Mopsa: and withall, shewed my necke to them both, where (as you know) there is a redde spotte, bearing figure (as they tell me) of a Lyons pawe, that shee may ascertaine her selfe, that I am Menalcas brother. And so did he, beseeching her to send some one she might trust, into Thssalia, secretly to bee aduertised, whether the age, the complexion, and particularly that notable signe, did not fully agree with their Prince Musidorus. Doo you not know further (saide she, with a setled countenance, not accusing any kind of inward motion) of that storie. Alas no, (said I) for euen here the Historiographer stopped, saying, The rest belonged to Astrologie. And therewith, thinking her silent imaginations began to worke vpon somewhat, to mollifie them (as the nature of Musick is to do) and withall, to shew what kinde of shepheard I was, I took vp my Harpe, and sang these few verses.



My sheepe are thoughts, which I both guide and serue:
   Their pasture is faire hilles of fruitlesse Loue:
On barren sweetes they feede, and feeding sterue:
I waile their lotte, but will not other proue.
My sheepehooke is wanne hope, which all vpholdes:
My weedes, Desire, cut out in endlesse foldes.
   What woell my sheepe shall beare, whiles thus they liue,
   In you it is, you must the iudgement giue.

And then, partly to bring Mopsa againe to the matter (lest she should too much take heed to our discourses) but principally, if it were possible, to gather some comfort out of her answeares, I kneeled downe to the Princesse, and humblie besought her to moue Mopsa in my behalfe, that she would vnarme her noble hart of that steely resistance against the sweet blowes of Loue: that since all her parts were decked with some particular ornament; her face with beautie, her head with wisdome, her eyes with maiestie, her countenance with gracefulnes, her lippes with louelines, her tongue with victorie; that shee woulde make her hart the throne of pitie, being the most excellent rayment of the most excellent part.

Pamela, without shew either of fauour or disdaine, either of heeding or neglecting what I had said, turned her speech to Mopsa , and with such a voice and action, as might shewe shee spake of a matter which little did concerne her, Take heede to your selfe (saide shee) Mopsa, for your shepheard can speake well: but truely, if he doo fully proue himselfe such as he saith, I mean, the honest shepheard Menalchas his brother, and heire I knowe no reason why you shoulde thinke scorne of him. Mopsa though (in my conscience) shee were euen then farre spent towards me, yet she answered her, that for all my queint speeches, shee woulde keepe her honestie close inough: And that as for the way of matrimony, shee woulde steppe neuer a foote further, till my Maister her father had spoken the whole word him selfe, no shee woulde not. But euer and anon turning her muzzell toward me, shee threwe such a prospect vpon mee, as might well haue giuen a surfet to any weake louers stomacke. But Lord what a foole am I, to mingle that driuels speeches among my noble thoughts? but because shee was an Actor in this Tragedie, to geue you a full knowledge, and to leaue nothing (that I can remember) vnrepeated.

Now the Princesse being about to withdrawe her selfe from vs, I tooke a Iewell made in the figure of a Crab-fish, which, because it lookes one way and goes another, I thought it did fitly patterne out my looking to Mopsa, but bending to Pamela: The word about it was, By force, not choice; and still kneeling, besought the Princesse that she would vouchsafe to giue it Mopsa, and with the blessednes of her hande to make acceptable vnto her that toye which I had founde, followinge of late an acquaintaunce of mine at the plowe. For (said I) as the earth was turned vp, the plowe-share lighted vpon a great stone: we puld that vp, and so found both that, and some other prety thinges which we had deuided betwixt vs.

Mopsa was benummed with ioy when the Princesse gaue it her: but in the Princesse I could finde no apprehension of what I either said or did, but with a calme carelesnesse letting each thing slide, iustly as we doo by their speeches, (who neither in matter nor person doo any way belong vnto vs) which kinde of colde temper, mixt with that lightning of her naturall maiestie, is of all others most terrible vnto me: for yet if I found she contemned mee, I would desperatly labour both in fortune and vertue to ouercome it; if she onely misdoubted me, I were in heauen; for quickly I woulde bring sufficient assurance: lastly, if shee hated me, yet I shoulde know what passion to deale with; and either with infinitenes of desert I woulde take away the fewell from that fire; or if nothing would serue, then I vvould giue her my hart-bloud to quench it. But this cruell quietnes, neither retiring to mislike nor proceeding to fauour; gratious, but gratious still after one manner; all her courtesies hauing this engrauen in them, that what is done, is for vertues sake, not for the parties (euer keeping her course like the Sun, who neither for our prayses, nor curses, will spurre or stoppe his horses). This (I say) heauenlynes of hers. (for how so euer my miserie is I cannot but so entitle it) is so impossible to reach vnto, that I almost begin to submitte my selfe to the tyrannie of despaire, not knowing anyway of perswasion, where wisdome seemes to be vnsensible. I haue appeared to her eyes, like my selfe, by a deuice I vsed with my master, perswading him, that we two might put on certaine rich apparrel I had prouided, and so practise some thing on horsback before Pamela, telling him, it was apparel I had gotten for playing well the part of a King in a Tragedie at Athens: my horse indeed was it I had left at Menalcas house, and Dametas got one by friendship out of the Princes stable. But how soeuer I showe, I am no base bodie, all I doo is but to beate a rocke and get fome.

But as Dorus was about to tell further, Dametas (who came whistling, and counting vpo his fingers, how many loade of hay his seuenteen fat oxen eat vp in a yeare) desired Zelmane from the King that she would come into the lodge, where they stayed for her. Alas (saide Dorus, taking his leaue) the sum is this, that you may well finde you haue beaten your sorrow against such a wall, which with the force of rebound may well make your sorrow stronger. But Zelmane turning her speach to Dametas, I shall grow (saide shee) skilfull in country matters, if I haue often conference with your seruaunt. In sooth (answered Dametas with a gracelesse skorne) the Lad may proue well enough, if hee ouersoon thinke not too well of himselfe, and will beare away that hee heareth of his elders. And therewith as they walked to the other lodge, to make Zelmane find shee might haue spent her time better with him, he began with a wilde Methode to runne ouer all the art of husbandrie: especially imploying his tongue about well dunging of a fielde: while poore Zelmane yeelded her eares to those tedious strokes, not warding them so much as with any one answere, till they came to Basilius, and Gynecia, who attended for her in a coach to carrie her abroad to see some sportes prepared for her. Basilius, and Gynecia sitting in the one ende, placed her at the other, with her left side to Philoclea. Zelmane was moued in her minde, to haue kissed their feete for the fauour of so blessed a seate: for the narrownesse of the coach made them ioine from the foote to the shoulders very close together; the truer touch whereof though it were barred by their enuious apparell, yet as a perfect Magnes, though but in an iuorie boxe will thorow the boxe sende foorth his imbracing vertue to a beloued needle; so this imparadised neighbourhood made Zelmanes soule cleaue vnto her, both thorow the iuory case of her body, and the apparell which did ouer-clowd it. All the bloud of Zelmanes body stirring in her, as wine will do when suger is hastely put into it, seeking to sucke the sweetnes of the beloued guest; her hart, like a lion new imprisoned, seeing him that restraines his libertie, before the grate; not panting, but striuing violently (if it had bene possible) to haue leapt into the lappe of Philoclea. But Dametas, euen then proceeding from being maister of a carte, to bee doctor of a coach, not a little prowd in himselfe, that his whippe at that time guided the rule of Arcadia, draue the coach (the couer whereof was made with such ioints, that as they might (to auoid the weather) pull it vp close when they listed, so when they would they might put each ende downe, and remaine as discouered and open sighted as on horsebacke) till vpon the side of the forrest they had both greyhounds, spaniels, and hounds: whereof the first might seeme the Lordes, the second the Gentlemen, and the last the Yeomen of dogges; a cast of Merlins there was besides, which flying of a gallant height ouer certaine bushes, woulde beate the birdes (that rose) downe vnto the bushes, as Falcons will doo wilde-foule ouer a riuer. But the sporte which for that daie Basilius would principallie shewe to Zelmane, was the mountie at a Hearne, which getting vp on his wagling winges vvith paine, till he vvas come to some height, (as though the aire next to the earth vvere not fit for his great bodie to flie thorow) vvas now growen to diminish the sight of himselfe, and to giue example to great persons, that the higher they be, the lesse they should shovv: vvhen a Ierfaulcon vvas cast of after her, vvho streight spying vvhere the pray vvas, fixing her eie vvith desire, and guiding her vving by her eie, vsed no more strength then industry. For as a good builder to a hie tower vvill not make his stayre vpright, but vvinding almost the full compasse about, that the steepnes be the more vnsensible: so shee, seeing the tovvring of her pursued chase, vvent circkling, and compassing about, rising so vvith the lesse sence of rising; and yet finding that vvay scantly serue the greedines of her hast, as an ambitious bodie vvill go far out of the direct vvay, to vvin to a point of height vvhich he desires; so would shee (as it were) turne taile to the Heron, and flie quite out another way, but all was to returne in a higher pitch; which once gotten, she would either beate with cruell assaults the Heron, who now was driuen to the best defence of force, since flight would not serue; or els clasping with him, come downe together, to be parted by the ouer-partiall beholders.

Diuers of which flights Basilius shewing to Zelmane, thus was the richesse of the time spent, and the day deceassed before it was thought of, till night like a degenerating successour made his departure the better remembred. And therefore (so constrained) they willed Dametas to driue homeward, who (halfe sleeping, halfe musing about the mending of a wine-presse) guided the horses so ill, that the wheele comming ouer a great stub of a tree, it ouerturned the coach. Which though it fell violently vpon the side where Zelmane and Gynecia sat, yet for Zelmanes part, she would haue bene glad of the fall, which made her beare the sweete burthen of Philoclea, but that shee feared shee might receaue some hurt. But indeede neither shee did, nor any of the rest, by reason they kept their armes and legs within the coach, sauing Gynecia, who with the onely bruze of the fall had her shoulder put out of ioinct; which though by one of the Faulkeners cunning, it was set well againe, yet with much paine was she brought to the lodge; and paine (fetching his ordinary companion, a feuer with him draue her to entertaine them both in her bedde.

But neither was the feuer of such impatient heate, as the inwarde plague-sore of her affection, nor the paine halfe so noysome, as the iealousie shee conceaued of her daughter Philoclea, lest this time of her sicknesse might giue apt occasion to Zelmane, whom shee misdoubted. Therefore she called Philoclea to her, and though it were late in the night, commauded her in her eare to go to the other lodge, and send Miso to her, with whom she would speak, and shee lie with her sister Pamela. The meane while Gynecia kept Zelmane with her, because she would be sure, she should be out of the lodge, before she licenced Zelmane. Philoclea not skild in any thing better then obedience, went quietly downe; and the Moone then full (not thinking skorne to be a torch-bearer to such beautie) guided her steppes, whose motions beare a mind which bare in it selfe farre more stirring motions. And alas (sweete Philoclea) how hath my penne til now forgot thy passions, since to thy memorie principally all this long matter is intended? pardon the slacknes to come to those woes, which hauing caused in others, thou didst feele in thy selfe.

The sweete minded Philoclea was in their degree of wel doing, to whom the not knowing of euill serueth for a ground of vertue, and hold their inward powers in better forme with an vnspotted simplicitie, then many, who rather cunningly seeke to know what goodnes is, then willingly take into themselues the following of it. But as that sweet and simple breath of heauenly goodnesse, is the easier to bee altered, because it hath not passed through the worldlie wickednesse, nor feelingly found the euill, that euill caries with it; so now the Ladie Philoclea (whose eyes and senses had receaued nothing, but according as the naturall course of each thing required; whose tender youth had obediently liued vnder her parents behests, without framing out of her owne will the fore-chosing of any thing) when now shee came to appoint, wherein her iudgement was to be practized, in knowing faultines by his first tokens, she was like a yong faune, who comming in the wind of the hunters, doth not know whether it be a thing or no to bee eschewed; whereof at this time she began to get a costly experience. For after that Zelmane had a while liued in the lodge with her, and that her onely being a noble straunger had bred a kind of heedfull attention; her comming to that lonely place (where she had no body but her parents) a willingnes of conuersation; her wit & behauiour, a liking and silent admiration; at length the excellency of her naturall gifts, ioined with the extreme shewes she made of most deuout honouring Philoclea, (carying thus in one person the only two bands of good will, louelines and louingnes) brought forth in her hart a yeelding to a most friendly affection; which when it had gotten so full possession of the keies of her mind, that it would receaue no message from her senses, without that affection were the interpreter; then streight grew an exceeding delight still to be with her, with an vnmeasurable liking of all that Zelmane did: matters being so turned in her, that where at first, liking her manners did breed good-will, now good-will became the chiefe cause of liking her manners: so that within a while Zelmane was not prized for her demeanure, but the demeanure was prized because it was Zelmanes. Then followed that most naturall effect of conforming ones selfe to that, which she did like, and not onely wishing to be her selfe such an other in all things, but to ground an imitation vpon so much an esteemed authoritie: so that the next degree was to marke all Zelmanes dooings, speeches, and fashions, and to take them into her selfe, as a patterne of worthie proceeding. Which when once it was enacted, not onely by the comminaltie of Passions, but agreed vnto by her most noble Thoughts, and that by Reason it selfe (not yet experienced in the issues of such matters) had granted his royall assent; then Friendship (a diligent officer) tooke care to see the statute thorowly obserued. Then grew on that not onely she did imitate the sobernes of her countenance, the gracefulnesse of her speech, but euen their particular gestures: so that as Zelmane did often eye her, she would often eye Zelmane; and as Zelmanes eyes would deliuer a submissiue, but vehement desire in their looke, she, though as yet she had not the desire in her, yet should her eyes answere in like pearcing kindnesse of a looke. Zelmane as much as Gynecias iealousie would suffer, desired to be neere Philoclea; Philoclea, as much as Gynecias iealousie would suffer, desired to be neere Zelmane . If Zelmane tooke her hand, and softly strained it, she also (thinking the knots of friendship ought to be mutuall) would (with a sweete fastnes) shew she was loth to part from it. And if Zelmane sighed, she would sigh also; when Zelmane was sad, she deemed it wisdome, and therefore she would be sad too. Zelmanes languishing countenance with crost armes, and sometimes cast-vp eyes, she thought to haue an excellent grace: and therefore she also willingly put on the same countenance: till at the last (poore soule, ere she were aware) she accepted not onely the badge, but the seruice; not only the signe, but the passion signified. For whether it were, that her wit in continuance did finde, that Zelmanes friendship was full of impatient desire, hauing more then ordinarie limits, and therfore she was content to second Zelmane, though her selfe knew not the limits; or that in truth, true-loue (well considered) haue an infectiue power. At last she fell in acquaintance with loues harbinger, wishing. First she would wish, that they two might liue all their liues together, like two of Dianas Nimphes. But that wish, she thought not sufficient, because she knew, there would be more Nimphes besides them, who also would haue their part in Zelmane. Then would she wish, that she were her sister, that such a naturall band might make her more speciall to her. But against that, she considered, that though being her sister, if she happened to be married, she should be robbed of her. Then growne bolder, she would wish either her selfe, or Zelmane a man, that there might succeed a blessed marriage betwixt them. But when that wish had once displaied his ensigne in her minde, then followed whole squadrons of longings, that so it might be, with a maine battaile of mislikings, and repynings against their creation, that so it was not. Then dreames by night began to bring more vnto her, then she durst wish by day, where-out making did make her know her selfe the better by the image of those fancies. But as some diseases when they are easie to be cured, they are hard to be knowne, but when they grow easie to be knowne, they are almost impossible to be cured: so the sweete Philoclea, while she might preuent it, she did not feele it, now she felt it, when it was past preuenting; like a riuer, no rampiers being built against it, till alreadie it haue ouerflowed. For now indeed, Loue puld off his maske, and shewed his face vnto her, and told her plainly, that shee was his prisoner. Then needed she no more paint her face with passions; for passions shone thorow her face; Then her rosie coulor was often encreased with extraordinarie blushing: and so another time, perfect whitnesse descended to a degree of palenesse; now hot, then cold, desiring she knewe not what, nor how, if she knew what. Then her minde (though too late) by the smart was brought to thinke of the disease, and her owne proofe taught her to know her mothers minde; which (as no error giues so strong assault, as that which comes armed in the authoritie of a parent) so greatly fortified her desires, to see, that her mother had the like desires. And the more iealous her mother was, the more she thought the Iewell precious, which was with so many lookes garded. But that preuailing so farre, as to keepe the two louers from priuate conference, then began she to feele the sweetnesse of a louers solitarinesse, when freely with words and gestures, as if Zelmane were present, shee might giue passage to her thoughts, and so as it were vtter out some smoke of those flames, wherewith else she was not only burned, but smothered. As this night, that going from the one lodge to the other by her mothers commandement, with dolefull gestures and vncertaine paces, shee did willingly accept the times offer, to be a while alone: so that going a little aside into the wood; where manie times before she had delighted to walke, her eyes were saluted with a tuft of trees, so close set together, as with the shade the moone gaue thorow it, it might breede a fearefull kinde of deuotion to looke vpon it. But true thoughts of loue banished all vaine fancie of superstition. Full well she did both remember and like the place; for there had she often with their shade beguiled Phoebus of looking vpon her: There had she enioyed her selfe often, while she was mistresse of her selfe, and had no other thoughts, but such as might arise out of quiet senses.

But the principall cause that inuited her remembrance, was a goodly white marble stone, that should seeme had bene dedicated in ancient time to the Siluan gods: which she finding there a fewe dayes before Zelmanes comming, had written these words vpon it, as a testimonie of her mind, against the suspition her captiuitie made her thinke she liued in. The writing was this.


You liuing powres enclosed in stately shrine
   Of growing trees: you rurall Gods that wield
Your scepters here, if to your eares diuine
A voice may come, which troubled soule doth yeld:
   This vowe receaue, this vowe ô Gods maintaine;
   My virgin life no spotted thought shall staine.    Thou purest stone, whose purenesse doth present
My purest minde; whose temper hard doth showe
My tempred hart; by thee my promise sent
Vnto my selfe let after-liuers know.
   No fancy mine, nor others wrong suspect
   Make me, ô vertuous Shame, thy lawes neglect.    O Chastitie, the chiefe of heauenly lightes,
Which makst vs most immortall shape to weare,
Holde thou my hart, establish thou my sprights:
To onely thee my constant course I beare.
   Till spotlesse soule vnto thy bosome flye,
   Such life to leade, such death I vow to dye.

But now that her memorie serued as an accuser of her change, and that her own hand-writing was there, to beare testimony against her fall; she went in among those few trees, so closed in the toppes together, as they might seeme a little chappell: and there might she by the help of the moone-light perceiue the goodly stone, which serued as an altar in that wooddie deuotion. But neither the light was enough to reade the words, and the inke was alreadie foreworne, and in many places blotted: which as she perceaued, Alas (said she) faire Marble, which neuer receiuedst spot but by my writing, well do these blots become a blotted writer. But pardon her which did not dissemble then, although she haue chaunged since. Enioy, enioy the glorie of thy nature, which can so constantly beare the markes of my inconstancie. And herewith hiding her eyes with her soft hand, there came into her head certaine verses, which if she had had present commoditie, she would haue adioyned as a retractation to the other. They were to this effect.


My words, in hope to blaze my stedfast minde,
   This marble chose, as of like temper knowne:
But loe, my words defaste, my fancies blinde,
Blots to the stone, shames to my selfe I finde:
   And witnesse am, how ill agree in one,
   A womans hand with constant marble stone.    My words full weake, the marble full of might;
My words in store, the marble all alone;
My words blacke inke, the marble kindly white;
My words vnseene, the marble still in sight,
   May witnesse beare, how ill agree in one,
   A womans hand, with constant marble stone.

But seeing she could not see meanes to ioyne as then this recantation to the former vowe, (laying all her faire length vnder one of the trees) for a while she did nothing but turne vp and downe, as if she had hoped to turne away the fancie that mastred her, and hid her face, as if she could haue hidden herselfe from her owne fancies. At length with a whispring note to her selfe; O me vnfortunate wretch (said she) what poysonous heates be these, which thus torment me? How hath the sight of this strange guest inuaded my soule? Alas, what entrance found this desire, or what strength had it thus to conquer me? Then, a cloud passing betweene her sight and the moone, O Diana (said she) I would either the cloud that now hides the light of my vertue would as easily passe away, as you will quickly ouercome this let; or els that you were for euer thus darkned, to serue for an excuse of my outragious folly. Then looking to the starres, which had perfitly as then beautified the cleere skie: My parents (said she) haue told me, that in these faire heauenly bodies, there are great hidden deities, which haue their working in the ebbing and flowing of our estates. If it be so, then (O you Stars) iudge rightly of me, and if I haue with wicked intent made my selfe a pray to fancie, or if by any idle lustes I framed my hart fit for such an impression, then let this plague dayly encrease in me, till my name be made odious to womankind. But if extreame and vnresistable violence haue oppressed me, who will euer do any of you sacrifice (ô you Starres) if you do not succour me. No, no, you will not help me. No, no, you can not help me: Sinne must be the mother, and shame the daughter of my affection. And yet are these but childish obiections (simple Philoclea) it is the impossibilitie that dooth torment me: for, vnlawfull desires are punished after the effect of enioying; but vnpossible desires are punished in the desire it selfe. O then, ô tenne times vnhappie that I am, since where in all other hope kindleth loue; in me despaire should be the bellowes of my affection: and of all despaires the most miserable, which is drawen from impossibilitie. The most couetous man longs not to get riches out of a ground which neuer can beare any thing; Why? because it is impossible. The most ambitious wight vexeth not his wits to clime into heauen; Why? because it is impossible. Alas then, ô Loue, why doost thou in thy beautifull sampler set such a worke for my Desire to take out, which is as much impossible? And yet alas, why doo I thus condemne my Fortune, before I heare what she can say for her selfe? What doo I, sillie wench, knowe what Loue hath prepared for mee? Doo I not see my mother, as well, at lest as furiouslie as my selfe, loue Zelmane? And should I be wiser then my mother? Either she sees a possibilitie in that which I thinke impossible, or els impossible loues neede not misbecome me. And doo I not see Zelmane (who doth not thinke a thought which is not first wayed by wisdome and vertue) doth not she vouchsafe to loue me with like ardour? I see it, her eyes depose it to be true; what then? and if she can loue poore me, shall I thinke scorne to loue such a woman as Zelmane? Away then all vaine examinations of why and how. Thou louest me, excellent Zelmane, and I loue thee: and with that, embrasing the very ground whereon she lay, she said to her selfe (for euen to her selfe she was ashamed to speake it out in words) O my Zelmane, gouerne and direct me: for I am wholy giuen ouer vnto thee.

In this depth of muzes, and diuers sorts of discourses, would she rauingly haue remained, but that Dametas and Miso (who were round about to seeke her, vnderstanding she was to come to their lodge that night) came hard by her; Dametas saying, That he would not deale in other bodies matters; but for his part, he did not like that maides should once stirre out of their fathers houses, but if it were to milke a cow, or saue a chicken from a kites foot, or some such other matter of importance. And Miso swearing that if it were her daughter Mopsa, she would giue her a lesson for walking so late, that should make her keepe within dores for one fortnight. But their iangling made Philoclea rise, and pretending as though she had done it but to sport with them, went with them (after she had willed Miso to waite vpon her mother) to the lodge; where (being now accustomed by her parents discipline, as well as her sister, to serue her selfe) she went alone vp to Pamelas chamber: where meaning to delight her eies, and ioy her thoughts with the sweet conuersation of her beloued sister, she found her (though it were in the time that the wings of night doth blow sleep most willingly into mortall creatures) sitting in a chaire, lying backward, with her head almost ouer the back of it, and looking vpon a wax-candle which burnt before her; in one hand holding a letter, in the other her hand-kerchiefe, which had lately dronke vp the teares of her eyes, leauing in steed of them, crimsen circles, like redde flakes in the element, when the weather is hottest. Which Philoclea finding (for her eyes had learned to know the badges of sorow) she earnestlie intreated to know the cause thereof, that either she might comfort, or accompanie her dolefull humor. But Pamela, rather seeming sorie that she had perceiued so much, then willing to open any further, O my Pamela (said Philoclea) who are to me a sister in nature, a mother in counsell, a Princesse by the law of our countrey, and which name (me thinke) of all other is the dearest, a friend by my choice and your fauour, what meanes this banishing me from your counsels? Do you loue your sorrowe so well, as to grudge me part of it? Or doo you thinke I shall not loue a sad Pamela, so well as a ioyfull? Or be my eares vnworthie, or my tongue suspected? What is it (my sister) that you should conceale from your sister, yea and seruant Philoclea? These words wanne no further of Pamela, but that telling her they might talke better as they lay together; they impouerished their cloathes to inrich their bed, which for that night might well scorne the shrine of Venus: and there cherishing one another with deare, though chaste embracements; with sweet, though cold kisses; it might seeme that Loue was come to play him there without darte; or that weerie of his owne fires, he was there to refresh himselfe betweene their sweete-breathing lippes. But Philoclea earnestly againe intreated Pamela to open her griefe; who (drawing the curtaine, that the candle might not complaine of her blushing) was ready to speake: but the breath almost formed into words, was againe stopt by her, and turned into sighes. But at last, I pray you (said she) sweete Philoclea, let vs talke of some other thing: and tell me whether you did euer see any thing so amended as our Pastorall sports be, since that Dorus came hether? O Loue, how farre thou seest with blind eyes? Philoclea had straight found her, and therefore to draw out more, In deed (said she) I haue often wondred to my selfe how such excellencies could be in so meane a person; but belike Fortune was afraide to lay her treasures, where they should be staind with so many perfections: onely I maruaile how he can frame himselfe to hide so rare giftes vnder such a block as Dametas. Ah (said Pamela) if you knew the cause: but no more doo I neither; and to say the trueth: but Lord, how are we falne to talke of this fellow? and yet indeed if you were sometimes with me to marke him, while Dametas reades his rusticke lecture vnto him (how to feede his beastes before noone, where to shade them in the extreame heate, how to make the manger hansome for his oxen, when to vse the goade, and when the voice: giuing him rules of a heardman, though he pretend to make him a shepheard) to see all the while with what a grace (which seemes to set a crowne vpon his base estate) he can descend to those poore matters, certainly you would: but to what serues this? no doubt we were better sleepe then talke of these idle matters. Ah my Pamela (said Philoclea) I haue caught you, the constancy of your wit was not wont to bring forth such disiointed speeches: you loue, dissemble no further. It is true (said Pamela) now you haue it; and with lesse adoo should, if my hart could haue thought those words suteable for my mouth. But indeed (my Philoclea) take heed: for I thinke Vertue it selfe is no armour of proofe against affection. Therefore learne by my example. Alas thought Philoclea to her selfe, your sheares come too late to clip the birds wings that already is flowne away. But then Pamela being once set in the streame of her loue, went away amaine withall, telling her how his noble qualities had drawne her liking towardes him; but yet euer waying his meanenes, and so held continually in due limits; till seeking many meanes to speake with her, and euer kept from it (as well because she shund it, seing and disdaining his mind, as because of her iealous iaylours) he had at length vsed the finest pollicie that might be in counterfaiting loue to Mopsa, and saying to Mopsa what soeuer he would haue her know: and in how passionate manner he had told his owne tale in a third person, making poore Mopsa beleeue, that it was a matter fallen out many ages before. And in the end, because you shall know my teares come not, neither of repentance nor misery, who thinke you, is my Dorus fallen out to be? euen the Prince Musidorus , famous ouer all Asia, for his heroicall enterprises, of whom you remember how much good the straunger Plangus told my father; he not being drowned (as Plangus thought) though his cousin Pyrocles indeed perished. Ah my sister, if you had heard his words, or seene his gestures, when he made me know what, and to whom his loue was, you would haue matched in your selfe (those two rarely matched together) pittie and delight. Tell me dear sister (for the Gods are my witnesses I desire to do vertuously) can I without the detestable staine of vngratefulnesse abstaine from louing him, who (far exceeding the beautifulnesse of his shape with the beautifulnesse of his minde, and the greatnesse of his estate with the greatnesse of his actes) is content so to abase him selfe, as to become Dametas seruaunt for my sake? you will say, but how know I him to be Musidorus, since the handmaid of wisdome is slow beliefe? That consideration did not want in me: for the nature of desire it selfe is no easier to receiue beliefe, then it is hard to ground beliefe. For as desire is glad to embrace the first shew of comfort, so is desire desirous of perfect assurance: and that haue I had of him, not onely by necessary arguments to any of common sense, but by sufficient demonstrations. Lastly he would haue me send to Thessalia: but truly I am not as now in mind to do my honorable Loue so much wrong, as so far to suspect him: yet poore soule knowes he no other, but that I doo both suspect, neglect, yea and detest him. For euery day he finds one way or other to set forth himselfe vnto me, but all are rewarded with like coldnesse of acceptation.

A few daies since, he and Dametas had furnished themselues very richly to run at the ring before me. O how mad a sight it was to see Dametas, like rich Tissew furd with lambe-skins? But ô how well it did with Dorus, to see with what a grace hee presented himselfe before me on horseback, making maiestie wait vpon humblenes? how at the first, standing still with his eies bent vpon me, as though his motions were chained to my looke, he so staid till I caused Mopsa bid him do something vpo his horse: which no sooner said, but (with a kinde rather of quick gesture, then shew of violence) you might see him come towards me, beating the ground in so due time, as no dancer can obserue better measure. If you remember the ship we saw once, when the Sea went hie vpon the coast of Argos; so went the beast: But he (as if Centaurlike he had bene one peece with the horse) was no more moued, then one is with the going of his owne legs: and in effect so did he command him, as his owne limmes: for though he had both spurres and wand, they seemed rather markes of soueraintie, then instruments of punishment; his hande and legge (with most pleasing grace) commanding without threatning, and rather remembring the chastising, at lest if sometimes he did, it was so stollen, as neither our eies could discerne it, nor the horse with any change did complaine of it: he euer going so iust with the horse, either foorth right, or turning, that it seemed as he borrowed the horses body, so he lent the horse his minde: in the turning one might perceiue the bridle-hande something gently stirre, but indeede so gently, as it did rather distill vertue, then vse violence. Him selfe (which mee thinkes is straunge) shewing at one instant both steadines and nimblenes; sometimes making him turne close to the grounde, like a cat, when scratchingly she wheeles about after a mouse: somtimes with a little more rising before, now like a Rauen leaping from ridge to ridge, then like one of Dametas kiddes bounde ouer the hillockes: and all so done, as neither the lusty kinde shewed any roughnesse, nor the easier any idlenesse: but still like a well obeyed maister, whose becke is enough for a discipline, euer concluding each thing hee did with his face to me-wardes, as if thence came not onely the beginning, but ending of his motions. The sport was to se Dametas, how he was tost from the saddle to the mane of the horse, and thence to the grounde, giuing his gay apparell almost as foule an outside, as it had an inside. But as before hee had euer saide, he wanted but horse and apparell to be as braue a courtier as the best, so now brused with proofe, he proclaimed it a folly for a man of wisedome, to put himselfe vnder the tuition of a beast; so as Dorus was faine alone to take the Ringe. Wherein truely at lest my womanishe eies could not discerne, but that taking his staffe from his thigh, the descending it a little downe, the getting of it vp into the rest, the letting of the pointe fall, and taking the Ring was but all one motion, at lest (if they were diuers motions) they did so stealinglie slippe one into another, as the latter parte was euer in hande, before the eie coulde discerne the former was ended. Indeede Dametas found fault that he shewed no more strength in shaking of his staffe: but to my conceite the fine cleenes of bearing it was exceeding delightfull.

But how delightfull soeuer it was, my delight might well be in my soule, but it neuer went to looke out of the window to doo him any comfort. But how much more I founde reason to like him, the more I set all the strength of minde to suppresse it, or at lest to conceale it. Indeed I must confesse, that as some Phisitions haue tolde me, that when one is colde outwardly, he is not inwardly; so truely the colde ashes laid vpon my fire, did not take the nature of fire fro it. Ful often hath my brest swollen with keeping my sighes imprisoned; full often haue the teares, I draue backe from mine eies, turned backe to drown my hart. But alas what did that helpe poore Dorus? whose eies (being his diligent intelligencers) could carrie vnto him no other newes, but discofortable. I thinke no day past, but by some one inuention he would appeare vnto me to testifie his loue. One time he daunced the Matachine daunce in armour (O with what a gracefull dexterity?) I thinke to make me see, that he had bin brought vp in such exercises: an other time he perswaded his maister (to make my time seeme shorter) in manner of a Dialogue, to play Priamus while he plaide Paris. Think (swet Philoclea) what a Priamus we had: but truly, my Paris was a Paris, & more the a Paris: who while in a sauage apparell, with naked necke, armes, & legs, he made loue to Oenone, you might wel see by his chaunged countenaunce, and true teares, that he felte the parte he playde. Tell mee (sweete Philoclea,) did you euer see such a shephearde? tell mee, did you euer heare of such a Prince? And then tell me, if a small or vnworthy assaulte haue conquered mee. Truely I woulde hate my life, if I thought vanity led me. But since my parentes deale so cruelly with mee, it is time for me to trust something to my owne iudgement. Yet hetherto haue my lookes beene as I told you, which continuing after many of these his fruiteles trials, haue wrought such change in him, as I tel you true (with that word she laid her had vpon her quaking side) I do not a little feare him. See what a letter this is (then drew she the curtaine and tooke the letter from vnder the pillowe) which to day (with an afflicted humblenes) he deliuered me, pretending before Mopsa, that I should read it vnto her, to mollifie (forsooth) her iron stomacke; with that she read the letter containing thus much.

Most blessed paper, which shalt kisse that had, where to all blessednes is in nature a seruant, do not yet disdaine to cary with thee the woful words of a miser now despairing: neither be afraide to appeare before her, bearing the base title of the sender. For no sooner shall that diuine hande touch thee, but that thy basenesse shall be turned to moste hie preferment. Therefore mourne boldly my Inke; for while she lookes vppon you, your blackenes will shine: cry out boldly my Lamentation; for while she reads you, your cries will be musicke. Say then (O happie messenger of a most vnhappy message) that the too soone borne, and too late dying creature, which dares not speake, no not looke, no not scarcely thinke (as from his miserable selfe, vnto her heauenly highnesse) onely presumes to desire thee (in the time that her eies and voice doe exalt thee) to say, and in this manner to say, not from him, O no, that were not fitte, but of him. Thus much vnto her sacred iudgement: O you, the onely honour to women, to men the onelie admiration, you that being armed by Loue, defie him that armed you, in this high estate wherein you haue placed mee, yet let me remember him to whom I am bound for bringing me to your presence; and let me remember him, who (since he is yours, how mean so euer he be) it is reason you haue an accout of him. The wretch (yet your wretch) though with languishing steppes runnes fast to his graue, and will you suffer a temple (how poorely-built soeuer, but yet a temple of your deitie) to be rased? But he dieth: it is most true, he dieth; and he in whom you liue, to obey you, dieth. Wherof though he plaine, he doth not complaine: for it is a harme, but no wrong, which he hath receiued. He dies, because in wofull language all his senses tell him, that such is your pleasure: for since you will not that he liue, alas, alas, what followeth, what followeth of the most ruined Dorus, but his ende? Ende then, euill destinied Dorus, ende; and ende thou wofull letter, end; for it sufficeth her wisedom to know, that her heauenlie will shalbe accomplished.

O my Philoclea, is hee a person to write these wordes? and are these words lightly to bee regarded? But if you had seene, when with trembling hande hee had deliuered it, how hee went away, as if he had beene but the coffin that carried himselfe to his sepulcher. Two times I must confesse I was about to take curtesie into mine eies; but both times the former resolution stopte the entrie of it: so that hee departed without obtaining any further kindenesse. But he was no sooner out of the doore, but that I looked to the doore kindely; and truely the feare of him euer since hath put me into such perplexitie, as now you found me. Ah my Pamela (saide Philoclea) leaue sorrow. The riuer of your teares will soone loose his fountaine; it is in your hand as well to stich vp his life againe, as it was before to rent it. And so (though with selfe-grieued mind) she comforted her sister, till sleepe came to bath himselfe in Pamelaes faire weeping eyes.

Which when Philoclea found, wringing her hands, O me (said she) indeede the onely subiect of the destinies displeasure, whose greatest fortunatenes is more vnfortunate, then my sisters greatest vnfortunatenesse. Alas shee weepes because shee would be no sooner happy; I weepe because I can neuer be happie; her teares flow form pittie; mine from being too farre lower then the reach of pittie. Yet doo I not enuie thee, deare Pamela, I do not enuy thee: only I could wish that being thy sister in nature, I were not so farre off a kin in fortune.

But the darkenesse of sorrow ouershadowing her mind, as the night did her eyes, they were both content to hide themselues vnder the wings of sleepe, till the next morning had almost lost his name, before the two sweet sleeping sisters awaked fro dreames which flattered them with more cofort, then their waking could, or would consent vnto. For then they were called vp by Miso; who hauing bene with Gynecia, had receiued commaundement to be continually with her daughters, and particularly not to let Zelmane and Philoclea haue any priuate conferece, but that she should be present to heare what passed. Miso hauing now her authoritie encreased, But cae with skowling eyes to deliuer a slauering good morrow to the two Ladies, telling them, it was a shame for them to marre their complexions, yea and conditions to, with long lying a bedde: and that, when shee was of their age, shee trowed, shee would haue made a handkerchiefe by that time a day. The two sweete Princes with a smilinge silence answered her entertainement, and obeiyng her direction, couered their daintie beauties with the glad clothes. But as soone as Pamela was readie (and sooner she was then her sister) the agony of Dorus giuing a fit to her selfe, which the words of his letter (liuely imprinted in her minde) still remembred her of, she called to Mopsa, and willed her to fetch Dorus to speake with her: because (she said) shee woulde take further iudgement of him, before shee woulde moue Dametas to graunt her in mariage vnto him. Mopsa (as glad as of sweet meate to goe of such an arrant) quickly returned with Dorus to Pamela, who entended both by speaking with him to giue some comfort to his passionate harte, and withall to heare some parte of his life past; which although fame had alreadie deliuered vnto her, yet she desired in more particular certainties to haue it from so beloued an historian. Yet the sweetnesse of vertues disposition iealous, euen ouer it selfe, suffred her not to enter abruptlie into questions of Musidorus (whom shee was halfe ashamed she did loue so well, and more then halfe sorie she could loue no better) but thought best first to make her talke arise of Pyrocles, & his vertuous father: which thus she did.

Dorus (said she) you told me the last day, that Plangus was deceaued in that he affirmed the Prince Musidorus was drowned: but withall, you confessed his cosen Pyrocles perished; of whom certainly in that age there was a great losse, since (as I haue heard) he was a young Prince, of whom all men expected as much, as mans power could bring forth, and yet vertue promised for him, their expectation should not be deceaued. Most excellent Ladie (said Dorus ) no expectation in others, not hope in himselfe could aspire to a higher mark, then to bee thought worthy to be praised by your iudgement, and made worthy to be praised by your mouth. But most sure it is, that as his fame could by no means get so sweet & noble an aire to flie in, as in your breath, so coulde not you (leauing your selfe aside) finde in the worlde a fitter subiect of commendation; as noble, as a long succession of roiall ancestors, famous, and famous for victories could make him: of shape most louely, and yet of minde more louely; valiaunt, curteous, wise, what should I say more? sweete Pyrocles, excellent Pyrocles, what can my words but wrong thy perfections, which I would to God in some small measure thou hadst bequeathed to him that euer must haue thy vertues in admiration; that masked at least in them, I might haue founde some more gratious acceptation? with that hee imprisoned his looke for a while vppon Mopsa, who thereuppon fell into a very wide smiling. Truely (saide Pamela) Dorus I like well your minde, that can raise it selfe out of so base a fortune, as yours is, to thinke of the imitating so excellent a Prince, as Pyrocles was. Who shootes at the midde-day Sunne, though he bee sure he shall neuer hit the marke; yet as sure hee is, he shall shoote higher, then who aimes but at a bushe. But I pray you Dorus (saide shee) tell me (since I perceiue you are well acquainted with that storie) what Prince was that Euarchus father to Pyrocles, of whom so much fame goes, for his rightly roiall vertues, or by what waies he got that opinion. And then so descend to the causes of his sending first away from him, and then to him for that excellent sonne of his, with the discourse of his life and losse: and therein you may (if you list) say something of that same Musidorus his cosen, because, they going together, the storie of Pyrocles (which I onely desire) may be the better vnderstood.

Incomparable Lady (said he) your commaundement doth not onely giue mee the wil, but the power to obey you, such influence hath your excellencie. And first, for that famous King Euarchus, he was (at this time you speake off) King of Macedon, a kingdom, which in elder time had such a soueraintie ouer all the prouinces of Greece, that euen the particular kings therein did acknowledge (with more or lesse degrees of homage) some kinde of fealtie thereunto: as among the rest, euen this now most noble (and by you ennobled) kingdome of Arcadia. But he, when hee came to his crowne, finding by his latter ancestors either negligence, or misfortune, that in some ages many of those dueties had beene intermitted, woulde neuer stirre vp olde titles (how apparant soeuer) whereby the publike peace (with the losse of manie not guiltie soules) shoulde be broken; but contenting himselfe to guide that shippe, wherin the heauens had placed him, shewed no lesse magnanimitie in daungerlesse despising, then others in daungerous affecting the multiplying of kingdomes: for the earth hath since borne enow bleeding witnesses, that it was no want of true courage. Who as he was most wise to see what was best, and moste iust in the perfourming what he saw, and temperate in abstaining from any thing any way contrarie: so thinke I, no thought can imagine a greater heart to see and contemne daunger, where daunger would offer to make anie wrongfull threatning vppon him. A Prince, that indeede especiallie measured his greatnesse by his goodnes: & if for any thing he loued greatnes, it was, because therein he might exercise his goodnes. A Prince of a goodly aspect, and the more goodly by a graue maiestie, wherewith his mind did decke his outward graces; strong of bodie, and so much the stronger, as he by a well disciplined exercise taught it both to do, and suffer. Of age, so as he was about fifty yeares when his Nephew Musidorus tooke on such shepheardish apparell for the loue of the worlds paragon, as I now weare.

This King left Orphan both of father & mother, (whose father and grandfather likewise had died yong) he found his estate, when he came to the age (which allowed his authoritie) so disioynted euen in the noblest & strongest lims of gouernment, that the name of a King was growne euen odious to the people, his authorytie hauing bin abused by those great Lords, and litle kings: who in those betweene times of raigning (by vniust fauouring those that were partially theirs, and oppressing them that would defende their libertie against them had brought in (by a more felt then seene maner of proceeding) the worst kind of Oligarchie; that is when men are gouerned in deede by a fewe, and yet are not taught to know what those fewe, be, to whom they should obey.

For they hauing the power of kings, but not the nature of kings, vsed the authority as men do their farms, of which they see within a yeere they shal go out: making the Kinges sworde strike whom they hated, the Kings purse reward whom they loued: and (which is worst of all) making the Royall countenaunce serue to vndermine the Royall souerainty. For the Subiectes could taste no sweeter fruites of hauing a King, then grieuous taxations to serue vaine purposes; Lawes made rather to finde faultes, then to preuent faults: the Court of a Prince rather deemed as a priuiledged place of vnbrideled licentiousnes, then as the abiding of him, who as a father, should giue a fatherly example vnto his people. Hence grew a very dissolution of all estates, while the great men (by the nature of ambition neuer satisfied) grew factious among themselues: and the vnderlinges, glad in deede to be vnderlinges to them they hated lest, to preserue them from such they hated most. Men of vertue suppressed, lest their shining shuld discouer the others filthines; and at legth vertue it selfe almost forgotten, when it had no hopefull end whereunto to be directed; olde men long nusled in corruption, scorning them that would seeke reformation; young men very fault-finding, but very faultie: and so to new fanglenesse both of manners, apparell, and each thing els, by the custome of selfe-guiltie euill, glad to change though oft for a worse; marchaundise abused, and so townes decaied for want of iust and naturall libertie; offices, euen of iudging soules, solde; publique defences neglected; and in summe, (lest too long I trouble you) all awrie, and (which wried it to the most wrie course of all) witte abused, rather to faine reason why it should be amisse, then how it should be amended.

In this, and a much worse plight then it is fitte to trouble your excellent eares withall, did the King Euarchus finde his estate, when he tooke vppon him the regiment: which by reason of the long streame of abuse, he was forced to establish by some euen extreme seuerity, not so much for the very faultes themselues, (which hee rather sought to preuent then to punishe) as for the faultie ones; who strong, euen in their faultes, scorned his youth, and coulde not learne to disgest, that the man which they so long had vsed to maske their owne appetites, shoulde now be the reducer of them into order. But so soone as some fewe (but in deede notable) examples, had thundered a duety into the subiectes hearts, hee soone shewed, no basenes of suspition, nor the basest basenes of enuy, coulde any whit rule such a Ruler. But then shined foorth indeede all loue among them, when an awfull feare, ingendred by iustice, did make that loue most louely: his first and principal care being to appear vnto his people, such as he would haue them be, & to be such as he appeared; making his life the example of his lawes, and his lawes as it were, his axioms arising out of his deedes. So that within small time, he wanne a singular loue in his people, and engraffed singular confidence. For how could they chuse but loue him, whom they found so truely to loue them? He euen in reason disdayning, that they that haue charge of beastes, shoulde loue their charge, and care for them; and that he that was to gouerne the most excellent creature, should not loue so noble a charge. And therefore, where most Princes (seduced by flatterie to builde vpon false grounds of gouernment) make themselues (as it were) an other thing from the people; and so count it gaine what they get from them: and (as if it were two counter-ballances, that their estate goes hiest when the people goes lowest) by a fallacie of argument thinking themselues most Kinges, when the subiect is most basely subiected: He cotrariwise, vertuouslie and wisely acknowledging, that he with his people made all but one politike bodie, whereof himselfe was the head; euen so cared for them, as he woulde for his owne limmes: neuer restrayning their libertie, without it stretched to licenciousnes, nor pulling from them their goods, which they found were not imployed to the purchase of a greater good: but in all his actions shewing a delight in their wellfare, brought that to passe, that while by force he tooke nothing, by their loue he had all. In summe (peerelesse Princesse) I might as easily sette downe the whole Arte of gouernement, as to lay before your eyes the picture of his proceedings. But in such sorte hee flourished in the sweete comforte of dooing much good, when by an accasion of leauing his Countrie, he was forced to bring foorth his vertue of magnanimitie, as before hee had done of iustice.

He had onely one sister, a Ladie (lest I should too easilie fall to partiall prayses of her) of whom it may be iustly saide, that she was no vnfit branch to the noble stock whereof she was come. Her he had giuen in mariage to Dorilaus, Prince of Thessalia, not so much to make a frendship, as to confirm the frendship betweene their posteritie, which betweene them, by the likenes of vertue, had beene long before made: for certainly, Dorilaus, could neede no amplifiers mouth for the highest point of praise. Who hath not heard (said Pamela) of the valiant, wise, and iust Dorilaus, whose vnripe death doth yet (so many yeares since) draw teares from vertuous eyes? And indeede, my father is wont to speake of nothing with greater admiration, then of the notable friendship (a rare thing in Princes, more rare betweene Princes) that so holily was obserued to the last, of those two excellent men. But (said she) go on I pray you. Dorilaus (said he) hauing married his sister, had his marriage in short time blest (for so are folke woont to say, how vnhappie soeuer the children after grow) with a sonne, whom they named Musidorus : of whom I must needes first speake before I come to Pyrocles; because as he was borne first, so vpon his occasion grew (as I may say accidentally) the others birth. For scarcely was Musidorus made partaker of this oft-blinding light, when there were found numbers of Southsayers, who affirmed strange and incredible thinges should be performed by that childe; whether the heauens at that time listed to play with ignorant mankinde, or that flatterie be so presumptuous, as euen at times to borrow the face of Diuinitie. But certainly, so did the boldnesse of their affirmation accompanie the greatnesse of what they did affirm (euen descending to particularities, what kingdoms he should ouercome) that the king of Phrygia (who ouer-superstitiously thought himselfe touched in the matter) sought by force to destroy the infant, to preuent his after-expectations: because a skilfull man (hauing compared his natiuity with the child) so told him. Foolish man, either vainly fearing what was not to be feared, or not considering that if it were a worke of the superiour powers, the heauens at length are neuer children. But so he did, and by the aid of the Kings of Lydia and Crete (ioining together their armies) inuaded Thessalia, and brought Dorilaus to some behind-hand of fortune, when his faithfull friend and brother Euarchus came so mightily to his succour, that with some enterchanging changes of fortune, they begat of a iust war, the best child, peace. In which time Euarchus made a crosse mariage also with Dorilaus his sister, and shortly left her with child of the famous Pyrocles, driuen to returne to the defence of his owne countrie, which in his absence (helped with some of the ill contented nobilitie) the mighty King of Thrace, and his brother, King of Pannonia, had inuaded. The successe of those warres was too notable to be vnknowne to your eares, to which it seemes all worthy fame hath glory to come vnto. But there was Dorilaus (valiantly requiting his friends helpe) in a great battaile depriued of life, his obsequies being no more solemnised by the teares of his partakers, then the bloud of his enimies; with so pearcing a sorrow to the constant hart of Euarchus, that the newes of his sons birth could lighten his countenance with no shew of comfort, although all the comfort that might be in a child, truth it selfe in him forthwith deliuered. For what fortune onely southsayers foretold of Musidorus, that all men might see prognosticated in Pyrocles, both Heauens and Earth giuing tokens of the comming forth of an Heroicall vertue. The senate house of the planets was at no time so set, for the decreeing of perfection in a man, as at that time all folkes skilfull therein did acknowledge: onely loue was threatned, and promised to him, and so to his cousin, as both the tempest and hauen of their best yeares. But as death may haue preuented Pyrocles, so vnworthinesse must be the death of Musidorus.

But the mother of Pyrocles (shortly after her childe-birth) dying, was cause that Euarchus recommended the care of his only sonne to his sister; doing it the rather because the warre continued in cruell heat, betwixt him and those euill neighbours of his. In which meane time those young Princes (the only comforters of that vertuous widow) grewe on so, that Pyrocles taught admiration to the hardest conceats: Musidorus (perchaunce because among his subiects) exceedingly beloued: and by the good order of Euarchus (well perfourmed by his sister) they were so brought vp, that all the sparkes of vertue, which nature had kindled in them, were so blowne to giue forth their vttermost heate that iustly it may be affirmed, they enflamed the affections of all that knew them. For almost before they could perfectly speake, they began to receaue conceits not vnworthy of the best speakers: excellent deuises being vsed, to make euen their sports profitable; images of battailes, and fortifications being then deliuered to their memory, which after, their stronger iudgements might dispense, the delight of tales being conuerted to the knowledge of all the stories of worthy Princes, both to moue them to do nobly, and teach them how to do nobly; the beautie of vertue still being set before their eyes, and that taught them with far more diligent care, then Grammaticall rules, their bodies exercised in all abilities, both of doing and suffring, and their mindes acquainted by degrees with daungers; and in sum, all bent to the making vp of princely mindes: no seruile feare vsed towards them, nor any other violent restraint, but still as to Princes: so that a habite of commaunding was naturalized in them, and therefore the farther from Tyrannie: Nature hauing done so much for them in nothing, as that it made them Lords of truth, whereon all the other goods were builded.

Among which nothing I so much delight to recount, as the memorable friendship that grew betwixt the two Princes, such as made them more like then the likenesse of all other vertues, and made them more neere one to the other, then the neerenes of their bloud could aspire vnto; which I think grew the faster, and the faster was tied betweene them, by reason that Musidorus being elder by three or foure yeares, it was neither so great a difference in age as did take away the delight in societie, and yet by the difference there was taken away the occasion of childish contentions; till they had both past ouer the humour of such contentions. For Pyrocles bare reuerence full of loue to Musidorus, and Musidorus had a delight full of loue in Pyrocles. Musidorus, what he had learned either for body or minde, would teach it to Pyrocles; and Pyrocles was so glad to learne of none, as of Musidorus: till Pyrocles , being come to sixtene yeares of age, he seemed so to ouerrun his age in growth, strength, and all things following it, that not Musidorus , no nor any man liuing (I thinke) could performe any action, either on horse, or foote, more strongly, or deliuer that strength more nimbly, or become the deliuery more gracefully, or employ all more vertuously. Which may well seeme wonderfull: but wonders are no wonders in a wonderfull subiect.

At which time vnderstanding that the King Euarchus, after so many yeares warre, and the conquest of all Pannonia, and almost Thrace, had now brought the conclusion of all to the siege of Bizantium (to the raising of which siege great forces were made) they would needs fall to the practise of those vertues, which they before learned. And therefore the mother of Musidorus nobly yeelding ouer her owne affects to her childrens good (for a mother she was in effect to them both) the rather that they might helpe her beloued brother, they brake off all delayes; which Musidorus for his part thought already had deuoured too much of his good time, but that he had once graunted a boone (before he knew what it was) to his deere friend Pyrocles; that he would neuer seeke the aduentures of armes, vntill he might go with him: which hauing fast bound his hart (a true slaue to faith) he had bid a tedious delay of following his owne humour for his friends sake, till now being both sent for by Euarchus, & finding Pyrocles able euery way to go thorow with that kinde of life, he was as desirous for his sake, as for his owne, to enter into it. So therefore preparing a nauie, that they might go like themselues, and not only bring the comfort of their presence, but of their power to their deere parent Euarchus , they recommended themselues to the Sea, leauing the shore of Thessalia full of teares and vowes; and were receiued thereon with so smooth and smiling a face, as if Neptune had as then learned falsely to fawne on Princes. The winde was like a seruaunt, wayting behind them so iust, that they might fill the sailes as they listed; and the best saylers shewing themselues lesse couetous of his liberalitie, so tempered it, that they all kept together like a beautifull flocke, which so well could obey their maisters pipe: without sometimes, to delight the Princes eies, some two or three of them would striue, who could (either by the cunning of well spending the windes breath, or by the aduantageous building of their moouing houses) leaue their fellowes behind them in the honour of speed: while the two Princes had leasure to see the practise of that, which before they had learned by bookes: to consider the arte of catching the winde prisoner, to no other ende, but to runne away with it; to see how beautie, and vse can so well agree together, that of all the trinckets, wherewith they are attired, there is not one but serues to some necessary purpose. And (ô Lord) to see the admirable power and noble effects of Loue, whereby the seeming insensible Loadstone, with a secret beauty (holding the spirit of iron in it) can draw that hard-harted thing vnto it, and (like a vertuous mistresse) not onely make it bow it selfe, but with it make it aspire to so high a Loue, as of the heauenly Poles; and thereby to bring foorth the noblest deeds, that the children of the Earth can boast of. And so the Princes delighting their conceats with confirming their knowledge, seing wherein the Sea-discipline differed from Land-seruice, they had for a day and almost a whole night, as pleasing entertainement, as the falsest hart could giue to him he meanes worst to.

But by that the next morning began a little to make a guilden shewe of a good meaning, there arose euen with the Sun, a vaile of darke cloudes before his face, which shortly (like inck powred into water) had blacked ouer all the face of heauen; preparing (as it were) a mournefull stage for a Tragedie to be plaied on- For forthwith the windes began to speake lowder, and as in a tumultuous kingdome, to thinke themselues fittest instruments of commaundement; and blowing whole stormes of hayle and raine vpon them, they were sooner in daunger, then they could almost bethinke themselues of chaunge. For then the traiterous Sea began to swell in pride against the afflicted Nauie, vnder which (while the heauen fauoured them) it had layne so calmely, making mountaines of it selfe, ouer which the tossed and tottring ship should clime, to be streight carried downe againe to a pit of hellish darkenesse; with such cruell blowes against the sides of the shippe (that which way soeuer it went, was still in his malice) that there was left neither power to stay, nor way to escape. And shortly had it so disseuered the louing companie, which the daie before had tarried together, that most of them neuer met againe, but were swallowed vp in his neuer-satisfied mouth. Some indeed (as since was knowne) after long wandring returned into Thessalia; other recouered Bizantium, and serued Euarchus in his warre. But in the ship wherein the Princes were (now left as much alone as proud Lords be when fortune failes them) though they employed all industrie to saue themselues, yet what they did was rather for dutie to nature, then hope to escape. So ougly a darkenesse, as if it would preuent the nights comming, vsurped the dayes right: which (accompanied sometimes with thunders, alwayes with horrible noyses of the chafing winds) made the masters and pilots so astonished, that they knew not how to direct, and if they knew they could scarcely (when they directed) heare their owne whistle. For the sea straue with the winds which should be lowder, and the shrouds of the ship with a ghastfull noise to them that were in it, witnessed, that their ruine was the wager of the others contention, and the heauen roaring out thunders the more amazed them, as hauing those powers for enimies. Certainely there is no daunger carries with it more horror, then that which growes in those floting kingdomes. For that dwelling place is vnnaturall to mankind, and then the terriblenesse of the continuall motion, the desolation of the far-being from comfort, the eye and the eare hauing ougly images euer before it, doth still vex the minde, euen when it is best armed against it. But thus the day past (if that might be called a day) while the cunningest mariners were so conquered by the storme, as they thought it best with striken sailes to yeeld to be gouerned by it: the valiantest feeling inward dismayednesse, and yet the fearefullest ashamed fully to shewe it, seeing that the Princes (who were to parte from the greatest fortunes) did in theyr countenances accuse no point of feare, but encouraging them to doo what might be done (putting their hands to euerie most painefull office) taught them at one instant to promise themselues the best, and yet to despise the worst. But so were they carryed by the tyrannie of the winde, and the treason of the sea, all that night, which the elder it was, the more wayward it shewed it selfe towards them: till the next morning (knowne to be a morning better by the houre-glasse, then by the day cleerenesse) hauing runne fortune as blindly, as it selfe euer was painted, lest the conclusion should not aunswere to the rest of the play, they were driuen vpon a rocke: which hidden with those outragious waues, did, as it were, closely dissemble his cruell mind, till with an vnbeleeued violence (but to them that haue tried it) the shippe ranne vpon it; and seeming willinger to perish then to haue her course stayed, redoubled her blowes, till she had broken her selfe in peeces; and as it were tearing out her owne bowels to feede the seas greedinesse, left nothing within it but despaire of safetie, and expectation of a loathsome end. There was to be seene the diuerse manner of minds in distresse: some sate vpon the top of the poupe weeping and wailing, till the sea swallowed them; some one more able to abide death, then feare of death, cut his owne throate to preuent drowning; some prayed, and there wanted not of them which cursed, as if the heauens could not be more angrie then they were. But a monstrous crie begotten of manie roaring voices, was able to infect with feare a minde that had not preuented it with the power of reason.

But the Princes vsing the passions of fearing euill, and desiring to escape, only to serue the rule of vertue, not to abandon ones selfe, lept to a ribbe of the ship, which broken from his fellowes, floted with more likelyhood to doo seruice, then any other limme of that ruinous bodie; vpon which there had gotten alreadie two brethren, well knowne seruants of theirs; and streight they foure were carryed out of sight, in that huge rising of the sea, from the rest of the ship. But the peece they were on sinking by little and little vnder them, not able to support the weight of so manie, the brethren (the elder whereof was Leucippus, the younger Nelsus) shewed themselues right faithfull and gratefull seruants vnto them; gratefull (I say) for this cause: Those two gentlemen had bene taken prisoners in the great warre the king of Phrygia made vpon Thessalia , in the time of Musidorus his infancie; and hauing beene solde into another countrie (though peace fell after betweene these Realmes) could not be deliuered, because of their valor knowne, but for a farre greater summe, then either all their friends were able, or the Dowager willing to make, in respect of the great expences her selfe and people had bene put to in those warres; and so had they remained in prison about thirteene yeares, when the two young Princes (hearing speaches of their good deserts) found meanes both by selling all the Iewels they had of great price, and by giuing vnder their hands great estates when they should come to be Kings (which promises their vertue promised for them should be kept) to get so much treasure as redeemed them from captiuitie. This remembred, and kindly remembred by these two brothers, perchance helped by a naturall duetie to their Princes blood, they willingly left holde of the boord, committing themselues to the seas rage, and euen when they mente to dye, themselues praying for the Princes liues. It is true, that neither the paine nor daunger, so moued the Princes hartes as the tendernesse of that louing part, farre from glorie, hauing so few lookers on; farre from hope of reward, since themselues were sure to perish.

But now of all the royall Nauie they lately had, they had left but one little peece of one ship, whereon they kept themselues in all trueth, hauing enterchanged their cares, while either cared for other, ech comforting and councelling how to labour for the better, and to abide the worse. But so fell it out, that as they were carryed by the tide (which there seconded by the storme ran exceeding swiftly) Musidorus seeing (as he thought) Pyrocles not well vpon the boord, as he would with his right hand haue helped him on better, he had no sooner vnfastned his hold, but that a waue forcibly spoiled his weaker hand of hold; and so for a time parted those friends, each crying to the other, but the noise of the sea drowned their farewell. But Pyrocles (then carelesse of death, if it had come by any meanes, but his owne) was shortly brought out of the seas furie to the lands comfort; when (in my conscience I know) that comfort was but bitter vnto him. And bitter indeed it fell out euen in it selfe to be vnto him.

For being cast on land much brused and beaten both with the Seas hard farewell, and the shores rude welcome; and euen almost deadly tired with the length of his vncomfortable labour, as he was walking vp to discouer some bodie, to whom he might goe for reliefe, there came streight running vnto him certaine, who (as it was after knowne) by appointment watched (with manie others) in diuerse places along the coast: who laide handes of him, and without either questioning with him, or shewing will to heare him, (like men fearefull to appeare curious) or which was worse hauing no regard to the hard plight he was in (being so wet and weake) they carried him some miles thence, to a house of a principall officer of that countrie. Who with no more ciuilitie (though with much more busines then those vnder-fellowes had shewed) began in captious manner to put interrogatories vnto him. To which he (vnused to such entertainment) did shortlie and plainely aunswere, what he was, and how he came thither. But that no sooner knowne, with numbers of armed men to garde him (for mischiefe, not from mischiefe) he was sent to the Kings court, which as then was not aboue a dayes iourney off, with letters from that officer, containing his owne seruiceable diligence in discouering so great a personage; adding withall more then was true of his coniectures, because he would endeare his owne seruice.

This country whereon he fell was Phrygia, and it was to the King thereof to whome he was sent, a Prince of a melancholy constitution both of bodie & mind; wickedly sad, euer musing of horrible matters; suspecting, or rather condemning all men of euill, because his minde had no eye to espie goodnesse: and therefore accusing Sycophantes, of all men did best sort to his nature; but therefore not seeming Sycophantes, because of no euill they said, they could bring any new or doubtfull thing vnto him, but such as alreadie he had bene apt to determine; so as they came but as proofes of his wisedome: fearefull and neuer secure; while the feare he had figured in his minde had any possibilitie of euent. A tode-like retyrednesse, and closenesse of minde; nature teaching the odiousnesse of poyson, and the daunger of odiousnesse. Yet while youth lasted in him, the exercises of that age, and his humour (not yet fullie discouered) made him something the more frequentable, and lesse daungerous. But after that yeares began to come on with some, though more seldome shewes of a bloudie nature, and that the prophecie of Musidorus destenie came to his eares (deliuered vnto him, and receiued of him with the hardest interpretation, as though his subiects did delight in the hearing thereof.) Then gaue he himselfe indeede to the full currant of his disposition, especially after the warre of Thessalia, wherein (though in trueth wrongly) he deemed, his vnsuccesse proceeded of their vnwillingnes to haue him prosper: and then thinking himselfe contemned, (knowing no countermine against contempt, but terror) began to let nothing passe which might beare the colour of a fault, without sharp punishment: and when he wanted faults, excellencie grew a fault; and it was sufficient to make one guiltie, that he had power to be guiltie. And as there is no humour, to which impudent pouertie cannot make it selfe seruiceable, so were there enow of those of desperate ambition, who would build their houses vpon others ruines, which after should fall by like practises. So as seruitude came mainly vpon that poore people, whose deedes were not onely punished, but words corrected, and euen thoughts by some meane or other puld out of them: while suspition bred the mind of crueltie, and the effects of crueltie stirred a new cause of suspition. And in this plight (full of watchfull fearefulnes) did the storme deliuer sweete Pyrocles to the stormie minde of that Tyrant, all men that did such wrong to so rare a stranger (whose countenaunce deserued both pitie and admiration) condemning themselues as much in their hearts, as they did brag in their forces.

But when this bloudy King knew what he was, and in what order he and his cosin Musidorus (so much of him feared) were come out of Thessalia, assuredly thinking (because euer thinking the worst) that those forces were prouided against him; glad of the perishing (as he thought) of Musidorus, determined in publique sort to put Pyrocles to death. For hauing quite lost the way of noblenes, he straue to clime to the height of terriblenes; and thinking to make all men adread, to make such one an enemie, who would not spare, nor feare to kill so great a Prince; and lastly, hauing nothing in him why to make him his friend, he thought, he woulde take him away, from being his enemie. The day was appointed, and all things appointed for that cruell blow, in so solemne an order, as if they would set foorth tyranny in most gorgeous decking. The Princely youth of inuincible valour, yet so vniustly subiected to such outragious wrong, carrying himself in all his demeanure so constantly, abiding extremitie, that one might see it was the cutting away of the greatest hope of the world, and destroying vertue in his sweetest grouth.

But so it fell out that his death was preuented by a rare example of friendship in Musidorus: who being almost drowned, had bene taken vp by a Fisherman belonging to the kingdome of Pontus; and being there, and vnderstanding the full discourse (as Fame was very prodigall of so notable an accident) in what case Pyrocles was; learning withall, that his hate was farre more to him then to Pyrocles, hee found meanes to acquaint him selfe with a noble-man of that Countrie, to whome largely discouering what he was, he found him a most fit instrument to effectuate his desire. For this noble-man had bene one, who in many warres had serued Euarchus, and had bene so mind-striken by the beautie of vertue in that noble King, that (though not borne his Subiect) he euer profest himselfe his seruaunt. His desire therefore to him was, to keepe Musidorus in a strong Castle of his, and then to make the King of Phrygia vnderstand, that if he would deliuer Pyrocles, Musidorus would willingly put him selfe into his hands: knowing well, that how thirstie so euer he was of Pyrocles bloud, he would rather drinke that of Musidorus.

The Nobleman was loath to preserue one by the losse of another, but time vrging resolution: the importunitie of Musidorus (who shewed a minde not to ouer-liue Pyrocles) with the affection he bare to Euarchus, so preuayled, that he carried this strange offer of Musidorus, which by that Tyrant was greedelie accepted.

And so vpon securitie of both sides, they were enterchanged. Where I may not omitte the worke of friendshippe in Pyrocles, who both in speache and countenance to Musidorus, well shewed, that he thought himselfe iniured, and not releeued by him: asking him, what he had euer seene in him, why he could not beare the extremities of mortall accidentes as well as any man: and why he should enuie him the glorie of suffering death for his friendes cause, and (as it were) robbe him of his owne possession? But in this notable contention, (where the conquest must be the conquerers destruction, and safetie the punishment of the conquered) Musidorus preuayled: because he was a more welcome praie to the vniust King, and as chearefully going towardes, as Pyrocles went frowardly fromward his death, he was deliuered to the King, who could not be inough sure of him, without he fed his owne eies vpon one, whom he had begon to feare, as soone as the other began to be.

Yet because he would in one acte, both make ostentation of his owne felicitie (into whose hands his most feared enemie was fallen) and withall cut of such hopes from his suspected subiects (when they should knowe certainly he was dead) with much more skilfull crueltie, and horrible solemnitie he caused each thing to be prepared for his triumph of tyrannie. And so the day being come, he was led foorth by many armed men (who often had beene the fortifiers of wickednes) to the place of execution: where comming with a minde comforted in that he had done such seruice to Pyrocles, this strange encounter he had.

The excelling Pyrocles was no sooner deliuered by the kings seruants to a place of liberty, then he bent his witte and courage, (and what would not they bring to passe?) how ether to deliuer Musidorus, or to perish with him. And (finding he could get in that countrie no forces sufficient by force to rescue him) to bring himselfe to die with him, (little hoping of better euent) he put himselfe in poore rayment, and by the helpe of some few crownes he tooke of that noble-man, (who full of sorrow, though not knowing the secrete of his intent, suffered him to goe in such order from him) he (euen he, borne to the greatest expectation, and of the greatest bloud that any Prince might be) submitted himselfe to be seruant to the executioner that should put to death Musidorus: a farre notabler proofe of his friendship, considering the height of his minde, then any death could be. That bad officer not suspecting him, being araied fit for such an estate, and hauing his beautie hidden by many foule spots he artificially put vpon his face, gaue him leaue not onely to weare a sworde himselfe, but to beare his sworde prepared for the iustified murther. And so Pyrocles taking his time, when Musidorus was vpon the scaffold (separated somewhat from the rest, as allowed to say something) he stept vnto him, and putting the sworde into his hande not bound (a point of ciuility the officers vsed towards him, because they doubted no such enterprise) Musidorus (said he) die nobly. In truth, neuer man betweene ioy before knowledge what to be glad of, and feare after considering his case, had such a confusion of thoughts, as I had, when I saw Pyrocles , so neare me. But with that Dorus blushed, and Pamela smiled: and Dorus the more blushed at her smiling, and she the more smiled at his blushing; because he had (with the remembraunce of that plight he was in) forgotten in speaking of himselfe to vse the third person. But Musidorus turned againe her thoughts from his cheekes to his tongue in this sort: But (said he) when they were with swordes in handes, not turning backs one to the other (for there they knew was no place of defence) but making it a preseruation in not hoping to be preserued, and now acknowledging themselues subiect to death, meaning onely to do honour to their princely birth, they flew amongst them all (for all were enimies) and had quickly either with flight or death, left none vpon the scaffold to annoy them. Wherein Pyrocles (the excellent Pyrocles) did such wonders beyond beliefe, as was hable to leade Musidorus to courage, though he had bene borne a coward. But indeed, iust rage and desperate vertue did such effects, that the popular sort of the beholders began to be almost superstitiously amazed, as at effects beyond mortall power. But the King with angry threatnings from-out a window (where he was not ashamed, the world should behold him a beholder) commaunded his gard, and the rest of his souldiers to hasten their death. But many of them lost their bodies to loose their soules, when the Princes grew almost so weary, as they were ready to be conquered with conquering.

But as they were still fighting with weake armes, and strong harts, it happened, that one of the souldiers (commaunded to go vp after his fellowes against the Princes) hauing receiued a light hurt, more wounded in his hart, went backe with as much diligence, as he came vp with modestie: which another of his fellowes seeing, to pike a thanke of the King, strake him vpon the face, reuiling him, that so accompanied, he would runne away from so fewe. But he (as many times it falls out) onely valiant, when he was angrie, in reuenge thrust him through: which with his death was streight reuenged by a brother of his: and that againe requited by a fellow of the others. There began to be a great tumult amongst the souldiers; which seene, and not vnderstood by the people (vsed to feares but not vsed to be bolde in them) some began to crie treason; and that voice streight multiplying it selfe, the King (O the cowardise of a guiltie conscience) before any man set vpon him, fled away. Where-with a bruit (either by arte of some well meaning men, or by such chaunce as such things often fall out by) ran from one to the other, that the King was slaine; wherewith certaine yong men of the brauest mindes, cried with lowde voice, Libertie; and encouraging the other Citizens to follow them, set vpon the garde, and souldiers as chiefe instruments of Tyrannie: and quickly, aided by the Princes, they had left none of them aliue, nor any other in the cittie, who they thought had in any sort set his hand to the worke of their seruitude, and (God knowes) by the blindnesse of rage, killing many guiltles persons, either for affinity to the Tyrant, or enmitie to the tyrant-killers. But some of the wiser (seeing that a popular licence is indeede the many-headed tyranny) preuailed with the rest to make Musidorus their chiefe: choosing one of them (because Princes) to defend them, and him because elder and most hated of the Tyrant, and by him to be ruled: whom foorthwith they lifted vp, Fortune (I thinke) smiling at her worke therein, that a scaffold of execution should grow a scaffold of coronation.

But by and by there came newes of more certaine truth, that the King was not dead, but fled to a strong castle of his, neere hand, where he was gathering forces in all speed possible to suppresse this mutinie. But now they had run themselues too farre out of breath, to go backe againe the same career; and too well they knew the sharpnesse of his memorie to forget such an iniury; therefore learning vertue of necessitie, they continued resolute to obey Musidorus. Who seing what forces were in the citie, with them issued against the Tyrant, while they were in this heat; before practises might be vsed to disseuer them: and with them met the King, who likewise hoping little to preuaile by time, (knowing and finding his peoples hate) met him with little delay in the field: where him selfe was slaine by Musidorus, after he had seene his onely sonne (a Prince of great courage & beautie, but fostred in bloud by his naughty Father) slaine by the hand of Pyrocles. This victory obteined, with great, and truly not vndeserued honour to the two Princes, the whole estates of the country with one consent, gaue the crowne and all other markes of soueraigntie to Musidorus; desiring nothing more, then to liue vnder such a gouernment, as they promised themselues of him.

But he thinking it a greater greatnes to giue a kingdome, then get a kingdome; vnderstanding that there was left of the bloud Roiall, and next to the succession, an aged Gentleman of approued goodnes (who had gotten nothing by his cousins power, but danger from him, and odiousnes for him) hauing past his time in modest secrecy, and asmuch from entermedling in matters of gouernment, as the greatnesse of his bloud would suffer him, did (after hauing receiued the full power to his owne hands) resigne all to the noble-man: but with such conditions, and cautions of the conditions, as might assure the people (with asmuch assurance as worldly matters beare) that not onely that gouernour, of whom indeed they looked for all good, but the nature of the gouernment, should be no way apt to decline to Tyranny.

This dooing set foorth no lesse his magnificence, then the other act did his magnanimitie: so that greatly praysed of all, and iustly beloued of the new King, who in all both wordes and behauiour protested him selfe their Tenaunt, and Liegeman, they were drawne thence to reuenge those two seruants of theirs, of whose memorable faith, I told you (most excellent Princesse) in willingly giuing themselues to be drowned for their sakes: but drowned indeed they were not, but gat with painefull swimming vpon a rocke: from whence (after being come as neere famishing, as before drowning) the weather breaking vp, they were brought to the maine land of Pontus; the same country vpon which Musidorus also was fallen, but not in so luckie a place.

For they were brought to the King of that country, a Tyrant also, not thorow suspition, greedines, or reuengefulnes, as he of Phrygia , but (as I may terme it) of a wanton crueltie: inconstant in his choise of friends, or rather neuer hauing a friend, but a playfellow; of whom when he was wearie, he could not otherwise rid himselfe, then by killing them: giuing somtimes prodigally, not because he loued them to whom he gaue, but because he lusted to giue: punishing, not so much for hate or anger, as because he felt not the smart of punishment: delighted to be flattered, at first for those vertues which were not in him, at length making his vices vertues worthy the flattering: with like iudgement glorying, when he had happened to do a thing well, as when he had performed some notable mischiefe.

He chanced at that time (for indeed long time none lasted with him) to haue next in vse about him, a man of the most enuious disposition, that (I think) euer infected the aire with his breath: whose eies could not looke right vpon any happie man, nor eares beare the burthen of any bodies praise: contrary to the natures of all other plagues, plagued with others well being; making happines the ground of his vnhappinesse, & good news the argumet of his sorrow: in sum, a man whose fauour no man could winne, but by being miserable. And so, because these two faithfull seruants of theirs came in miserable sorte to that Courte, he was apte inough at first to fauour them; and the King vnderstanding of their aduenture, (wherein they had shewed so constant a faith vnto their Lordes) suddainly falles to take a pride in making much of them, extolling them with infinite prayses, and praysing him selfe in his harte, in that he praysed them. And by and by were they made great courtiers, and in the way of minions, when aduauncement (the most mortall offence to enuy) stirred vp their former friend, to ouerthrow his owne worke in them; taking occasion vpon the knowledge (newly come to the court) of the late death of the King of Phrygia destroied by their two Lordes, who hauing bene a neere kinsman to this Prince of Pontus, by this enuious Councellour, partly with suspition of practise, partly with glory of in-part reuenging his cousins death, the King was suddainly turned, (and euery turne with him was a downe-fall) to locke them vp in prison, as seruaunts to his enimies, whom before he had neuer knowne, nor (till that time one of his owne subiects had entertained and dealt for them) did euer take heed of. But now earnest in euery present humour, and making himselfe braue in his liking, he was content to giue them iust cause of offence, when they had power to make iust reuenge. Yet did the Princes send vnto him before they entred into warre, desiring their seruants liberty. But he swelling in their humblenes, (like a bubble blowne vp with a small breath, broken with a great) forgetting, or neuer knowing humanitie, caused their heads to be striken off, by the aduice of his enuious Councellor (who now hated them so much the more, as he foresaw their happines in hauing such, and so fortunate masters) and sent them with vnroyall reproches to Musidorus and Pyrocles, as if they had done traiterously, and not heroically in killing his tyrannicall Cosen.

But that iniurie went beyond all degree of reconcilement; so that they making forces in Phrygia (a kingdome wholy at their commandement, by the loue of the people, and gratefulnesse of the King) they entred his country; and wholy conquering it (with such deeds as at lest Fame said were excellent) tooke the King; and by Musidorus commaundement (Pyrocles hart more enclining to pitie) he was slaine vpon the tombe of their two true Seruants; which they caused to be made for them with royall expences, and notable workmanship to preserue their dead liues. For his wicked Seruant he should haue felt the like, or worse, but that his harte brake euen to death with the beholding the honour done to their dead carcasses. There might Pyrocles quietly haue enioyed that crowne, by all the desire of that people, most of whom had reuolted vnto him: but he, finding a sister of the late Kings (a faire and well esteemed Ladie) looking for nothing more, then to be oppressed with her brothers ruines, gaue her in marriage to the noble man his fathers old friend, and endowed them with the crowne of that kingdome. And not content with those publike actions, of princely, and (as it were) gouerning vertue, they did (in that kingdome and some other neere about) diuers acts of particular trials, more famous, because more perilous. For in that time those regions were full both of cruell monsters, and monstrous men: all which in short time by priuate combats they deliuered the countries of.

Among the rest, two brothers of huge both greatnesse and force, therefore commonly called Giants, who kept themselues in a castle seated vpon the top of a rocke, impregnable, because there was no comming vnto it, but by one narrow path, where one mans force was able to keepe downe an armie. These brothers had a while serued the King of Pontus, and in all his affaires (especially of war, whereunto they were onely apt) they had shewed, as vnconquered courage, so a rude faithfulnes: being men indeed by nature apter to the faults of rage, then of deceipt; not greatly ambitious, more then to be well and vprightly dealt with; rather impatient of iniury, then delighted with more then ordinary curtesies; and in iniuries more sensible of smart or losse, then of reproch or disgrace. These men being of this nature (and certainely Iewels to a wise man, considering what indeed wonders they were able to performe) yet were discarded by that vnworthy Prince, after many notable deserts, as not worthy the holding. Which was the more euidet to the; because it sodainly fell from an excesse of fauor, which (many examples hauing taught them) neuer stopt his race till it came to an headlong ouerthrow: they ful of rage, retyred theselues vnto this castle. Where thinking nothing iuster the reuenge, nor more noble then the effects of anger, that (according to the nature) full of inward brauery and fiercenes, scarcely in the glasse of Reason, thinking it selfe faire, but when it is terrible, they immediately gaue themselues to make all the countrie about them (subiect to that King) to smart for their Lords folly: not caring how innocent they were, but rather thinking the more innocent they were, the more it testified their spite, which they desired to manifest. And with vse of euill, growing more and more euill, they tooke delight in slaughter, and pleased themselues in making others wracke the effect of their power: fo that where in the time that they obeyed a master, their anger was a seruiceable power of the minde to doo publike good; so now vnbridled, and blinde iudge of it selfe, it made wickednesse violent, and praised it selfe in excellencie of mischiefe; almost to the ruine of the countrie, not greatly regarded by their carelesse and louelesse king. Till now these Princes finding them so fleshed in crueltie, as not to be reclaimed, secretly vndertooke the matter alone: for accompanied they would not haue suffered them to haue mounted; and so those great fellowes scornefully receiuing them, as foolish birds falne into their net, it pleased the eternall iustice to make them suffer death by their hands: and so they were manifoldly acknowledged the sauers of that countrie.

It were the part of a verie idle Orator to set forth the numbers of wel-deuised honors done vnto them: But as high honor is not onely gotten and borne by paine, and daunger, but must be nurst by the like, or els vanisheth as soone as it appeares to the world: so the naturall hunger thereof (which was in Pyrocles) suffered him not to account a resting seate of that, which euer either riseth, or falleth, but still to make one occasion beget another; wherby his doings might send his praise to others mouthes to rebound againe true contentment to his spirit. And therefore hauing well established those kingdomes, vnder good gouernours, and rid them by their valure of such giants and monsters, as before time armies were not able to subdue, they determined in vnknowne order to see more of the world, and to imploy those gifts esteemed rare in them, to the good of mankinde; and therefore would themselues (vnderstanding that the King Euarchus was passed all the cumber of his warres) goe priuately to seeke exercises of their vertue; thinking it not so worthy, to be brought to Heroycall effects by fortune, or necessitie, (like Vlysses and Aeneas) as by ones owne choice, and working. And so went they away from verie vnwilling people to leaue them, making time haste it selfe to be a circumstance of their honour, and one place witnesse to another of the truth of their doings. For scarcely were they out of the confines of Pontus, but that as they ridde alone armed, (for alone they went, one seruing the other) they mette an aduenture; which though not so notable for any great effect they perfourmed, yet worthy to be remembred for the vn-vsed examples therein, as well of true naturall goodnes, as of wretched vngratefulnesse.

It was in the kingdome of Galacia, the season being (as in the depth of winter) very cold, and as then sodainely growne to so extreame and foule a storme, that neuer any winter (I thinke) brought foorth a fowler child: so that the Princes were euen compelled by the haile, that the pride of the winde blew into their faces, to seeke some shrowding place which a certaine hollow rocke offering vnto them, they made it their shield against the tempests furie. And so staying there, till the violence thereof was passed, they heard the speach of a couple, who not perceiuing them (being hidde within that rude canapy) helde a straunge and pitifull disputation which made them steppe out; yet in such sort, as they might see vnseene. There they perceaued an aged man, and a young, scarcely come to the age of a man, both poorely arayed, extreamely weather-beaten; the olde man blinde, the young man leading him: and yet through all those miseries, in both there seemed to appeare a kinde of noblenesse, not sutable to that affliction. But the first words they heard, were these of the old man. Well Leonatus (said he) since I cannot perswade thee to leade mee to that which should end my griefe, and thy trouble, let me now entreat thee to leaue me: feare not, my miserie cannot be greater then it is, and nothing doth become me but miserie; feare not the danger of my blind steps, I cannot fall worse then I am. And doo not I pray thee, doo not obstinately continue to infect thee with my wretchednes. But flie, flie from this region, onely worthy of me. Deare father (answered he) doo not take away from me the onely remnant of my happinesse: while I haue power to doo you seruice, I am not wholly miserable. Ah my sonne (said he, and with that he groned, as if sorrow straue to breake his harte,) how euill fits it me to haue such a sonne, and how much doth thy kindnesse vpbraide my wickednesse? These dolefull speeches, and some others to like purpose (well shewing they had not bene borne to the fortune they were in,) moued the Princes to goe out vnto them, and aske the younger what they were? Sirs (answered he, with a good grace, and made the more agreable by a certaine noble kinde of pitiousnes) I see well you are straungers, that know not our miserie so well here knowne, that no man dare know, but that we must be miserable. In deede our state is such, as though nothing is so needfull vnto vs as pittie, yet nothing is more daungerous vnto vs, then to make our selues so knowne as may stirre pittie. But your presence promiseth, that cruelty shall not ouer-runne hate. And if it did, in truth our state is soncke below the degree of feare.

This old man (whom I leade) was lately rightfull Prince of this countrie of Paphlagonia, by the hard-harted vngratefulnes of a sonne of his, depriued, not onely of his kingdome (whereof no forraine forces were euer able to spoyle him) but of his sight, the riches which Nature graunts to the poorest creatures. Whereby, and by other his vnnaturall dealings, he hath bin driuen to such griefe, as euen now he would haue had me to haue led him to the toppe of this rocke, thence to cast himselfe headlong to death: and so would haue made me (who receiued my life of him) to be the worker of his destruction. But noble Gentlemen (said he) if either of you haue a father, and feele what duetifull affection is engraffed in a sonnes hart, let me entreate you to conuay this afflicted Prince to some place of rest and securitie. Amongst your worthie actes it shall be none of the least, that a King, of such might and fame, and so vniustlie oppressed, is in any sort by you relieued.

But before they coulde make him aunswere, his father began to speake. Ah my sonne (said he) how euill an Historian are you, that leaue out the chiefe knot of all the discourse? my wickednes, my wickednes. And if thou doest it to spare my ears, (the onely sense now left mee proper for knowledge) assure thy selfe thou doest mistake me. And I take witnesse of that Sunne which you see (with that he cast vp his blinde eies, as if he would hunt for light,) and wish my selfe in worse case then I doe wish my selfe, which is as euill as may bee, if I speake vntruely; that nothing is so welcome to my thoughts, as the publishing of my shame. Therefore know you Gentlemen (to whome from my heart I wish that it may not proue some ominous foretoken of misfortune to haue met with such a miser as I am) that whatsoeuer my sonne (ô God, that truth bindes me to reproch him with the name of my son) hath saide, is true. But besides those truthes, this also is true, that hauing had in lawfull mariage, of a mother fitte to beare roiall children, this sonne (such a one as partly you see, and better shall knowe by my short declaration) and so enioyed the expectations in the world of him, till he was growen to iustifie their expectations (so as I needed enuie no father for the chiefe comfort of mortalitie, to leaue an other ones-selfe after me) I was caried by a bastard sonne of mine (if at least I bee bounde to beleeue the words of that base woman my concubine, his mother) first to mislike, then to hate, lastly to destroy, or to doo my best to destroy, this sonne (I thinke you thinke) vndeseruing destruction. What waies be vsed to bring me to it, if I shoulde tell you, I shoulde tediouslie trouble you with as much poisonous hypocrisie, desperate fraude, smooth malice, hidden ambition, and smiling enuie, as in any liuing person could be harbored. But I list it not; no remembraunce, of naughtinesse delightes me, but mine owne; and me thinkes, the accusing his trappes might in some manner excuse my fault, which certainelie I loth to doo. But the conclusion is, that I gaue order to some seruauntes of mine, whome I thought as apte for such charities as my selfe, to lead him out into a forrest, and there to kill him.

But those theeues (better natured to my sonne then my selfe) spared his life, letting him goe, to learne to liue poorelie: which he did, giuing himselfe to be a priuate souldier, in a countrey here by. But as hee was ready to be greatlie aduaunced for some noble peeces of seruice which he did, he heard newes of me: who (dronke in my affection to that vnlawfull and vnnaturall sonne of mine) suffered my selfe so to be gouerned by him, that all fauours and punishments passed by him, all offices, and places of importance, distributed to his fauorites; so that ere I was aware, I had left my selfe nothing but the name of a King: which he shortly wearie of too, with manie indignities (if any thing may be called an indignitie, which was laide vppon me) threw me out of my seate, and put out my eies; and then (proud in his tirannie) let me goe, neither imprisoning, nor killing me: but rather delighting to make me feele my miserie; miserie in deede, if euer there were any; full of wretchednesse, fuller of disgrace, and fullest of guiltines. And as he came to the crowne by so vniust meanes, as vniustlie he kept it, by force of straunger souldiers in Cittadels, the nestes of tirannie, and murderers of libertie; disarming all his own countrimen, that no man durst shew himselfe a well-willer of mine; to say the truth (I thinke) few of them being so (considering my cruell folly to my good sonne, and foolish kindnesse to my vnkinde bastard:) but if there were any who felt a pitty of so great a fall, and had yet any sparkes of vnslaine duety lefte in them towardes me; yet durst they not shewe it, scarcely with giuing mee almes at their doores; which yet was the onely sustenaunce of my distressed life, no body daring to shewe so much charitie, as to lende mee a hande to guide my darke steppes: Till this sonne of mine (God knowes, woorthy of a more vertuous, and more fortunate father) forgetting my abhominable wronges, not recking daunger, and neglecting the present good way hee was in of doing himselfe good, came hether to doo this kinde office you see him performe towardes me, to my vnspeakeable griefe; not only because his kindnes is a glasse euen to my blind eies, of my naughtines, but that aboue all griefes, it greeues me he should desperatlie aduenture the losse of his well deseruing life for mine, that yet owe more to fortune for my deserts, as if hee would cary mudde in a chest of christall. For well I know, he that now raigneth, howe much so euer (and with good reason) he despiseth me, of all men despised; yet hee will not let slippe any aduantage to make away him, whose iust title (ennobled by courage and goodnes) may one day shake the seate of a neuer secure tyrannie. And for this cause I craued of him to leade mee to the toppe of this rocke, indeede I must confesse, with meaning to free him from so Serpentine a companion as I am. But he finding what I purposed, onely therein since hee was borne, shewed himselfe disobedient vnto mee. And now gentlemen, you haue the true storie, which I pray you publish to the world, that my mischieuous proceedinges may bee the glorie of his filiall pietie, the onely reward now left for so great a merite. And if it may be, let me obtaine that of you, which my sonne denies me: for neuer was there more pity in sauing any, then in ending me; both because therein my agonies shall ende, and so shall you preserue this excellent young man, who els wilfully followes his owne ruine.

The matter in it selfe lamentable, lamentably expressed by the old Prince (which needed not take to himselfe the gestures of pitie, since his face coulde not put of the markes thereof) greatly moued the two Princes to compassion, which coulde not stay in such harts as theirs without seeking remedie. But by and by the occasion was presented: for Plexirtus (so was the bastard called) came thether with fortie horse, onely of purpose to murder this brother; of whose comming he had soone aduertisement, and thought no eyes of sufficient credite in such a matter, but his owne; and therefore came himselfe to be actor, and spectator. And as soone as hee came, not regarding the weake (as hee thought) garde of but two men, commaunded some of his followers to set their handes to his, in the killing of Leonatus. But the young Prince (though not otherwise armed but with a sworde) howe falsely soeuer he was dealt with by others, would not betray him selfe: but brauely drawing it out, made the death of the first that assayled him, warne his fellowes to come more warily after him. But then Pyrocles and Musidorus were quickly become parties (so iust a defence deseruing as much as old friendship) and so did behaue them among that companie (more iniurious, then valiant) that many of them lost their liues for their wicked maister.

Yet perhaps had the number of them at last preuailed, if the King of Pontus (lately by them made so) had not come vnlooked for to their succour. Who (hauing had a dreame which had fixt his imagination vehemently vpon some great daunger presently to follow those two Princes whom hee most dearely loued) was come in al hast, following as wel as he could their track with a hundreth horses in that countrie, which he thought (considering who then raigned) a fitte place inough to make the stage of any Tragedie.

But then the match had beene so ill made for Plexirtus, that his ill-led life, and worse gotten honour should haue tumbled together to destruction; had there not come in Tydeus and Telenor , with forty or fifty in their suite, to the defence of Plexirtus . These two were brothers, of the noblest house of that country, brought vppe from their infancy with Plexirtus: men of such prowesse, as not to knowe feare in themselues, and yet to teach it others that shoulde deale with them: for they had often made their liues triumph ouer most terrible daungers; neuer dismaied, and euer fortunate; and truely no more setled in valure, then disposed to goodnes and iustice, if either they had lighted on a better friend, or could haue learned to make friendship a childe, and not the father of Vertue. But bringing vp (rather then choise) hauing first knit their mindes vnto him, (indeede crafty inough, either to hide his faultes, or neuer to shewe them, but when they might pay home) they willingly helde out the course, rather to satisfie him, then all the worlde; and rather to be good friendes, then good men: so as though they did not like the euill hee did, yet they liked him that did the euill; and though not councellors of the offence, yet protectors of the offender. Now they hauing heard of this sodaine going out, with so small a company, in a countrey full of euill-wishing mindes toward him (though they knew not the cause) followed him; till they founde him in such case as they were to venture their liues, or else he to loose his: which they did with such force of minde and bodie, that truely I may iustly say, Pyrocles and Musidorus had neuer till then found any, that could make them so well repeate their hardest lesson in the feates of armes. And briefly so they did, that if they ouercame not; yet were they not ouercome, but caried away that vngratefull maister of theirs to a place of security; howsoeuer the Princes laboured to the contrary. But this matter being thus farre begun, it became not the constancy of the Princes so to leaue it; but in all hast making forces both in Pontus and Phrigia, they had in fewe daies, lefte him but onely that one strong place where he was. For feare hauing beene the onely knot that had fastned his people vnto him, that once vntied by a greater force, they all scattered from him; like so many birdes, whose cage had beene broken.

In which season the blinde King (hauing in the chiefe cittie of his Realme, set the crown vppon his son Leonatus head) with many teares (both of ioy and sorrow) setting forth to the whole people, his owne fault and his sonnes vertue, after he had kist him, and forst his sonne to accept honour of him (as of his new-become subiect) euen in a moment died, as it should seeme: his heart broken with vnkindenes and affliction, stretched so farre beyond his limits with this excesse of comfort, as it was able no longer to keepe safe his vitall spirites. But the new King (hauing no lesse louingly performed all dueties to him dead, then aliue) pursued on the siege of his vnnaturall brother, asmuch for the reuenge of his father, as for the establishing of his owne quiet. In which siege truely I cannot but acknowledge the prowesse of those two brothers, then whome the Princes neuer found in all their trauaile two of greater hability to performe, nor of habler skil for conduct.

But Plexirtus finding, that if nothing else, famine would at last bring him to destruction, thought better by humblenes to creepe, where by pride he coulde not marche. For certainely so had nature formed him, and the exercise of craft conformed him to all turningnes of of sleights, that though no man had lesse goodnes in his soule then he, no man could better find the places whence arguments might grow of goodnesse to another: though no man felt lesse pitie, no man could tel better how to stir pitie: no man more impudent to deny, where proofes were not manifest; no man more ready to confesse with a repenting manner of aggrauating his owne euill, where denial would but make the fault fowler. Now he tooke this way that hauing gotten a pasport for one (that pretended he woulde put Plexirtus aliue into his hands) to speake with the King his brother, he him selfe (though much against the minds of the valiant brothers, who rather wished to die in braue defence) with a rope about his necke, barefooted, came to offer himselfe to the discretion of Leonatus. Where what submission hee vsed, how cunningly in making greater the faulte he made the faultines the lesse, how artificially he could set out the torments of his owne conscience, with the burdensome comber he had found of his ambitious desires, how finely seeming to desire nothing but death, as ashamed to liue, he begd life, in the refusing it, I am not cunning inough to be able to expresse: but so fell out of it, that though at first sight Leonatus saw him with no other eie, then as the murderer of his father; and anger already began to paint reuenge in many colours, ere long he had not onely gotten pitie, but pardon, and if not an excuse of the faulte past, yet an opinion of a future amendment: while the poore villaines (chiefe ministers of his wickednes, now betraied by the author thereof,) were deliuered to many cruell sorts of death; he so handling it, that it rather seemed, hee had more come into the defence of an vnremediable mischiefe already committed, then that they had done it at first by his consent.

In such sort the Princes left these reconciled brothers (Plexirtus in all his behauiour carying him in far lower degree of seruice, then the euer-noble nature of Leonatus would suffer him) and taking likewise their leaues of their good friend the King of Pontus (who returned to enioy their benefite, both of his wife and kingdome) they priuately went thence, hauing onely with them the two valiant brothers, who would needs accompanie them, through diuers places; they foure dooing actes more daungerous, though lesse famous, because they were but priuat chiualries: till hearing of the faire and vertuous Queene Erona of Lycia, besieged by the puissant King of Armenia, they bent themselues to her succour, both because the weaker (and weaker as being a Ladie,) and partly because they heard the King of Armenia had in his company three of the most famous men liuing, for matters of armes, that were knowne to be in the worlde. Whereof one was the Prince Plangus, (whose name was sweetned by your breath, peerlesse Ladie, when the last daie it pleased you to mention him vnto me) the other two were two great Princes (though holding of him) Barzanes and Euardes, men of Giant-like bothe hugenes and force: in which two especially, the trust the King had of victorie, was reposed. And of them, those brothers Tydeus and Telenor (sufficient iudges in warlike matters) spake so high commendations, that the two Princes had euen a youthfull longing to haue some triall of their vertue. And therefore as soone as they were entred into Lycia they ioyned themselues with the that faithfully serued the poore Queene, at that time besieged: & ere long animated in such sort their almost ouerthrowne harts, that they went by force to relieue the towne, though they were depriued of a great part of their stregth by the parting of the two brothers, who were sent for in all hast to returne to their old friend and maister, Plexirtus: who (willingly hood-winking themselues from seeing his faultes, and binding themselues to beleeue what he said) often abused the vertue of courage to defend his fowle vice of iniustice. But now they were sent for to aduaunce a conquest he was about; while Pyrocles and Musidorus pursued the deliuerie of the Queene Erona.

I haue heard (saide Pamela) that parte of the story of Plangus when hee passed through this country: therefore you may (if you list) passe ouer that warre of Eronaes quarrell, lest if you speake too much of warre matters, you should wake Mopsa, which might happily breed a great broile. He looked, and saw that Mopsa indeede sat swallowing of sleepe with open mouth, making such a noise withall, as no bodie could lay the stealing of a nappe to her charge. Whereupon, willing to vse that occasion, he kneeled downe, and with humble-hartednesse, and hardy earnestnes printed in his graces, Alas (said he) diuine Lady, who haue wrought such miracles in me, as to make a Prince (none of the basest) to thinke all principalities base, in respect of the sheephooke, which may hold him vp in your sight; vouchsafe now at last to heare in direct words my humble sute, while this dragon sleepes, that keeps the golden fruite. If in my desire I wish, or in my hopes aspire, or in my imagination faine to my selfe any thing which may bee the lest spot to that heauenly vertue, which shines in all your doings; I pray the eternall powers, that the words I speake may be deadly poysons, while they are in my mouth, and that all my hopes, all my desires, all my imaginations, may onely worke their owne confusion. But if loue, loue of you, loue of your vertues, seeke onely that fauour of you, which becommeth that gratefulnes, which cannot misbecome your excellencie, O doo not: He would haue said further, but Pamela calling aloud Mopsa, she sodainly start vp, staggering, and rubbing her eies, ran first out of the doore, and then backe to them, before she knew how she went out, or why she came in againe: till at length, being fully come to her little selfe, she asked Pamela, why she had called her. For nothing (said Pamela) but that you might heare some tales of your seruants telling and: therfore now (said she Dorus go on.

But as he (who found no so good sacrifice, as obedience) was returning to the story of himselfe, Philoclea came in, and by and by after her, Miso; so as for that time they were faine to let Dorus departe. But Pamela (delighted euen to preserue in her memory, the words of so well a beloued speaker) repeated the whole substance to her sister, till their sober dinner being come and gone, to recreate themselues something, (euen tyred with the noysomnes of Misos conuersation) they determyned to goe (while the heate of the day lasted) to bath themselues (such being the manner of the Arcadian nymphes often to doo) in the riuer of Ladon, and take with them a Lute, meaning to delight them vnder some shadow. But they could not stir, but that Miso with her daughter Mopsa was after them: and as it lay in their way to passe by the other lodge, Zelmane out of her window espied them, and so stale down after them: which shee might the better doo because that Gynecia was sicke, and Basilius (that day being his birth-day) according to his maner, was busie about his deuotions; and therefore she went after, hoping to finde some time to speake with Philoclea : but not a word could shee beginne, but that Miso would bee one of the audience; so that shee was driuen to recommend thinking, speaking, and all, to her eyes, who diligently perfourmed her trust, till they came to the riuers side which of all the riuers of Greece had the price for excellent purenesse and sweetenesse, in so much as the verie bathing in it, was accounted exceeding healthfull. It ranne vpon so fine and delicate a ground, as one coulde not easely iudge, whether the Riuer did more wash the grauell, or the grauell did purifie the Riuer; the Riuer not running forth right, but almost continually winding, as if the lower streames would returne to their spring, or that the Riuer had a delight to play with it selfe. The banckes of either side seeming armes of the louing earth, that faine woulde embrace it; and the Riuer a wanton nymph which still would slippe from it: either side of the bancke being fringed with most beautifull trees, which resisted the sunnes dartes from ouer-much pearcing the naturall coldnes of the Riuer. There was the But among the rest a goodly Cypres, who bowing her faire head ouer the water, it seemed she looked into it, & dressed her greene lockes, by that runing Riuer. There the Princesses determining to bathe theselus, though it was so priuiledged a place, vpo pain of death, as on bodie durst presume to come thither, yet for the more surety, they looked roundabout, and could see nothing but a water spaniell, who came downe the riuer showing that he hunted for a duck, & with a snuffling grace, disdaining that his smelling force could not as well preuaile thorow the water, as thorow the aire; & therefore wayting with his eye, to see whether he could espie the duckes getting vp againe: but then a little below them failing of his purpose, he got out of the riuer, & shaking off the water (as great men do their friends, now he had no further cause to vse it) inweeded himselfe so, as the Ladies lost the further marking his sportfulnesse: & inuiting Zelmane also to wash her selfe with them, & she excusing her selfe with hauing take a late cold, they bega by peece-meale to take away the eclipsing of their apparel.

Zelmane would haue put to her helping hand, but she was taken with such a quiuering, that shee thought it more wisedome to leane herselfe to a tree and looke on, while Miso and Mopsa (like a couple of foreswat melters) were getting the pure siluer of their bodies out of the vre of their garments. But as the rayments went of to receaue kisses of the ground, Zelmane enuied the happinesse of all, but of the smocke was euen iealous, and when that was taken away too, and that Phileclea remained (for her Zelmane onely marked) like a Dyamon taken from out the rocke, or rather like the Sun getting from vnder a cloud, and shewing his naked beames to the full vew, then was the beautie too much for a patient sight, the delight too strong for a stayed conceipt: so that Zelmane could not choose but runne, to touch, embrace and kisse her; But conscience made her come to her selfe, and leaue Philoclea , who blushing, and withall smiling, making shamefastnesse pleasant, and pleasure shamefast, tenderly moued her feete, vnwonted to feele the naked ground, till the touch of the cold water made a prettie kinde of shrugging come ouer her bodie, like the twinckling of the fairest among the fixed stars. But the Riuer it selfe gaue way vnto her, so that she was streight brest high; which was the deepest that there-about shee could be: & when cold Ladon had oncefully imbraced them, himselfe was no more so cold to those Ladies, but as if his cold complexion had bene heated with loue, so seemed he to play about euery part he could touch.

Ah sweete, now sweetest Ladon (said Zelmane) why dost thou not stay thy course to haue more full tast of thy happines? But the reason is manifest, the vpper streames make such haste to haue their part of embracing, that the nether (though lothly) must needes giue place vnto them. O happie Ladon, within whom shee is, vpo whom her beautie fals, thorow whom her eye perceth. O happy Ladon , which art now an vnperfect mirror of all perfection, canst thou euer forget the blessednes of this impression? if thou do, then let thy bed be turned from fine grauel, to weeds and mudde; if thou doo, let some vniust niggards make weres to spoile thy beauty; if thou do, let some greater riuer fall into thee, to take away the name of Ladon. Oh Ladon, happie Ladon, rather slide then run by her, lest thou shouldest make her legs slippe from her; and then, O happy Ladon, who would then call thee, but the most cursed Ladon? But as the Ladies plaid them in the water, somtimes striking it with their hands, the water (making lines in his face) seemed to smile at such beating, and with twenty bubbles, not to be content to haue the picture of their face in large vpon him, but he would in ech of those bubbles set forth the miniature of them.

But Zelmane, whose sight was gaine-said by nothing but the transparent vaile of Ladon, (like a chamber where a great fire is kept, though the fire be at one stay, yet with the continuance continually hath his heate encreased) had the coales of her affection so kindled with wonder, and blowne with delight, that now all her parts grudged, that her eyes should doo more homage, then they, to the Princesse of them. In so much that taking vp the Lute, her wit began to be with a diuine furie inspired; her voice would in so beloued an occasion second her wit; her hands accorded the Lutes musicke to the voice; her panting hart daunced to the musicke; while I thinke her feete did beate the time; while her bodie was the roome where it should be celebrated; her soule the Queene which should be delighted. And so togither went the vtterance and the inuention, that one might iudge, it was Philocleas beautie which did speedily write it in her eyes; or the sense thereof, which did word by word endite it in her minde, whereto she (but as an organ) did onely lend vtterance. The song was to this purpose.



What toong can her perfections tell
In whose each part all pens may dwell?
Her haire fine threeds of finest gould
In curled knots mans thought to hold:
But that her fore-head sayes in me
A whiter beautie you may see.
Whiter indeed; more white then snow,
Which on cold winters face doth grow.
That doth present those euen browes,
Whose equall line their angles bowes,
Like to the Moone when after chaunge
Her horned head abroad doth raunge:
And arches be to heauenly lids,
Whose winke ech bold attempt forbids.
For the blacke starres those Spheares containe,
The matchlesse paire, euen praise doth staine.
No lampe, whose light by Art is got,
No Sunne, which shines; and seeth not,
Can liken them without all peere,
Saue one as much as other cleere:
Which onely thus vnhappie be,
Because themselues they cannot see.
   Her cheekes with kindly claret spred.
Aurora like new out of bed,
Or like the fresh Queene-apples side,
Blushing at sight of Phoebus pride.
   Her nose, her chinne pure iuorie weares:
No purer then the pretie eares.
So that therein appeares some blood,
Like wine and milke that mingled stood.
In whose Incirclets if ye gaze,
Your eyes may tread a Louers maze.
But with such turnes the voice to stray,
No talke vntaught can finde the way.
The tippe no iewell needes to weare:
The tippe is iewell of the eare.
   But who those ruddie lippes can misse?
Which blessed still themselues doo kisse.
Rubies, Cherries, and Roses new,
In worth, in taste, in perfit hewe:
Which neuer part but that they showe
Of pretious pearle the double rowe,
The second sweetly-fenced warde,
Her heau'nly-dewed tongue to garde.
Whence neuer word in vaine did flowe.
   Faire vnder these doth stately growe,
The handle of this pretious worke,
The neck, in which strange graces lurke.
Such be I thinke the sumptuous towers
Which skill dooth make in Princes bowers.
So good a say inuites the eye,
A little downward to espie,
The liuelie clusters of her brests,
Of Venus babe the wanton nests:
Like pomels round of Marble cleere:
Where azurde veines well mixt appeere.
With dearest tops of porphyrie.
   Betwixt these two a way doth lie,
Away more worthie beauties fame,
Then that which beares the Milkie name.
This leades into the ioyous field,
Which onely still doth Lillies yeeld:
But Lillies such whose natiue smell
The Indian odours doth excell.
Waste it is calde, for it doth waste
Mens liues, vntill it be imbraste.
   There may one see, and yet not see
Her ribbes in white all armed be.
More white then Neptunes fomie face,
When strugling rocks he would imbrace.
   In those delights the wandring thought
Might of each side astray be brought,
But that her nauel doth vnite,
In curious circle, busie sight:
A daintie seale of virgin-waxe,
Where nothing but impression lackes.
   Her bellie then glad sight doth fill,
Iustly entitled Cupids hill.
A hill most fitte for such a master,
A spotlesse mine of Alablaster.
Like Alablaster faire and sleeke,
But soft and supple satten like.
In that sweete seate the Boy doth sport:
Loath, I must leaue his chiefe resort.
"For such a vse the world hath gotten,
The best things still must be forgotten."
   Yet neuer shall my song omitte
Hir thighes, for Ouids song more fitte;
Which flanked with two sugred flankes,
Lift vp their stately swelling bankes;
That Albion cliues in whitenes passe:
With hanches smooth as looking glasse.
   But bow all knees, now of her knees
My tongue doth tell what fancie sees.
The knottes of ioy, the gemmes of loue,
Whose motion makes all graces moue.
Whose bought incau'd doth yeeld such sight,
Like cunning Painter shadowing white.
The gartring place with child-like signe,
Shewes easie print in mettall fine.
But then againe the flesh doth rise
In her braue calues, like christall skies.
Whose Atlas is a smallest small,
More white then whitest bone of all.
   Thereout steales out that round cleane foote
This noble Cedars pretious roote:
In shewe and sent pale violets,
Whose steppe on earth all beautie sets.
   But back vnto her back, my Muse,
Where Ledas swanne his feathers mewes,
Along whose ridge such bones are met,
Like comfits round in marchpane set.
   Her shoulders be like two white Doues,
Pearching within square royall rooues,
Which leaded are with siluer skinne,
Passing the hate-spott Ermelin.
And thence those armes deriued are;
The Phoenix wings are not so rare
For faultlesse length, and stainelesse hewe,
   Ah woe is me, my woes renewe;
Now course doth leade me to her hand,
Of my first loue the fatall band.
Where whitenes dooth for euer sitte:
Nature her selfe enameld it.
For there with strange compact dooth lie
Warme snow, moyst pearle, softe iuorie.
There fall those Saphir-coloured brookes,
Which conduit-like with curious crookes,
Sweete Ilands make in that sweete land.
As for the fingers of the hand,
The bloudy shaftes of Cupids warre,
With amatists they headed are.
   Thus hath each part his beauties part,
But how the Graces doo impart
To all her limmes a speciall grace,
Becomming euery time and place.
Which doth euen beautie beautifie,
And most bewitch the wretched eye.
How all this is but a faire Inne
Of fairer guests, which dwell within.
Of whose high praise, and praisefull blisse,
Goodnes the penne, heauen paper is.
The inke immortall fame dooth lende:
As I began, so must I ende.
   No tongue can her perfections tell,
   In whose each part all tongues may dwell.

But as Zelmane was comming to the latter end of her song, she might see the same water-spaniell which before had hunted, come and fetch away one of Philocleas gloues; whose fine proportion, shewed well what a daintie guest was wont there to be lodged. It was a delight to Zelmane, to see that the dogge was therewith delighted, and so let him goe a little way withall, who quickly caried it out of sight among certaine trees and bushes, which were very close together. But by and by he came againe, and amongst the raiments ( Miso and Mopsa being preparing sheets against their comming out) the dog lighted vpon a little booke of four or fiue leaues of paper, and was bearing that away too. But then Zelmane (not knowing what importance it might be of) ran after the dog, who going streight to those bushes, she might see the dog deliuer it to a Gentleman who secretly lay there. But she hastily coming in, the Gentleman rose vp, and with a courteous (though sad) countenace presented himselfe vnto her. Zelmanes eies streight willed her minde to marke him: for she thought, in her life she had neuer seene a man of a more goodly presence, in whom strong making tooke not away delicacie, nor beautie fiercenesse: being indeed such a right manlike man, as Nature often erring, yet shewes she would faine make. But when she had a while (not without admiration) vewed him, she desired him to deliuer backe the gloue and paper, because they were the Ladie Philocleas; telling him withall, that she would not willingly let them know of his close lying in in that prohibited place, while they were bathing themselues; because she knew they would be mortally offended withall. Faire Ladie (answered he) the worst of the complaint is already passed, since I feele of my fault in my selfe the punishment. But for these things I assure you, it was my dogs wanton boldnes, not my presumption. With that he gaue her backe the paper: But for the gloue (said he) since it is my Ladie Philocleas, giue me leaue to keepe it, since my hart cannot persuade it selfe to part from it. And I pray you tell the Lady (Lady indeed of all my desires) that owes it, that I will direct my life to honour this gloue with seruing her. O villain (cried out Zelmane, madded with finding an vnlooked-for Riuall, and that he would make her a messenger) dispatch (said she) and deliuer it, or by the life of her that owes it, I wil make thy soule (though too base a price) pay for it. And with that drew out her sword, which (Amazon-like) she euer ware about her. The Gentleman retired himself into an open place fro among the bushes; and then drawing out his too, he offred to deliuer it vnto her, saying withall, God forbid I should vse my sword against you, since (if I be not deceiued) you are the same famous Amazon, that both defended my Ladies iust title of beautie against the valiant Phalantus, and saued her life in killing the Lion: therefore I am rather to kisse your hands, with acknowledging my selfe bound to obey you. But this courtesie was worse then a bastonado to Zelmane: so that againe with ragefull eyes she bad him defend himselfe, for no lesse then his life should answere it. A hard case (said he) to teach my sword that lesson, which hath euer vsed to turne it selfe to a shield in a Ladies presence. But Zelmane harkening to no more words, began with such wittie furie to pursue him with blowes and thrusts, that Nature and Vertue commanded the Gentleman to looke to his safetie. Yet still courtesie, that seemed incorporate in his hart, would not be perswaded by daunger to offer any offence, but only to stand vpon the best defensiue gard he could; somtimes going backe, being content in that respect to take on the figure of cowardise; sometime with strong and well-met wards; sometime cunning auoidings of his body; and somtimes faining some blows, which himself puld back before they needed to be withstood. And so with play did he a good while fight against the fight of Zelmane, who (more spited with that curtesie, that one that did nothing should be able to resist her) burned away with choller any motions, which might grow out of her owne sweet disposition, determining to kill him if he fought no better; and so redoubling her blowes, draue the stranger to no other shift, then to warde, and go backe; at that time seeming the image of innocencie against violence. But at length he found, that both in publike and priuate respects, who stands onely vpon defence, stands vpon no defence: For Zelmane seeming to strike at his head, and he going to warde it, withall stept backe as he was accustomed, she stopt her blow in the aire, and suddenly turning the point, ranne full at his breast; so as he was driuen with the pommell of his sworde (hauing no other weapon of defence) to beate it downe: but the thrust was so strong, that he could not so wholy beate it awaie, but that it met with his thigh, thorow which it ranne. But Zelmane retiring her sworde, and seeing his bloud, victorious anger was conquered by the before-conquered pittie; and hartily sorie, and euen ashamed with her selfe she was, considering how little he had done, who well she found could haue done more. In so much that she said, truly I am sorie for your hurt, but your selfe gaue the cause, both in refusing to deliuer the gloue, and yet not fighting as I knowe you could haue done. But (saide shee) because I perceaue you disdayne to fight with a woman, it may be before a yeare come about, you shall meete with a neere kinsman of mine, Pyrocles Prince of Macedon, and I giue you my worde, he for me shall maintaine this quarell against you. I would (answered Amphialus) I had many more such hurtes to meete and know that worthy Prince, whose vertue I loue and admire, though my good destiny hath not bene to see his person.

But as they were so speaking, the yong Ladies came, to whom Mopsa (curious in any thing, but her own good behauiour) hauing followed and seene Zelmane fighting, had cried, what she had seene, while they were drying themselues, and the water (with some drops) seemed to weepe, that it should part from such bodies. But they carefull of Zelmane (assuring themselues that any Arcadian would beare reuerence to them) Pamela with a noble mind, and Philoclea with a louing (hastily hiding the beauties, whereof Nature was prowde, and they ashamed) they made quicke worke to come to saue Zelmane. But already they found them in talke, and Zelmane carefull of his wound. But whe they saw him they knew it was their cousin germain, the famous Amphialus; whom yet with a sweete-graced bitternes they blamed for breaking their fathers commaundement, especially while themselues were in such sort retired. But he craued pardon, protesting vnto them that he had onely bene to seeke solitary places, by an extreme melancholy that had a good while possest him, and guided to that place by his spaniell, where while the dog hunted in the riuer, he had withdrawne himselfe to pacifie with sleepe his ouer-watched eyes: till a dreame waked him, and made him see that whereof he had dreamed, and withall not obscurely signified that he felt the smart of his owne doings. But Philoclea (that was euen iealous of her selfe for Zelmane) would needs haue her gloue, and not without so mighty a loure as that face could yeeld. As for Zelmane when she knew, it was Amphialus, Lord Amphialus (said she) I haue long desired to know you, heretofore I must confesse with more good will, but still with honoring your vertue, though I loue not your person: and at this time I pray you let vs take care of your wound, vpon condition you shall hereafter promise, that a more knightly combat shalbe performed betweene vs. Amphialus answered in honorable sort, but with such excusing himselfe, that more and more accused his loue to Philoclea, and prouoked more hate in Zelmane. But Mopsa had already called certaine shepheards not far off (who knew and wel obserued their limits) to come and helpe to carrie away Amphialus, whose wound suffered him not without daunger to straine it: and so he leauing himselfe with them, departed from them, faster bleeding in his hart, then at his wound: which bound vp by the sheetes, wherewith Philoclea had bene wrapped, made him thanke the wound, and blesse the sword for that fauour.

He being gone, the Ladies (with mery anger talking, in what naked simplicitie their cousin had seene them) returned to the lodge-warde: yet thinking it too early (as long as they had any day) to breake off so pleasing a company, with going to performe a cumbersome obedience, Zelmane inuited them to the little arbour, only reserued for her, which they willingly did: and there sitting, Pamela hauing a while made the lute in his language, shew how glad it was to be touched by her fingers, Zelmane deliuered vp the paper, which Amphialus had at first yeelded vnto her: and seeing written vpon the backside of it, the complaint of Plangus, remembring what Dorus had told her, and desiring to know how much Philoclea knew of her estate, she tooke occasion in the presenting of it, to aske whether it were any secret, or no. No truely (answered Philoclea) it is but euen an exercise of my fathers writing, vpon this occasion: He was one day somwhile before your comming hether) walking abroade, hauing vs two with him, almost a mile hence; and crossing a hie way, which comes from the cittie of Megalopolis, he saw this Gentleman, whose name is there written, one of the proprest and best-graced men that euer I sawe, being of middle age, and of a meane stature. Hee lay as then vnder a tree, while his seruaunts were getting fresh post-horses for him. It might seeme he was tired with the extreme trauaile he had taken, and yet not so tyred, that hee forced to take any rest; so hasty hee was vpon his iourney: and withall so sorrowfull, that the very face thereof was painted in his face; which with pitifull motions, euen groanes, teares, and possionate talking to him self, moued my Father to fal in talke with him: who at first not knowing him, answered him in such a desperate phrase of griefe, that my Father afterward tooke a delight to set it downe in such forme as you see: which if you read, what you doubt of, my sister and I are hable to declare vnto you. Zelmane willingly opened the leaues, and read it, being written Dialogue-wise in this manner.


Plangus. Basilius.


Plangus.

Alas how long this pilgrimage doth last?
   What greater ills haue now the heauens in store,
   To couple comming harmes with sorrowes past?
Long since my voice is hoarce, and throte is sore,
   With cries to skies, and curses to the ground,
   But more I plaine, I feele my woes the more.
Ah where was first that cruell cunning found,
   To frame of Earth a vessell of the minde,
   Where it should be to selfe-destruction bound?
What needed so high sprites such mansions blind?
   Or wrapt in flesh what do they here obtaine,
   But glorious name of wretched humaine-kind?
Balles to the starres, and thralles to Fortunes raigne;
   Turnd from themselues, infected with their cage,
   Where death is feard, and life is held with paine.
Like players pla'st to fill a filthy stage,
   Where chaunge of thoughts one foole to other shewes,
   And all but iests, saue onely sorrowes rage,
The child feeles that; the man that feeling knowes,
   With cries first borne, the presage of his life,
   Where wit but serues, to haue true tast of woes.
A Shop of shame, a Booke where blots be rife
   This bodie is: this bodie so composed,
   As in it selfe to nourish mortall strife,
So diuers be the Elements disposed
   In this weake worke, that it can neuer be
   Made vniforme to any state reposed.
Griefe onely makes his wretched state to see
   (Euen like a toppe which nought but whipping moues)
   This man, this talking beast, this walking tree.
Griefe is the stone which finest iudgement proues:
   For who grieues not hath but a blockish braine,
   Since cause of griefe no cause from life remoues.

Basilius.

How long wilt thou with monefull musicke staine
   The cheerefull notes these pleasant places yeeld,
   Where all good haps a perfect state maintaine?

Plangus.

Curst be good haps, and curst be they that build
   Their hopes on haps, and do not make despaire
   For all these certaine blowes the surest shield.
Shall I that saw Eronaes shining haire
   Torne with her hands, and those same hands of snow
   With losse of purest blood themselues to teare?
Shall I that saw those brests, where beauties flow,
   Swelling with sighes, made pale with mindes disease,
   And saw those eyes (those Sonnes) such shoures to shew,
Shall I, whose eares her mournefull words did seaze,
   Her words in syrup laid of sweetest breath,
   Relent those thoughts, which then did so displease?
No, no: Despaire my dayly lesson saith,
   And saith, although I seeke my life to flie,
   Plangus must liue to see Eronaes death,
Plangus must liue some helpe for her to trie
   (Though in despaire) for Loue so forceth me;
   Plangus doth liue, and shall Erona dye?
Erona dye? O heauen (if heauen there be)
   Hath all thy whirling course so small effect?
   Serue all thy starrie eyes this shame to see?
Let doltes in haste some altars faire erect
   To those high powers, which idly sit aboue,
   And vertue do in greatest need neglect.

Basilius.

O man, take heed, how thou the Gods do moue
   To causefull wrath, which thou canst not resist.
   Blasphemous words the speaker vaine do proue.
Alas while we are wrapt in foggie mist
   Of our selfe-loue (so passions do deceaue)
   We thinke they hurt, when most they do assist.
To harme vs wormes should that high Iustice leaue
   His nature? nay, himselfe? for so it is.
   What glorie from our losse can he receaue?
But still our dazeled eyes their way do misse,
   While that we do at his sweete scourge repine,
   The kindly way to beate vs on to blisse.
If she must dye, then hath she past the line
   Of lothsome dayes, whose losse how canst thou mone,
   That doost so well their miseries define?
But such we are with inward tempest blowne
   Of windes quite contrarie in waues of will:
   We mone that lost, which had we did bemone.

Plangus.

And shall she dye? shall cruell fier spill
   Those beames that set so many harts on fire?
   Hath she not force euen death with loue to kill?
Nay euen cold Death enflamde with hot desire
   Her to enioy, where ioy it selfe is thrall,
   Will spoile the earth of his most rich attire.
Thus Death becomes a riuall to vs all,
   And hopes with foule embracements her to get,
   In whose decay Vertues faire shrine must fall.
O Vertue weake, shall death his triumph set
   Vpon thy spoiles, which neuer should lye waste?
   Let Death first dye; be thou his worthy let.
By what eclipse shall that Sonne be defaste?
   What myne hath erst throwne downe so faire a tower?
   What sacriledge hath such a saint disgra'st?
The world the garden is, she is the flower
   That sweetens all the place; she is the guest
   Of rarest price, both heau'n and earth her bower.
And shall (ô me) all this in ashes rest?
   Alas, if you a Phoenix new will haue
   Burnt by the Sunne, she first must build her nest.
But well you know, the gentle Sunne would saue
   Such beames so like his owne, which might haue might
   In him, the thoughts of Phaëtons damme to graue.
Therefore, alas, you vse vile Vulcans spight,
   Which nothing spares, to melt that Virgin-waxe
   Which while it is, it is all Asias light.
O Mars, for what doth serue thy armed axe?
   To let that wit-old beast consume in flames
   Thy Venus child, whose beautie Venus lackes?
O Venus (if her praise no enuy frames,
   In thy high minde) get her thy husbands grace.
   "Sweete speaking oft a currish hart reclaimes.'
O eyes of mine, where once she saw her face,
   Her face which was more liuely in my hart;
   O braine, where thought of her hath onely place;
O hand, which toucht her hand when we did part;
   O lippes, that kist that hand with my teares sprent;
   O toonge, then dumbe, not daring tell my smart;
O soule whose loue in her is onely spent,
   What ere you see, think, touch, kisse, speake, or loue,
   Let all for her, and vnto her be bent.

Basilius.

Thy wailing words do much my spirits moue,
   They vttred are in such a feeling fashion,
   That sorrowes worke against my will I proue.
Me-thinkes I am partaker of thy passion,
   And in thy case do glasse mine owne debilitie:
   Selfe-guiltie folke most prone to feele compassion.
Yet Reason saith, Reason should haue abilitie,
   To hold these wordly things in such proportion,
   As let them come or go with euen facilitie.
But our Desires tyrannicall extortion
   Doth force vs there to set our chiefe delightfulnes,
   Where but a baiting place is all our portion.
But still, although we faile of perfect rightfulnes,
   Seeke we to tame these childish superfluities:
   Let vs not winke though void of purest sightfulnes.
For what can breed more peeuish incongruities,
   Then man to yeeld to female lamentations?
   Let vs some grammar learne of more congruities.

Plangus.

If through mine eares pearce any consolation
   By wise discourse, sweete tunes, or Poets fiction;
   If ought I cease these hideous exclamations,
While that my soule, she, she liues in affliction;
   Then let my life long time on earth maintained be,
   To wretched me, the last worst malediction.
Can I, that know her sacred parts, restrained be
   From any ioy? know fortunes vile displacing her,
   In morall rules let raging woes contained be?
Can I forget, when they in prison placing her,
   With swelling hart in spite and due disdainfulnes
   She lay for dead, till I help with vnlasing her?
Can I forget, from how much mourning plainfulnes
   With Diamond in window-glasse she graued,
   Erona dye, and end this ougly painefulnes?
Can I forget in how straunge phrase she craued
   That quickly they would her burne, drowne, or smother,
   As if by death she onely might be saued?
Then let me eke forget one hand from other:
   Let me forget that Plangus I am called:
   Let me forget I am sonne to my mother,
But if my memory must thus be thralled
   To that strange stroke which conquer'd all my senses,
   Can thoughts still thinking so rest vnappalled?

Basilius.

Who still doth seeke against him selfe offences,
   What pardon can auaile? or who imployes him
   To hurt himselfe, what shields can be defenses?
Woe to poore man: ech outward thing annoyes him
   In diuers kinds; yet as he were not filled,
   He heapes in outward griefe, that most destroyes him.
Thus is our thought with paine for thistles tilled:
   Thus be our noblest parts dryed vp with sorrow:
   Thus is our mind with too much minding spilled.
One day layes vp stuffe of griefe for the morrow:
   And whose good haps do leaue him vnprouided,
   Condoling cause of friendship he will borrow.
Betwixt the good and shade of good diuided,
   We pittie deeme that which but weakenes is:
   So are we from our high creation slided.
But Plangus lest I may your sicknesse misse
   Or rubbing hurt the sore, I here doo end.
   The asse did hurt when he did thinke to kisse.

When Zelmane had read it ouer, marueyling verie much of the speeche of Eronas death, and therefore desirous to know further of it, but more desirous to heare Philoclea speake, Most excellent Ladie (saide she) one may be little the wiser for reading this Dialogue, since it nether sets foorth what this Plangus is, nor what Erona is, nor what the cause should be which threatens her with death, and him with sorow: therefore I woulde humbly craue to vnderstand the particular discourse thereof: because (I must confesse) some thing in my trauaile I haue heard of this strange matter, which I would be glad to finde by so sweet an authoritie confirmed. The trueth is (answered Philoclea) that after hee knew my father to bee Prince of this countrie, while hee hoped to preuaile something with him in a great request hee made vnto him, hee was content to open fully the estate both of himselfe, and of that Ladie; which with my sisters help (said she) who remembers it better then I, I will declare vnto you: and first of Erona, (being the chiefe Subiect of this discourse) this storie (with more teares and exclamations then I lifte to spende about it) hee recounted.

Of late there raigned a King in Lydia, who had for the blessing of his mariage, this onely daughter of his, Erona; a Princesse worthie for her beautie, as much praise, as beautie may be prayse-worthy. This princesse Erona, being 19. yeeres of age, seeing the countrie of Lydia so much deuoted to Cupid, as that in euery place his naked pictures and images were superstitiously adored (ether moued thereunto by the esteeming that could be no Godhead, which coulde breed wickednes, or the shamefast consideration of such nakednes) procured so much of her father, as vtterly to pull downe, and deface al those statues & pictures. Which how terribly he punished (for to that the Lydians impute it) quickly after appeared.

For she had not liued a yeare longer, whe she was striken with most obstinate Loue, to a young man but of meane parentage, in her fathers court, named Antiphilus: so meane, as that hee was but the sonne of her Nurse, and by that meanes (without other desert) became knowen of her. Now so euill could she conceale her fire, and so wilfully perseuered she in it, that her father offering her the mariage of the great Tiridates, king of Armenia (who desired her more then the ioyes of heauen) shee for Antiphilus sake refused it. Many wayes her father sought to withdrawe her from it; sometimes perswasions, sometimes threatnings; once hiding Antiphilus, and giuing her to vnderstand that he was fled the countrie: Lastly, making a solemne execution to be done of another, vnder the name of Antiphilus, whom he kept in prison. But nether she liked perswasions, nor feared threateninges, nor changed for absence: and when she thought him dead, she sought all meanes (as well by poyson as knife) to send her soule, at least, to be maried in the eternall church with him. This so brake the tender fathers hart, that (leauing things as he found them) hee shortly after died. Then foorth with Erona (being seazed of the crowne, and arming her will with authoritie) sought to aduance her affection to the holy title of matrimonie.

But before she could accomplish all the solemnities, she was ouertaken with a war the King Tiridates made vpon her, only for her person; towards whom (for her ruine) Loue had kindled his cruel hart; indeed cruell and tyrannous: for (being far too strong in the field) he spared not man, woman, and child, but (as though there could be found no foile to set foorth the extremitie of his loue, but extremity of hatred) wrote (as it were) the sonets of his Loue, in the bloud, and tuned them in the cries of her subiects; although his faire sister Artaxia (who would accompany him in the army) sought all meanes to appease his fury: till lastly, he besieged Erona in her best citie, vowing to winne her, or lose his life. And now had he brought her to the point ether of a wofull consent, or a ruinous deniall; when there came thether (following the course which Vertue and Fortune led them) two excellent young Princes, Pyrocles & Musidorus, the one Prince of Macedon, the other of Thessalia: two princes, as Plangus said, (and he witnessed his saying with sighes and teares) the most accomplished both in body & minde, that the Sun euer lookt vpon. While Philoclea spake those words, O sweete wordes (thought Zelmane to herselfe) which are not onely a praise to mee, but a praise to praise it selfe, which out of that mouth issueth.

These 2. princes (said Philoclea) aswell to help the weaker (especially being a Ladie) as ta saue a Greeke people from being ruined by such, whom we call and count Barbarous, gathering to gether such of the honestest Lycians, as would venture their liues to succour their Princesse: giuing order by a secret message they sent into the Citie, that they should issue with al force at an appointed time; they set vpon Tiridates campe, with so well-guided a fiercenes, that being of both sides assaulted, he was like to be ouerthrowen: but that this Plangus (being Generall of Tiridates hors-men) especially ayded by the two mightie men, Euardes and Barzanes, rescued the footme, euen almost defeated: but yet could not barre the Princes (with their succoures both of men and victuall) to enter the Citie.

Which when Tiridates found would make the war long, (which length seemed to him worse then a languishing consumption) he made a challenge of three Princes in his retinue, against those two Princes and Antiphilus: and that thereupon the quarrell should be decided; with compact, that neither side should helpe his fellow: but of whose side the more ouercame, with him the victorie should remaine. Antiphilus (though Erona chose rather to bide the brunt of warre, then venture him, yet) could not for shame refuse the offer, especially since the two strangers that had no interest in it, did willingly accept it: besides that, he sawe it like enough, that the people (werie of the miseries of war) would rather giue him vp, if they saw him shrinke, then for his sake venture their ruine: considering that the challengers were farre of greater worthinesse then himselfe. So it was agreed vpon; and against Pyrocles was Euardes, King of Bithinia; Barzanes of Hircania, against Musidorus, two men, that thought the world scarse able to resist them: and against Antiphilus he placed this same Plangus , being his owne cousin germain, and sonne to the King of Iberia . Now so it fell out that Musidorus slewe Barzanes, and Pyrocles Euardes; which victory those Princes esteemed aboue all that euer they had: but of the other side Plangus tooke Antiphilus prisoner: vnder which colour (as if the matter had bene equall, though indeed it was not, the greater part being ouercome of his side) Tiridates continued his war: and to bring Erona to a compelled yeelding, sent her word, that he would the third morrow after, before the walles of the towne strike off Antiphilus head; without his suite in that space were graunted: adding withall (because he had heard of her desperate affection) that if in the meane time she did her selfe any hurt, what tortures could be deuised should be layed vpon Antiphilus.

Then lo if Cupid be a God, or that the tyranny of our owne thoughts seeme as a God vnto vs. But whatsoeuer it was, then it did set foorth the miserablenes of his effectes: she being drawne to two cotraries by one cause. For the loue of him commaunded her to yeeld to no other: the loue of him commaunded her to preserue his life: which knot might well be cut, but vntied it could not be. So that Loue in her passions (like a right makebate) whispered to both sides arguments of quarrell. What (said he of the one side) doost thou loue Antiphilus, ô Erona? and shall Tiridates enioy thy bodie? with what eyes wilt thou looke vpon Antiphilus, when he shall know that another possesseth thee? But if thou wilt do it, canst thou do it? canst thou force thy hart? Thinke with thy selfe, if this man haue thee, thou shalt neuer haue more part of Antiphilus then if he were dead. But thus much more, that the affection shalbe still gnawing, and the remorse still present. Death perhaps will coole the rage of thy affection: where thus, thou shalt euer loue, and euer lacke. Thinke this beside, if thou marrie Tiridates, Antiphilus is so excellent man, that long he cannot be from being in some high place maried: canst thou suffer that too? If an other kill him, he doth him the wrong: if thou abuse thy body, thou doost him the wrong. His death is a worke of nature, and either now, or at another time he shal die. But it shalbe thy worke, thy shamefull worke, which is in thy power to shun, to make him liue to see thy faith falsified, and his bed defiled. But when Loue had well kindled that partie of her thoughts, then went he to the other side. What (said he) O Erona , and is thy Loue of Antiphilus come to that point, as thou doost now make it a question, whether he shall die, or no? O excellent affection, which for too much loue, will see his head off. Marke well the reasons of the other side, and thou shalt see, it is but loue of thy selfe which so disputeth: Thou canst not abide Tiridates: this is but loue of thy selfe: thou shalt be ashamed to looke vpon him afterward; this is but feare of shame, and loue of thy selfe: thou shalt want him as much then; this is but loue of thy selfe: he shalbe married; if he bewell, why should that grieue thee, but for loue of thy selfe? No, no, pronounce these words if thou canst, let Antiphilus die. Then the images of each side stood before her vnderstanding; one time she thought she saw Antiphilus dying: an other time she thought Antiphilus sawe her by Tiridates enioyed: twenty times calling for a seruaunt to carry message of yeelding, but before he came the minde was altered. She blusht when she considered the effect of granting; she was pale, when she remembred the fruits of denying. For weeping, sighing, wringing her hands, and tearing her haire, were indifferent of both sides. Easily she would haue agreed to haue broken all disputations with her owne death, but that the feare of Antiphilus furder torments staied her. At length, euen the euening before the day apointed of his death, the determination of yeelding preuailed, especially, growing vpon a message of Antiphilus; who with all the coniuring termes he could deuise, besought her to saue his life, vpon any conditions. But she had no sooner sent her messenger to Tiridates, but her mind changed, and she went to the two yong Princes, Pyrocles and Musidorus, & falling downe at their feet, desired them to try some way for her deliuerance; shewing her selfe resolued, not to ouer-liue Antiphilus, nor yet to yeeld to Tiridates.

They that knew not what she had done in priuate, prepared that night accordingly: & as sometimes it fals out, that what is inconstancy, seemes cunning; so did this change indeed stand in as good steed as a witty dissimulation. For it made the King as reckles, as them diligent: so that in the dead time of the night, the Princes issued out of the towne; with whom she would needs go, either to die her selfe, or reskew Antiphilus, hauing no armour, nor weapon, but affection. And I cannot tell you how, by what deuise (though Plangus at large described it) the conclusion was, the wonderfull valour of the two Princes so preuailed, that Antiphilus was succoured, and the King slaine. Plangus was then the chiefe man left in the campe; and therefore seeing no other remedie, conueied in safety into her country Artaxia, now Queene of Armenia; who with true lamentations, made known to the world, that her new greatnes did no way comfort her in respect of her brothers losse, whom she studied all meanes possible to reuenge vpon euery one of the occasioners, hauing (as she thought) ouerthrowne her brother by a most abhominable treason. In somuch, that being at home, she proclaimed great rewards to any priuate man, and her selfe in mariage to any Prince, that would destroy Pyrocles and Musidorus. But thus was Antiphilus redeemed, and (though against the consent of all her nobility) married to Erona; in which case the two Greeke Princes (being called away by an other aduenture) left them.

But now me thinkes as I haue read some Poets, who when they intend to tell some horrible matter, they bid men shun the hearing of it: so if I do not desire you to stop your eares from me, yet may I wel desire a breathing time, before I am to tell the execrable treason of Antiphilus, that brought her to this misery; and withall wish you all, that from all mankind indeed you stop your eares. O most happy were we, if we did set our loues one vpon another. (And as she spake that word, her cheekes in red letters writ more, then her tongue did speake.) And therefore since I haue named Plangus, I pray you sister (said she) helpe me with the rest, for I haue held the stage long inough; and if it please you to make his fortune knowne, as I haue done Eronas, I will after take hart againe to go on with his falshood; and so betweene vs both, my Ladie Zelmane shall vnderstand both the cause and parties of this Lamentation. Nay I beshrow me then (said Miso) I will none of that, I promise you, as long as I haue the gouernmet, I wil first haue my tale, & then my Lady Pamela, my Lady Zelmane, & my daughter Mopsa (for Mopsa was then returned from Amphialus) may draw cuts, & the shortest cut speake first. For I tell you, and this may be suffred, when you are married you will haue first, and last word of your husbands. The Ladies laughed to see with what an eger earnestnesse she looked, hauing threatning not onely in her Ferret eies, but while she spake, her nose seeming to threaten her chin, & her shaking lims one to threaten another. But there was no remedy, they must obey: and Miso (sitting on the ground with her knees vp, and her hands vpon her knees) tuning her voice with many a quauering cough, thus discoursed vnto them. I tell you true (said she) whatsoeuer you thinke of me, you will one day be as I am; & I, simple though I sit here, thought once my pennie as good siluer, as some of you do: and if my father had not plaid the hasty foole (it is no lie I tell you) I might haue had an other-gaines husband, then Dametas . But let that passe, God amend him: and yet I speake it not without good cause. You are full in your tittle tattlings of Cupid: here is Cupid, & there is Cupid. I will tell you now, what a good old woma told me, what an old wise man told her, what a great learned clerke told him, and gaue it him in writing; and here I haue it in my praier booke. I pray you (said Philoclea) let vs see it, & read it. No hast but good (said Miso) you shal first know how I came by it. I was a young girle of a seuen and twenty yeare old, & I could not go thorow the streate of our village, but I might heare the young men talke; O the pretie little eies of Miso; O the fine thin lips of Miso; O the goodly fat hands of Miso: besides, how well a certaine wrying I had of my necke, became me. Then the one would wincke with one eye, and the other cast daiseys at me: I must confesse, seing so many amorous, it made me set vp my peacocks tayle with the hiest. Which when this good old woman perceiued (O the good wold woman, well may the bones rest of the good wold woman) she cald me to her into her house. I remember full well it stood in the lane as you go to the Barbers shop, all the towne knew her, there was a great losse of her: she called me to her, and taking first a soppe of wine to comfort her hart (it was of the same wine that comes out of Candia, which we pay so deere for now adaies, and in that good world was very good cheape) she cald me to her; Minion said she, (indeed I was a pretie one in those daies though I say it) I see a number of lads that loue you; Well (said she) I say no more: doo you know what Loue is? With that she brought me into a corner, where there was painted a foule fiend I trow: for he had a paire of hornes like a Bull, his feete clouen, as many eyes vpon his bodie, as my gray-mare hath dappels, & for all the world so placed. This monster sat like a hangman vpon a paire of gallowes, in his right hand he was painted holding a crowne of Laurel, in his left hand a purse of mony, & out of his mouth hong a lace of two faire pictures, of a man and a woman, and such a countenance he shewed, as if he would perswade folks by those aluremets to come thither & be hanged. I, like a tender harted wench, skriked out for feare of the diuell. Well (said she) this same is euen Loue: therefore do what thou list with all those fellows, one after another; and it recks not much what they do to thee, so it be in secret; but vpo my charge, neuer loue none of them. Why mother (said I) could such a thing come fro the belly of the faire Venus? for a few dayes before, our (priest betweene him & me) had told me the whole storie of Venus. Tush (said she) they are all deceaued: and therwith gaue me this Booke, which she said a great maker of ballets had giuen to an old painter, who for a litle pleasure, had bestowed both booke and picture of her. Reade there (said she) & thou shalt see that his mother was a cowe, and the false Argus his father. And so she gaue me this Booke, and there now you may reade it. With that the remembrance of the good old woman, made her make such a face to weepe, as if it were not sorrow, it was the carkasse of sorrow that appeared there. But while her teares came out, like raine falling vpon durtie furrowes, the latter end of her praier booke was read among these Ladies, which contained this.



Poore Painters oft with silly Poets ioyne,
To fill the world with strange but vaine conceits:
One brings the stuffe, the other stamps the coine,
Which breedes nought else but gloses of deceits.
   Thus Painters Cupid paint, thus Poets do
   A naked God, blinde young, with arrowes two.
Is he a God, that euer flies the light?
Or naked he, disguis'd in all vntruth?
If he be blind, how hitteth he so right?
How is he young, that tam'd old Phoebus youth?
   But arrowes two, and tipt with gold or leade?
   Some hurt accuse a third with horny head.
No, nothing so; an old false knaue he is
By Argus got on Io, then a cow:
What time for her Iuno her Ioue did misse,
And charge of her to Argus did allow.
   Mercury kill'd his false fire for this act,
   His damme a beast was pardon'd beastly fact.
With fathers death, and mothers guiltie shame,
With Ioues disdaine at such a riuals seed,
The wretch compell'd a runnagate became,
And learn'd what ill a miser state doth breed,
   To lye, to steale, to pry, and to accuse,
   Naught in himselfe ech other to abuse.
Yet beares he still his parents stately gifts,
A horned head, clouen feete, and thousand eyes,
Some gazing still, some winking wilye shiftes,
With long large eares where neuer rumour dyes.
   His horned head doth seeme the heauen to spight:
   His clouen foote doth neuer treade aright.
Thus halfe a man, with man he dayly haunts,
Cloth'd in the shape which soonest may deceaue:
Thus halfe a beast, ech beastly vice he plants,
In those weake harts that his aduice receaue.
   He proules ech place stil in new colours deckt,
   Sucking ones ill, another to infect.
To narrow brests he comes all wrapt in gaine:
To swelling harts he shines in honours fire:
To open eyes all beauties he doth raine;
Creeping to ech with flattering of desire.
   But for that Loue is worst which rules the eyes,
   Thereon his name, there his chiefe triumph lyes.
Millions of yeares this old driuell Cupid liues;
While still more wretch, more wicked he doth proue:
Till now at length that Ioue him office giues;
(At Iunos suite who much did Argus loue)
   In this our world a hang-man for to be,
   Of all those fooles that will haue all they see.

The Ladies made sport at the description and storie of Cupid. But Zelmane could scarce suffer those blasphemies (as she tooke them) to be read, but humbly besought Pamela she would perfourme her sisters request of the other part of the storie. Noble Lady (answered she, beautifying her face with a sweete smiling, and the sweetnes of her smiling with the beautie of her face) since I am borne a Princes daughter, let me not giue example of disobedience. My gouernesse will haue vs draw cuts, and therefore I pray you let vs do so: and so perhaps it will light vpon you to entertaine this company with some storie of your owne; and it is reason our eares should be willinger to heare, as your tongue is abler to deliuer. I will thinke (answered Zelmane) excellent Princesse my tongue of some value, if it can procure your tongue thus much to fauour me. But Pamela pleasantly persisting to haue fortune their iudge, they set hands, and Mopsa (though at the first for squeamishnes going vp and downe, with her head like a boate in a storme) put to her golden gols among them, and blind Fortune (that saw not the coulor of them) gaue her the preheminence: and so being her time to speake (wiping her mouth, as there was good cause) she thus tumbled into her matter. In time past (sayd she) there was a King, the mightiest man in all his country, that had by his wife, the fairest daughter that euer did eate pappe. Now this King did keepe a great house, that euery body might come and take their meat freely. So one day, as his daughter was sitting in her window, playing vpon a harpe, as sweete as any Rose; and combing her head with a combe all of precious stones, there came in a Knight into the court, vpon a goodly horse, one haire of gold, and the other of siluer; and so the Knight casting vp his eyes to the window, did fall into such loue with her, that he grew not worth the bread he eate; till many a sorry day going ouer his head, with Dayly Diligence and Grisly Grones, he wan her affection, so that they agreed to run away togither. And so in May, when all true hartes reioyce, they stale out of the Castel, without staying so much as for their breakfast. Now forsooth, as they went togither, often all to kissing one another, the Knight told her, he was brought vp among the water Nymphes, who had so bewitched him, that if he were euer askt his name, he must presently vanish away: and therefore charged her vpon his blessing, that she neuer aske him what he was, nor whether he would. And so a great while she kept his commandement; til once, passing through a cruell wildernes, as darke as pitch; her mouth so watred, that she could not choose but aske him the question. And then, he making the greeuousest complaints that would haue melted a tree to haue heard them, vanisht quite away: and she lay downe, casting forth as pitifull cries as any shrich-owle. But hauing laien so, (wet by the raine, & burnt by the Sun) fiue dayes, and fiue nights, she gat vp and went ouer many a high hill, and many a deepe riuer; till she came to an Aunts house of hers; and came, and cried to her for helpe: and she for pittie gaue her a Nut, and bad her neuer open her Nut, till she was come to the extremest misery that euer tongue could speake of. And so she went, and she went, and neuer rested the euening, where she went in the morning; till she came to a second Aunt; and she gaue her another Nut.

Now good Mopsa (said the sweete Philoclea) I pray thee at my request keepe this tale, till my marriage day, and I promise thee that the best gowne I weare that day shalbe thine. Mopsa was very glad of the bargaine, especially that it should grow a festiuall Tale: so that Zelmane, who desired to finde the vttermost what these Ladies vnderstood touching her selfe, and hauing vnderstood the danger of Erona (of which before she had neuer heard) purposing with her selfe (as soone as this pursuit she now was in, was brought to any effect) to succour her, entreated againe, that she might know as well the story of Plangus, as of Erona. Philoclea referred it to her sisters perfecter remembrance, who with so sweet a voice, and so winning a grace, as in themselues were of most forcible eloquence to procure attention, in this maner to their earnest request soone condiscended.

The father of this Prince Plangus as yet liues, and is King of Iberia: a man (if the iudgement of Plangus may be accepted) of no wicked nature, nor willingly doing euill, without himselfe mistake the euill, seeing it disguised vnder some forme of goodnesse. This Prince, being married at the first to a Princesse (who both from her auncesters, and in her selfe was worthy of him) by her had this sonne, Plangus. Not long after whose birth, the Queene (as though she had perfourmed the message for which she was sent into the world) returned againe vnto her maker. The King (sealing vp all thoughts of loue vnder the image of her memorie) remained a widdower many yeares after; recompencing the griefe of that disioyning from her, in conioyning in himselfe both a fatherly and a motherly care toward her onely child, Plangus. Who being growne to mans age, as our owne eies may iudge, could not but fertilly requite his fathers fatherly education.

This Prince (while yet the errors in his nature were excused by the greenenes of his youth, which tooke all the fault vpon it selfe) loued a priuate mans wife of the principall Citie of that Kingdome, if that may be called loue, which he rather did take into himselfe willingly, then by which he was taken forcibly. It sufficeth, that the yong ma perswaded himself he loued her: she being a woma beautifull enough, if it be possible, that the onely outside can iustly entitle a beauty. But finding such a chase as onely fledde to be caught, the young Prince brought his affection with her to that point, which ought to engraue remorse in her hart, & to paint shame vpo her face. And so possest he his desire without any interruption; he constantly fauouring her, and she thinking, that the enameling of a Princes name, might hide the spots of a broken wedlock. But as I haue seene one that was sick of a sleeping disease, could not be made wake, but with pinching of him: so out of his sinfull sleepe his minde (vnworthie so to be lost) was not to be cald to it selfe, but by a sharpe accident. It fell out, that his many-times leauing of the court (in vndue times) began to be noted; and (as Princes eares be manifolde) from one to another came vnto the King; who (carefull of his onely sonne) sought, and found by his spies (the necessarie euill seruaunts to a King) what it was, whereby he was from his better delights so diuerted. Whereupon, the King (to giue his fault the greater blow) vsed such meanes, by disguising himselfe, that he found them (her husband being absent) in her house together: which he did, to make him the more feelingly ashamed of it. And that way he tooke, laying threatnings vpon her, and vpon him reproaches. But the poore young Prince (deceiued with that young opinion, that if it be euer lawful to lie, it is for ones Louer,) employed all his wit to bring his father to a better opinion. And because he might bende him from that (as he counted it) crooked conceit of her he wrested him, as much as he coulde possible, to the other side: not sticking with prodigal protestations to set foorth her chastitie; not denying his own attempt, but thereby the more extolling her vertue. His Sophistrie preuayled, his father beleeued; and so beleeued, that ere long (though he were already stept into the winter of his age) he founde himselfe warme in those desires, which were in his sonne farre more excusable. To be short, he gaue himselfe ouer vnto it; and (because he would auoide the odious comparison of a yong riuall) sent away his sonne with an armie, to the subduing of a Prouince lately rebelled against him, which he knew could not be a lesse worke, then of three or foure yeares. Wherein he behaued him so worthilie, as euen to this country the fame thereof came, long before his owne comming: while yet his father had a speedier succes, but in a far vnnobler conquest. For while Plangus was away, the old man (growing onely in age and affection) followed his suite with all meanes of vnhonest seruants, large promises, and each thing els that might help to counteruaile his owne vnlouelines.

And she (whose husband about that time died) forgetting the absent Plangus, or at lest not hoping of him to obtaine so aspiring a purpose, lefte no art vnused, which might keepe the line from breaking, whereat the fishe was alredy taken; not drawing him violently, but letting him play himselfe vpon the hooke, which he had so greedily swalowed. For, accompanying her mourning garments with a dolefull countenaunce, yet neither forgetting handsomnes in her mourning garments, nor sweetenes in her dolefull countenance; her wordes were euer seasoned with sighes; and any fauour she shewed, bathed in teares, that affection might see cause of pity; and pity might perswade cause of affection. And being growen skilful in his humors she was no lesse skilfull in applying his humors: neuer suffering his feare to fall to a despaire, nor his hope to hasten to an assurance: shee was content he should thinke that she loued him; and a certaine stolne looke should sometimes (as though it were against her will) bewray it: But if thereupon hee grewe bolde, hee straight was encoutered with a maske of vertue. And that which seemeth most impossible vnto me, (for as neere as I can I repeate it as Plangus tolde it) she could not only sigh when she would, as all can doo; & weep whe she would, as (they say) some can doo; but (being most impudent in her heart) she could, when she would, teach her chekes blushing, & make shamefastnes the cloake of shamelesnes. In sum, to leaue out many particularities which he recited, she did not only vse so the spurre, that his Desire ran on, but so the bit, that it ran on euen in such a careere as she would haue it; that within a while the king, seing with no other eys but such as she gaue him, & thinking on other thoughts, but such as she taught him; hauing at the first liberal measure of fauors, the shortned of the, whe most his Desire was inflam'd; he saw no other way but mariage to satisfie his longing, and her minde (as he thought) louing, but chastly louing. So that by the time Plangus returned from being notably victorious of the Rebels, he found his father, not onely maried, but alredy a father of a sonne and a daughter by this woman. Which though Plangus (as he had euery way iust cause) was grieued at; yet did his griefe neuer bring foorth ether contemning of her, or repining at his father. But she (who besides she was growen a mother, and a stepmother, did read in his eies her owne fault, and made his conscience her guiltines) thought still that his presence caried her condemnation: so much the more, as that she (vnchastly attempting his wonted fancies) found (for the reuerence of his fathers bed) a bitter refusall which breeding rather spite then shame in her, or if it were a shame, a shame not of the fault, but of the repulse, she did not onely (as hating him) thirst for a reuenge, but (as fearing harm form him) endeuoured to doo harme vnto him. Therefore did she trie the vttermost of her wicked wit, how to ouerthrow him in the foundation of his strength, which was, in the fauour of his father: which because she saw strong both in nature and desert, it required the more cunning how to vndermine it. And therefore (shunning the ordinary trade of hireling sycophants) shee made her praises of him, to be accusations; and her aduancing him, to be his ruine. For first with words (neerer admiration then liking) she would extoll his excellencies, the goodlines of his shape, the power of his witte, the valiantnes of his courage, the fortunatenes of his successes: so as the father might finde in her a singular loue towards him: nay, shee shunned not to kindle some fewe sparkes of ielousie in him. Thus hauing gotten an opinion in his father, that shee was farre from meaning mischiefe to the sonne, then fell shee to praise him with no lesse vehemencie of affection, but with much more cunning of malice. For then she sets foorth the liberty of his mind the high flying of his thoughts, the fitnesse in him to beare rule, the singular loue the Subiects bare him; that it was doubtfull, whether his wit were greater in winning their fauours, or his courage in imploying their fauours: that he was not borne to liue a subiect-life, each action of his bearing in it Maiestie, such a Kingly entertainement, such a Kingly magnificence, such a Kingly harte for enterprises: especially remembring those vertues, which in a successor are no more honoured by the subiects, then suspected of the Princes. Then would shee by putting off obiections, bring in obiectios to her husbands head, already infected with suspitio. Nay (would she say) I dare take it vpon my death, that he is no such sonne, as many of like might haue bene, who loued greatnes so well, as to build their greatnes vpon their fathers ruine. Indeed Ambition, like Loue, can abide no lingring, and euer vrgeth on his owne successes; hating no thing, but what may stop them. But the Gods forbid, we should euer once dreame of any such thing in him, who perhaps might be content, that you and the world should know, what he can do: but the more power he hath to hurte, the more admirable is his praise, that he will not hurt. Then euer remembring to strengthen the suspition of his estate with priuate ielousie of her loue, doing him excessiue honour whe he was in presence, & repeating his pretie speaches and graces in his absence; besides, causing him to be imployed in all such dangerous matters, as ether he should perish in them, or if hee preuailed, they should increase his glorie: which she made a weapon to wound him, vntill she found that suspition began already to speake for it selfe, and that her husbands eares were growne hungry of rumours, and his eies prying into euery accident.

Then tooke she help to her of a seruant neere about her husband, who she knew to be of a hasty ambition, and such a one, who wanting true sufficiencie to raise him, would make a ladder of any mischiefe. Him shee vseth to deale more plainely in alleaging causes of iealousie, making him knowe the fittest times when her husband already was stirred that way. And so they two, with diuers wayes, nourished one humour, like Musitians, that singing diuers parts, make one musicke. He sometime with fearefull countenaunce would desire the King to looke to himselfe; for that all the court and Cittie were full of whisperinges, and expectation of some soddaine change, vpon what ground himselfe knew not. Another time hee would counsell the King to make much of his sonne, and holde his fauour, for that it was too late now to keepe him vnder. Now seeming to feare himselfe, because (he said) Plangus loued none of them that were great about his father. Lastly, breaking with him directly (making a sorrowful countenance, and an humble gesture beare false witnesse for his true meaning) that he found, not onely souldiery, but people weary of his gouernment, and all their affections bent vpon Plangus. Both he and the Queene concurring in strange dreames, and each thing else, that in a minde (already perplexed) might breed astonishment: so that within a while, all Plangus actions began to be translated into the language of suspition.

Which though Plangus found, yet could he not auoid, euen contraries being driuen to draw one yoke of argument: if he were magnificent, he spent much with an aspiring intent: if he spared, hee heaped much with an aspiring intent: if hee spake curteously, he angled the peoples harts: if he were silent he mused vpon some daungerous plot. In summe, if hee could haue turned himselfe to as many formes as Proteus, euery forme should haue bene made hideous.

But so it fell out, that a meere trifle gaue them occasion of further proceeding. The King one morning, going to a vineyard that lay along the hill where vpon his castle stood, he saw a vine-labourer, that finding a bowe broken, tooke a branch of the same bowe for want of another thing, and tied it about the place broken. The King asking the fellow what he did, Marry (said he) I make the sonne binde the father. This word (finding the King alredy supersticious through suspition) amazed him streight, as a presage of his owne fortune: so that, returning, and breaking with his wife how much he misdoubted his estate, she made such gaine-saying answeres as while they straue, straue to be ouercome. But euen while the doubtes most boiled, she thus nourished them.

She vnder-hand dealt with the principall men of that country, that at the great Parliament (which was then to bee held) they should in the name of all the estates perswade the King (being now stept deeply into old age) to make Plangus, his associate in gouernment with him: assuring them, that not onely she would ioine with them, but that the father himfelfe would take it kindly; charging them not to acquaint Plangus withall; for that perhaps it might be harmefull vnto him, if the King should finde, that he were a party. They (who thought they might do it, not onely willingly, because they loued him, and truely, because such indeed was the mind of the people, but safely because she who ruled the King was agreed thereto) accomplished her counsell: she indeed keeping promise of vehement perswading the same: which the more she and they did, the more shee knew her husband woulde feare, and hate the cause of his feare. Plangus found this, and humbly protested against such desire, or will to accept. But the more hee protested, the more his father thought he dissembled, accounting his integrity to be but a cuning face of falshood: and therefore delaying the desire of his subiects, attended some fit occasion to lay hands vpon his sonne: which his wife thus brought to passe.

She caused that same minister of hers to go vnto Plangus, and (enabling his words with great shew of faith, and endearing them with desire of secresie) to tell him, that he found his ruine conspired by his stepmother, with certaine of the noble men of that country, the King himselfe giuing his consent, and that few daies shoulde passe before the putting it in practize: with all discouering the very truth indeede, with what cunning his stepmother had proceeded. This agreing with Plangus his owne opinion, made him giue him the better credit: yet not so far, as to flie out of his country (according to the naughty fellowes persuasion) but to attend, and to see further. Whereupon the fellow (by the direction of his mistresse) told him one day, that the same night about one of the clocke, the King had appointed to haue his wife, and those noble men together, to deliberate of their manner of proceeding against Plangus: and therefore offered him, that if himselfe would agree, hee woulde bring him into a place where hee should heare all that passed; and so haue the more reason both to himselfe, and to the world, to seeke his safetie. The poore Plangus (being subiect to that onely disaduantage of honest harts, credulitie) was perswaded by him: and arming himselfe (because of his late going) was closely conueied into the place appointed. In the meane time his stepmother, making al her gestures cuningly counterfait a miserable affliction, she lay almost groueling on the flower of her chaber, not suffering any body to comfort her; vntill they calling for her husband, and he held of with long enquiry, at length, she tolde him (euen almost crying out euery word) that she was wery of her life, since shee was brought to that plunge, either to conceale her husbands murther, or accuse her sonne, who had euer beene more deare, then a sonne vnto her. Then with many interruptions and exclamations she tolde him, that her sonne Plangus (solliciting her in the olde affection betweene them) had besought her to put her helping hand to the death of the King; assuring her, that though all the lawes in the world were against it, he would marrie her when he were King.

She had not fully said thus much, with many pitifull digressios, when in comes the same fellow, that brought Plagus: & runing himself out of breath, fell at the Kings feet, beseeching him to saue himself; for that there was a man with a sword drawen in the next roome. The King affrighted, wet out, & called his gard, who entring the place, soud indeed Plangus with his sword in his hand, but not naked, but standing suspiciously inough, to one already suspicious. The King (thinking hee had put vp his sworde because of the noise) neuer tooke leasure to heare his answer, but made him prisoner, meaning the next morning to put him to death in the market place.

But the day had no sooner opened the eies & eares of his friends & followers, but that there was a little army of them, who came, & by force deliuered him; although numbers on the other side (abused with the fine framing of their report) took armes for the King. But Plangus, though he might haue vsed the force of his friends to reuenge his wrong, and get the crowne; yet the naturall loue of his father, and hate to make their suspition seeme iust, caused him rather to choose a voluntarie exile, then to make his fathers death the purchase of his life: and therefore went he to Tiridates, whose mother was his fathers sister, liuing in his Court eleuen or twelue yeares, euer hoping by his intercession, and his owne desert, to recouer his fathers grace. At the end of which time, the warre of Erona happened, which my sister with the cause thereof discoursed vnto you.

But his father had so deeply engraued the suspition in his hart, that he thought his flight rather to proceed of a fearefull guiltines, then of an humble faithfulnes; and therefore continued his hate, with such vehemencie, that he did euen hate his Nephew Tiridates, and afterwardes his neece Artaxia, because in their Court hee receiued countenance, leauing no meanes vnattempted of destroying his son; among other, employing that wicked seruant of his, who vndertooke to empoyson him. But his cunning disguised him not so well, but that the watchful seruants of Plangus did discouer him. Whereupon the wretch was taken, & (before his well deserued execution) by torture forced to confesse the particularities of this, which in generall I haue told you.

Which confession autentically set downe (though Tiridates with solemne Embassage sent it to the King) wrought no effect. For the King hauing put the reines of the gouernment into his wiues hande, neuer did so much as reade it; but sent it streight by her to be considered. So as they rather heaped more hatred vpon Plangus, for the death of their seruaunt. And now finding, that his absence, and their reports had much diminished the wauering peoples affection towardes Plangus, with aduauncing fit persons for faction, and graunting great immunities to the commons, they preuailed so farre; as to cause the sonne of the second wife, called Palladius, to be proclaymed successour, and Plangus quite excluded: so that Plangus was driuen to continue his seruing Tiridates, as hee did in the warre against Erona, and brought home Artaxia , as my sister tolde you; when Erona by the treason of Antiphilus, But at that word she stopped. For Basilius (not able longer to abide their absence) came sodainly among them, and with smiling countenance (telling Zelmane hee was affraid shee had stollen away his daughters) inuited them to follow the Sunnes counsell in going then to their lodging; for indeed the Sun was readie to set. They yeelded, Zelmane meaning some other time to vnderstand the storie of Antiphilus treason, and Eronas daunger, whose cause she greatly tendred. But Miso had no sooner espied Basilius, but that as spitefully, as her rotten voice could vtter it, she set foorth the sawcinesse of Amphialus. But Basilius onely attended what Zelmanes opinion was, who though she hated Amphialus, yet the nobilitie of her courage preuailed ouer it, and shee desired he might be pardoned that youthfull error; considering the reputation he had, to be one of the best knights in the world; so as hereafter he gouerned himselfe, as one remembring his fault. Basilius giuing the infinite tearmes of praises to Zelmanes both valour in conquering, and pittifulnesse in pardoning, commanded no more wordes to be made of it, since such he thought was her pleasure.

So brought he them vp to visite his wife, where betweene her, and him, the poore Zelmane receaued a tedious entertainement; oppressed with being loued, almost as much, as with louing. Basilius not so wise in couering his passion, coulde make his tong go almost no other pace, but to runne into those immoderate praises, which the foolish Louer thinkes short of his Mistres, though they reach farre beyond the heauens. But Gynecia (whome womanly modestie did more outwardly bridle) yet did oftentimes vse the aduantage of her sexe in kissing Zelmane, as shee sate vpon her bedde-side by her; which was but still more and more sweete incense, to cast vpon the fire wherein her harte was sacrificed: Once Zelmane coulde not stirre, but that, (as if they had bene poppets, whose motion stoode onely vpon her pleasure) Basilius with seruiceable steppes, Gynecia with greedie eyes would follow her. Basilius mind Gynecia well knew, and could haue found in her hart to laugh at, if mirth could haue borne any proportion with her fortune. But all Gynecias actions were interpreted by Basilius, as proceeding from iealousie of his amorousnesse. Zelmane betwixt both (like the poore childe, whose father while he beates him, will make him beleeue it is for loue; or like the sicke man, to whom the Phisition sweares, the ill-tasting wallowish medicine he profers, is of a good taste) their loue was hatefull, their courtesie troublesome, their presence cause of her absence thence, were not only her light, but her life consisted. Alas (thought she to her selfe) Deare Dorus, what ods is there betweene thy destiny and mine? For thou hast to doo in thy pursuite but with shepherdish folkes, who trouble thee with a little enuious care, and affected diligence. But I (besides that I haue now Miso the worst of thy diuels, let loose vpon me) am waited on by Princes, and watched by the two wakefull eyes of Loue and Iealousie. Alas, incomparable Philoclea, thou euer seest me, but dost neuer see me as I am: thou hearest willingly all that I dare say, and I dare not say that which were most fit for thee to heare. Alas who euer but I was imprisoned in libertie, and banished being still present? To whom but me haue louers bene iaylours, & honour a captiuitie?

But the night comming on with her silent steps vpon them, they parted each fro other (if at lest they could bee parted, of whom euery one did liue in another) and went about to flatter sleepe with their beds, that disdained to bestow it selfe liberally vpon such eies which by their will would euer be looking: and in lest measure vpon Gynecia, who (when Basilius after long tossing was gotten a sleepe, and the cheereful cofort of the lights remoued from her) kneeling vp in her bed, began with a soft voice, and swolne hart, to renue the curses of her birth; & then in a maner embracing her bed; Ah chastest bed of mine (said she) which neuer heretofore couldst accuse me of one defiled thought, how canst thou now receaue this desastred chagling? Happie, happie be they onely which bee not: and thy blessednes onely in this respect thou maiest feele, that thou hast no feeling. With that she furiously tare off great part of her faire haire: Take here ô forgotten vertue (saide shee) this miserable sacrifice; while my soule was clothed with modestie, that was a comely ornament: now why should nature crowne that head, which is so wicked, as her onely despaire is, she cannot be enough wicked? More she would haue said, but that Basilius (awaked with the noise) tooke her in his armes, and began to comfort her; the good man thinking, it was all for a iealous loue of him: which humor if she would a little haue maintained, perchance it might haue weakned his new conceaued fancies. But hee finding her answers wandring from the purpose, left her to herselfe (glad the next morning to take the aduantage of a sleepe, which a little before day, ouer-watched with sorrow, her teares had as it were sealed vp in her eyes) to haue the more conference with Zelmane, who baited on this fashion by these two louers, and euer kept form any meane to declare herselfe, found in her selfe a dayly encrease of her violent desires; like a riuer the more swelling, the more his current is stopped.

The chiefe recreation she could finde in her anguish, was sometime to visite that place, where first she was so happy as to see the cause of her vnhap. There would she kisse the ground, and thanke the trees, blisse the aier, & doo dutifull reuerence to euery thing that she thought did accompany her at their first meeting: then returne againe to her inward thoughts; sometimes despaire darkning all her imaginations, sometimes the actiue passion of Loue cheering and cleering her inuention, how to vnbar that combersome hinderance of her two ill-matched louers, But this mourning Basilius himself gaue her good occasion to go beyond them. For hauing combd and trickt himselfe more curiously, then any time fortie winters before, comming where Zelmane was, he found her giuen ouer to her musical muses, to the great pleasure of the good old Basilius, who retired himselfe behinde a tree, while she with a most sweete voice did vtter these passionate verses.



Loued I am, and yet complaine of Loue:
As louing not, accus'd in Loue I die.
When pittie most I craue, I cruell proue:
Still seeking Loue, loue found as much I flie.
   Burnt in my selfe, I muse at others fire:
What I call wrong, I doo the same, and more:
Bard of my will, I haue beyond desire:
I waile for want, and yet am chokt with store.
   This is thy worke, thou God for euer blinde:
Though thousands old, a Boy entit'led still.
Thus children doo the silly birds they finde,
With stroking hurt, and too much cramming kill.
   Yet thus much Loue, O Loue, I craue of thee:
   Let me be lou'd, or els not loued bee.

Basilius made no great haste from behind the tree, till he perceaued she had fully ended her musick. But then loth to loose the pretious fruite of time, he presented himselfe vnto her, falling downe vpon both his knees, and holding vp his hands, as the old gouernesse of Danae is painted, when she sodainly saw the golden shoure, O heauenly woman, or earthly Goddesse (said he) let not my presence be odious vnto you, nor my humble suite seeme of small weight in your eares. Vouchsafe your eies to descend vpon this miserable old-man, whose life hath hitherto bene maintained but to serue as an encrease of your beautifull triumphs. You only haue ouerthrowne me, and in my bondage consists my glory. Suffer not your owne worke to be despised of you: but looke vpon him with pittie, whose life serues for your praise. Zelmane (keeping a countenance ascanses she vnderstood him not) told him, It became her euill to suffer such excessiue reuerence of him, but that it worse became her to correct him, to whom she owed duetie: that the opinion she had of his wisedome was such, as made her esteeme greatly of his words; but that the words themselues sounded so, as she could not imagine what they might intend. Intend? (said Basilius, proud that that was brought in question) what may they intend, but a refreshing of my soule, and a swaging of my heat, and enioying those your excellencies, wherein my life is vpheld, and my death threatned? Zelmane lifting vp her face as if she had receaued a mortall iniurie of him. And is this the deuotion your ceremonies haue bene bent vnto? said she: Is it the disdaine of my estate, or the opinion of my lightnesse, that haue emboldned such base fancies towards me? enioying quoth you? now little ioy come to them that yeeld to such enioying. Poore Basilius was so appalled, that his legges bowed vnder him; his eyes lookt as though he would gladly hide himselfe; and his old blood going to his hart, a generall shaking all ouer his bodie possessed him. At length with a wanne mouth; he was about to giue a stammering answere, when it came into Zelmanes head by this deuise to make her profite of his folly; and therefore with a relented countenance, thus said vnto him. Your words (mightie Prince) were vnfit either for me to heare, or you to speake: but yet the large testimonie I see of your affection makes me willing to suppresse a great number of errors. Onely thus much I thinke good to say, that the same words in my Ladie Philocleas mouth, as from one woman to another (so as there were no other bodie by) might haue had a better grace; and perchance haue found a gentler receipt.

Basilius (whose senses by Desire were held open, and conceipt was by Loue quickned) heard scarcely halfe her answere out, but that (as if speedie flight might saue his life) he turned away, and ran with all the speede his bodie would suffer him, towards his daughter Philoclea: whom he found at that time duetifully watching by her mother, and Miso curiouslie watching her; hauing left Mopsa to doo the like seruice to Pamela. Basilius foorthwith calling Philoclea aside, (with all the coniuring words which Desire could endite, and authoritie vtter) besought her she would preserue his life, in whom her life was begonne; she would saue his graye haires from rebuke, and his aged mind from despaire; that if she were not cloyed with his companie, and that she thought not the earth ouer-burdened with him, she would coole his fierie griefe, which was to be done but by her breath. That in fine, whatsoeuer he was, he was nothing but what it pleased Zelmane; all the powers of his spirite depending of her: that if she continued cruell, he could no more sustaine his life, then the earth remaine fruitefull in the Sunnes continuall absence. He concluded, she should in one payment requite all his deserts: and that she needed not disdaine any seruice (though neuer so meane) which was warranted by the sacred name of a father. Philoclea more glad then euer she had knowen her selfe, that she might by this occasion, enioy the priuate conference of Zelmane, yet had so sweete a feeling of vertue in her minde, that she would not suffer a vile colour to be cast ouer her faire thoughts; but with humble grace answered her father: That there needed neither promise nor perswasion to her, to make her doo her vttermost for her fathers seruice. That for Zelmanes fauour, she would in all vertuous sort seeke it towards him: and that as she would not pearce further into his meaning, then himselfe should declare, so would she interprete all his doings to be accomplished in goodnes: and therefore desired, (if otherwise it were) that he would not impart it to her, who then should be forced to beginne (by true obedience) a shew of disobedience: rather perfourming his generall commandement, which had euer beene, to embrace vertue, then any new particular, sprong out of passion, and contrarie to the former. Basilius content to take that, since he could haue no more (thinking it a great point, if by her meanes, he could get but a more free accesse vnto Zelmane) allowed her reasons, and tooke her proffer thankfully, desiring only a speedie returne of comfort. Philoclea was parting, and Miso streight behind her, like Alecto following Proserpina. But Basilius forced her to stay, though with much a doo, she being sharp-set vpon the fulfilling of a shrewde office, in ouer-looking Philoclea: and so said to Basilius, that she did as she was commanded, and could not answere it to Gynecia, if she were any whit from Philoclea: telling him true, that he did euill to take her charge from her. But Basilius, (swearing he would put out her eyes, if she stird a foote to trouble his daughter) gaue her a stop for that while.

So away departed Philoclea, with a new field of fancies for her trauayling mind. For well she sawe, her father was growen her aduerse partie, and yet her fortune such, as she must fauour her Riuall; and the fortune of that fortune such, as neither that did hurt her, nor any contrarie meane helpe her.

But she walkt but a little on, before she saw Zelmane lying vpon a banke, with her face so bent ouer Ladon, that (her teares falling into the water) one might haue thought, that she began meltingly to be metamorphosed to the vnder-running riuer. But by and by, with speech she made knowen, as well that she liued, as that she sorrowed. Faire streames (said she) that do vouchsafe in your cleerenes to represent vnto me my blubbered face, let the tribute-offer of my teares vnto you, procure your stay a while with me, that I may beginne yet at last, to finde some thing that pities me: and that all things of comfort and pleasure doo not flie away from me. But if the violence of your spring commaund you to haste away, to pay your dueties to your great prince, the Sea, yet carrie with you these few wordes, and let the vttermost ends of the world know them. A loue more cleere then your selues, dedicated to a Loue (I feare) more cold then your selues, with the cleerenes layes a night of sorow vpon me; and with the coldnes enflames a world of fire within me. With that she tooke a willowe stick, and wrote in a sandie banke these fewe verses.


Over these brookes trusting to ease mine eyes,
(Mine eyes euen great in labour with their teares)
I layde my face; my face wherein there lyes
Clusters of clowdes, which no Sunne euer cleares.
   In watry glasse my watrie eyes I see:
   Sorrowes ill easde, where sorrowes painted be. My thoughts imprisonde in my secret woes,
With flamie breathes doo issue oft in sound:
The sound to this strange aier no sooner goes,
But that it dooth with Echoes force rebound.
   And make me heare the plaints I would refraine:
   Thus outward helps my inward griefe maintaine. Now in this sand I would discharge my minde,
And cast from me part of my burdnous cares:
But in the sand my tales foretolde I finde,
And see therein how well the writer fares.
   Since streame, aier, sand, mine eyes and eares conspire:
   What hope to quench, where each thing blowes the fire?

And assoone as she had written them (a new swarme of thoughts stinging her minde) she was ready with her foot to giue the new-borne letters both death and buriall. But Philoclea (whose delight of hearing and seeing was before a stay from interrupting her) gaue her self to be seen vnto her, with such a lightning of Beauty vpon Zelmane, that neither she could looke on, nor would looke off. At last Philoclea (hauing a little mused how to cut the threede euen, betweene her owne hopelesse affection, and her fathers vnbrideled hope) with eyes, cheekes, and lips, (wherof each sang their part, to make vp the harmonie of bashfulnesse) began to say, My Father to whom I owe my self, and therfore, When Zelmane (making a womanish habite to be the Armour of her boldnesse, giuing vp her life to the lips of Philoclea, and taking it againe by the sweetenesse of those kisses) humbly besought her to keepe her speach for a while within the Paradise of her minde. For well she knew her fathers errand, who should soone receiue a sufficient answere. But now she demaunded leaue not to loose this long sought-for commoditie of time, to ease her hart thus farre, that if in her agonies her destinie was to be condemned by Philocleas mouth, at lest Philoclea might know, whom she had condemned. Philoclea easily yeelded to graunt her owne desire: and so making the greene banke the situation, and the riuer the prospect of the most beautifull buildings of Nature, Zelmane doubting how to beginne, though her thoughts already had runne to the ende, with a minde fearing the vnworthinesse of euery word that should be presented to her eares, at length brought it forth in this manner.

Most beloued Ladie, the incomparable excellencies of your selfe, (waited-on by the greatnesse of your estate) and the importaunce of the thing (whereon my life consisteth) doth require both many ceremonies before the beginning, and many circumstaunces in the vttering my speech, both bolde, and fearefull. But the small opportunitie of enuious occasion (by the malicious eie hatefull Loue doth cast vpon me) and the extreme bent of my affection (which will eyther breake out in words, or breake my harte) compell me, not onely to embrace the smallest time, but to passe by the respects due vnto you, in respect of your poore caitifes life, who is now, or neuer to be preserued. I doo therefore vowe vnto you, hereafter neuer more to omit all dutifull forme: doo you onely now vouchsafe to heare the matter of a minde most perplexed. If euer the sound of Loue haue come to your eares, or if euer you haue vnderstood, what force it hath had to conquere the strongest hartes, and change the most setled estates: receiue here an example of those straunge Tragedies; one, that in himselfe conteineth the particularities of all those misfortunes: and from hencefoorth beleeue that such a thing may be, since you shall see it is. You shall see (I say) a liuing image, and a present storie of what Loue can doo, when he is bent to ruine.

But alas, whether goest thou my tongue? or how doth my harte consent to aduenture the reuealing his neerest touching secrete? But peace Feare, thou commest too late, when already the harme is taken. Therefore I say againe, O onely Princesse, attend here a miserable miracle of affection. Behold here before your eyes Pyrocles, Prince of Macedon, whome you onely haue brought to this game of Fortune, and vnused Metamorphosis: whome you onely haue made neglect his countrie, forget his Father, and lastly, forsake to be Pyrocles: the same Pyrocles, who (you heard) was betrayed by being put in a ship, which being burned, Pyrocles was drowned. O most true presage: for these traytors, my eyes, putting me into a shippe of Desire, which dayly burneth, those eyes (I say) which betraied me, will neuer leaue till they haue drowned me. But be not, be not, (most excellent Lady) you that Nature hath made to be the Load-starre of comfort, be not the Rocke of shipwracke: you whome vertue hath made the Princesse of felicitie, be not the minister of ruine: you, whom my choyse hath made the Goddesse of my safetie, O let not, let not, from you be powred vpon me destruction. Your faire face hath manie tokens in it of amazement at my words: thinke then what his amazement is, from whence they come: since no words can carry with them the life of the inward feeling. I desire, that my desire may be waied in the ballances of Honour, and let Vertue hold them. For if the highest Loue in no base person may aspire to grace, then may I hope your beautie will not be without pittie. If otherwise you be (alas but let it neuer be so) resolued, yet shall not my death be comfortles, receiuing it by your sentence.

The ioy which wrought into Pygmalions minde, while he found his beloued image was softer, and warmer in his folded armes, till at length it accomplished his gladnes with a perfect womans shape (still beautified with the former perfections) was euen such, as by each degree of Zelmanes words creepingly entred into Philoclea: till her pleasure was fully made vp with the manifesting of his being; which was such as in hope did ouer-come Hope. Yet Doubt would faine haue playd his parte in her minde, and cald in question, how she should be assured that Zelmane was Pyrocles. But Loue streight stood vp and deposed, that a lie could not come from the mouth of Zelmane. Besides, a certaine sparke of honour, which rose in her well-disposed minde, made her feare to be alone with him, with whome alone she desired to be (with all the other contradictions growing in those minds, which neither absolutely clime the rocke of Vertue, nor freely sinke into the sea of Vanitie) but that sparke soone gaue place, or at lest gaue no more light in her minde, then a candle doth in the Sunnes presence. But euen sicke with a surfet of ioy, and fearefull of she knewe not what (as he that newly findes huge treasures, doubts whether he sleepe or no; or like a fearefull Deere, which then lookes most about, when he comes to the best feede) with a shrugging kinde of tremor through all her principall partes, she gaue these affectionate words for answere. Alas, how painefull a thing it is to a deuided minde to make a well-ioyned answere? how hard it is to bring inward shame to outward confession? and what handsomnes trow you can be obserued in that speeche, which is made one knowes not to whom? Shall I say ô Zelmane? Alas your words be against it. Shall I say Prince Pyrocles? wretch that I am, your shew is manifest against it. But this, this I may well say; If I had continued as I ought, Philoclea, you had either neuer bene, or euer bene Zelmane: you had either neuer attempted this change, set on with hope, or neuer discouered it, stopt with despaire. But I feare me, my behauiour ill gouerned, gaue you the first comfort: I feare me, my affection ill hid, hath giuen you this last assurance: I feare indeed, the weakenesse of my gouernment before, made you thinke such a maske would be gratefull vnto me: and my weaker gouernment since, makes you to pull off the visar. What shall I doo then? shall I seeke far-fetched inuentions? shall I labour to lay marble coulours ouer my ruinous thoughts? or rather, though the purenes of my virgin-minde be stained, let me keepe the true simplicitie of my word. True it is, alas, too true it is, ô Zelmane (for so I loue to call thee, since in that name my loue first began, and in the shade of that name my loue shall best lie hidden,) that euen while so thou wert, (what eye bewitched me I know not) my passions were fitter to desire, then to be desired. Shall I say then, I am sory, or that my loue must be turned to hate, since thou art turned to Pyrocles? how may that wel be, since when thou wert Zelmane, the despaire thou mightest not be thus, did most torment me. Thou hast then the victorie: vse it with vertue. Thy vertue wan me; with vertue preserue me. Doost thou loue me? keepe me then still worthy to be beloued.

Then held she her tongue, and cast downe a self-accusing looke, finding, that in her selfe she had (as it were) shot out of the bow of her affection, a more quick opening of her minde, then she minded to haue done. But Pyrocles so caried vp with ioy, that he did not enuy the Gods felicitie, presented her with some iewels of right princely value, as some little tokens of his loue, and qualitie: and withall shewed her letters from his father King Euarchus, vnto him, which euen in the Sea had amongst his iewels bene preserued. But little needed those proofes to one, who would haue fallen out with herselfe, rather then make any contrarie coniectures to Zelmane speeches; so that with such imbracements, as it seemed their soules desired to meete, and their harts to kisse, as their mouthes did: which faine Pyrocles would haue sealed with the chiefe armes of his desire, but Philoclea commaunded the contrary; and yet they passed the promise of mariage.

And then at Philocleas entreaty, who was willing to purloine all occasions of remayning with Zelmane, she told her the storie of her life, from the time of their departing from Erona , for the rest she had already vnderstood of her sister. For (saide she) I haue vnderstood, how you first in the companie of your Noble cousin Musidorus parted from Thessalia, and of diuers aduentures, which with no more daunger then glory you passed through, till your comming to the succour of the Queene Erona; and the ende of that warre (you might perceiue by my selfe) I had vnderstood of the Prince Plangus. But what since was the course of your doings, vntill you came, after so many victories, to make a conquest of poore me, that I know not, the fame thereof hauing rather shewed it by pieces; then deliuered any full forme of it. Therefore, deere Pyrocles (for what can mine eares be so sweetly fed with as to heare you of you) be liberall vnto me of those things which haue made you indeede pretious to the worlde, and now doubt not to tell of your perils; for since I haue you here out of them, euen the remembrance of them is pleasaunt. Pyrocles easily perceiued she was content with kindnesse, to put off occasion of further kindnesse; wherein Loue shewed himselfe a cowardly boy, that durst not attempt for feare of offending. But rather Loue prooued himselfe valiant, that durst with the sworde of reuerent dutie gaine-stand the force of so many enraged desires. But so it was, that though he knewe this discourse was to entertaine him from a more streight parley, yet he durst not but kisse his rod, and gladly make much of that entertainement which she allotted vnto him: and therefore with a desirous sigh chastning his brest for too much desiring, Sweete Princesse of my life (said he) what Trophees, what Triumph, what Monuments, what Histories might euer make my fame yeeld so sweete a Musicke to my eares, as that it pleaseth you to lend your minde to the knowledge of any thing touching Pyrocles, onely therefore of value, because he is your Pyrocles? And therefore grow I now so proud, as to thinke it worth the hearing, since you vouchsafe to giue it the hearing. Therefore (onely height of my hope) vouchsafe to know, that after the death of Tiridates, and setling Erona in her gouernment; for setled we left her, howsoeuer since (as I perceiued by your speech the last day) the vngratefull treason of her ill-chosen husband ouerthrew her (a thing in trueth neuer till this time by me either heard, or suspected) for who could thinke without hauing such a minde as Antiphilus, that so great a beautie as Eronas (indeed excellent) could not haue held his affection? so great goodnes could not haue bound gratefulnesse? and so high aduancement could not haue satisfied his ambition? But therefore true it is, that wickednesse may well be compared to a bottomlesse pit, into which it is farre easier to keepe ones selfe from falling, then being fallen, to giue ones selfe any stay from falling infinitely. But for my Cosen, and me, vpon this cause we parted from Erona.

Euardes (the braue and mighty Prince, whom it was my fortune to kill in the combat for Erona) had three Nephewes, sonnes to a sister of his; all three set among the foremost rancks of Fame for great minds to attempt, and great force to perfourme what they did attempt; especially the eldest, by name Anaxius; to whom all men would willingly haue yeelded the height of praise, but that his nature was such, as to bestow it vpon himselfe, before any could giue it. For of so vnsupportable a pride he was, that where his deeds might wel stir enuie, his demeanor did rather breed disdaine. And if it bee true that the Gyants euer made war against heauen, he had bene a fit ensigne-bearer for that company. For nothing seemed hard to him, though impossible; and nothing vniust, while his liking was his iustice. Now he in these wars had flatly refused his aid; because he could not brooke, that the worthy Prince Plangus was by his cosen Tiridates preferred before him. For allowing no other weights, but the sword and speare in iudging of desert, how-much he esteemed himselfe before Plangus in that, so much would he haue had his allowance in his seruice.

But now that he vnderstood that his vncle was slaine by me, I think rather scorne that any should kil his vncle, then any kindnesse (an vn-vsed guest to an arrogant soule) made him seeke his reuenge; I must confesse in manner gallant enough. For he sent a challenge vnto me to meete him at a place appointed, in the confines of the kingdome of Lycia; where he would proue vpon me, that I had by some trecherie ouercome his vncle, whom els many hundreds such as I, could not haue withstood. Youth and successe made mee willing enough to accept any such bargaine; especially, because I had heard that your cosen Amphialus (who for some yeares hath vniuersally borne the name of the best Knight in the world) had diuers times fought with him, and neuer bene able to master him; but so had left him, that euery man thought Anaxius in that one vertue of curtesie far short of him, in all other his match; Anaxius still deeming himselfe for his superiour. Therefore to him I would goe, and I would needs goe alone, because so I vnderstood for certaine, he was; and (I must confesse) desirous to do something without the company of the incomparable Prince Musidorus, because in my hart I acknowledge that I owed more to his presence, then to any thing in my selfe, whatsoeuer before I had done. For of him indeed (as of any worldly cause) I must grant, as receiued, what euer there is, or may be good in me. He taught me by word, and best by example, giuing mee in him so liuely an Image of vertue, as ignorance could not cast such mist ouer mine eyes, as not to see, and to loue it, and all with such deare friendship and care, as (ô heauen) how can my life euer requite vnto him? which made me indeed finde in my selfe such a kind of depending vpon him, as without him I found a weakenesse, and a mistrustfulnes of my selfe, as one strayed from his best strength, when at any time I mist him. Which humour perceiuing to ouer-rule me, I straue against it; not that I was vnwilling to depend vpon him in iudgement, but by weakenesse I would not; which though it held me to him, made me vnworthy of him. Therefore I desired his leaue, and obtained it: such confidence he had in me, preferring my reputation before his owne tendernesse; and so priuately went from him, hee determining (as after I knew) in secret maner, not to be far from the place, where we appointed to meete, to preuent any foule play that might be offered vnto me. Full loth was Erona to let vs depart from her, (as it were) forefeeling the harmes which after fel to her. But I, (ridde fully from those combers of kindnesse, and halfe a dayes iorney in my way toward Anaxius) met an adueture, which (though in it self of smal importance) I wil tel you at large, because by the occasion thereof I was brought to as great comber and danger, as lightly any might escape.

As I past through a Laund (ech side whereof was so bordred both with high tymber trees, and copses of farre more humble growth, that it might easily bring a solitarie minde to looke for no other companions then the wild burgesses of the forrest) I heard certaine cries, which comming by pawses to mine eares from within the wood of the right hand, made mee well assured by the greatnesse of the crie, it was the voice of a man, though it were a verie vnmanlike voice, so to crie. But making mine eare my guide, I left not many trees behinde me, before I sawe at the bottome of one of them a gentle-man bound (with many garters) hand & foot, so as well he might tomble and tosse, but neither runne nor resist he coulde. Vpon him (like so many Eagles vpon an Oxe) were nine Gentle-women; truely such, as one might wel enough say, they were hansome. Eche of them held bodkins in their handes, wherewith they continually pricked him, hauing bene before-hand vnarmed of any defence from the wast vpward, but onely of his shirte: so as the poore man wept and bled, cried and praied, while they sported themselues in his paine, and delighted in his praiers, as the argumentes of their victorie.

I was moued to compassion, and so much the more that hee straight cald to me for succour, desiring me at lest to kill him, to deliuer him from those tormenters. But before my-selfe could resolue, much lesse any other tell what I would resolue, there came in cholericke hast towards me about seuen or eight knights; the foremost of which willed me to get me away, & not to trouble the Ladies, while they were taking their due reuenge, but with so ouer-mastring a maner of pride, as truly my heart could not brooke it: and therefore (answering them, that howe I woulde haue defended him from the Ladies I knew not, but from them I would) I began a combat first with him particularly, and after his death with the others (that had lesse good maners) ioyntly. But such was the ende of it, that I kept the fielde with the death of some, and flight of others. In so much as the women (afraid, what angrie victorie would bring forth) ran all away; sauing onely one; who was so flesht in malice, that neyther during, nor after the fight, she gaue anie truce to her crueltie, but still vsed the little instrument of her great spight, to the well-witnest paine of the impatient patient: and was now about to put out his eyes, which all this while were spared, because they should doe him the discomfort of seeing who preuayled ouer him. When I came in, and after much adoe, brought her to some conference, (for sometime it was before she would harken, more before she would speake; and most, before shee would in her speeche leaue off the sharpe remembrance of her bodkin) but at length when I puld off my head-peece, and humbled entreated her pardon, or knowledge why she was cruell; out of breath more with choller (which increased in his owne exercise) then with the paine she tooke, much to this purpose she gaue her griefe vnto my knowledge. Gentleman (said she) much it is against my will to forbeare any time the executing of my iust reuenge vpon this naughtie creature, a man in nothing, but in deceiuing women; But because I see you are yoong, and like enough to haue the power (if you would haue the mind) to do much more mischief, then he, I am content vpo this bad subiect to read a lecture to your vertue.

This man called Pamphilus, in birth I must confesse is noble (but what is that to him, if it shalbe a staine to his dead auncestors to haue left such an offspring?) in shape as you see not vncomely (indeed the fit maske of his disguised falshood) in conuersation wittily pleasant, and pleasantly gamesome; his eyes full of merie simplicitie, his wordes of heartie companablenesse; and such a one, whose head one would not thinke so staied, as to thinke mischieuously: delighted in all such things, which by imparting the delight to thers, makes the vser therof welcome; as, Musick, Daunsing, Hunting, Feasting, Riding, and such like. And to conclude, such a one, as who can keepe him at armes end, need neuer wish a better companion. But vnder these qualities lies such a poysonous addar as I wil tell you. For by those gifts of Nature and Fortune (being in all places acceptable) he creepes, nay (to say truely) he flies so into the fauour of poore sillie wome, that I would be too much ashamed to confesse, if I had not reuenge in my hande, as well as shame in my cheekes. For his hart being wholy delighted in deceiuing vs, we could neuer be warned, but rather one bird caught, serued for a stale to bring in more. For the more he gat, the more still he shewed, that he (as it were) gaue away to his new mistresse, when hee betrayed his promises to the former. The cunning of his flatterie, the readines of his teares, the infinitenes of his vowes, were but among the weakest threedes of his nette. But the stirring our owne passions, and by the entrance of them, to make himselfe Lord of our forces; there lay his Masters part of cunning, making vs now iealous, now enuious, now proud of what we had, desirous of more; now giuing one the triumph, to see him that was Prince of many, Subiect to her; now with an estranged looke, making her feare the losse of that minde, which indeede could neuer be had: neuer ceasing humblenes and diligence, till he had imbarked vs in some such disaduantage, as wee could not returne dryshod; and then suddenly a tyrant, but a craftie tyrant. For so would hee vse his imperiousnes, that we had a delightfull feare & an awe which made vs loath to lose our hope. And, which is strangest (when sometimes with late repentance I thinke of it) I must confesse, euen in the greatest tempest of my iudgement was I neuer driuen to thinke him excellent, and yet so could set my minde, both to get and keepe him, as though therein had laien my felicitie: like them I haue seene play at the ball, growe extremely earnest, who should haue the ball, and yet euery one knew it was but a ball. But in end, the bitter sauce of the sport was, that wee had ether our hartes broken with sorrow, or our estates spoyled with being at his direction, or our honours for euer lost, partly by her owne faults, but principally by his faultie vsing of our faults. For neuer was there man that could with more scornefull eyes beholde her, at whose feete he had lately laine, nor with a more vnmanlike brauerie vse his tongue to her disgrace, which lately had song Sonets of her praises: being so naturally inconstant, as I maruell his soule findes not some way to kill his bodie, whereto it had beene so long vnited. For so hath he dealt with vs (vnhappie fooles,) as we could neuer tell, whether hee made greater haste after he once liked, to enioy, or after he once enioyed, to forsake. But making a glorie of his owne shame, it delighted him to bee challenged of vnkindenesse: it was a triumph vnto him to haue his mercie called for: and hee thought the fresh colours of his beautie were painted in nothing so well, as in the ruines of his Louers: yet so farre had we engaged our selues, (vnfortunate soules) that we listed not complaine, since our complaints could not but carrie the greatest accusation to our selues. But euerie of vs (each for her selfe,) laboured all meanes how to recouer him, while he rather daily sent vs companions of our deceipt, then euer returned in any sound and faithfull manner. Till at length he concluded all his wronges with betrothing himselfe to one (I must confesse) worthie to be liked, if any worthinesse might excuse so vnworthie a changeablenesse; leauing vs nothing but remorse for what was past, and dispaire of what might followe. Then in deede the common iniurie made vs all ioyne in fellowshipp, who till that time, had employed our endeuours one against the other. For wee thought nothing was a more condemning of vs, then the iustifiing of his loue to her by mariage: then Despaire made Feare valiant, and Reuenge gaue Shame countenance: whereupon, we (that you saw here) deuised how to get him among vs alone: which hee (suspecting no such matter of them, whom he had by often abuses he thought made tame to be still abused) easily gaue vs opportunitie to do.

And a man may see, euen in this, how soone Rulers grow proud, and in theyr pride foolish: he came with such an authoritie among vs, as if the Planets had done inough for vs, that by vs once he had beene delighted. And when wee began in courteous maner, one after the other, to lay his vnkindnes vnto him, he seeing himselfe confronted by so many (like a resolute Orator,) went not to deniall, but to iustifie his cruell falshood, and al with such iestes, and disdainfull passages, that if the iniurie coulde not bee made greater, yet were our conceites made the apter to apprehend it.

Among other of his answeres (forsooth) I shall neuer forget, howe hee woulde proue it was no inconstancie to chaunge from one loue to another, but a great constancie; and contrarie, that which we call constancie, to be most chaungeable. For (said he) I euer loued my delight, and delighted alwaies in what was Louely: and where-soeuer I found occasion to obtaine that, I constantly followed it. But these constant fooles you speake of, though their Mistres growe by sicknesse foule, or by fortune miserable, yet still will loue her, and so commit the absurdest inconstancie that may be, in changing their loue from fairenesse to foulenesse, and from loulinesse to his contrarie; like one not content to leaue a friend, but will streight giue ouer himselfe to his mortall enemie: where I (whome you call inconstant) am euer constant; to Beautie, in others; and Delight in my selfe. And so in this iolly scoffing brauerie he went ouer vs all, saying, He left one, because she was ouerwaiward: another, because she was too soone wonne: a third, because she was not merrie inough: a fourth, because she was ouer-gamesome: the fifth, because shee was growne with griefe subiect to sicknesse: the sixt because she was so foolish, as to be ielous of him: the seuenth, because shee had refused to carrie a letter for him, to another that he loued: the eight, because she was not secret, the ninth, because she was not liberall: but to me, who am named Dido, (and indeede haue mette with a false Æneas) to me, I say, (ô the vngratefull villanie) he could finde no other fault to obiect, but that (perdie) he met with many fayrer.

But when he had thus plaide the carelesse Prince, we (hauing those seruants of ours in readines, whom you lately so manfully ouercame) laide holde of him; beginning at first but that trifling reuenge, in which you foud vs busie; but meaning afterwardes to haue mangled him so, as should haue lost his credit for euer abusing more. but as you haue made my fellowes flie away, so for my part the greatnesse of his wrong ouershadowes in my iudgement the greatnesse of any daunger. For was it not inough for him, to haue deceiued me, and through the deceipt abused mee, and after the abuse forsaken me, but that hee must now, of all the company, and before all the company lay want of beautie to my charge? Many fairer? I trow euen in your iudgement, Sir, (if your eies do not beguile me) not many fairer; and I know (whosoeuer saies the contrary) there are not many fairer. And of whom should I receiue this reproch, but of him, who hath best cause to know there are not many fairer? And therefore how-soeuer my fellowes pardon his iniuries, for my parte I will euer remember, and remember to reuenge this scorne of all scornes. With that she to him afresh; and surely would haue put out his eies (who lay mute for shame, if hee did not sometimes crie for feare) if I had not lept from my horse, and mingling force with intreaty, staied her furie.

But, while I was perswading her to meekenes, comes a number of his friends, to whom he forth with cried, that they should kill that woman, that had thus betraied and disgraced him. But then I was faine to forsake the ensigne; vnder which I had before serued, and to spend my vttermost force in the protecting of the Ladie; which so well preuailed for her, that in ende there was a faithfull peace promised of all sids. And so I leauing her in a place of securitie (as she thought) went on my iourney towards Anaxius, for whom I was faine to stay two daies in the apointed place, he disdaining to waite for me, till he was sure I were there.

I did patientlie abide his angrie pleasure, till about that space of tyme he came (indeede, according to promise) alone: and (that I may not say too little, because he is wont to say too much) like a man, whose courage was apt to clime ouer any daunger. And assoone as euer he came neere me, in fit distaunce for his purpose, he with much fury, (but with fury skilfully guided) ran vpon me; which I (in the best sort I could) resisted, hauing kept my selfe ready for him, because I had vnderstood, that he obserued few complements in matter of armes, but such as a proud anger did indite vnto him. And so putting our horses into a full careere, we hit each other vpon the head with our Launces: I think he felte my blowe, for my parte (I must confesse) I neuer receiued the like: but I thinke though my senses were astonished, my mind forced them to quicken themselues, because I had learned of him, how little fauour he is woont to show in any matter of aduantage. And indeede hee was turned, and comming vpon me with his sworde drawne, both our staues hauing beene broken at that encounter. But I was so ready to answere him, that truely I knowe not who gaue the first blowe. But whosoeuer gaue the first, was quickly seconded by the second. And indeed (excellentest Ladie) I must say truly, for a time it was well fought betweene vs; he vndoubtedly being of singular valour, (I would to God, it were not abased by his too much loftinesse) but as by the occasion of the combate, winning and loosing ground, we chaunged places, his horse happened to come vpon the point of the broke speare, which fallen to the ground chaunced to stand vpward so as it lighting vpon his hart, the horse died. He driuen to dismount, threatned, if I did not the like, to do as much for my horse, as Fortune had done for his. But whether for that, or because I would not be beholding to Fortune for any part of the victorie, I descended. So began our foote-fight in such sort that we were well entred to bloud of both sides, when there comes by, that vnconstant Pamphilus; whom I had deliuered (easie to be knowne, for he was barefaced) with a dosen armed men after him; but before him he had Dido (that Ladie, who had most sharpely punished him) riding vpon a palfery, he following her with most vnmanlike crueltie; beating her with wandes he had in his hande, she crying for sense of paine, or hope of succour: which was so pittifull a sight vnto me, that it mooued me to require Anaxius to deferre our combate, till an other day, and now to performe the duties of Knighthood in helping this distressed Ladie. But hee that disdaines to obey any thing but his passion (which hee cals his minde) bad mee leaue of that thought; but when hee had killed mee, hee woulde then (perhaps) go too her succour. But I well finding the fight would bee long betweene vs (longing in my hart too deliuer the poore Dido) giuing him so great a blowe, as somwhat staied him, to terme it a right) I flatly ran away from him towarde my horse, who trotting after the companie, in in mine armour I was put to some paine, but that vse made mee nimble vnto it. But as I followed my horse, Anaxius followed mee: but his prowde harte did so disdaine that exercise, that I had quickly ouer-run him, and ouer-taken my horse; being (I must confesse) ashamed to see a number of country folks, who happened to passe thereby, who hallowed & howted after me as at the arrantest coward, that euer shewed his shoulders to his enemie. But when I had leapt on my horse (with such speedy agility, that they all cried, O see how feare giues him wings) I turned to Anaxius, & aloud promised him to returne thether again, as soone as I had relieued the iniuried Ladie. But he railing at me, with all the base wordes angry contempt could endite; I said no more, but, Anaxius, assure thy selfe, I neither feare thy force, nor thy opinion. And so vsing no weapon of a Knight as at that time, but my spurres, I ranne in my knowledge after Pamphilus, but in all their conceipts from Anaxius, which as far as I could heare, I might well heare testified with such laughters and games, that I was some few times moued to turne backe againe.

But the Ladies misery ouer-balanced my reputation so that after her I went, and with six houres hard riding (through so wild places, as it was rather the cunning of my horse sometimes, then of my selfe, so rightly to hit the way) I ouergat them a little before night, neere to an old il-fauoured castle, the place where I perceiued they meant to performe their vnknightly errand. For there they began to strip her of her clothes, when I came in among them, and running through the first with a launce, the iustnesse of the cause so enhabled me against the rest (false-harted in their owne wrong doing) that I had, in as short time almost as I had bene fighting with onely Anaxius, deliuered her from those iniurious wretches: most of whom carried newes to the other world, that amongst men secret wronges are not alwaies left vnpunished. As for Pamphilus, he hauing once seene, & (as it should seeme) remembred me, euen from the beginning began to be in the rerewarde, and before they had left fighting, he was too far of to giue them thanks for their paines. But when I had deliuered to the Ladie a full libertie, both in effect, and in opinion, (for some time it was before she coulde assure her selfe shee was out of their handes, who had layd so vehement apprehension of death vpon her) she then tolde me, how as shee was returning toward her fathers, weakely accompanied (as too soone trusting to the falshood of reconcilement) Pamphilus had set vpon her, and killing those that that were with her, carried her selfe by such force, and with such manner as I had seene, to this place, where he meant in cruell and shamefull manner to kill her, in the sight of her owne Father; to whom he had already sent worde of it, that out of his castle windowe (for this castle, she saide, was his) hee might haue the prospect of his onely childes destruction, if my comming, whom (she saide) he feared (as soone as hee knewe mee by the armour) had not warraunted her from that neere approching crueltie. I was glad I had done so good a deede for a Gentlewoman not vnhandsome, whome before I had in like sorte helped. But the night beginning to perswade some retiring place, the Gentlewoman, euen out of countenaunce before she began her speach, much after this manner inuited mee to lodge that night with her father.

Sir (said she) how much I owe you, can be but abased by wordes, since the life I haue, I holde it now the second time of you: and therefore neede not offer seruice vnto you, but onely to remember you, that I am your seruaunt: and I would, my being so, might any way yeeld any small contentment vnto you. Now onely I can but desire you to harbour your selfe this night in this castle; because the time requires it; and in truth this countrie is very daungerous for murthering theeues, to trust a sleeping life among them. And yet I must confesse, that as the loue I beare you makes me thus inuite you, so the same loue makes me ashamed to bring you to a place, where you shalbe so (not spoken by ceremony but by truth) miserably entertained. With that she tolde me, that though she spake of her father (whom she named Chremes) she would hide no truth from me, which was in summe, that as he was of all that region the man of greatest possessions, and riches, so was he either by nature, or an euill receiued opinion, giuen to sparing, in so vnmeasurable sorte, that he did not onelye barre him selfe from the delightfull, but almost from the necessarie vse thereof; scarsely allowing him selfe fitte sustenance of life, rather then he would spende of those goods, for whose sake onely he seemed to ioye in life. Which extreame dealing (descending from himselfe vpon her) had driuen her to put her selfe with a great Lady of that countrie, by which occasion she had stumbled vpon such mischances, as were little for the honour either of her, or her familie. But so wise had he shewed himselfe therein, as while he found his daughter maintained without his cost, he was content to be deafe to any noise of infamie: which though it had wronged her much more then she deserued, yet she could not denie, but she was driuen therby to receaue more then decent fauours. She concluded, that there at least I should be free from iniuries, and should be assured to her-wards to abound as much in the true causes of welcomes, as I should finde want of the effects thereof.

I, who had acquainted my selfe to measure the delicacie of foode and rest, by hunger and wearinesse, at that time well stored of both, did not abide long entreatie; but went with her to the Castle: which I found of good strength, hauing a great mote rounde about it; the worke of a noble Gentleman, of whose vnthriftie sonne he had bought it. The bridge drawne vp, where we were faine to crie a good while before we coulde haue answeare, and to dispute a good while before answeare would bee brought to acceptance. At length a willingnesse, rather then a ioye to receaue his daughter, whome he had lately seene so neere death, and an opinion brought into his head by course, because he heard himselfe called a Father; rather then any kindnesse that hee found in his owne harte, made him take vs in; for my part by that time growne so wearie of such entertainement, that no regard of my selfe, but onely the importunitie of his daughter made me enter. Where I was met with this Chremes, a driueling old fellow, leane, shaking both of head and hands, alredie halfe earth, and yet then most greedie of Earth: who scarcely would giue me thankes for what I had done, for feare I suppose, that thankefulnesse might haue an introduction of reward. But with a hollow voice, giuing me a false welcome, I might perceaue in his eye to his daughter, that it was hard to say, whether the displeasure of her company did not ouer-way the pleasure of her owne comming. But on he brought me, into so bare a house, that it was the picture of miserable happinesse, and rich beggerie (serued onely by a company of rusticall villaines, full of sweate and dust, not one of them other, then a labourer) in summe (as he counted it) profitable drudgerie: and all preparations both for foode and lodging such, as would make one detest nigardnesse, it is so sluttish a vice. His talke of nothing but of his pouertie, for feare belike lest I should haue proued a young borrower. In summe, such a man, as any enemy could not wish him worse then to be himselfe. But there that night bid I the burthen of being a tedious guest to a loathsome host; ouer-hearing him sometimes bitterlye warne his daughter of bringing such costlye mates vnder his roofe: which she grieuing at, desired much to know my name, I thinke partlye of kindnesse to remember who had done some-thing for her, and partlye because she assured her selfe I was such a one as would make enen his miser-minde contented, with what he had done. And accordingly she demaunded my name, and estate, with such earnestnesse, that I whom Loue had not as then so robbed me of my selfe, as to be another then I am, told her directly my name and condition: whereof she was no more gladde then her father, as I might well perceaue by some ill fauoured cheerefulnesse, which then first began to wrinckle it selfe in his face.

But the causes of their ioyes were farre different; for as the shepheard and the butcher both may looke vpon one sheepe with pleasing conceipts, but the shepheard with minde to profit himselfe by preseruing, the butcher with killing him: So she reioyced to finde that mine own benefits had tyed me to be her friend, who was a Prince of such greatnesse, and louingly reioyced: but his ioye grew, (as I to my danger after perceiued) by the occasion of the Queene Artaxias setting my head to sale, for hauing slaine her brother Tiridates ; which being the summe of an hundreth thousand crownes (to whosoeuer brought me aliue into her hands) that olde wretch, (who had ouer-liued all good nature) though he had lying idly by him much more then that, yet aboue all things louing money, for monies owne sake determined to betray me, so well deseruing of him for to haue that which he was determined neuer to vse. And so knowing that the next morning I was resolued to go to the place where I had left Anaxius, he sent in all speed to a Captaine of a Garrison neere by; which though it belonged to the King of Iberia, (yet knowing the Captaines humor to delight so in riotous spending as he cared not how he came by the meanes to maintaine it) doubted not that to be halfe with him in the gaine, he would playe his quarters part in the treason. And therefore that night agreeing of the fittest places where they might surprise me the morning, the olde caitiffe was growne so ceremonious, as he would needs accompanie me some myles in my way; a sufficient token to me, if Nature had made me apte to suspect; since a churles curtesie rarely comes but either for gaine, or falshood. But I suffered him to stumble into that point of good manner: to which purpose he came out with all his clownes, horst vpon such cart-iades, and so furnished, as in good faith I thought with my selfe, if that were thrift, I wisht none of my freends or subiects euer to thriue. As for his daughter (the gentle Dido) she would also (but in my conscience with a farre better minde) prolong the time of farewell, as long as he.

And so we went on togither: he so old in wickednes, that he could looke me in the face, and freely talke with me, whose life he had alreadie contracted for: till comming into the falling of a way which ledde vs into a place, of each-side whereof men might easilye keepe themselues vndiscouered, I was encompassed sodainly by a great troupe of enemies both of horse and foote, who willed me to yeelde my selfe to the Queene Artaxia. But they could not haue vsed worse eloquence to haue perswaded my yeelding, then that; I knowing the little good will Artaxia bare me. And therefore making necessitie and iustice my best sword and shielde, I vsed the other weapons I had as well as I could; I am sure to the little ease of a good number, who trusting to their number more then to their valure, and valewing money higher then equitie, felt, that guiltlesness is not alwayes with ease oppressed. As for Chremes, he withdrew himselfe, yet so guilding his wicked conceipts with his hope of gaine, that he was content to be a beholder, how I should be taken to make his pray.

But I was growne so wearie, that I supported my selfe more with anger then strength, when the most excellent Musidorus came to my succour; who hauing followed my trace as well as he could, after he found I had left the fight with Anaxius, came to the niggards Castell, where he found all burnd and spoiled by the countrie people, who bare mortall hatred to that couetous man, and now tooke the time, when the castell was left almost without garde, to come in, and leaue monuments of their malice therein: which Musidorus not staying either to further, or impeache, came vpon the spurre after me (because with one voice many tolde him, that if I were in his company, it was for no good meant vnto me) and in this extremitie found me. But when I saw that Cosen of mine, me thought my life was doubled, and where before I thought of a noble death, I now thought of a noble victorie. For who can feare that hath Musidorus by him? who, what he did there for me, how many he killed, not straunger for the number then for the straunge blowes wherwith he sent them to a wel-deserued death, might well delight me to speak off, but I should so holde you too long in euery particular. But in trueth, there if euer, and euer, if euer any man, did Musidorus shew himselfe second to none in able valour.

Yet what the vnmeasurable excesse of their number woulde haue done in the ende I knowe not, but the triall thereof was cutte off by the chaunceable comming thither of the King of Iberia, that same father of the worthy Plangus, whom it hath pleased you sometimes to mention: who, (not yeelding ouer to olde age his countrie delights, especially of hauking) was at that time (following a Merline) brought to see this iniurie offred vnto vs: and hauing great numbers of Courtiers waiting vpon him, was straight known by the souldiers that assaulted vs, to be their King, and so most of them with-drew themselues.

He by his authoritie knowing of the Captaines owne constrained confession what was the motiue of this mischieuous practise; misliking much such violence should be offred in his countrie to men of our ranke? but chiefelye disdaining it should be done in respect of his Niece, whom (I must confesse wrongfully) he hated, because he interpreted that her brother and she had maintained his sonne Plangus against him, caused the Captaines head presently to be striken off, and the old bad Chremes to be hanged: though truely for my part, I earnestly laboured for his life, because I had eaten of his bread. But one thing was notable for a conclusion of his miserable life, that neither the death of his daughter, who (alas poore Gentlewoman was by chaunce slaine among his clownes, while she ouerboldelye for her weake sex sought to hold them from me, nor yet his own shamefull end was so much in his mouth as he was ledde to execution, as the losse of his goods, and burning of his house: which often, with more laughter then teares of the hearers, he made pittifull exclamations vpon.

This iustice thus done, and we deliuered, the King indeed in royall sorte inuited vs to his Court, not farre thence: in all pointes entertaining vs so, as truelye I must euer acknowledge a beholdingnes vnto him: although the streame of it fel out not to be so sweet as the spring, For after some daies being there (curing our selues of such wounds as we had receiued, while I, causing diligent search to be made of Anaxius, could learne thing, but that he was goneno out of the countrie, boasting in euerye place how hehad made me run away) we were brought to receaue the fauour of acquaintance with this Queene Andromana, whom the Princesse Pamela did in so liuelye colours describe the last day, as still me thinkes the figure thereof possesseth mine eyes confirmed by the knowledge my selfe had.

And therefore I shall neede the lesse to make you know what kinde of woman she was; but this onely, that first with the raines of affection, and after with the very vse of directing, she had made her selfe so absolute a maister of her husbands minde, that a while he would not, and after, he could not tell how to gouern without being gouerned by her: but finding an ease in not vnderstanding, let loose his thoughts wholy to pleasure, entrusting to her the entire conduct of all his royall affaires. A thing that may luckely fall out to him that hath the blessing, to match with some Heroicall minded Lady. But in him it was neither guided by wisdome, nor followed by Fortune, but therby was slipt insensiblie into such an estate, that he liued at her vndiscreete discretion: all his subiectes hauing by some yeares learned, so to hope for good, and feare of harm, onely from her, that it should haue needed a stronger vertue then his, to haue vnwound so deeply an entred vice. So that either not striuing (because he was contented) or contented (because he would not striue) he scarcely knew what was done in his owne chamber, but as it pleased her Instruments to frame the relation.

Now we being brought knowen vnto her (the time that we spent in curing some very dangerous wounds) after once we were acquainted, (and acquainted we were sooner then our selues expected) she continually almost haunted vs, till (and it was not long a dooing) we discouered a most violent bent of affection: and that so strangely, that we might well see, an euill minde in authoritie, dooth not onely follow the sway of the desires already within it, but frames to it selfe new desires, not before thought of. For, with equall ardour she affected vs both: & so did her greatnes disdaine shamefastnes, that she was content to acknowledge it to both. For, (hauing many times torne the vaile of modestie) it seemed, for a last delight, that she delighted in infamy: which often she had vsed to her husbands shame, filling all mens eares (but his) with his reproch; while he hoodwinkt with kindenes) lest of all men knew who strake him. But her first degree was, by setting forth her beauties, (truely in nature not to be misliked, but as much aduanced to the eye, as abased to the iudgement by art) thereby to bring vs (as willingly-caught fishes) to bite at her baite. And thereto had she that scutchion of her desires supported by certaine badly-diligent ministers, who often cloyed our eares with her praises, and would needs teach vs away of felicitie by seeking her fauour. But when she found, that we were as deafe to the as dumb to her; the she listed no loger stay in the suburbs of her foolish desires, but directly entred vpon the; making her self an impudent suter, authorizing her selfe very much with making vs see that all fauor and power in that realm, so depeded vpon her, that now (being in her hands) we were ether to keep, or lose our liberty, at her discretion; which yet a while she so tempted, as that we might rather suspect, the she threaten. But when our woundes grew so, as that they gaue vs leaue to trauell, and that she found we were purposed to vse all meanes we could to depart thence, she (with more and more importunatenes) craued, which in all good maners was either of vs to be desired, or not granted. Truely (most faire and euerye way excellet Lady) you would haue wodred to haue seen, how before vs she would confes the contention in her own mind between that louely (indeed most louelye) brounes of Musidorus his face, & this colour of mine, which she (in the deceiuable stile of affection) would intitle beautifull: how her eyes wandred like a glutton at a feast) from the one to the other; and how her words would begin half of the sentece to Musidorus, & end the other half to Pyrocles: not ashamed (seeing the friendship betweene vs) to desire either of vs to be a mediator to the other; as if we should haue played one request at Tennis between vs: and often wishing that she might be the angle, where the lines of our friendship might meet; and be the knot which might tie our harts together. Which proceeding of hers I do the more largely set before you (most deare Lady) because by the foile therof, you may see the noblenes of my desire to you, and the warrantablenes of your fauour to me.

At that Philoclea smiled, with a little nod. But (said Pyrocles) when she perceiued no hope by suite to preuaile, then (perswaded by the rage of affection, and encouraged by daring to doo any thing) she founde meanes to haue vs accused to the King, as though we went about some practise to ouerthrowe him in his owne estate. Which because of the straunge successes we had had in the Kingdomes of Phrigia, Pontus & Galatia) seemed not vnlikely to him, who (but skimming any thing that came before him) was disciplined to leaue the through-handling of all, to his gentle wife: who foorthwith caused vs to be put in prison, hauing (while we slept) depriued vs of our armes: a prison, indeede iniurious, because a prison, but els well testifying affection because in all respects as commodious, as a prison might be: and indeede so placed, as she might at all houres (not seene by many, though she cared not much how many had seen her) come vnto vs. Then fell she to sause her desires with threatnings, so that we were in a great perplexitie, restrained to so vnworthie a bondage, and yet restrained by loue, which (I cannot tell how (in noble mindes, by a certain duety, claimes an answering. And how much that loue might moue vs, so much, and more that faultines of her minde remoued vs; her beauty being balanced by her shamelesnes. But that which did (as it were) tie vs in captiuitie, was, that to graunt, had ben wickedly iniurious to him, that had saued our liues: and to accuse a Lady that loued vs, of her loue vnto vs, we esteemed almost as dishonorable: and but by one of those waies we sawe no likelyhood of going out of that place, where the words would be iniurious to your eares, which should expres the manner of her suite: while yet many times earnestnes died her cheekes with the colour of shamefastnes; and wanton languishing borrowed of her eyes the down-castlooke of modestie. But we in the mean time farre from louing her, and often assuring her, that we would not so recompence her husbandes sauing of our liues; to such a ridiculous degree of trusting her, she had brought him, that she caused him send vs worde, that vpon our liues, we should doo whatsoeuer she commaunded vs: good man, not knowing any other, but that all her pleasures were directed to the preseruation of his estate. But when that made vs rather pittie, then obey his folly, then fell she to seruile entreating vs, as though force could haue bene the schoole of Loue, or that an honest courage would not rather striue against, then yeeld to iniurie. All which yet could not make vs accuse her, though it made vs almost pine away for spight, to loose any of our time in so troublesome an idlenesse.

But while we were thus full of wearinesse of what was past, and doubt of what was to follow, Loue (that I thinke in the course of my life hath a spot sometimes to poyson me with roses, sometimes to heale me with wormewood) brought forth a remedy vnto vs: which though it helped me out of that distres, alas the coclusion was such, as I must euer while I liue, think it worse then a wracke, so to haue bene preserued. This King by this Queene had a sonne of tender age, but of great expectation, brought vp in the hope of themselues, and already acceptation of the inconstant people, as successour of his fathers crowne: wherof he was as worthy, considering his partes, as vnworthie, in respect of the wrong was thereby done against the most noble Plangus: whose great desertes now either forgotten, or vngratefully remembred, all men set their sayles with the fauourable winde, which blewe on the fortune of this young Prince, perchaunce not in their harts, but surely not in their mouths, now giuing Plangus (who some yeares before was their only champion) the poore comfort of calamitie, pittie. This youth therefore accounted Prince of that region, by name Palladius, did with vehement affection loue a yong Ladye, brought vp in his fathers court, called Zelmane, daughter to that mischieuouslie vnhappie Prince Plexirtus (of whom already I haue, and sometimes must make, but neuer honorable mention) left there by her father, because of the intricate changeablenes of his estate; he by the motherside being halfe brother to this Queene Andromana, and therefore the willinger committing her to her care. But as Loue (alas) doth not alwaies reflect it selfe, so fell it out that this Zelmane, (though truely reason there was enough to loue Palladius) yet could not euer perswade her harte to yeelde thereunto: with that paine to Palladius, as they feele, that feele an vnloued loue. Yet louing indeed, and therefore constant, hee vsed still the intercession of diligence and faith, euer hoping, because he would not put him selfe into that hell, to be hopelesse: vntill the time of our being come, and captiued there, brought foorth this ende, which truely deserues of me a further degree of sorrow then teares.

Such was therein my ill destinie, that this young Ladye Zelmane (like some vnwisely liberall, that more delight to giue presentes, then pay debtes) she chose (alas for the pittie) rather to bestowe her loue (so much vndeserued, as not desired) vpon me, then to recompence him, whose loue (besides many other thinges) might seeme (euen in the court of Honour) iustly to claime it of her. But so it was (alas that so it was) whereby it came to passe (that as nothing doth more naturally follow his cause, then care to preserue, and benefite doth follow vnfained affection) she felt with me, what I felt of my captiuitie, and streight laboured to redresse my paine, which was her paine: which she could do by no better meanes, then by vsing the helpe therein of Palladius:: who (true Louer) considering what, and not why, in all her commaundements; and indeed she concealing from him her affection (which shee intituled compassion,) immediatly obeyed to imploye his vttermost credite to relieue vs: which though as great, as a beloued son with a mother, faultye otherwise, but not hard-harted toward him, yet it could not preuaile to procure vs libertie. Wherefore he sought to haue that by practise, which he could not by praier. And so being allowed often to visite vs (for indeede our restraints were more, or lesse, according as the ague of her passion was either in the fit or intermission) he vsed the opportunitie of a fit time thus to deliuer vs.

The time of the marrying that Queene was euery year, by the extreme loue of her husband, and the seruiceable loue of the Courtiers, made notable by some publike honours, which did (as it were) proclaime to the worlde, how deare shee was to that people. Among other, none was either more grateful to the beholders, or more noble in it selfe, then iusts, both with sword & launce, mainteined for a seuen-night together: wherein that Nation doth so excel, both for comelines and hablenes, that from neighbour-countries they ordinarilye come, some to striue, some to learne, some to behold.

This day it happened that diuers famous Knights came thither from the Court of Helen, Queene of Corinth; a Lady, whome fame at that time was so desirous to honor, that she borrowed all mens mouthes to ioyne with the sounde of her Trumpet. For as her beautie hath wonne the prize from all women, that stande in degree of comparison (for as for the two sisters of Arcadia, they are far beyond all conceipte of comparison) so hath her gouernment bene such as hath bene no lesse beautifull to mens iudgementes, then her beautie to the eiesight. For being brought by right of birth, a woman, a yong woman, a faire woman, to gouern a people, in nature mutinously proud, and alwaies before so vsed to hard gouernours, as they knew not how to obey without the sworde were drawne. Yet could she for some yeares, so carry her selfe among them, that they found cause in the delicacie of her sex, of admiration, not of contempt: & which was notable, euen in the time that many countries about her were full of wars (which for old grudges to Corinth were thought stil would conclude there) yet so handled she the matter, that the threatens euer smarted in the threatners; she vsing so strange, and yet so well-succeding a temper, that she made her people by peace, warlike; her courtiers by sports, learned; her Ladies by Loue, chast. For by cotinuall martiall exercises without bloud, she made them perfect in that bloudy art. Her sportes were such as carried riches of Knowledge vpon the stream of Delight: and such the behauiour both of her selfe and her Ladies, as builded their chastitie not vpon waiwardnes, but choice of worthines: So as it seemed, that court to haue bene the mariage place of Loue & Vertue, and that her self was a Diana apparrelled in the garmets of Venus. And this which Fame only deliuered vnto me, (for yet I haue neuer seene her) I am the willinger to speake of to you, who (I know) know her better, being your neer neighbor, because you may see by her example (in her self wise, and of others beloued) that neither folly is the cause of vehement loue, nor reproch the effect. For neuer (I think) was there any woman, that with more vnremoueable determination gaue her selfe to the coucell of loue, after she had once set before her minde the worthines of your cosin Amphialus; and yet is nether her wisedome doubted of, nor honor blemished. For (O God) what doth better become wisedome, then to discerne what is worthy the louing? what more agreable to goodnes, the to loue it so discerned? and what to greatnes of hart, then to be constant in it once loued? But at that time, that loue of hers was not so publikely known, as the death of Philoxenus and her search of Amphialus hath made it: but then seemed to haue such leasure to send thither diuerse choise knights of her court, because they might bring her, at lest the knowledge, perchauce the honor of, that triumph. Wherin so they behaued theselues as for three daies they carried the prize; which being come from so far a place to disgrace her seruaunts, Palladius (who himselfe had neuer vsed armes) perswaded the Queene Andromana to be content (for the honour sake of her court) to suffer vs two to haue our horse and armour, that he with vs might vndertake the recouerie of their lost honour: which she grated; taking our oath to goe no further then her sonne, nor euer to abandon him. Which she did not more for sauing him, then keeping vs: and yet not satisfied with our oth, appointed a band of horsemen to haue eye, that we should not go beyond appointed limits. We were willing to gratifie the young Prince, who (we saw) loued vs. And so the fourth day of that exercise, we came into the field: where (I remember) the manner was, that the forenoone they should run at tilt, one after the other: the afternoone in abroad field, in manner of a battell, till either the strangers, or that countrie Knights wan the field.

The first that ran was a braue Knight, whose deuise was to come in, all chayned with a Nymph leading him: his Impresa was.....

..... Against him came forth an Iberian, whose manner of entring was, with Bagpipes in steed of trumpets; a shepheards boy before him for a Page, and by him a dozen apparelled like shepherds for the fashion, though rich in stuffe, who caried his Launces, which though strong to giue a launcely blow indeede, yet so were they couloured with hooks neere the mourn, that they pretilye represented shephooks. His own furniture was drest ouer with wooll, so enriched with Iewels artificially placed, that one would haue thought it a mariage betweene the lowest and the highest. His Impresa was a Sheepe marked with pitch, with this woord Spotted to be knowne. And because I may tell you out his conceipt (though that were not done, till the running for that time was ended) before the Ladies departed from the windowes, among whom there was one (they say) that was the Star, whereby his course was onely directed. The Shepherds attending vpon PHILISIDES went among them, and sang an eclogue; one of them answering another, while the other shepherds pulling out recorders (which possest the place of pipes) accorded their musicke to the others voice. The Eclogue had great praise: I onely remember sixe verses, while hauing questioned one with the other, of their fellow-shepheards sodaine growing a man of armes, and the cause of his so doing, they thus said.



Methought some staues he mist: if so, not much amisse:
For where he most would hit, he euer yet did misse.
Once said he brake a crosse; full well it so might be:
For neuer was there man more crossely crost then he.
But most cryed, O well broke: O foole full gaily blest:
Where failing is a shame, and breaking is his best.

Thus I haue digrest, because his maner liked me well: But when he began to run against L Elius,, it had neere growne (though great loue had euer bene betwixt them) to a quarell. For Philisides breaking his staues with great commendation, Lelius (who was knowne to be second to none in the perfection of that art) ranne euer ouer his head, but so finely to the skilfull eyes, that one might wel see he shewed more knowledge in missing, then others did in hitting. For with so gallant a grace his staffe came swimming close ouer the crest of the Helmet as if he would represent the kisse, and not the stroke of Mars. But Philisides was much moued with it, while he thought Lelius would shew a contempt of his youth: till Lelius (who therefore would satisfie him, because he was his friend (made him know, that to such bondage he was for so many courses tyed by her, whose disgraces to him were graced by her excellencye, and whose iniuries he could neuer otherwise returne, then honors.

But so by Lelius willing-missing was the oddes of the Iberian side, and continued so in the next by the excellent running of a Knight, though fostred so by the Muses, as many times the very rusticke people left both their delights and profites to harken to his songs, yet could he so well performe all armed sports, as if he had neuer had any other pen, then a Launce in his hand. He came in like a wilde man; but such a wildenes, as shewed his eye-sight had tamed him, full of withered leaues, which though they fell not, still threatned falling. His Impresa was, a mill-horse still bound to goe in one circle; with this word, Data fata sequutus. But after him the Corinthian knights absolutely preuailed, especially a great noble man of Corinth, whose deuise was to come without any deuise, all in white like a new Knight, as indeede he was; but so new, as his newnes shamed most of the others long exercise. Then another from whose tent I remember a birde was made flie, With such art to carry a written embassage among the Ladies, that one might say, If a liue bird, how so taught? if a dead bird, how so made? Then he, who hidden, man and horse in a great figure liuely representing the Phoenix: the fire tooke so artificially, as it consumed the bird, and left him to rise as it were, out of the ashes thereof. Against whom was the fine frosen Knight, frosen in despaire; but his armor so naturallye representing Ice, and all his furniture so liuely answering therto, as yet did I neuer see any thing that pleased me better.

But the delight of those pleasing sightes, haue carried me too farre into an vnnecessary discourse. Let it then suffice (most excellent Ladye) that you know the Corinthians that morning in the exercise (as they had done the daies before) had the better; Palladius neither suffring vs, nor himself to take in hand the partie til the after noone; when we were to fight in troupes, not differing otherwise from earnest, but that the sharpenesse of the weapons was taken away. But in the triall Palladius (especially led by Musidorus, and somewhat aided by me) himselfe truelye behauing him selfe nothing like a beginner, brought the honor to rest it selfe that night on the Iberian side: and the next day, both morning, and after-noone being kept by our party, He (that sawe the time fitte for the deliuerie he intended, called vnto vs to follow him; which we both bound by oth, and willing by good-will, obeyed: and so the gard not daring to interrupt vs (he commaunding passage) we went after him vpon the spur to a little house in a forrest neere by: which he thought would be the fittest resting place, till wee might goe further from his mothers fury, wherat he shas no lesse angry, and ashamed, then desirous to obay Zelmane.

But his mother (as I learned since) vnderstanding by the gard her sonnes conuaying vs away (forgetting her greatnes, and refining modestye to more quiet thoughts (flew out from her place, and cried to be accompanied, for she her-selfe would follow vs. But what she did (being rather with vehemencie of passion, then conduct of reason) made her stumble while she ran, & by her own confusion hinder her own desires. For so impatiently she commaded, as a good while no body knew what she comanded; so as we had gotten so far the start, as to be alredye past the confines of her kingdome before she ouertook vs: and ouertake vs she did in the Kingdome of Bythinia, not regarding shame, or dager of hauing entred into anothers dominions: but (hauing with her about a threescore hors-men) streight comanded to take vs aliue, and not to regard her sonnes threatening therin: which they attempted to doo, first by speach, and then by force. But neither liking their eloquece, nor fearing their might, we esteemed fewe swordes in a iust defence, able to resist many vniust assaulters. And so Musidorus incredible valour (beating downe all lets) made both me, and Palladius, so good way, that we had little to doo to ouercome weake wrong.

And now had the victorie in effect without bloud, when Palladius (heated with the fight, and angrie with his mothers fault) so pursued our assaylers, that one of them (who as I heard since had before our comming bene a speciall minion of Andromanas, and hated vs for hauing dispossest him of her hart) taking him to be one of vs, with a traiterous blow slew his young Prince: who falling downe before our eyes, whom he specially had deliuered, iudge (sweetest Lady) whether anger might not be called iustice in such a case: once, so it wrought in vs, that many of his subiects bodies we left there dead, to wait on him more faithfully to the other world.

All this while disdaine, strengthened by the furie of a furious loue, made Andromana stay to the last of the combat: and whe she saw vs light down, to see what help we might doo to the helplesse Palladius, she came running madly vnto vs, then no lesse threatning, when she had no more power to hurt. But when she perceiued it was her onely sonne that lay hurt, and that his hurt was so deadly, as that already his life had lost the vse of the reasonable, and almost sensible part; then onely did misfortune lay his owne ouglinesse vpon her fault, and make her see what she had done, and to what she was come: especiallye, finding in vs rather detestation then pittie, (considering the losse of that young Prince) and resolution presentlye to departe, which still she laboured to stay. But depriued of all comfort, with eyes full of death, she ranne to her sonnes dagger, and before we were aware of it (who else would haue stayed it) strake her selfe a mortall wound. But then her loue, though not her person, awaked pittie in vs, and I went to her, while Musidorus laboured obout Palladius. But the wound was past the cure of a better surgeon then my selfe, so as I could but receaue some fewe of her dying words; which were cursings of her ill set affection, and wishing vnto me many crosses and mischaunces in my loue, when soeuer I should loue, wherein I feare, and only feare that her praiers is from aboue granted. But the noise of this fight, and issue thereof being blazed by the countrye people to some noble-men there-abouts, they came thither, and finding the wrong offered vs, let vs go on our iourney, we hauing recomended those royall bodies vnto them to be conueied to the King of Iberia. With that Philoclea, seeing the teares stand in his eyes with remebrance of Palladius , but much more of that which thervpon grew, she would needs drink a kisse from those eyes, and he sucke another fro her lippes; wherat she blushed, and yet kissed him again to hide her blushing, Which had almost brought Pyrocles into another discourse, but that she with so sweete a rigor forbad him, that he durst not rebell, though he found it a great warre to keepe that peace, but was faine to goe on in his storie: for so she absolutely bad him, and he durst not know how to disobey.

So (said he) parting from that place before the Sunne had much abased himselfe of his greatest height, we sawe sitting vpon the drie sandes) which yeelded at that time a verie hotte reflection) a faire Gentlewoman, whose gesture accused her of much sorow, and euery way shewed she cared not what paine she put her body to, since the better parte (her minde) was laide vnder so much agonie: and so was she dulled withall, that we could come so neare, as to heare her speeches, and yet she not perceiue the hearers of her lamentation. But wel we might vnderstand her at times say. Thou dost kill me with thy vnkinde falshood: and, It greeues me not to die, but it greeues me that thou art the murtherer: neither doth mine own paine so much vexe me, as thy errour. For God knowes, it would not trouble me to be slain for thee, but much it torments me to be slaine by thee. Thou art vntrue, Pamphilus, thou art vntrue, and woe is me therefore. How oft didst thou sweare vnto me, that the Sunne should loose his light, and the rocks runne vp and downe like little kiddes, before thou wouldst falsifie thy faith to me? Sunne therefore put out thy shining, and rockes runne madde for sorrow, for Pamphilus is false. But alas, the Sun keepes his light, though thy faith be darckned; the rockes stand still, though thou change like a wethercocke. O foole that I am, that thought I could graspe water, and binde the winde. I might well haue knowen thee by others, but I would not; and rather wished to learne poison by drinking it my selfe, while my loue helped thy words to deceiue me. Wel, yet I would thou hadst made a better choise when thou didst forsake thy vnfortunate Leucippe. But it is no matter, Baccha (thy new mistres) wil reuenge my wrongs. But do not Baccha, let Pamphilus liue happy though I dye.

And much more to such like phrase she spake, but that I (who had occasion to know some-thing of that Pamphilus) stept to comfort her: and though I could not doo that, yet I gotte thus much knowledge of her, that this being the same Leucippe, to whome the vnconstant Pamphilus had betrothed himselfe, which had moued the other Ladies to such indignation as I tolde you: neither her worthines (which in trueth was great) nor his owne suffering for her (which is woont to endeare affection) could fetter his ficklenes, but that before his mariage-daye appointed, he had taken to wife that Baccha, of whome she complained; one, that in diuers places I had heard before blazed, as the most impudently vnchaste woman of all Asia; and withall, of such an imperiousnes therein, that she would not stick to employe them (whome she made vnhappie with her fauour) to drawe more companions of their follie: in the multitude of whome she did no lesse glorie, then a Captaine would doo, of being followed by braue Souldiers: waiwardly proud; and therefore bold, because extreamely faultie: and yet hauing no good thing to redeeme both these, and other vnlouely parts, but a little beautie, disgraced with wandring eyes, and vnwaied speeches; yet had Pamphilus (for her) left Leucippe, and withal, left his faith: Leucippe , of whom one look (in a cleer iudgement) would haue bene more acceptable, then all her kindnesses so prodigallie bestowed. For my selfe, the remembrance of his cruell handling Dido; ioyned to this, stirred me to seeke some reuenge vpon him, but that I thought, it should be a gayne to him to lose his life, being so matched: and therefore (leauing him to be punished by his owne election) we conueyed Leucippe to a house thereby, dedicated to Vestall Nunnes, where she resolued to spend all her yeares (which her youth promised should be many) in bewayling the wrong, and yet praying for the wrong doer.

But the next morning, we (hauing striuen with the Sunnes earlines) were scarcely beyond the prospect of the high turrets of that building, when there ouertoke vs a young Gentleman, for so he seemed to vs, but indeede (sweete Ladie) it was the faire Zelmane, Plexirtus daughter; whom vnconsulting affection (vnfortunately borne to me-wardes) had made borrowe so much of her naturall modestie, as to leaue her more-decent rayments, and taking occasion of Andromanas tumultuous pursuing vs, had apparelled her selfe like a page, with a pitifull crueltie cutting of her golden haire, leauing nothing, but the short curles, to couer that noble heade, but that she ware vpon it a faire head-peece, a shielde at her back, and a launce in her hand, els disarmed. Her apparell of white, wrought vpon with broken knots, her horse, faire and lustie, which she rid so, as might shew a fearefull boldnes, daring to doo that, which she knew that she knew not how to doo: and the sweetenes of her countenance did giue such a grace to what she did, that it did make hansome the vnhansomnes, and make the eye force the minde to beleeue, that there was a praise in that vnskilfulnesse. But she straight approached me, and with fewe woords (which borrowed the help of her countenance to make themselues vnderstoode) she desired me to accept her into my seruice; telling me she was a noblemans sonne of Iberia, her name Daiphantus, who hauing seene what I had done in that court, had stolne from her father, to follow me. I enquired the particularities of the maner of Andromanas following me, which by her I vnderstood, she hiding nothing (but her sexe) from me. And still me thought I had seen that face, but the great alteration of her fortune, made her far distant from my memorie: but liking very well the yong Gentleman, (such I tooke her to be) admitted this Daiphantus about me, who well shewed there is no seruice like his, that serues because he loues. For though born of Princes bloud, brought vp with tederest education, vnapt to seruice (because a woman) and full of thoughts (because in a strange estate;) yet Loue enioyned such diligence, that no apprentise, no, no bondslaue could euer be by feare more readie at all commaundementes, then that yong Princesse was. How often (alas) did her eyes say vnto me, that they loued? and yet, I not looking for such a matter) had not my conceipt open, to vnderstand them, how often would she come creeping to me, betweene gladnes to be neere me, and feare to offend me? Truely I remember, that then I meruailed to see her receiue my commandements with sighes, and yet do them with cheerefulnes: sometimes answering me in such riddles, as I then thought a childish inexperience: but since returning to my remebrance they haue come more cleere vnto my knowledge: and pardon me (onely deare Lady) that I vse many words: for her affection to me deserues of me an affectionate speach.

But in such sort did she serue me in that kingdom of Bythinia , for two moneths space. In which time we brought to good end, a cruell warre long maintained betweene the king of Bythinia and his brother. For my excellent cousin, and I (diuiding our selues to either side) found meanes (after some triall we had made of ourselues) to get such credit with them, as we brought them to as great peace between themselues, as loue towards vs, for hauing made the peace. Which done, we intended to returne through the Kingdome of Galatia , towarde Thrace, to ease the care of our father and mother, who (we were sure) first with the shipwracke; and then with the other dangers we dayly past, should haue little rest in their thoughts till they saw vs. But we were not entred into that kingdome, when by the noise of a great fight, we were guided to a pleasant valey, which like one of those Circusses, which in great cities some where doth giue a pleasant spectacle of running horses; so of either side stretching it selfe in a narrow length was it hemdin by wooddy hilles; as if indeed Nature had meant therein to make a place for beholders. And there we behelde one of the cruellest fightes betweene two Knights, that euer hath adorned the most martiall storie. So as I must confesse, a while we stood bewondred, another while delighted with the rare brauery therof; til seeing such streames of bloud, as threatned a drowning of life, we gallopped toward them to part them. But we were preuented by a dosen armed Knights, or rather villains, who vsing this time of their extreame feeblenesse, all together set vpon them. But common daunger brake off particular discord, so that (though with a dying weakenes) with a liuely courage they resisted, and by our help draue away, or slue those murdering attempters: among whom we hapt to take aliue the principall. But going to disarme those two excellent Knights, we found with no lesse wonder to vs; then astonishment to themselues, that they were the two valiaunt, and indeede famous Brothers, Tydeus and Telenor; whose aduenture (as afterward we made that vngratious wretch confesse) had thus fallen out.

After the noble Prince Leonatus had by his fathers death succeeded in the kingdome of Galatia, he (forgetting all former iniuries) had receiued that naughtie Plexirtus into a streight degree of fauour, his goodnesse being as apt to be deceiued, as the others craft was to deceiue. Till by plaine proofe finding, that the vngratefull man went about to poyson him, yet would not suffer his kindnesse to be ouercome, not by iustice it selfe: but calling him to him, vsed words to this purpose. Plexirtus (said he) this wickednesse is founde by thee. No good deedes of mine haue bene able to keepe it downe in thee. All men counsell me to take away thy life, likely to bring foorth nothing, but as daungerous, as wicked effects. But I cannot finde it in my harte, remembring what fathers sonne thou art. But since it is the violence of ambition, which perchaunce puls thee from thine owne iudgement, I will see, whether the satisfying that, may quiet the ill working of thy spirites. Not farre hence is the great cittie of Trebisonde; which, with the territorie about it, aunciently pertained vnto this crowne, now vniustly possessed, and as vniustly abused by those, who haue neither title to holde it, nor vertue to rule it. To the conquest of that for thy selfe I will lende thee force, and giue thee my right. Go therefore, and with lesse vnnaturalnesse glut thy ambition there; and that done, if it be possible, learne vertue.

Plexirtus, mingling forsworne excuses with false-meant promises, gladly embraced the offer: and hastilie sending backe for those two Brothers (who at that time were with vs succouring the gratious Queene Erona) by their vertue chiefly (if not onely) obteined the conquest of that goodly dominion. Which indeede done by them, gaue them such an authoritie, that though he raigned, they in effect ruled, most men honouring them, because they onely deserued honour; and many, thinking therein to please Plexirtus, considering how much he was bound vnto them: while they likewise (with a certaine sincere boldnesse of selfe-warranting friendship) accepted all openly and plainely, thinking nothing should euer by Plexirtus be thought too much in them, since all they were, was his.

But he (who by the rules of his own mind, could construe no other end of mens doings, but selfe seking) sodenly feared what they could doo; and as sodainely suspected, what they would doo, and as sodainly hated them, as hauing both might, and minde to doo. But dreading their power, standing so strongly in their owne valour, and others affection, he durst not take open way against them: and as hard it was to take a secrete, they being so continually followed by the best and euery way hablest of that region: and therefore vsed this diuelish sleight (which I will tell you) not doubting (most wicked man) to turne their owne friendship toward him to their owne destruction. He, (knowing that they well knew, there was no friendship betweene him and the new King of Pontus, neuer since he succoured Leonatus and vs, to his ouerthrow) gaue them to vnderstand that of late there had passed secrete defiance betweene them, to meete priuately at a place apointed. Which though not so fit a thing for men of their greatnes, yet was his honour so engaged, as he could not go backe. Yet faining to find himselfe weake by some counterfait infirmitie, the day drawing neere, he requested each of them to go in his stead; making either of the sweare, to keepe the matter secret, euen ech from other, deliuering the selfe same particularities to both, but that he told Tydeus, the King would meet him in a blew armour; and Telenor , that it was a black armour: and with wicked subtiltie (as if it had bene so apointed) caused Tydeus to take a black armour, and Telenor a blew; appointing them waies how to go, so as he knew they should not meet, till they came to the place appointed, where each had promised to keepe silence, lest the King should discouer it was not Plexirtus: and there in a wait had he laied these murtherers, that who ouerliued the other, should by them be dispatched: he not daring trust more then those, with that enterprise, and yet thinking them too few, till themselues by themselues were weakened.

This we learned chiefly, by the chiefe of those way-beaters, after the death of those two worthie brothers, whose loue was no lesse, then their valour: but well we might finde much thereof by their pitifull lamentation, when they knew their mismeeting, and saw each other (in despite of the Surgerie we could doo vnto them) striuing who should runne fastest to the goale of death: each bewailing the other, and more dying in the other, then in himselfe: cursing their owne hands for doing, and their breastes for not sooner suffering: detesting their vnfortunately-spent time in hauing serued so vngratefull a Tyraunt: and accusing their folly in hauing beleeued, he could faithfully loue, who did not loue faithfulnes: wishing vs to take heed, how we placed our good will vpon any other ground, then proofe of vertue: since length of acquaintance, mutuall secrecies, nor height of benefits could binde a sauage harte; no man being good to other, that is not good in himselfe. Then (while any hope was) beseeching vs to leaue the care of him that besought, and onely looke to the other. But when they found by themselues, and vs, no possibilitie, they desired to be ioined; and so embracing and crauing that pardon each of other, which they denied to themselues, they gaue vs a most sorrowfull spectacle of their death; leauing few in the world behind them, their matches in any thing, if they had soone inough knowne the ground and limits of friendship. But with wofull hartes, we caused those bodies to be conueyed to the next towne of Bythinia, where we learning thus much (as I haue tolde you) caused the wicked Historian to conclude his story, with his owne well-deserued death.

But then (I must tell you) I found such wofull countenances in Daiphantus, that I could not but much maruaile (finding them cotinew beyond the first assault of pittie) how the case of strangers (for further I did not conceiue) could so deepely pearce. But the truth indeed is, that partly with the shame and sorrow she tooke of her fathers faultinesse, partly with the feare, that the hate I conceiued against him, would vtterly disgrace her in my opinion, whensoeuer I should know her, so vehemetly perplexed her, that her fayre colour decaied; and dayly, & hastily grew into the very extreme working of sorowfulnes: which oft I sought to learne, and helpe. But she, as fearefull as louing, still concealed it; and so decaying still more & more, in the excellencie of her fairenesse, but that whatsoeuer weakenesse tooke away, pitie seemed to adde: yet still she forced her selfe to waite on me, with such care and diligence, as might well shew had bene taught in no other schoole, but Loue.

While we returning againe to embarke our selues for Greece, vnderstood that the mighty Otanes (brother to Barzanes slaine by Musidorus, in the battaile of the six Princes) had entred vpon the kingdome of Pontus, partly vpon the pretences he had to the crowne, but principally, because he would reuenge vpon him (whom he knew we loued) the losse of his brother: thincking (as indeede he had cause) that wheresoeuer we were, hearing of his extremitie, we would come to relieue him; in spite whereof he doubted not to preuaile, not onely vpon the confidence of his owne vertue and power, but especially because he had in his company two mighty Giants, sonnes to a couple whom we slue in the same realme: they hauing bene absent at their fathers death, and now returned, willingly entered into his seruice, hating (more then he) both vs, and that King of Pontus. We therfore with all speede went thetherward, but by the way this fell out, which whensoeuer I remember without sorrow, I must forget withall, all humanitie.

Poore Daiphantus fell extreme sick, yet would needs conquere the delicacie of her constitution, and force her selfe to waite on me: till one day going towarde Pontus, we met one, who in great hast went seeking for Tydeus and Telenor, whose death as yet was not knowne vnto the messenger; who (being their seruaunt, and knowing how deerely they loued Plexirtus) brought them word, how since their departing, Plexirtus was in present daunger of a cruell death, if by the valiantnesse of one of the best Knightes of the world, he were not reskewed: we enquired no further of the matter (being glad he should now to his losse finde what an vnprofitable treason it had bene vnto him, to dismember himselfe of two such friends) and so let the messenger part, not sticking to make him know his masters destruction, by the falshood of Plexirtus.

But the griefe of that (finding a bodie alreadie brought to the last degree of weakenesse) so ouerwhelmed the little remnant of the spirits left in Daiphantus, that she fell sodainely into deadly soundings; neuer comming to herselfe, but that withall she returned to make most pittifull lamentations; most straunge vnto vs, because we were farre from ghessing the ground thereof. But finding her sicknesse such, as began to print death in her eyes, we made all hast possible to conuey her to the next towne: but before we could lay her on a bed, both we, and she might find in herselfe, that the harbingers of ouer-hastie death, had prepared his lodging in that daintie body, which she vndoubtedly feeling, with a weake chearefulnes, shewed comfort therein; and then desiring vs both to come neere her, and that no bodie els might be present; with pale, and yet (euen in palenes) louely lips, Now or neuer, and neuer indeed, but now is it time for me (said she) to speake: and I thanke death which giues me leaue to discouer that, the suppressing whereof perchance hath bene the sharpest spur, that hath hasted my race to this end. Know then my Lords, and especially you my Lord and master, Pyrocles, that your page Daiphantus is the vnfortunat Zelmane, who for your sake caused my (as vnfortunate) louer, and cosen, Palladius , to leaue his fathers court, and consequetly, both him and my Aunt his mother, to loose their liues. For your sake my selfe haue become, of a Princesse a Page: and for your sake haue put off the apparell of a woman, and (if you iudge not more mercifully) the modestie. We were amazed at her speach, and then had (as it were) new eies giue vs to perceiue that which before had bene a present strager to our minds. For indeed, we forthwith knew it to be the face of Zelmane, who before we had knowen in the court of Iberia. And sorrow & pittie laying her paine vpon me, I comforted her the best I could by the tenderness of good-will, pretending indeed better hope then I had of her recouery.

But she that had inward ambassadors from the tyrant that shortly would oppresse her, No, my deere master (said she) I neither hope nor desire to liue. I know you would neuer haue loued me (and with that word she wept) nor, alas, had it bene reason you should, considering manie wayes my vnworthines. It sufficeth me that the strange course I haue taken, shall to your remembrance, witnesse my loue: and yet this breaking of my hart, before I would discouer my paine, will make you (I hope) thinke that I was not altogether vnmodest. Thinke of me so, deare Master, and that thought shall be my life: and with that, languishingly looking vpon me; And I pray you (said she) euen by these dying eies of mine (which are onely sorrie to dye, because they shall lose your sight) and by these pouled lockes of mine (which while they were long, were the ornament of my sex, now in their short curles, the testimonie of my seruitude) and by the seruice I haue done you (which God knowes hath beene full of loue) thinke of me after my death with kindnes, though ye cannot with loue. And whensoeuer ye shall make any other Ladie happie with your well placed affection, if you tell her my folly, I pray you speake of it, not with scorne, but with pittie. I assure you (deare Princesse of my life, for how could it be otherwise?) her words and her manner, with the liuely consideration of her loue, so pearced me, that, though I had diuerse griefes before, yet me thought I neuer felt till then, how much sorow enfeebleth all resolution. For I could not chuse, but yeeld to the weakenes of abundant weeping; in trueth with such griefe, that I could willingly at that time haue chaunged liues with her.

But when she saw my teares, O God (said she) how largely am I recompenced for my losses? why then (said shee) I may take boldnesse to make some requests vnto you. I besought her to doo, vowing the performance, though my life were the price thereof. She shewed great ioy: The first (said she) is this, that you will pardon my father the displeasure you haue iustly conceiued against him, and for this once, succour him out of the daunger wherein he is: I hope he will amend: and I pray you, whensoeuer you remember him to be the faultie Plexirtus , remember withall that he is Zelmanes father. The second is, that when you come once into Greece, you will take vnto your selfe this name (though vnlucky) of Daiphantus, and vouchsafe to be called by it: for so shall I be sure, you shall haue cause to remember me: and let it please your noble cousin to be called Palladius, that I doo that right to that poore Prince, that his name yet may liue vpon the earth in so excellent a person: and so betwene you, I trust sometimes your vnluckie page shall be (perhaps with a sigh) mencioned. Lastly, let me be buried here obscurely, not suffering my friends to know my fortune, till (whe you are safely returned to your own countrie) you cause my bones to be conueied thither, and laid (I beseech you) in some place, where your selfe vouchsafe sometimes to resort. Alas, small petitios for such a suter; which yet she so earnestly craued, that I was faine to sweare the accomplishment. And then kissing me, and often desiring me not to condemne her of lightnesse, in mine armes she deliuered her pure soule to the purest place: leauing me as full of agonie, as kindnes, pitie, and sorow could make an honest hart. For I must confesse for true, that if my starres had not wholy reserued me for you, there els perhaps I might haue loued, and (which had bene most strange) begun my loue after death: wherof let it be the lesse maruaile, because somewhat she did resemble you: though as farre short of your perfection, as her selfe dying, was of her selfe flourishing: yet somthing there was, which (when I saw a picture of yours) brought againe her figure into my remembrance, and made my hart as apt to receiue the wounde, as the power of your beauty with vnresistable force to pearce.

But we in wofull (and yet priuat) manner burying her, performed her commandement: and then enquiring of her fathers estate, certainly learned that he was presently to be succoured, or by death to passe the neede of succour. Therefore we determined to diuide ourselues; I, according to my vowe, to helpe him, and Musidorus toward the King of Pontus, who stood in no lesse need then immediat succour, & euen readie to depart one from the other, there came a messenger from him, who after some enquirie found vs, giuing vs to vnderstand, that he trusting vpon vs two, had apointed the combat betweene him and vs, against Otanes, and the two Gyants. Now the day was so accorded, as it was impossible for me both to succour Plexirtus, and be there, where my honour was not only so far engaged, but (by the straunge working of vniust fortune) I was to leaue the standing by Musidorus, whom better then my selfe I loued, to go saue him whom for iust causes I hated. But my promise giuen, and giuen to Zelmane, & to Zelmane dying, preuailed more with me, then my friendship to Musidorus: though certainely I may affirme, nothing had so great rule in my thoughts, as that. But my promise caried me the easier, because Musidorus himselfe would not suffer me to breake it. And so with heauy mindes (more carefull each of others successe, then of our owne) we parted; I toward the place, where I vnderstood Plexirtus was prisoner to an auncient Lord, absolutely gouerning a goodly Castle, with a large territory about it, whereof he acknowledged no other soueraigne, but himselfe: whose hate to Plexirtus, grew for a kinsman of his, whom he malitiously had murdered, because in the time that he raigned in Galatia, he foud him apt to practise for the restoring of his vertuous brother Leonatus. This old Knight, still thirsting for reuenge, vsed (as the way to it) a pollicie, which this occasion I will tell you, prepared for him. Plexirtus in his youth had maried Zelmanes mother, who dying of that only child-birth, he a widdower, and not yet a King, haunted the Court of Armenia; where (as he was cunning to winne fauour) he obteined great good liking of Artaxia, which he pursued, till (being called home by his father) he falsly got his fathers kingdome; and then neglected his former loue: till throwen out of that (by our meanes) before he was deeply rooted in it, and by and by againe placed in Trebisonde, vnderstanding that Artaxia by her brothers death was become Queen of Armenia, he was hotter then euer, in that pursuit, which being vnderstood by this olde Knight, he forged such a letter, as might be written from Artaxia, entreating his present (but very priuate) repaire thether, giuing him faithfull promise of present mariage: a thing farre from her thought, hauing faithfully, and publiquely protested, that she would neuer marrie any; but some such Prince who would giue sure proofe, that by his meanes we were destroyed. But he (no more wittie to frame, then blinde to iudge hopes) bit hastely at the baite, and in priuate maner poasted toward her, but by the way he was met by this Knight, far better accompanied, who quickly laid hold of him, and condemned him to death, cruell inough, if any thing may be both cruell and iust. For he caused him to be kept in a miserable prison, till a day appointed, at which time he would deliuer him to be deuoured by a mostrous beast of most vgly shape, armed like a Rhinoceros, as strong as an Elephant, as fierce as a Lion, as nimble as a Leopard, and as cruell as a Tigre: whom he hauing kept in a strong place, from the first youth of it, now thought no fitter match, then such a beastly monster with a monstrous Tyrant: proclaiming yet withall, that if any so well loued him, as to venture their liues against his beast, for him, if they ouercame, he should be saued: not caring how many they were (such confidence he had in that monsters strength) but especially hoping to entrappe thereby the great courages of Tydeus and Telenor, whom he no lesse hated, because they had bene principall instruments of the others power.

I dare say, if Zelmane had knowen what daunger I should haue passed, she would rather haue let her father perish, then me to haue bidden that aduenture. But my word was past, and truely, the hardnes of the enterprise, was not so much a bitte, as a spurre vnto me; "knowing well, that the iorney of high honor lies not in plaine wayes. Therefore, going thether, and taking sufficient securitie, that Plexirtus should be deliuered if I were victorious, I vndertooke the combatte: and (to make short, excellent Ladie, and not to trouble your eares with recounting a terrible matter) so was my weakenes blessed from aboue, that without dangerous wounds I slew that monster, which hundreds durst not attempt: to so great admiration of many (who from a safe place might looke on) that there was order giuen, to haue the fight, both by sculpture and picture, celebrated in most parts of Asia. And the olde noble-man so well liked me, that he loued me; onely bewayling, my vertue had beene imployed to saue a worse monster then I killed: whom yet (according to faith giuen) he deliuered, and accompanied me to the kingdome of Pontus, whether I would needes in all speede go, to see whether it were possible for me (if perchance the day had bene delaied) to come to the combat. But that (before I came) had bene thus finished.

The vertuous Leonatus vnderstanding two so good friends of his were to be in that danger, would perforce be one him selfe: where he did valiantly, and so did the King of Pontus. But the truth is, that both they being sore hurt, the incomparable Musidorus finished the combat by the death of both the Giants, and the taking of Otanes prisoner. To whom as he gaue his life, so he gotte a noble friend: for so he gaue his word to be, and he is well knowen to thinke himselfe greater in being subiect to that, then in the greatnes of his principalitie.

But thither (vnderstanding of our being there) flocked great multitudes of many great persons, and euen of Princes; especially those, whom we had made beholding vnto vs: as, the Kings of Phrygia, Bythinia, with those two hurte, of Pontus and Galatia, and Otanes the prisoner, by Musidorus set free; and thither came Plexirtus of Trebisonde, and Antiphilus, then King of Lycia; with as many mo great Princes, drawen either by our reputation, or by willingnes to acknowledge themselues obliged vnto vs, for what we had done for the others. So as in those partes of the woild, I thinke, in many hundreds of yeares, there was not seene so royall an assemblie: where nothing was let passe to doo vs the highest honors, which such persons (who might commaund both purses and inuentions) could perfourme. All from all sides bringing vnto vs right toyall presents (which we to auoide both vnkindnes, and importunitie, liberally receiued,) and not content therewith, would needes accept, as from vs, their crownes, and acknowledge to hold them of vs: with many other excessiue honors, which would not suffer the measure of this short leisure to describe vnto you.

But we quickely aweary thereof, hasted to Greece.ward, led thither partly with the desire of our parents, but hastened principally, because I vnderstoode that Anaxius with open mouth of defamation had gone thither to seeke me, and was now come to Peloponnesus where from Court to Court he made enquyrie of me, doing yet himselfe so noble deedes, as might hap to aucthorize an ill opinion of me. We therefore suffred but short delayes, desiring to take this countrey in our way, so renowmed ouer the worlde, that no Prince coulde pretend height, nor bigger lownesse, to barre him from the sound thereof: renowmed indeede, not so much for the ancient prayses attributed thereunto, as for the hauing in it Argalus and Amphialus (two knights of such rare prowes, as we desired especially to know) and yet by farre, not so much for that, as without suffering of comparison for the beautie of you and your sister, which makes all indifferent iudges, that speake thereof, account this countrie as a temple of deities. But these causes indeed mouing vs to come by this land, wee embarked our selues in the next porte, whether all those Princes (sauing Antiphilus, who returned, as he pretended, not able to tarry longer from Erona) conueied vs. And there found we a ship most royally furnished by Plexirtus, who had made all thinges so proper (as well for our defence, as ease) that all the other Princes greatly commended him for it: who (seeming a quite altered man) had nothing but repentance in his eies, friendship in his gesture, and vertue in his mouth: so that we who had promised the sweete Zelmane to pardon him, now not onely forgaue, but began to fauour; perswading our selues with a youthfull credulitie, that pechance thinges were not so euill as wee tooke them and as it were desiring our owne memorie, that it might be so. But so were we licensed from those Princes, truely not without teares, especially of the vertuous Leonatus, who with the king of Pontus, would haue come with vs, but that we (in respect of the ones young wife, and both their new settled kingdomes) would not suffer it. Then would they haue sent whole fleetes to to guard vs: but we, that desired to passe secretely into Greece, made them leaue that motion, when they found that more ships, then one, would be displeasing vnto vs. But so committing our selues to the vncertaine discretion of the wind, we (then determining as soone as we came to Greece, to take the names of Daiphantus & Palladius as well for our owne promise to Zelmane, as because we desired to come vnknowne into Greece) left the Asian shore full of Princely persons, who euen vpon their knees recommended our safeties to the deuotion of their chiefe desires: among whome none had bene so officious (though I dare affirme, all quite contrarie to his vnfaithfulnes) as Plexirtus.

And So hauing sailed almost two daies, looking for nothing but when we might looke vpon the land, a graue man (whom we had seene of great trust with Plexirtus and was sent as our principall guide) came vnto vs, and with a certaine kinde manner mixt with shame, & repentance, began to tel vs, that he had take such a loue vnto vs (cosidering our youth & fame) that though he were a seruant & a seruant of such, trust about Plexirtus, as that he had committed vnto him euen those secretes of his hart, which abhorde all other knowledge; yet he rather chose to reueale at this time a most pernitious counsel; then by concealing it bring to ruin those, whom he could not choose but honour. So went he on, and tolde vs, that Plexirtus (in hope therby to haue Artaxia, endowed with the great Kingdome of Armenia, to his wife) had giuen him order when we were neere Greece, to finde some opportunitie to murder vs, bidding him to take vs a sleepe, because he had seene what we could do waking. Now sirs (said he) I would rather a thousand times loose my life, then haue my remembrance (while I liued) poysoned with such a mischiefe: and therefore if it were onely I, that knewe herein the Kings order, then should my disobedience be a warrant of your safetie. But to one more (said hee) namely the Captaine of the shippe, Plexirtus hath opened so much touching the effect of murdering you, though I think laying the cause rather vpon old grudge, then his hope of Artaxia. And my selfe, (before the consideration of your excellencies had drawn loue and pittie into mind imparted it to such, as I thought fittest for such a mischiefe. Therefore, I wishe you to stand vpon your garde assuring you, that what I can doo for your safetie, you shal see (if it come to the pushe) by me perfourmed. We thanked him, as the matter indeed deserued, and from that time would no more disarme our selues, "nor the one sleepe without his friendes eyes waked for him: so that it delaied the going forward of their bad enterprize, while they thought it rather chaunce, then prouidence, which made vs so behaue ourselues.

But when we came within halfe a daies sayling of the shore, so that they sawe it was speedily, or not at all to be done. The (& I remember it was about the first watch in the night) came the Captaine and whispered the Councellour in the eare: But he (as it should seem) disswading him from it, the Captaine (who had bene a pyrate from his youth, and often blouded in it) with a lowde voice sware, that if Plexirtus bad him, he would not sticke to kill God him selfe. And therewith cald his mates, and in the Kings name willed them to take vs, aliue or dead; encouraging them with the spoile of vs, which he said, (and indeed was true) would yeeld many exceeding rich iewels. But the Councellour according to his promise) commanded them they should not commit such a villany, protesting that hee would stand betweene them and the Kings anger therein. Wherewith the Captaine enraged: Nay (said he) then we must begin with this traitor him selfe: and therewith gaue him a sore blow vpon the head, who honestly did the best he could to reuenge himselfe.

But then we knew it time rather to encounter, then waite for mischiefe. And so against the Captaine wee went, who straight was enuironned with most parte of the Souldiers and Mariners. And yet the trueth is, there were some, whom either the authoritie of the councellour, doubt of the Kinges minde, or liking of vs, made drawe their swords of our side: so that quickely it grewe a most confused fight. For the narrownesse of the place, the darkenesse of the time, and the vncertainty in such a tumult how to know friends from foes, made the rage of swordes rather guide, then be guided by their maisters. For my cousin and mee, truely I thinke wee neuer perfourmed lesse in any place, doing no other hurte, then the defence of our selues, and succouring them who came for it, draue vs too: for not discerning perfectly, who were for, or against vs, we thought it lesse euill to spare a foe, then spoile a freend. But from the highest to the lowest parte of the shippe there was no place lefte, without cryes of murdring, and murdred persons. The Captaine I hapt a while to fight withall, but was driuen to parte with him, by hearing the crie of the Councellour, who receiued a mortall wounde, mistaken of one of his owne side. Some of the wiser would call to parley, and wish peace, but while the words of peace were in their mouthes, some of their euill auditours gaue them death for their hire. So that no man almost could conceiue hope of liuing, but by being last aliue: and therefore euery one was willing to make him selfe roome, by dispatching almost any other: so that the great number in the ship was reduced to exceeding few, whe of those few the most part weary of those troubles leapt into the boate, which was fast to the ship: but while they that were first, were cutting of the rope that tied it, others came leaping in, so disorderly, that they drowned both the boate, and themselues.

But while euen in that little remnant (like the children of Cadmus ) we continued still to slay one an other, a fire, which (whether by the desperate malice of some, or intention to separate, or accidentally while all thinges were cast vp and downe) it should seeme had taken a good while before, but neuer heeded of vs, (who onely thought to preserue, or reuenge) now violently burst out in many places, and began to maister the principall partes of the ship. Then necessitie made vs see, that, a common enimy sets at one a ciuill warre: for that little all we were (as if wee had bene waged by one man to quench a fire) streight went to resist that furious enimie by all art and labour: but it was to late, for already it did embrace and deuoure from the sterne, to the wast of the ship: so as labouring in vaine, we were driuen to get vp to the prowe of the ship, by the worke of nature seeking to preserue life, as long as we could: while truely it was a straunge and ougly sight, to see so huge a fire, as it quickly grew to be, in the Sea, and in the night, as if it had come to light vs to death. And by and by it had burned off the maste, which all this while had prowdly borne the sayle (the winde, as might seeme, delighted to carrie fire & bloud in his mouth) but now it fell ouer boord, and the fire growing neerer vs, it was not onely terrible in respect of what we were to attend, but insupportable through the heat of it.

So that we were constrained to bide it no longer, but disarming and stripping our selues, and laying our selues vpon such things, as we thought might help our swimming to the lande (too far for our owne strength to beare vs) my cousin and I threw our selues into the Sea. But I had swomme a very little way, when I felt (by reason of a wound I had) that I should not be able to bide the trauaile, and therefore seeing the maste (whose tackling had bene burnt of) flote cleare from the ship, I swame vnto it, and getting on it, I found mine owne sworde, which by chaunce, when I threw it away (caught by a peece of canuas) had honge to the maste. I was glad, because I loued it well; but gladder, when I saw at the other end, the Captaine of the ship and of all this mischiefe; who hauing a long pike, belike had borne himselfe vp with that, till he had set him selfe vpon the mast. But when I perceiued him. Villaine (said I) doost thou thinke to ouerliue so many honest men, whom thy falsehood hath brought to destruction? with that bestriding the mast, I gat by little and little towardes him, after such a manner as boies are wont (if euer you saw that sport) when they ride the wild mare. And he perceiuing my intention, like a fellow that had much more courage then honestie, set him selfe to resist. But I had in short space gotten within him, and (giuing him a sound blowe) sent him to feede fishes. But there my selfe remainde, vntill by pyrates I was taken vp, & among them againe taken prisoner, and brought into Laconia.

But what (said Philoclea) became of your cousin Musidorus? Lost saide Pyrocles. Ah my Pyrocles, said Philoclea , I am glad I haue taken you. I perceiue you louers doo not alwaies say truely: as though I knew not your cousin Dorus, the sheepeheard? Life of my desires (said Pyrocles) what is mine, euen to my soule is yours: but the secret of my friend is not mine. But if you know so much, then I may truely say, he is lost, since he is no more his owne. But I perceiue, your noble sister and you are great friends, and well doth it become you so to be. But go forward deare Pyrocles, I long to heare out till your meeting me: for there to me-ward is the best part of your storie. Ah sweet Philoclea (said Pyrocles) do you thinke I can thinke so precious leysure as this well spent in talking. Are your eyes a fit booke (thinke you) to reade a tale vpon? Is my loue quiet inough to be an historian? Deare Princesse, be gracious vnto me. And then he faine would haue remembred to haue forgot himselfe. But she, with a sweetly disobeying grace, desired him that her desire (once for euer) might serue, that no spote might disgrace that loue which shortly she hoped should be to the world warrantable. Faine he would not haue heard, till shee threatned anger. And then the poore louer durst not, because he durst not. Nay I pray thee, deare Pyrocles (said she) let me haue my story. Sweet Princesse (said he) giue my thoughts a little respite: and if it please you, since this time must so bee spoiled, yet it shall suffer the lesse harme, if you vouchsafe to bestow your voice, and let mee know, how the good Queene Erona was betraied into such danger, and why Plangus sought me. For indeede, I should pitie greatly any mischance fallen to that Princesse. I will, said Philoclea smiling, so you giue me your worde, your handes shall be quiet auditours. They shall, said he, because subiect. Then began shee to speake, but with so prettie and delightfull a maiestie, when she set her countenaunce to tell the matter, that Pyrocles could not chuse but rebell so far, as to kisse her. She would haue puld her head away, and speake, but while she spake he kist, & it seemed he fedde vpon her words: but she gate away. How will you haue your discourse (said she) without you let my lips alone? Hee yeelded and tooke her hand. On this (saide hee) will I reuenge my wrong: and so began to make much of that hand, when her tale, & his delight were interrupted by Miso: who taking her time, while Basilius backe was turned, came vnto them: and tolde Philoclea, she deserued she knew what, for leauing her mother, being euill at ease, to keepe companie with straungers. But Philoclea telling her, that she was there by her fathers commandement, she went away muttering, that though her back, & her shoulders, & her necke were broken, ye tas long as her tongue would wagge, it should do her errand to her mother. And so went vp to Gynecia, who was at that time miserably vexed with this manner of dreame. It seemed vnto her to bee in a place full of thornes, which so molested her, as she could neither abide standing still, nor tread safely going forward. In this case she thought Zelmane, being vpon a faire hill, delightfull to the eye, and easie in apparance, called her thither: whither with much anguish being come, Zelmane was vanished, and she found nothing but a dead bodie like vnto her husband, which seeming at the first with a strange smel to infect her, as she was redie likewise within a while to die, the dead bodie she thought tooke her in his armes, and said, Gynecia, leaue all; for here is thy onely rest.

With that she awaked, crying very loud, Zelmane, Zelmane. But remembring her selfe, and seeing Basilius by, (her guiltie conscience more suspecting, then being suspected she turned her cal, and called for Philoclea. Miso forthwith like a valiant shrew, (looking at Basilins, as though she would speake though she died for it) tolde Gynecia, that her daughter had bene a whole houre togither in secrete talke with Zelmane: And (sayes she) for my part I coulde not be heard (your daughters are brought vp in such awe) though I tolde her of your pleasure sufficiently. Gynecia , as if shee had heard her last doome pronounced against her, with a side-looke & chaunged countenance, O my Lorde (said she) what meane you to suffer these yong folkes together Basilius (that aymed nothing at the marke of her suspition) smilingly tooke her in his armes, sweete wife (said he) I thanke you for your care of your childe: but they must be youthes of other mettall, then Zelmane, that can endaunger her. O but; cryed Gynecia, and therewith she stayed: for then indeede she did suffer a right conflict, betwixt the force of loue, and rage of iealousie. Manie times was she about to satisfie the spite of her minde, and tell Basilius, how she knewe Zelmane to bee farre otherwise then the outwarde appearance. But those many times were all put backe by the manifolde obiections of her vehement loue. Faine shee would haue barde her daughters happe, but loth she was to cut off her owne hope. But now, as if her life had bene set vppon a wager of quicke rysing, as weake as shee was, shee gat vp; though Basilius, (with a kindnesse flowing onely from the fountaine of vnkindnesse, being indeed desirous to winne his daughter as much time as might bee) was loth to suffer it, swearing hee sawe sickenesse in her face, and therefore was loath shee should aduenture the ayre.

But the great and wretched Ladie Gynecia, possessed with those deuils of Loue and Iealousie, did rid herselfe from her tedious husbande: and taking no body with her going toward them; O Iealousie (said she) the phrensie of wise folkes, the well-wishing spite, and vnkinde carefulnesse, the selfe-punishment for others fault, and selfe-miserie in others happinesse, the cousin of enuie, daughter of loue, and mother of hate, how couldest thou so quietly get thee a seate in the vnquiet hart of Gynecia, Gynecia (said she sighing) thought wise, and once vertuous? Alas it is thy breeders power which plantes thee there: it is the flaming agonie of affection, that works the chilling accesse of thy feuer, in such sort, that nature giues place; the growing of my daughter seemes the decay of my selfe; the blessings of a mother turne to the curses of a competitor; and the faire face of Philoclea, appeares more horrible in my sight, then the image of death. Then remembred she this song, which she thought tooke a right measure of her present minde,


Wyth two strange fires of equall heate possest,
The one of Loue, the other Iealousie,
Both still do worke, in neither finde I rest:
For both, alas, their strengthes together tie:
The one aloft doth holde, the other hie.
   Loue wakes the the iealous eye least thence it moues:
   The iealous eye, the more it lookes, it loues. These fires increase: in these I dayly burne:
They feede on me, and with my wings do flie:
My louely ioyes to dolefull ashes turne:
Their flames mount vp, my powers prostrate lie:
They liue in force. I quite consumed die.
   One wonder yet farre passeth my conceate:
   The fuell small: how be the fires so great?

But her vnleasured thoughtes ran not ouer the ten first wordes; but going with a pace, not so much to fast for her bodie, as slowe for her minde, shee found them together, who after Misos departure, had left their tale, and determined what to say to Basilius. But full abashed was poore Philoclea, (whose conscience now began to know cause of blushing) for first salutation, receyuing an eye from her mother, full of the same disdainefull scorne, which Pallas shewed to poore Arachne, that durst contend with her for the prize of well weauing: yet did the force of loue so much rule her, that though for Zelmanes sake she did detest her, yet for Zelmanes sake shee vsed no harder words to her, then to bid her go home, and accompany her solitarie father.

Then began she to display to Zelmane the storehouse of her deadly desires, when sodainly the confused rumor of a mutinous multitude gaue iust occasion to Zelmane to breake of any such conference, (for well shee found, they were not friendly voices they heard) and to retire with as much diligence as conueniently they could towards the lodge. Yet before they coulde winne the lodge by twentie paces, they were ouertaken by an vnruly sort of clownes, and other rebels, which like a violent floud, were caried, they themselues knewe not whether. But assoone as they came within perfect discerning these Ladies, like enraged beastes, without respect of their estates, or pitie of their sexe, they began too runne against them, as right villaines, thinking abilitie to doo hurt, to be a great aduancement: yet so many as they were, so many almost were their mindes, all knitte together only in madnes. Some cried, Take; some, Kill; some, Saue: but euen they that cried saue, ran for companie with them that meant to kill. Euerie one commaunded, none obeyed, he onely seemed chiefe Captaine, that was most ragefull.

Zelmane (whose vertuous courage was euer awake) drew out her sword, which vpon those il-armed churls giuing as many wounds as blowes and as many deathes almost as wounds (lightning courage, and thundering smart vpon them) kept them at a bay, while the two Ladies got themselues into the lodge: out of the which, Basilius (hauing put on an armour long vntried) came to proue his authoritie among his subiects, or at lest, to aduenture his life with his deare mistresse, to who he brought a shield, while the Ladies tremblingly atteded the issue of this dangerous aduenture. But Zelmane made them perceiue the ods betweene an Eagle and a Kight, with such a nimble stayednes, and such an assured nimblenes, that while one was running backe feare, his fellow had her sword in his guts.

And by and by was both her harte and helpe well encreased by the comming of Dorus, who hauing beene making of hurdles for his masters sheepe, hearde the horrible cries of this madde multitude; and hauing streight represented before the eies of his carefull loue, the perill wherein the soule of his soule might bee, hee went to Pamelas lodge, but found her in a caue hard by, with Mopsa and Dametas, who at that time would not haue opened the entrie to his father. And therefore leauing them there (as in a place safe, both for being strong, and vnknowen) he ranne as the noise guyded him. But when hee sawe his friende in such danger among them, anger and contempt (asking no counsell but of courage) made him runne among them, with no other weapon but his sheephooke, and with that ouerthrowing one of the villaines, tooke away a two-hand sword from him, and withall, helpt him from euer being ashamed of loosing it. Then lifting vp his braue heade, and flashing terror into their faces, he made armes and legs goe complaine to the earth, how euill their maisters had kept them. Yet the multitude still growing, and the verie killing wearying them (fearing, lest in long fight they should bee conquered with conquering) they drew back toward the lodge; but drew back in such sort, that still their terror went forwarde: like a valiant mastiffe, whom when his master pulles backe by the taile from the beare (with whom he hath alreadie interchanged a hatefull imbracement) though his pace be backwarde, his gesture is foreward, his teeth and eyes threatning more in the retiring, then they did in the aduancing: so guided they themselues homeward, neuer stepping steppe backward, but that they proued themselues masters of the ground where they stept.

Yet among the rebels there was a dapper fellowe, a tayler by occupation, who fetching his courage onelie from their going back, began to bow his knees, and very fencer-like to draw neere to Zelmane. But as he came within her distance, turning his swerd very nicely about his crown, Basilius, with a side blow, strake off his nose. He (being a suiter to a seimsters daughter, and therefore not a little grieued for such a disgrace) stouped downe, because he had hard, that if it were fresh put to, it would cleaue on againe. But as his hand was on the ground to bring his nose to his head, Zelmane with a blow, sent his head to his nose. That saw a butcher, a butcherlie chuffe indeed (who that day was sworn brother to him in a cup of wine) and lifted vp a great leauer, calling Zelmane all the vile names of a butcherly eloquence. But she (letting slippe the blowe of the leauer) hitte him so surely vpon the side of his face, that she left nothing but the nether iawe, where the tongue still wagged, as willing to say more, if his masters remembrance had serued. O (said a miller that was halfe dronke) see the lucke of a good fellow, and with that word, ran with a pitchforke at Dorus: but the nimblenes of the wine caried his head so fast, that it made it ouer-runne his feet, so that he fell withall, iust betwene the legs of Dorus: who setting his foote on his neck (though he offered two milche kine, and foure fat hogs for his life) thrust his sword quite through, from one eare to the other; which toke it very vnkindlie, to feele such newes before they heard of them, in stead of hearing, to be put to such feeling. But Dorus (leauing the miller to vomit his soule out in wine and bloud) with his two-hand sword strake off another quite by the waste, who the night before had dreamed he was growen a couple, and (interpreting it that he should be maried) had bragd of his dreame that morning among his neighbors. But that blow astonished quite a poore painter, who stood by with a pike in his hands. This painter was to counterfette the skirmish betwene the Centaures and Lapithes, and had bene very desirous to see some notable wounds, to be able the more liuely to expresse them; and this morning (being caried by the streame of this companie) the foolish felow was euen delighted to see the effect of blowes. But this last (hapning neere him) so amazed him, that he stood stock still, while Dorus (with a turne of his sword) strake off both his hands. And so the painter returned, well skilled in wounds, but with neuer a hand to performe his skill.

In this manner they recouered the lodge, & gaue the rebels a face of wood of the outside. But they then (though no more furious, yet more couragious whe they saw no resister) went about with pickaxe to the wall, & fire to the gate, to get themselues entrance. Then did the two Ladies mixe feare with loue, especially Philoclea, who euer caught hold of Zelmane, so (by the follie of loue) hindering the succour which she desired. But Zelmane seeing no way of defence, nor time to deliberate (the number of those villaines still encreasing, and their madnesse still encreasing with their number) thought it onely the meanes to goe beyond their expectation with an vnused boldenesse, and with danger to auoide danger: and therefore opened againe the gate, and (Dorus and Basilius standing redie for her defence) she issued againe among them. The blowes she had dealt before (though all in generall were hastie) made each of them in particular take breath, before they brought them sodainly ouer-neere her, so that she had time to get vp to the iudgement-seate of the Prince, which (according to the guise of that countrie) was before the court gate. There she paused a while, making signe with her hand vnto them, and withall, speaking aloud, that she had something to say vnto them, that would please them. But she was answered awhile with nothing but shouts and cries; and some beginning to throw stones at her, not daring to approach her. But at length, a yong farmer (who might do most among the countrie sort, and was caught in a little affection towardes Zelmane) hoping by this kindenesse to haue some good of her, desired them, if they were honest men, to heare the woman speake. Fie fellowes, fie, (said he) what will all the maides in our towne say, if so many tall men shall be afraide to heare a faire wench? I sweare vnto you by no little ones, I had rather giue my teeme of oxen, then we should shewe our selues so vnciuill wights. Besides, I tell you true, I haue heard it of old men counted wisdome, to heare much, and say little. His sententious speech so preuailed, that the most part began to listen. Then she, with such efficacie of gracefulnes, and such a quiet magnanimitie represented in her face in this vttermost perill, as the more the barbarous people looked, the more it fixed their looks vpon her, in this sort began vnto them.

It is no small comfort vnto me (said she) hauing to speake something vnto you for your owne behoofs, to finde that I haue to deale with such a people, who shew indeed in themselues the right nature of valure, which as it leaues no violence vnattempted, while the choller is nourished with resistance; so when the subiect of their wrath, doth of it self vnloked-for offer it selfe into their hands, it makes them at lest take a pause before they determine cruelty. Now then first (before I come to the principall matter) haue I to say vnto you; that your Prince Basilius himselfe in person is within this Lodge, and was one of the three, whom a few of you went about to fight withall: (and this she said, not doubting but they knew it well inough; but because she would haue them imagine, that the Prince might thinke that they did not know it) by him am I sent vnto you, as from a Prince to his well approoued subiects, nay as from a father to beloued children, to know what it is that hath bred iust quarrell among you, or who they be that haue any way wronged you? what it is with which you are displeased, or of which you are desirous? This he requires: and indeed (for he knowes your faithfulnes) he commaunds you presently to set downe, and to choose among your selues some one, who may relate your griefes or demaundes vnto him.

This (being more then they hoped for from their Prince) asswaged well their furie, and many of them consented (especially the young farmer helping on, who meant to make one of the demaunds that he might haue Zelmane for his wife) but when they began to talke of their grieues, neuer Bees made such a confused humming: the towne dwellers demanding putting downe of imposts: the country fellowes laying out of commons: some would haue the Prince keepe his Court in one place, some in another. All cried out to haue new councellors: but whe they should thinke of any new, they liked them as well as any other, that they could remember, especially they would haue the tresure so looked vnto, as that he should neuer need to take any more subsidies. At length they fell to direct contrarieties. For the Artisans, they would haue corne & wine set at a lower price, & bound to be kept so still: the plowme, vine-laborers, & farmers would none of that. The countrime demanded that euery man might be free in the chief townes: that could not the Burgesses like of. The peasants would haue al the Gentleme destroied, the Citizens (especially such as Cookes, Barbers, and those other that liued most on Gentlemen) would but haue them refourmed. And of ech side were like diuisios, one neighbourhood beginning to finde fault with another. But no confusion was greater then of particular mens likings and dislikings: one dispraising such a one, whome another praised, and demanding such a one to be punished, whom the other would haue exalted. No lesse ado was there about choosing him, who should be their spokes-man. The finer sort of Burgesses, as Marchants, Prentises, and Clothworkers, because of their riches, disdaining the baser occupations, and they because of their number as much disdaining them: all they scorning the countrimens ignorance, and the countrymen suspecting as much their cunning: So that Zelmane (finding that their vnited rage was now growne, not only to a diuiding, but to a crossing one of another, and that the mislike growne among themselues did well allay the heate against her) made tokens againe vnto them (as though she tooke great care of their well doing, and were afraid of their falling out) that she would speake vnto them. They now growne iealous one of another (the stay hauing ingendred diuision, and diuision hauing manifested their weaknes) were willing inough to heare, the most part striuing to show themselues willinger then their fellowes: which Zelmane (by the acquaintaunce she had had with such kinde of humors) soone perceiuing, with an angerles brauery, and an vnabashed mildnes, in this manner spake vnto them.

An vnused thing it is, and I think not heretofore seene, ô Arcadians, that a woman should giue publike counsell to men, a stranger to the country people, and that lastly in such a presence by a priuate person, the regall throne should be possessed. But the strangenes of your action makes that vsed for vertue, which your violent necessitie imposeth. For certainely, a woman may well speake to such men, who haue forgotten all manlike gouernment: a straunger may with reason instruct such subiects, that neglect due points of subiection: and is it maruaile this place is entred into by another, since your owne Prince (after thirtie yeares gouernment) dare not shew his face vnto his faithfull people? Heare therefore ô Arcadians , and be ashamed: against whom hath this zealous rage bene stirred? whether haue bene bent these maful weapos of yours? In this quiet harmles lodge there be harbourd no Argians your ancient enimies, nor Laconians your now feared neighbours. Here be nether hard landlords, nor biting vsurers. Here lodge none, but such, as either you haue great cause to loue, or no cause to hate: here being none, besides your Prince, Princesse, & their childre, but my self. Is it I then, ô Arcadians, against whom your anger is armed? Am I the mark of your vehemet quarell? if it be so, that innocencie shal not be a stop for furie; if it be so, that the law of hospitalitie (so long & holily obserued amog you) may not defend a straunger fled to your armes for succour: if in fine it be so, that so many valiaunt mens courages can be enflamed to the mischiefe of one silly woman; I refuse not to make my life a sacrifice to you wrath. Exercise in me your indignation, so it go no further, I am content to pay the great fauours I haue receiued among you, with my life, not ill deseruing I present it here vnto you, ô Arcadians, if that may satisfie you; rather then you (called ouer the world the wise and quiet Arcadians) should be so vaine, as to attempt that alone, which all the rest of your countrie will abhor; then you should shew your selues so vngratefull, as to forget the fruite of so many yeares peaceable gouernment; or so vnnaturall, as not to haue with the holy name of your naturall Prince, any furie ouer-maistred. For such a hellish madnes (I know) did neuer enter into your harts, as to attempt any thing against his person; which no successor, though neuer so hatefull, will euer leaue (for his owne sake) vnreuenged. Neither can your wonted valour be turned to such a basenes, as in stead of a Prince, deliuered vnto you by so many royall ancestors, to take the tyrannous yoke of your fellow subiect, in whome the innate meanes will bring forth rauenous couetousnes, and the newnes of his estate, suspectfull cruelty. Imagine, what could your enimies more wish vnto you, then to see your owne estate with your owne handes vndermined? O what would your fore-fathers say, if they liued at this time, and saw their of-spring defacing such an excellent principalitie, which they with much labour and bloud so wisely haue establisht? Do you thinke them fooles, that saw you should not enioy your vines, your cattell, no not your wiues and children, without gouernment; and that there could be no gouernment without a Magistrate, and no Magistrate without obedience, and no obedience where euery one vpon his owne priuate passion, may interprete the doings of the rulers? Let your wits make your present example a lesson to you. What sweetnes (in good faith) find you in your present condition? what choise of choise finde you, if you had lost Basilius? vnder whose ensigne would you go, if your enimies should inuade you? If you cannot agree vpon one to speake for you, how will you agree vpo one to fight for you? But with this feare of I cannot tell what, one is troubled, and with that passed wrong another is grieued. And I pray you did the Sunne euer bring you a fruitfull haruest, but that it was more hote then pleasant? Haue any of you children, that be not sometimes cumbersome? Haue any of you fathers, that be not sometime weerish? What, shall we curse the Sonne, hate our childre, or disobey our fathers? But what need I vse these words, since I see in your countenances (now vertuously settled) nothing els but loue and dutie to him, by whom for your only sakes the gouernment is embraced. For all what is done, he doth not only pardon you, but thanke you; iudging the action by the minds, & not the minds by the action. Your grieues, and desires, whatsoeuer, and whensoeuer you list, he will consider of, and to his consideration it is reason you should refer them. So then, to conclude; the vncertainty of his estate made you take armes; now you see him well, with the same loue lay them downe. If now you end (as I know you will) he will make no other account of this matter, but as of a vehement, I must confesse ouer-vehement affection: the only continuance might proue a wickednes. But it is not so, I see very well, you began with zeale, and will end with reuerence.

The action Zelmane vsed, being beautified by nature and apparelled with skill, her gestures being such, that as her words did paint out her minde, so they serued as a shadow, to make the picture more liuely and sensible, with the sweete cleernesse of her voice, rising and falling kindly as the nature of the worde, and efficacie of the matter required, altogether in such an admirable person, whose incomparable valour they had well felte, whose beautie did pearce through the thicke dulnes of their senses, gaue such a way vnto her speach through the rugged wildernesse of their imaginations, who (besides they were striken in admiration of her, as of more then a humane creature) were coold with taking breath, and had learned doubts out of leasute, that in steed of roaring cries, there was now heard nothing, but a confused muttring, whether her saying were to be followed, betwixt feare to pursue, and lothnesse to leaue: most of them could haue bene content, it had neuer bene begun, but how to end it (each afraid of his companion,) they knew not, finding it far easier to tie then to loose knots. But Zelmane thinking it no euill way in such mutinies, to giue the mutinous some occasion of such seruice, as they might thinke (in their owne iudgement) would counteruaile their trespasse, withall, to take the more assured possession of their mindes, which she feared might begin to wauer, Loiall Arcadians (said she) now do I offer vnto you the manifesting of your duties: all those that haue taken armes for the Princes safetie, let them turne their backs to the gate, with their weapos bent against such as would hurt his sacred person. O weake trust of the many-headed multitude, whom inconstancie onely doth guide to wel doing: who can set confidence there, where copany takes away shame, and ech may lay the fault on his fellow? So said a craftie felow among them, named Clinias, to himselfe, when he saw the word no sooner out of Zelmanes mouth, but that there were some shouts of ioy, with, God saue Basilius, and diuers of them with much iollity growne to be his guard, that but litle before ment to be his murderers.

This Clinias in his youth had bene a scholler so farre, as to learne rather words then maners, and of words rather plentie then order; and oft had vsed to be an actor in Tragedies, where he had learned, besides a slidingnesse of language, acquaintance with many passions, and to frame his face to beare the figure of them: long vsed to the eyes and eares of men, and to recken no fault, but shamefastnesse; in nature, a most notable Coward, and yet more strangely then rarely venturous in priuie practises.

This fellowe was become of neere trust to Cecropia, Amphialus his mother, so that he was priuy to all the mischieuous deuises, wherewith she went about to ruine Basilius, and his children, for the aduauncing of her sonne: and though his education had made him full of tongue, yet his loue to be doing, taught him in any euill to be secret; and had by his mistresse bene vsed (euer since the strange retiring of Basilius) to whisper rumors into the peoples eares: and this time (finding great aptnes in the multitude) was one of the chiefe that set them in the vprore (though quite without the consent of Amphialus, who would not for all the Kingdoms of the world so haue aduentured the life of Philoclea.) But now perceiuing the flood of their furie began to ebbe, he thought it policie to take the first of the tide, so that no man cried lowder then he, vpon Basilius. And some of the lustiest rebels not yet agreeing to the rest, he caused two or three of his mates that were at his commandement to lift him vp, & then as if he had had a prologue to vtter, he began with a nice grauitie to demaund audience. But few attending what he said, with vehement gesture, as if he would teare the stars from the skies, he fell to crying out so lowde, that not onely Zelmane, but Basilius might heare him. O vnhappie men, more mad then the Giants that would haue plucked Iupiter out of heauen, how long shall this rage continue? why do you not all throw downe your weapons, and submit your selues to our good Prince, our good Basilius, the Pelops of wisdom, and Minos of all good gouernment? when will you begin to beleue me, and other honest and faithfull subiects, that haue done all we could to stop your furie?

The farmer that loued Zelmane could abide him no longer. For as at the first he was willing to speake of conditions, hoping to haue gotten great souerainties, and among the rest Zelmane: so now perceiuing, that the people, once any thing downe the hill from their furie, would neuer stay till they came to the bottom of absolute yeelding, and so that he should be nearer feares of punishment, then hopes of such aduancement, he was one of them that stood most against the agreement: and to begin withal, disdaining this fellow should play the preacher, who had bin one of the chiefest make-bates, strake him a great wound vpon the face with his sword. The cowardly wretch fell downe, crying for succour, and (scrambling through the legs of them that were about him) gat to the throne, where Zelmane tooke him, and comforted him, bleeding for that was past, and quaking for feare of more.

But as soone as that blow was giuen (as if Æolus had broke open the doore to let all his winds out) no hand was idle, ech one killing him that was next, for feare he should do as much to him. For being diuided in minds and not diuided in companies, they that would yeeld to Basilius were intermingled with them that would not yeeld. These men thinking their ruine stood vpon it; those men to get fauour of their Prince, conuerted their vngracious motion into their owne bowels, and by a true iudgement grew their owne punishers. None was sooner killed then those that had bene leaders in the disobedience: who by being so, had taught them, that they did leade disobediece to the same leaders. And many times it fell out that they killed them that were of their owne faction, anger whetting, and doubt hastening their fingers. But then came downe Zelmane; and Basilius with Dorus issued, and somtimes seeking to draw together those of their party, somtimes laying indifferetly among them, made such hauocke (among the rest Zelmane striking the farmer to the hart with her sword, as before she had done with her eyes) that in a while all they of the contrary side were put to flight, and fled to certaine woods vpon the frontiers; where feeding wildly, and drinking onely water, they were disciplined for their dronken riots; many of them being slaine in the chase, about a score onely escaping. But when these late rebels, now souldiers, were returned from the chase, Basilius calling them togither, partly for policy sake, but principally because Zelmane before had spoken it (which was to him more then a diuine ordinance) he pronounced their generall pardon, willing them to returne to their houses, and thereafter be more circumspect in their proceedings: which they did most of them with sharp marks of their folly. But imagining Clinias to be one of the chiefe that had bred this good alteration, he gaue him particular thanks, and withall willed him to make him know, how this frenzie had entred into the people.

Clinias purposing indeede to tell him the trueth of all, sauing what did touch himselfe, or Cecropia, first, dipping his hand in the blood of his wound, Now by this blood (said he) which is more deare to me, then al the rest that is in my body, since it is spent for your safety: this tong (perchance vnfortunate, but neuer false) shall not now begin to lie vnto my Prince, of me most beloued. Then stretching out his had, and making vehement countenances the vshers to his speches, in such maner of tearms recounted this accident. Yesterday (said he) being your birth-day, in the goodly greene two mile hence before the city of Enispus, to do honour to the day, were a four or fiue thousand people (of all conditios, as I think) gathered together, spending al the day in dancing & other exercises: and whe night came, vnder tents and bowes making great cheare, and meaning to obserue a wassaling watch all that night for your sake. Bacchus (the learned say) was begot with thunder: I thinke, that made him euer since so full of stur & debate. Bacchus indeed it was which sounded the first trupet to this rude Alaru. For that barbarous opinio being generally amog the, to think with vice to do honor, & with actiuitie in beastlines to shew abundace of loue, made most of them seeke to shew the depth of their affection in the depth of their draught. But being once wel chafed with wine (hauing spent al the night, and some peece of the morning in such reuelling) & imboldned by your absented maner of liuing, there was no matter their eares had euer heard of that grew not to be a subiect of their winie conference. I speake it by proofe: for I stake witnes of the Gods (who neuer leaue periuries vnpunished) that I often cried out against their impudency, and (when that would not serue) stopt mine eares, because I woulde not be partaker of their blasphemies, till with buffets they forced me to haue mine eares and eies defiled. Publike affairs were mingled with priuate grudges neither was any man thought of wit, that did not pretende some cause of mislike. Rayling was counted the fruite of freedome, and saying nothing had his vttermoste prayse in ignoraunce. At the length, your sacred person (alas) why did I liue to heare it? alas howe do I breath to vtter it? But your commandement doth not onely enioine obedience, but giue me force: your sacred person (I say) fell to be their table-talke: a proud word swelling in their stomacks, & disdainful reproches against so great a greatnes, hauing put on the shew of greatnes in their little mindes: till at length the very vnbrideled vse of wordes hauing increased fire in their mindes (which God wott thought their knowledge notable, because they had at all no knowledge to condemne their owne want of knowledge) they descended (O neuer to be forgotten presumption) to a direct mislike of your liuing from among them. Whereupon it were tedious to remember their far-fetched constructions. But the summe was, you disdained them: and what were the pompes of your estate, if their armes mainteyned you not? Who woulde call you a Prince, if you had not a people? When certaine of the of wretched estates, & worse minds (whose fortunes change could not impaire) began to say, that your gouernment was to be looked into; how the great treasures (you had leuied among them) had beene spent; why none but greatmen and gentlemen could be admitted into counsel, that the comons (forsooth) were too plain headed to say their opinnions: but yet their blood and sweat must maintaine all. Who could tell whether you were not betraied in this place, where you liued? nay whether you did liue or no? Therefore that it was time to come and see; and if you were here, to know (if Arcadia were growne lothsome in your sight) why you did not ridde your selfe of the trouble? There woulde not want those that woulde take so faire a cumber in good parte. Since the Countrie was theirs, and the gouernement an adherent to the countrie, why should they not consider of the one as well as inhabite the other? Nay rather (said they) let vs beginne that, which all Arcadia will followe. Let vs deliuer our Prince from daunger of practises, and our selues from want of a Prince. Let vs doo that, which all the rest think. Let it be said, that we onely are not astonished with vaine titles, which haue their force but in our force. Lastly, to haue saide and heard so much, was as dangerous, as to haue attempted: and to attempt they had the glorious name of liberty with them. These words being spoke (like a furious storme) presently carried away their wel inclined brains. What I, & some other of the honester sort could do, was no more the if with a puffe of breath, one should goe about to make a saile goe against a mightie winde: or, with one hand, stay the ruine of a mighty wall. So generall grewe this madnes among them, there needed no drumme, where each man cried, each spake to other that spake as fast to him, and the disagreeing sounde of so many voices was the chiefetoken of their vnmeete agreement. Thus was their banquette turned to a battaile, their winie mirthes to bloudie rages, and the happie praiers for your life to monstrous threatning of your estate; the solemnizing your birth-day, tended to haue been the cause of your funerals. But as a dronken rage hath (besides his wickednes) that follie, that the more it seekes to hurt, the lesse it considers how to bee able to hurt: they neuer wayed how to arme themselues but tooke vp euery thinge for a weapon, that furie offered to their handes. Many swordes, pikes, and billes there were: others tooke pitchforkes and rakes, conuerting husbandrie to souldierie some caught holde of spittes (thinges seruiceable for life) to bee the instruments of death. And there was some such one, who held the same pot wherein he drank to your health, to vse it (as he coulde) to your mischiefe. Thus armed, thus gouerned forcing the vnwilling, and hartening the willing, adding furie to furie, and encresing rage with running, they came headlong towarde this lodge: no man (I dare say) resolued in his owne hart, what was the vttermost he would doo when he came hether. But as mischiefe is of such nature, that it cannot stand but with strengthning one euill by an other, and so multiplie in it selfe, till it come to the highest, and then fall with his owne weight: so to their mindes (once passed the boundes of obedience) more and more wickednes opened it selfe, so that they who first pretended to preserue you, then to reforme you, (I speak it in my conscience, and with a bleeding hart) now thought no safetie for them, without murdering you, So as if the Goddes (who preserue you for the preseruation of Arcadia) had not shewed their miraculous power, and that they had not vsed for instruments, both your owne valour (not fit to be spoken of by so meane a mouth as mine) and some (I must confesse) honest minds, (whom alas why should I mention, since what wee did, reached not to the hundred part of our duetie?) our handes (I tremble to think of it) had destroyed all that, for which we haue cause to reioyce that we are Arcadians.

With that the fellow did wring his hands, and wrang out teares: so as Basilius, that was not the sharpest pearcer into masked minds, toke a good liking to him; and so much the more as he had tickled him with praise in the hearing of his mistres. And therefore pitying his wound willed him to get him home, and looke well vnto it, & make the best search he could, to know if there were any further depth in this matter, for which he should be well rewarded. But before he went away, certain of the shepheards being come (for that day was appointed for their pastorals) he sent one of them to Philanax, and an other to other principall noble-men, and cities there abouts, to make through-inquirie of this vprore, and withall, to place such garrisons in all the townes and villages neere vnto him, that he might thereafter keepe his solitary lodge in more security, vpon the making of a fire, or ringing of a bell, hauing them in a redines for him.

This, Clinias (hauing his eare one way when his eye was an other) had perceiued and therefore hasted away, with mind to tell Cecropia that she was to take some speedie resolution, or els it were daunger those examinations would both discouer, and ruine her: and so went his way, leauing that little companie with embracements, & praising of Zelmanes excellent proceeding, to shew, that no decking sets foorth any thing so much, as affection. For as, while she stoode at the discretion of those vndiscreete rebelles, euery angry countenance any of them made, seemed a knife layde vpon their owne throates; so vnspeakable was now their ioy, that they sawe (besides her safetie and their owne) the same wrought, and safely wrought by her meanes, in whom they had placed al their delightes. What examples Greece coulde euer alledge of witte and fortitude, were set in the ranke of trifles, being compared to this action.

But as they were in the midst of those vnfained ceremonies, a Gitterne, ill-played on, accompanyed with a hoarce voice (who seemed to sing maugre the Muses, and to be merie in spite Fortune) made them looke the way of the ill-noysed song. The song was this.


A hatefull cure with hate to heale:
A blooddy helpe with blood to saue:
A foolish thing with fooles to deale:
Let him be bob'd that bobs will haue.
   But who by meanes of wisdome hie
   Hath sau'd his charge? it is euen I. Let others deck their pride with skarres,
And of their wounds make lame showes:
First let them die, then passe the starres,
When rotten Fame will tell their blowes.
   But eye from blade, and eare from crie:
   Who hath sau'd all? it is euen I.

They had soone found it was Dametas, who came with no lesse lifted vp countenance, then if hee had passed ouer the bellies of all his enemies: so wise a point hee thought hee had perfourmed, in vsing the naturall strength of the caue. But neuer was it his dooing to come so soone thence, till the coast were more assuredly cleare: for it was a rule with him, that after a great storme there euer fall a fewe droppes before it bee fully finished. But Pamela (who had now experienced how much care doth sollicite a Louers harte) vsed this occasion of going to her parentes and sister, indeed aswell for that cause, as being vnquiet, till her eye might bee assured how her shepheard had gone through the daunger. But Basilius with the sight of Pamela (of whom almost his heade otherwise occupied, had left the wonted remembrance) was sodainly striken into a deuout kind of admiration, remembring the oracle, which (according to the fauning humour of false hope) hee interpreted now his owne to his owne best, and with the willing blindnesse of affection (because his minde ran wholly vpon Zelmane) he thought the Gods in their oracles did principally minde her.

But as he was deepely thinking of the matter, one of the shepheardes tolde him, that Philanax was already come with a hundred horse in his company. For hauing by chaunce rid not farre of the little desert, he had heard of this vprore, and so was come vpon the spurre (gathering a company of Gentlemen as fast as he coulde) to the succour of his Master. Basilius was glad of it; but not willing to haue him, nor any other of the Noble men, see his Mistresse) hee himselfe went out of the Lodge, and so giuing order vnto him of placing garrisons, and examining these matters; and Philanax with humble earnestnesse beginning to entreate him to leaue of this solitarie course (which already had bene so daungerous vnto him) Well (saide Basilius) it may be ere long I will condiscend vnto your desire. In the meane time, take you the best order you can to keepe me safe in my solitatinesse. But, (said he) doo you remember, how earnestly you wrote vnto me, that I should not bee moued by that Oracles authoritie, which brought me to this resolution? Full well Sir (answered Philanax) for though it pleased you not as then to let me knowe, what the Oracles words were, yet all Oracles holding (in my conceipt) one degree of reputation, it suffised me to knowe, it was but an Oracle, which led you from your owne course. Well (said Basilius) I will now tell you the wordes; which before I thought not good to doo; because when all the euents fall out (as some already haue done) I may charge you with your incredulitie. So he repeated them in this sorte.



Thy elder care shall from thy carefull face
By princely meane be stolne, and yet not lost.
Thy yonger shall with Natures blisse embrace
And vncouth loue, which Nature hateth most.
Both they themselues vnto such two shall wed,
Who at thy beer, as at a barre, shall plead;
Why thee (a liuing man) they had made dead.
In thy owne seate a forraine state shall sit.
And ere that all these blowes thy head doo hit,
Thou, with thy wife, adultry shall commit.

For you forsoth (said he) whn I told you, that some supernaturall cause sent mee strange visions, which being confirmed with presagious chaunces, I had gon to Delphos, & there receiued this answere, you replied to me, that the onely supernaturall causes were the humors of my body, which bred such melancholy dreames; and that both they framed a mind ful of conceipts, apt to make presages of things, which in themselues were meerly chaunceable: and with all as I say, you remember what you wrote vnto me, touching authoritie of the Oracle: but now I haue some notable triall of the truth thereof, which hereafter I will more largly communicate vnto you. Only now, know that the thing I most feared is alredy performed; I mean that a forraine state should possesse my throne. For that hath been done by Zelmane , but not as I feared, to my ruine, but to my preseruation. But when he had once named Zelmane, that name was as good as a pully, to make the clocke of his praises run on in such sort, that (Philanax found) was more exquisite then the onely admiration of vertue breedeth: which his faithfull hart in inwardly repining at, made him shrinke away as soone as he could, to go about the other matters of importance, which Basilius had enioyned vnto him.

Basilius returned into the Lodge, thus by him selfe construing the oracle, that in that hee saide, his elder care should by Princely meane bee stolne away from him, and yet not lost, it was now perfourmed, since Zelmane had as it were robd from him the care of his first begotten childe, yet was it not lost, since in his harte the ground of it remained. That his younger should with Natures blisse embrace the loue of Zelmane, because he had so commaunded her for his sake to doo; yet shoulde it be with as much hate of Nature, for being so hatefull an opposite to the iealousie hee thought her mother had of him. The sitting in his seate hee deemed by her already perfourmed: but that which most comforted him, was his interpretation of the adulterie, which hee thought hee shoulde commit with Zelmane, whom afterwards he should haue to his wife. The point of his daughters marriage, because it threatned his death withall, he determined to preuent with keeping them (while he liued) vnmaried. But hauing as hee thought, gotten thus much vnderstanding of the Oracle, hee determined for three daies after to perfourme certaine rites to Apollo: and euen then began with his wife and daughters to singe this Hymne, by them yearely vsed.



Apollo great, whose beames the greater world do light;
And in our little world do cleare our inward sight,
Which euer shine, though hid from earth by earthly shade,
Whose lights do euer liue, but in our darkenesse fade;
Thou God, whose youth was deckt with spoile of Phythons skin:
(So humble knowledge can throw downe the snakish sinne)
Latonas sonne, whose birth in paine and trauaile long
Doth teach, to learne the good what trauailes do belong:
In trauaile of our life (a short but tedious space)
While brickle houreglas runnes, guide thou our panting pace:
Giue vs foresightfull mindes: giue vs minds to obaye
What fore sight tels; our thoughts vpon thy knowledge staye.
Let so our fruites grow vp that nature be maintainde:
But so our hartes keepe downe, with vice they be not stainde.
Let this assured holde our iudgemeuts ouertake,
That nothing winnes the heauen, but what doth earth forsake.

Assone as he had ended his deuotion (all the priuiledged shepheards being now come) knowing well inough he might lay all his care vpon Philanax, he was willing to sweeten the tast of this passed tumult, with some rural pastimes. For which while the shepheards prepared themselues in their best manner, Basilius tooke his daughter Philoclea aside, and with such hast, as if his eares hunted for wordes, desired to know how she had found Zelmane. She humbly answered him, according to the agreement betwixt them, that thus much for her sake Zelmane was content to descend from her former resolution, as to heare him, whensoeuer he would speake; and further then that (she said) as Zelmane had not graunted, so she nether did, nor euer woulde desire. Basilius kist her with more then fatherly thankes, and straight (like a hard-kept warde new come to his lands) would faine haue vsed the benefite of that graunt, in laying his sicknes before his onely physition. But Zelmane (that had not yet fully determined with her selfe, how to beare her selfe toward him) made him in a few words vnderstand, that the time in respect of the company was vnfit for such a parley, and therefore to keepe his braines the busier, letting him vnderstand what she had learned of his daughters, touching Eronas distresse (whom in her trauaile she had knowne, and bene greatly beholding to) she desired him to finish the rest, for so faras Plangus had told him; Because she said (and she said truly) she was ful of care for that Ladie, whose desart (onely except an ouer-base choise) was nothing agreeable to misfortune. Basilius glad that she would commaund him any thing, but more glad, that in excusing the vnfitnesse of that time, she argued an intention to graunt a fitter obeyed her in this manner.

Madam (said he) it is verie true, that since yeares enhabled mee to iudge what is, or is not to be pitied. I neuer saw any thing that more moued me to iustifie a vehement compassion in my selfe, then the estate of that Prince, whom strong against all his owne afflictions (which yet were great, as I perceaue you haue heard) yet true and noble loue had so pulled downe, as to lie vnder sorrow for another In so much as I coulde not temper my long idle pen in that subiect, which I perceiue you haue seene. But then to leaue that vnrepeated, which I finde my daughters haue told you It may please you to vnderstand, since it pleaseth you to demaund, that Antiphilus being crowned, and so left by the famous Princes Musidorus and Pyrocles (led thence by the challenge of Anaxius, who is now in these prouinces of Greece making a dishonorable enquirie after that excellent prince Pyrocles alreadie perished) Antiphilus (I say) being crowned, and deliuered from the presence of those two, whose vertues (while they were present. good schoolmasters) suppressed his vanities, hee had not strength of mind enough in him to make long delay, of discouering what maner of man hee was. But streight like one caried vp to so hie a place, that hee looseth the discerning of the ground ouer which he is; so was his mind lifted so far beyond the leuell of his owne discourse, that remembring onely that himselfe was in the high seate of a King, he could not perceiue that he was a king of reasonable creatures, who would quickly scorne follies, and repine at iniuries. But imagining no so true propertie of souereigntie, as to do what he listed, and to list what soeuer pleased his fansie, he quickly made his kingdome a Teniscourt, where his subiects should be the balles; not in truth cruelly, but licenciously abusing them, presuming so far vpon himselfe, that what he did was liked of euery bodie: nay, that his disgraces were fauours, & all because he was a King. For in Nature not able to conceyue the boundes of great matters (suddenly borne into an vnknowne Ocean of absolute power) hee was swayed with all (hee knew not howe) as euery winde of passions puffed him. Whereto nothing helped him better, then that poysonous sugar of flatterie: which some vsed, out of the innate basenesse of their hart, straight like dogges fawning vppon the greatest; others secretely hating him, and disdayning his great rising so suddenly, so vndeseruedly (finding his humour) bent their exalting him onely to his ouerthrow; like the bird that caries the shell-fish high, to breake him the easier with his fall. But his mind) being an apt matter to receaue what forme their amplifying speeches would lay vpon it) daunced so prettie a musicke to their false measure, that he thought himselfe the wysest, the woorthyest, and best beloued, that euer gaue honour to a royal tytle. And being but obscurely borne, he had found out vnblushing pedegrees, that made him not only of the blood royal, but true heyre though vniustly dispossest by Eronas auncestours, & like the foolish birde, that when it so hides the heade that it sees not it selfe, thinks no bodie else sees it: so did he imagine, that no bodie knew his basenesse, while he himselfe turned his eyes from it.

Then vainenesse (a meager friend to gratefulnesse) brought him so to despise Erona, as of whome he had receiued no benefit, that within halfe a yeeres mariage he began to pretend barrennesse: & making first an vnlawfull law of hauing mo wiues then one, hee still keeping Erona, vnder-hand, by messages sought Artaxia, who no lesse hating him, then louing (as vnluckie a choise) the naughtie King Plexirtus, yet to bring to passe what shee purposed, was content to train him into false hopes, till alreadie his imagination had crowned him King of Armenia, and had made that, but the foundation of more, and more monarchies; as if fortune had only gotte eies to cherish him. In which time a great assembly of most part of all the Princes of Asia being to do honour to the neuer sufficiently praised Pyrocles & Musidorus, hee would be one not to acknowledge his obligation (which was as great as any of the others,) but looking to haue bene yong-mastered among those great estates, as he was amog his abusing vnderlings. But so many valorous Princes, in-deed farre neerer to disdain him then otherwise, he was quickly (as standing vpon no true ground, inwardly) out of countenance with himselfe, till his seldom-comfortlesse flatterers (perswading him, it was enuie and feare of his expected greatnes) made him hast away from that company, and without further delay appointed the meeting with Artaxia; so incredibly blinded with the ouer-bright shining of his roialty, that he could thinke such a Queene would be content to be ioined-patent with an other to haue such an husband. Poore Erona to all this obeied, either vehemency of affection making her stoop to so ouerbase a seruitude, or astonished with an vnlooked-for fortune, dull to any behoofefull resolution, or (as many times it falles out euen in great harts when they can accuse none but themselues) desperatly bent to maintaine it. For so went she on in that way of her loue, that (poore Lady) to be beyond all other examples of ill-set affection, she was brought to write to Artaxia , that she was content; for the publike good, to be a second wife, and yeeld the first place to her: nay to extoll him, and euen woo Artaxia for him.

But Artaxia (mortally hating them both for her brothers sake) was content to hide her hate, till she had time to shew it: and pretending that all her grudge was against the two paragons of vertue, Musidorus and Pyrocles, euen met them halfe way in excusing her brothers murder, as not being principall actors; and of the otherside, driuen to what they did by the euer-pardonable necessitie: and so well handled the matter, as, though she promised nothing, yet Antiphilus promised himselfe all that she would haue him thinke. And so a solemne enteruiew was appointed. But (as the Poets say) Hymen had not there his saffron-coloured cote. For Artaxia laying men secretly (and easily they might be secret, since Antiphilus thought she ouerran him in loue) when he came euen readie to embrace her, shewing rather a countenaunce of accepting then offering, they came forth, and (hauing much aduauntage both in number, valure, and fore-preparation) put all his companie to the sword; but such as could flie away. As for Antiphilus she caused him and Erona both to be put in irons, hasting backe toward her brothers tombe, vpon which she ment to sacrifice them; making the loue of her brother stand betwene her and all other motions of grace, from which by nature she was alienated.

But great diuersitie in them two quickly discouered it selfe for the bearing of that affliction. For Antiphilus that had no greatnesse but outward, that taken away, was readie to fall faster then calamitie could thrust him; with fruitlesse begging of life (where reason might well assure him his death was resolued) and weake bemoning his fortune, to giue his enemies a most pleasing musique, with manie promises, and protestations, to as little purpose, as from a little minde. But Erona sad indeede, yet like one rather vsed, then new fallen to sadnesse (as who had the ioyes of her hart alreadie broken) seemed rather to welcome then to shun that ende of miserie, speaking little, but what she spake was for Antiphilus , remembring his guiltlesnesse, being at that time prisoner to Tiridates, when the valiant princes slue him: to the disgrace of men, shewing that there are women both more wise to iudge what is to be expected, and more constant to beare it when it is happened.

But her wit endeared by her youth, her affliction by her birth, and her sadnesse by her beautie, made this noble prince Plangus, who (neuer almost from his cousin Artaxia) was now present at Eronaes taking, to perceyue the shape of louelinesse more perfectly in wo, then in ioyfulnesse (as in a picture which receiues greater life by the darkenesse of shadowes, then by more glittering colours) and seeing to like; and liking to loue; and louing straight to feele the most incident effects of loue, to serue and preserue. So borne by the hastie tide of short leysure, he did hastily deliuer together his affection, and affectionate care. But she (as if he had spoken of a small matter, when he mencioned her life, to which she had not leisure to attend) desired him if he loued her, to shew it, in finding some way to saue Antiphilus. For her, she found the world but a wearisome stage vnto her, where she played a part against her will: and therefore besought him, not to cast his loue in so vnfruitfull a place, as could not loue it selfe: but for a testimonie of constancie, and a sutablenes to his word, to do so much comfort to her minde, as that for her sake Antiphilus were saued. He tolde me how much he argued against her tendering him, who had so vngratefully betraied her, and foolishly cast away himselfe. But perceiuing she did not only bend her very good wits to speake for him against herselfe, but when such a cause could be allied to no reason, yet loue would needes make it-selfe a cause, and barre her rather from hearing, then yeeld that she should yeeld to such arguments: he likewise in whom the power of Loue (as they say of spirits) was subiect to the loue in her, with griefe consented, & (though backwardly) was diligent to labor the help of Antiphilus: a man whom he not only hated, as a traitour to Erona, but enuied as a possessor of Erona. Yet Loue sware, his hart, in spite of his hart, should make him become a seruant to his riuall. And so did he, seeking all the meanes of perswading Artaxia, which the authority of so neere, and so vertuous a kinsman could giue vnto him. But she to whom the eloquece of hatred had giuen reuenge the face of delight, reiected all such motions; but rather the more closely imprisoning them in her chiefe citie, where she kept them with intention at the birth-day of Tiridates (which was very nere) to execute Antiphilus, and at the day of his death (which was about halfe a yeere after) to vse the same rigor towards Erona. Plangus much grieued (because much louing) attempted the humors of the Lycians, to see, whether they would come in with forces to succor their Princesse. But there the next inheritor to the crowne (with the true play that is vsed in the game of kingdos) had no sooner his mistres in captiuity, but he had vsurped her place, and making her odious to her people, because of the vnsit electio she had made, had so left no hope there: but which is worse, had sent to Artaxia, perswading the iusticing her, because that vniustice might giue his title the name of iustice. Wating that way, Plangus practised with some deere friends of his, to saue Antiphilus out of prison, whose day because it was much neerer then Eronaes, and that he well found, she had twisted her life vpo the same threed with his, he determined first to get him out of prison: and to that end hauing prepared all matters as well as in such case he could, where Artaxia had set many of Tiridates old seruants to haue well-marking eyes, he coferred with Antiphilus, as (by the aucthoritie he had) he found meanes to do; and agreed with him of the time & maner, how he should by the death of some of his iaylors escape. But all being well ordered, and Plangus willinglie putting himselfe into the greatest danger, Antiphilus (who, like a bladder, sweld redie to breake, while it was full of the winde of prosperitie, that being out, was so abiected, as apt to be trode on by euery bodie) whe it came to the point, that with some hazard, he might be in apparant likelihood to auoid the vttermost harme, his hart fainted, and (weake foole, neither hoping, nor fearing as he should) gat a conceit, that with bewraying this practise, he might obtaine pardon: and therefore, euen a little before Plangus should haue come vnto him, opened the whole practise to him that had the charge, with vnpittyed teares idly protesting, he had rather die by Artaxia commaundement, then against her will escape: yet begging life vpon any the hardest, and wretchedest conditions that she would lay vpon him. His keeper prouided accordingly, so that when Plangus came, he was like, himselfe to haue bene entrapped: but that finding (with a luckie in-sight) that it was discouered, he retired; and (calling his friendes about him) stood vpon his guard, as he had good cause. For, Artaxia (accounting him most vngratefull, considering that her brother and she, had not only preserued him against the malice of his father, but euer vsed him much liker his birth, then his fortune) sent forces to apprehend him. But he among the martiall men had gotten so great loue, that he could not onely keep himselfe from her malice, but worke in their mindes a compassion of Eronas aduersitie.

But for the succour of Antiphilus he could get no bodie to ioyne with him, the contempt of him hauing not bene able to qualifie the hatred; so that Artaxia might easilie vpon him perfourme her will; which was (at the humble suite of all the women of that citie) to deliuer him to their censure, who mortally hating him for hauing made a lawe of Polygamie, after many tortures, forst him to throw himselfe from a high Pyramis, which was built ouer Tiridates tombe, and so to end his false-harted life, which had planted no strong thought in him, but that he could be vnkinde.

But Plangus well perceiuing that Artaxia staied onely for the appointed day, that the faire Eronas bodie, (consumed to ashes) should make a notorious testimonie, how deepely her brothers death was engrauen in her brest, he assembled good numbers of friends, whom his vertue (though a stranger) had tied vnto him, by force to giue her libertie. Contrariwise, Artaxia, to whom Anger gaue more courage then her sexe did feare, vsed her regall authoritie (the most she could) to suppresse that sedition, and haue her will: which (she thought) is the most princely thing that may be. But Plangus , who indeede (as all men witnes) is one of the best captaines (both for policie and valour) that are trained in the schoole of Mars, in a conflict ouerthrew Artaxia power, though of far greater number: and there toke prisoner a base sonne of her brothers, whom she deerly affected, and then sent her word that he should run the same race of fortune (whatsoeuer it was) that Erona did: and happy was that threatning for her; for els Artaxia had hastened the day of her death, in respect of those tumults.

But now (some principall noble-men of that countrie interposing themselues) it was agreed, that all persons els fullie pardoned, and all prisoners (except Erona) deliuered, she should be put into the hands of a principall nobleman, who had a castle of great strength, vpon oath, that if by the day two yeare from Tiridates death, Pyrocles and Musidorus did not in person combat, and ouercome two knights, whom she appointed to maintain her quarrell against Erona and them, of hauing by treason destroyed her brother, that then Erona should be that same day burned to ashes: but if they came, and had the victorie, she should be deliuered; but vpon no occasion, neither freed, nor executed, till that day. And hereto of both sides, all toke solemne oath, and so the peace was concluded; they of Plangus partie forcing him to agree, though he himselfe the sooner condiscended, knowing the courtesie of those two excellent Princes, not to refuse so noble a quarrell, and their power such, as two more (like the other two) were not able to resist. But Artaxia was more, and vpon better ground, pleased with this action; for she had euen newly receiued news fro Plexirtus, that vpon the sea he had caused them both to perish, and therefore she held her selfe sure of the match.

But poore Plangus knew not so much, and therefore seeing his partie (as most times it falles out in like case) hungry of any conditions of peace, accepted them; and then obteined leaue of the Lord, that indifferently kept her, to visite Erona, whom he found full of desperate sorow, not suffering, neither his vnworthinesse, nor his wrongs, nor his death (which is the naturall conclusion of all worldly acts) either to couer with forgetfulnes, or diminish with consideration, the affection she had borne him: but euen glorying in affliction, and shunning all comfort, she seemed to haue no delight, but in making herselfe the picture of miserie. So that when Plangus came to her, she fell in deadlie traunces, as if in him she had seene the death of Antiphilus, because he had not succoured him: and yet (her vertue striuing) she did at one time acknowledge her selfe bound, and professe her selfe iniured; in steede of allowing the conclusion they had made, or writing to the Princes (as he wisht her to doo) crauing nothing but some speedie death to follow, her (in spite of iust hate) beloued Antiphilus.

So that Plangus hauing nothing but a rauisht kisse from her hand at their parting, went away toward Greece, whetherward he vnderstoode the Princes were embarked. But by the way it was his fortune to intercept letters, written by Artaxia to Plexirtus: wherein she signified her accepting him to her husband, whom she had euer fauoured, so much the rather, as he had perfourmed the conditions of her mariage, in bringing to their deserued end, her greatest enemies: withall, thanking the sea, in such tearmes, as he might well perceiue, it was by some treason wrought in Plexirtus shippe. Whereupon (to make more diligent search) he tooke shippe himselfe, and came into Laconia, enquiring, and by his enquirie finding, that such a shippe was indeede with fight, and fire, perished, none (almost) escaping. But for Pyrocles and Musidorus, it was assuredly determined that they were cast away: for the name of such Princes (especially in Greece) would quickly els haue bene a large witnesse to the contrarie. Full of griefe with that, for the losse of such, who left the world poore of perfection: but more sorie for Eronas sake, who now by them could not be relieued. A new aduertisement from Armenia ouertooke him, which multiplied the force of his anguish. It was a message from the Noble-man who had Erona in ward, giuing him to vnderstand, that since his departure, Artaxia (vsing the benefite of time) had besieged him in his castell, demaunding present deliuery of her, whom yet for his faith giuen, he would not, before the day appointed, if possibly he could resist, which he foresaw, long he should not do for want of victuall, which he had not so wisely prouided, because he trusted vpon the generall oth taken for two yeares space: and therefore willed him to make hast to his succour, and come with no small forces; for all they that were of his side in Armenia, were consumed, and Artaxia had encreased her might by mariage of Plexirtus, who now crowned King there, stickt not to glory in the murder of Pyrocles and Musidorus, as hauing iust cause thereto, in respect of the deaths of his sister Andromana, her sonne his nephew, and his owne daughter Zelmane , all whose losse he vniustly charged them withall, and now openly stickt not to confesse, what a reuenge his wit had brought forth. Plangus much astonished herewith, bethought himselfe what to doo. For to returne to Armenia was vaine, since his friends there were vtterly ouerthrowne. Then thought he of going to his father; but he had already (euen since the death of his stepmother, and brother) attempted the recouering his fauour, and all in vaine. For they, that had before ioined with Andromana to do him the wrong, thought now no life for them if he returned, and therefore kept him still (with new forged suspicions) odious to his father. So that Plangus reseruing that for a worke of longer time, then the sauing of Erona could beare, determined to goe to the mighty and good King Euarchus: who lately hauing (to his eternall fame) fully, not onely conquered his enemies, but established good gouernment in their countries, he hoped he might haue present succour of him, both for the iustnes of the cause, & reuenge of his childrens death, by so hainous a treason murthered. Therefore with diligence he went to him; & by the way (passing through my country) it was my hap to find him, the most ouerthrowne man with griefe, that euer I hope to see againe. For still it seemed he had Erona at a stake before his eies; such an apprehension he had taken of her daunger; which in despite of all the comfort I could giue him, he poured out in such lamentations, that I was moued not to let him passe, till he had made full declaration, which by peeces my daughters and I haue deliuered vnto you. Faine he would haue had succour of my selfe, but the course of my life being otherwise bent, I onely accompanied him with some that might safely guide him to the great Euarchus: for my part hauing had some of his speeches so feelingly in my memory, that at an idle time (as I told you) I set them downe Dialogue-wise, in such manner as you haue seene. And thus, excellent Ladie, I haue obeyed you in this storie; wherein if it well please you to consider, what is the straunge power of Loue, and what is due to his authoritie, you shall exercise therein the true noblenesse of your iudgement, and doo the more right to the vnfortunate Historian. Zelmane (sighing for Eronaes sake, yet inwardly comforted in that she assured her selfe, Euarchus would not spare to take in hand the iust deliuering of her, ioyned with the iust reuenge of his childrens losse) hauing now what she desired of Basilius, to auoide his further discourses of affection, encouraged the shepheards to begin, whom she saw allready ready for them.

The second Eclogues.

The rude tumult of the Enispians gaue occasion to the honest shepheards to begin their Pastoralls this day with a daunce, which they called the skirmish betwixt Reason and Passion. For seuen shepheards (which were named the reasonable shepheards) ioined themselues; foure of them making a square, and the other two going a little wide of either side, like wings for the maine battell, and the seuenth man formost, like the forlorne hope, to begin the skirmish. In like order came out the seuen appassionated shepheards, all keeping the pase of their foot by their voice, and sundry consorted instruments they held in their armes. And first, the formost of the Reasonable side began to sing:



R.


Thou Rebell vile, come, to thy master yeeld.

And the other that met with him answered:



P.


No, Tyrant, no: mine, mine shall be the field.

Reason.


Can Reason then a Tyraunt counted bee?

Passion.


If Reason will, that Passions be not free.

R.


But Reason will, that Reason gouerne most.

P.


And Passion will, that Passion rule the rost.

R.


Your will is will, but Reason reason is.

P.


Will hath his will, when Reasons will doth misse.

R.


Whome Passion leades vnto his death is bent.

P.


And let him die, so that he die content.

R.


By nature you to Reason faith haue sworne.

P.


Not so, but fellow-like togither borne.

R.


Who Passion doth ensue, liues in annoy.

P.


Who Passion doth forsake, liues void of ioy.

R.


Passion is blinde, and treades an vnknowne trace.

P.


Reason hath eyes to see his owne ill case.

Then as they approched nearer, the two of Reasons side, as if they shot at the other, thus sang:



R.


Dare Passions then abide in Reasons light?

P.


And is not Reason dimme with Passions might?

R.


O foolish thing, which glory doth destroy.

P.


O glorious title of a foolish toy.

R.


Weakenes you are, dare you with our strength fight?

P.


Because our weaknes weakeneth all your might.

R.


O sacred Reason, helpe our vertuous toiles.

P.


O Passion, passe on feeble Reasons spoiles.

R.


We with our selues abide a daily strife.

P.


We gladly vse the sweetnesse of our life.

R.


But yet our strife sure peace in end doth breede.

P.


We now haue peace, your peace we doo not neede.

Then did the two square battailes meete, and in steed of fighting embrace one another, singing thus:



R.


We are too strong: but Reason seekes no blood.

P.


Who be too weake, do feigne they be too good.

R.


Though we cannot orecome, our cause is just.

P.


Let vs orecome, and let vs be vniust.

R.


Yet Passions yeeld at length to Reasons stroke.

P.


What shall we winne by taking Reasons yoke.

R.


The ioyes you haue shall be made permanent.

P.


But so we shall with griefe learne to repent.

R.


Repent in deed, but that shall be your blisse.

P.


How know we that, since present ioyes we misse?

R.


You know it not: of Reason therefore know it.

P.


No Reason yet had euer skill to show it.

R.


Then let vs both to heauenly rules giue place.

P.


Which Passions kill, and Reason do deface.

Then embraced they one another, and came to the King, who framed his prayses of them according to Zelmanes liking; whose vnrestrained parts, the mind & eie had their free course to the delicate Philoclea, whose looke was not short in well requiting it, although shee knew it was a hatefull sight to her iealouse mother. But Dicus (that had in this time taken a great liking of Dorus, for the good partes he foud aboue his age in him) had a delight to taste the fruites of his wit, though in a subiect which he himselfe most of all other despised: & so entred to speach with him in the manner of this following Eclogue.


Dicus. Dorus.


Dicus.

Dorus, tell me, where is thy wonted motion,
To make these woods resound thy lamentation?
Thy sainte is dead, or dead is thy deuotion,
For who doth holde his loue in estimation,
To witnes that he thinkes his thoughts delicious,
Thinks to make each thing badge of his sweet passion.

Dorus.

But what doth make thee Dicus so suspicious
Of my due faith, which needs must be immutable?
Who others vertue doubt, themselues are vicious,
Not so; although my mettals were most mutable,
Her beames haue wrought therein most faire impression,
To such a force some chaunge were nothing sutable.

Dicus.

The harte well set doth neuer shunne confession:
If noble be thy bandes, make them notorious:
Silence doth seeme the maske of base oppression.
Who glories in his loue, doth make Loue glorious:
But who doth feare, or bideth muet wilfully,
Shewes, guilty harte doth deeme his state opprobrious.
Thou then, that fram'st both wordes and voice most skilfully,
Yeeld to our eares a sweet and sound relation,
If Loue tooke thee by force, or caught thee guilefully.

Dorus.

If sunnie beames shame heau'nly habitation,
If three-leau'd grasse seeme to the sheepe vnsauorie,
Then base and sowre is Loues most high vocation.
Or if sheepes cries can helpe the Sunnes owne brauerie,
Then may I hope, my pipe may haue abilitie,
To helpe her praise, who decks me in her slauerie,
No, no: no words ennoble selfe nobilitie,
As for your doubts, her voice was it deceaued me,
Her eye the force beyond all possibilitie.

Dicus.

Thy words well voyc'd, well grac'de had almost heaued me,
Quite from my selfe to loue Loues contemplation;
Till of these thoughts thy sodaine ende bereaued me,
Goe on therefore, and tell vs by what fashion
In thy owne proofe he gets so straunge possession,
And how possest he strengthens his invasion.

Dorus.

Sight is his roote, in thought is his progression,
His childhood wonder, prentizeship attention,
His youth delight, his age the soules oppression
Doubt is his sleepe, he waketh in inuention,
Fancie his foode, his clothing is of carefulnes;
Beautie his booke, his play louers dissention:
His eyes are curious search, but vailde with warefulnesse:
His wings desire oft clipt with desperation.
Largesse his hands could neuer skill of sparefulnesse
But how he doth by might, or by perswasion
To conquere, and his conquest how to ratifie,
Experience doubts, and schooles hold disputation.

Dicus.

But so thy sheepe may thy good wishes satisfie
With large encrease, and wooll of fine perfection,
So she thy loue, her eyes thy eyes may gratifie;
As thou wilt giue our soules a deare refection,
By telling how she was, how now she framed is
To helpe, or hurt in thee her owne infection.

Dorus.

Blest be the name, wherewith my mistres named is:
Whose wounds are salues, whose yokes please more then pleasure doth
Her staines are beames; vertue the fault she blamed is,
The hart, eye, eare here onely find his treasure doth.
All numbring artes her endlesse graces number not:
Time, place, life. witt, scarcely her rare gifts measure doth.
Is she in rage? so is the Sunne in sommer hot,
Yet haruest brings. Doth she, alas! absent her selfe?
The Sunne is hid; his kindly shadows cumber not.
But when to giue some grace she doth content herselfe,
O then it shines, then are the heau'ns distributed,
And Venus seemes, to make vp her, she spent herselfe.
Thus then (I say) my mischiefes haue contributed
A greater good by her diuine reflection,
My harmes to me, my blisse to her attributed.
Thus she is fram'd: her eyes are my direction,
Her loue my life, her anger my distruction,
Lastly what so she is, that's my protection.

Dicus.

Thy safetie sure is wrapped in destruction,
For that construction thine owne wordes do beare.
A man to feare a womans moodie eye,
Makes Reason lie a slaue to seruile sense,
Aweake defence where weaknes is thy force:
So is remorse in follie dearly bought.

Dorus.

If I had thought to heare blasphemous wordes,
My brest to swords, my soule to hell haue solde
I rather would, then thus mine eares defile
With words so vile, which viler breath doth breed.
O heards take heed; for I awoolfe haue found,
Who hunting round the strongest for to kill,
His breast doth fill with earth of others woe,
And loden so pulls downe, pull'd downe destroyes.
O sheepheards boyes, eschue these tongues of venome,
Which do enuenome both the soule and senses.
Our best defenses are to flie these adders.
O tongues like ladders made to clime dishonour,
Who iudge that honour, which hath scope to slander!

Dicus.

Dorus you wander farre in great reproches,
So Loue encroches on your charmed reason,
But it is season for to end our singing.
Such anger (bringing: as for me, my fancie
In sicke-mans frenzie rather takes compassion,
Then rage for rage: rather my wish I send to thee,
Thou soone may haue some helpe, or change of passion,
She oft her lookes, the starres her fauour bend to thee,
Fortune store, Nature health, Loue grant perswasion.
A quiet mind none but thy selfe can lend to thee,
Thus I commend to thee all our former Loue.

Dorus.

Well do I proue, errour lies oft in zeale,
Yet it is seale, though errour, of true hart.
Nought could impart such heates to friendly mind,
But for to find thy words did her disgrace,
Whose onely face the little heauen is,
   Which who doth misse his eyes are but delusions,
Barr'd from their chiefest obiect of delightefulnesse
Throwne on this earth the Chaos of confusions;
   As for thy wish, to my enraged spitefulnesse
The louely blow, with rare reward, my prayer is
Thou mayst loue her that I may see thy sightfulnesse.
   The quiet mind (whereof my selfe empairer is,
As thou doest thinke) should most of all disquiet me
Without her loue, then any mind who fairer is,
   Her onely cure from surfet woes can diet me:
She holdes the ballance of my contentation:
Her cleared eyes, nought els, in stormes can quiet me,
   Nay rather then my ease discontentation
Should breed to her let me for aye deiected be
From any ioy, which might her griefe occasion.
   With so sweet plagues my happie harmes infected be:
Paine willes me die, yet will of death I mortifie:
For though life irkes, in life my loues protected be,
Thus for each change my changelesse hart I fortifie.

When they had ended to the good pleasing of the assistants, especiallie of Zelmane, who neuer forgat to giue due comendatios to her friend Dorus, Basilius called for Lamon to end his discourse of Strephon & Klaius, wherwith the other day he marked Zelmane to haue bene exceedingly delighted. But him sicknes had staied from that assemblie which gaue occasion to Histor and Damon two yonge shepheards, taking vpo them the two frendly riualles names, to present Basilius with some other of their complaints Ecloge-wise, and first with this double Sestine.


Strephon. Klaius.


Strephon.

Yee Gote heard Gods, that loue the grassie mountaines,
Ye nymphes that haunt the springs in pleasant vallies,
Ye Satyrs ioyde with free and quiet forrests,
Vouchsafe your silent eares to plaining musique,
Which to my woes giue still an early morning.
And drawes the dolor on till weary euening.

Klaius.

O Mercurie, foregoer to the euening,
O heauenly huntresse, of the sauage mountaines,
O louelie starre, entit'led of the morning,
While that my voice doth fill these woefull vallies,
Vouchsafe your silent eares to plaining musique,
Which oft hath Echo tir'de in secrete forrests.

Strephon.

I that was once free burges of the forrests,
Where shade from Sunne, and sports I sought at euening,
I that was once esteem'd for pleasant, musique,
Am banisht now among the monstrous mountaines
Of huge despaire, and foule afflictions vallies,
Am growne a shrich owle to my selfe each morning.

Klaius.

I that was once delighted euery morning,
Hunting the wilde inhabiters of forrests,
I that was once the musique of these vallies,
So darkened am, that all my day is euening,
Hart broken so, that molehilles seeme high mountaines,
And fill the vales with cries in steed of musique.

Strephon.

Long since alas, my deadly swannish musique
Hath made it selfe a crier of the morning,
And hath with wailing strength clim'd highest mountaines:
Long since my thoughts more desert be then forrests:
Long since I see my ioyes come to their euening,
And state throwne downe to ouertroden vallies.

Klaius.

Long since the happie dwellers of these vallies,
Haue praide me leaue my strange exclaming musique,
Which troubles their dayes worke, & ioyes of euening,
Long since I hate the night, more hate the morning:
Long since my thoughts chase me like beasts in forrests,
And make me wish my selfe layd vnder mountaines.

Strephon.

Me seemes I see the high and stately mountaines,
Transforme themselues to lowe deiected vallies:
Me seemes I heare in these ill changed forrests,
The Nightingales doo learne of Owles their musique:
Me seemes I feele the comfort of the morning
Turnde to the mortall serene of an euening.

Klaius.

Me seemes I see a filthy clowdie euening,
As soone as Sunne begins to clime the mountaines:
Me seemes I feele a noysome sent, the morning
When I doo smell the flowers of these vallies:
Me seemes I heare, when I doo heare sweete musique,
The dreadfull cries of murdred men in forrests.

Strephon.

I wish to fire the trees of all these forrests,
I giue the Sunne a last farewell each euening,
I curse the fidling finders out of musicke:
With enuie I doo hate the loftie mountaines;
And with dispite despise the humble vallies:
I doo detest night, euening, day, and morning.

Klaius.

Curse to my selfe my praier is, the morning;
My fire is more then can be made with forrests;
My state more base, then are the basest vallies:
I wish, no euenings more to see, each euening;
Shamed I hate my selfe in sight of mountaines,
And stoppe mine eares, lest I grow mad with musicke.

Strephon.

For she whose parts maintainde a perfect musique
Whose beautie shin'de more then the blushing morning,
Who much did passe in state the stately mountaines,
In streightnes past the Cedars of the forrests,
Hath cast me wretch into eternall euening,
By taking her two Sunnes from these darke vallies.

Klaius.

For she, to whom compar'd, the Alpes are vallies,
She, whose lest word brings from the spheares their musique,
At whose approche the Sunne rose in the euening,
Who where she went bare in her forhead morning,
Is gone, is gone, from these our spoyled forrests,
Turning to desarts our best pastur'de mountaines.

Strephon.

These mountaines witnesse shall, so shall these vallies,
These forrests eke, made wretched by our musique,

Klaius.


Our morning hymne is this, and song at euening.

But, as though all this had bene but the taking of a taste of their wailings, Strephon againe bega this Dizaine, which was answered vnto him in that kind of verse which is called the crowne.


Strephon. Klaius.


Strephon.

I Ioy in griefe, and doo detest all ioyes:
Despise delight am tyr'd with thought of ease:
I turne my minde to all formes of annoyes,
And with the chaunge of them my fancie please,
I studie that which may me most displease,
And in despite of that displeasures might,
Embrace that most, that most my soule destroyes.
Blinded with beames, fell darkenes is my sight:
Dwell in my ruines, feede with sucking smarte
I thinke from me, not from my woes to parte.

Klaius.

I thinke from me, not from my woes to parte,
And loth this time, call'd life, nay thinke, that life
Nature to me for torment did emparte;
Thinke, my harde haps haue blunted deaths sharpe knife,
Not sparing me, in whom his workes be rife:
And thinking this, thinke nature, life, and death
Place Sorrowes triumph on my conquerd harte,
Whereto I yeeld, and seeke none other breath,
But from the sent of some infectious graue:
Nor of my fortune ought, but mischieue craue,

Strephon.

Nor of my fortune ought but mischieue craue,
And seeke to nourish that, which now containes
All what I am: if I my selfe will saue,
Then must I saue, what in me chiefely raignes,
Which is the hatefull web of sorrowes paines.
Sorrow, then cherish me, for I am sorrow:
No being now, but sorrowe I can haue:
Then decke me as thine owne; thy helpe I borrowe,
Since thou my riches art, and that thou haste
Enough to make a fertill minde lie waste.

Klaius.

Enough to make a fertill minde lie waste,
Is that huge storme, which powres it selfe on me:
Hailestones of teares, of sighes a monstrous blast,
Thunders of cries; lightnings my wilde lookes be,
The darkned heau'n my soule, which nought can see.
The flying sprites which trees by rootes vp teare,
Be those despaires, which haue my hopes quite wast.
The difference is; all folkes those stormes forbeare,
But I cannot; who then my selfe should flie.
So close vnto my selfe my wrackes doo lie.

Strephon.

So close vnto my selfe my wrackes doo lie,
Both cause, effect, beginning, and the ende
Are all in me: what helpe then can I trie?
My ship, my selfe, whose course to loue doth bende,
Sore beaten doth her mast of comfort spend:
Her cable, Reason, breakes from anchor, Hope:
Fancie, her tackling, torne away doth flie:
Ruine, the winde, hath blowne her from her scope:
Brused with waues of Cares, but broken is
On rocke, Despaire, the buriall of my blisse.

Klaius.

On rocke, Despaire, the buriall of my blisse,
I long doo plowe with plough of deepe desire:
The seed Fast meaning is, no truth to misse:
I harow it with Thoughts, which all conspire
Fauour to make my chiefe and onely hire.
But, woe is me, the yeare is gone about,
And now I faine would reape, I reape but this
Hatefully growne, Absence new sprongen out.
So that I see, although my sight empaire,
Vaine is their paine, who labour in despaire.

Strephon.

Vaine is their paine, who labour in despaire.
For so did I, when with my angle Will,
I sought to catch the fish Torpedo faire.
Eu'n then Despaire did Hope already kill:
Yet fancie would perforce employ his skill,
And this hath got; the catcher now is caught,
Lamde with the angle, which it selfe did beare,
And vnto death, quite drownde in dolours, brought
To death, as then disguisd in her faire face.
Thus, Thus alas, I had my losse in chase.

Klaius.

Thus, Thus alas, I had my losse in chase,
When first that crowned Basiliske I knewe,
Wose footesteps I with kisses oft did trace,
Till by such hap, as I must euer rue,
Mine eyes did light vpon her shining hue,
And hers on me, astonisht with that sight.
Since then my hart did loose his wonted place,
Infected so with her sweet poysons might,
That, leauing me for dead, to her it went:
But ah her flight hath my dead reliques spent.

Strephon.

But ah her flight hath my dead reliques spent,
Her flight from me, from me, though dead to me,
Yet liuing still in her, while her beames lent
Such vitall sparke, that her mine eyes might see.
But now those liuing lights absented be,
Full dead before, I now to dust shall fall,
But that eternall paines my soule haue hent,
And keepe it still within this body thrall:
That thus I must, while in this death I dwell,
In earthly fetters feele a lasting hell.

Klaius.

In earthly fetters feele a lasting hell
Alas I doo; from which to finde release,
I would the earth, I would the heauens sell.
But vaine it is to thinke these paines should cease,
Where life is death, and death cannot breed peace.
O faire, ô onely faire, from thee alas,
These foule, most foule, desastres to me fell;
Since thou from me (o me) ô Sunne didst passe.
Therefore esteeming all good blessings toyes
I ioy in griefe, and doo detest all ioyes.

Strephon.

I ioy in griefe, and doo detest all ioyes
But now an ende, (O Claius) now an ende:
For euen the hearbes our hatefull musique stroyes,
And from our burning breath the trees do bende.

So well were these wailefull complaints accorded to the passions of all the princely hearers, while euery one made what he heard of another the ballance of his owne fortune, that they stood a long while striken in a sad and silent consideration of them. Which the olde Geron no more marking then condemning in them, desirous to set foorth what counsailes the wisedome of age had layde vp in store against such fancies (as he thought) follies of youth (yet so as it might not appeare that his wordes respected them) bending himselfe to a young shepheard named Philisides, (who neither had daunced nor song with them, and had all this time layne vpon the ground at the foote of a Cypresse tree, leaning vpon his elbowe with so deepe a melancoly that his sences caried to his minde no delight from any of their obiects) he strake him vpon the shoulder, with a right old mans grace, that will seeme liuelier then his age will afford him, And thus began vnto him his Ecloge.


Geron. Philisides.


Geron.

Vp, vp Philisides, let sorrowes goe,
Who yelds to woe, doth but encrease his smart.
Do not thy hart, to plaintfull custome bring,
But let vs sing, sweet tunes do passions ease,
An olde man heare, who would thy fancies raise.

Philisides.

Who minds to please the minde drownd in annoyes
With outward ioyes, which inly cannot sincke,
As well may thincke with oyle to coole the fire:
Or with desire to make such foe a frend,
Who doth his soule to endlesse malice bend.

Geron.

Yet sure an end, to each thing time doth giue,
Though woes now liue, at length thy woes must dye.
Then vertue try, if she can worke in thee
That which we see in many time hath wrought,
And weakest harts to constant temper brought.

Philisides.

Who euer taught a skillesse man to teach,
Or stop a breach, that neuer Cannon sawe?
Sweet vertues lawe barres not a causefull mone.
Time shall in one my life and sorrowes end,
And me perchaunce your constant temper lend.

Geron.

What can amend where physick is refusde?
The witts abusde with will no counsayle take.
Yet for my sake discouer vs thy griefe.
Oft comes reliefe when most we seeme in trappe.
The starres thy state, fortune may change thy happe.

Philisides.

If fortunes lappe became my dwelling place,
And all the starres conspired to my good,
Still were I one, this still should be my case,
Ruines relique, cares web, and sorrowes foode:
Since she faire fierce to such a state me calls,
Whose wit the starres, whose fortune fortune thralls.

Geron.

Alas what falls are falne vnto thy minde?
That there where thou confest thy mischiefe lyes
Thy wit dost vse still still more harmes to finde.
Whome wit makes vaine, or blinded with his eyes,
What counsell can preuaile, or light giue light?
Since all his force against himselfe he tries.
Then each conceit that enters in his sight,
Is made, forsooth, a Iurate of his woes,
Earth, sea, ayre, fire, heau'n, hell, and gastly sprite.
Then cries to sencelesse things, which neither knowes
What ayleth thee, and if they knew thy minde
Would scorne in man (their king) such feeble show's.
Rebell, Rebell, in golden fetters binde
This tyran Loue; or rather do suppresse
Those rebell thoughts which are thy slaues by kinde.
Let not a glittring name thy fancie dresse
In painted clothes, because they call it loue.
There is no hate that can thee more oppresse.
Begin (and halfe the worke is done) to proue
By rising vp, vpon thy selfe to stand.
And thinck she is a she, that doth thee moue.
He water plowes, and soweth in the sand,
And hopes the flickring winde with net to holde,
Who hath his hopes laid vp in womans hand.
What man is he that hath his freedome solde?
Is he a manlike man, that doth not know man
Hath power that Sex with bridle to withhold?
A fickle Sex, and trew in trust to no man,
A seruant Sex, soone prowde if they be coi'de
And to conclude thy mistresse is a woman.

Philisides.

O gods, how long this old foole hath annoi'd
My wearied eares! O gods yet graunt me this,
That soone the world of his false tong be void.
O noble age who place their only blisse
In being heard vntill the hearer dye
Vttring a serpents minde with serpents hisse.
Then who will heare a well autoris'd lye,
(And pacience hath) let him goe learne of him
What swarmes of vertues did in his youth flye
Such hartes of brasse, wise heads, and garments trim
Were in his dayes: which heard, one nothing heares,
If from his words the falshood he do skim.
And herein most their folly vaine appeares
That since they still alledge, When they were yong:
It shews they fetch their wit from youthfull yeares
Like beast for sacrifice, where saue the tong
And belly nought is left, such sure is he,
This life-deadman in this old dungeon flong.
Olde houses are throwne downe for new we see:
The oldest Rammes are culled from the flocke:
No man doth wish his horse should aged bee.
The ancient oke well makes a fired blocke:
Old men themselues, doe loue young wiues to choose:
Only fond youth admires a rotten stocke.
Who once a white long beard, well handle does,
(As his beard him, not he his beard did beare)
Though cradle witted, must not honnor loose.
Oh when will men leaue off to iudge by haire,
And thinke them olde, that haue the oldest minde,
With vertue fraught and full of holy feare!

Geron.

If that thy face were hid, or I were blinde,
I yet should know a young man speaketh now,
Such wandring reasons in thy speech I finde.
He is a beast, that beastes vse will allowe
For proofe of man, who sprong of heau'nly fire
Hath strongest soule, when most his raynes do bowe:
But fondlings fonde, know not your owne desire
Loth to dye young, and then you must be olde,
Fondly blame that to which your selues aspire.
But this light choller that doth make you bolde,
Rather to wrong then vnto iust defence,
Is past with me, my bloud is waxen colde.
Thy words, though full of malapert offence,
I way them not, but still will thee aduize
How thou from foolish loue maist purge thy sense.
First thinke they erre, that thinke them gayly wise,
Who well can set a passion out to show:
Such sight haue they that see with goggling eyes.
Passion beares high when puffing wit doth blowe,
But is indeed a toy, if not a toy,
True cause of euils, and cause of causelesse woe.
If once thou maist that fancie glosse destroy
Within thy selfe, thou soone wilt be ashamed
To be a player of thine owne annoy.
Then let thy minde with better bookes be tamed,
Seeke to espie her faultes as well as praise,
And let thine eyes to other sports be framed.
In hunting fearefull beastes, do spend some dayes,
Or catch the birds with pitfalls, or with lyme,
Or trayne the fox that traines so crafty laies.
Ly but to sleepe, and in the earely prime
Seeke skill of hearbes in hills, haunt brookes neere night,
And try with bayt how fish will bite sometime.
Goe graft againe, and seeke to graft them right,
Those pleasant plants, those sweete and frutefull trees,
Which both the pallate, and the eyes delight.
Cherish the hiues of wisely painfull Bees:
Let speciall care vpon thy flock be staid,
Such actiue minde but seldome passion sees.

Philisides.

Hath any man heard what this old man said?
Truly not I, who did my thoughts engage,
Where all my paines one looke of her hath paid.

Geron was euen out of countenance, finding the words he thought were so wise, winne so little reputation at this young mans hands; and therefore sometimes looking vpon an old acquaintance of his called Mastix, one of the repiningest fellows in the world, and that beheld no body but with a minde of mislike (saying still the world was amisse, but how it should be amended, he knew not) sometimes casting his eyes to the ground, euen ashamed to see his gray haires despised, at last he spied his two dogges, whereof the elder was called Melampus, and the younger Lælaps (in deede the iewells he euer had with him) one brawling with another; which occasion he tooke to restore himselfe to his countenance, and rating Melampus, he began to speake to his doggs, as if in them a man should finde more obedience then in vnbridled young men.


Geron. Mastix.


Geron.

Downe, downe Melampus; what? your fellow bite?
I set you ore the flock I dearly loue,
Them to defend, not with your selues to fight.
Do you not thincke this will the wolues remoue
From former feare, they had of your good mindes,
When they shall such deuided weakenesse proue?
What if Lælaps a better morsell finde?
Then you earst knew? rather take part with him
Then iarle: lo, lo, euen these how enuie blindes.
And then Lælaps let not pride make thee brim
Because thou hast thy fellow ouergone,
But thanke the cause, thou seest, where he is dim.
Here Lælaps, here, in deed against the foen
Of my good sheepe, thou neuer trew's time tooke:
Be as thou art, but be with mine at one.
For though Melampus like a wolfe doo looke,
(For age doth make him of a woluish hew)
Yet haue I seene when well a wolfe he shooke.
Foole that I am that with my dogges speake grewe.
Come neere good Mastix, tis now full tway score
Of yeeres (alas) since I good Mastix knewe.
Thou heardst euen now a yong man snebb me sore,
Because I red him, as I would my son.
Youth will haue will: Age must to age therefore.

Masttix.

What maruaile if in youth such faults be done,
Since that we see our saddest Shepheards out
Who haue their lesson so long time begonne?
Quickly secure, and easilie in doubt,
Either a sleepe be all if nought assaile,
Or all abroade if but a Cubb start out.
We shepeheards are like them that vnder saile
Doe speake high wordes, when all the coaste is cleare,
Yet to a passenger will bonnet vaile.
I con thee thanke to whom thy dogges be deare,
But commonly like currs we them entreate,
Saue when great need of them perforce apeare.
Then him we kisse, whom late before we beatt
With such intemperance, that each way grows
Hate of the firste, contempt of later feate:
And such discord twixt greatest shepheards flowes,
That sport it is to see with howe greate art
By iustice worke they their owne faultes disclose:
Like busie boyes, to winne their tutors harte,
One saith, He mockes; the other saith, he playes;
The third his lesson mist, till all do smarte.
As for the rest, howe shepeheardes spend their daies,
At blowe point, hotcocles, or els at keeles
While, Let vs passe our time each shepeheard saies.
So small accompt of time the shepeheard feeles
And doth not feele, that life is nought but time
And when that time is paste, death holdes his heeles.
To age thus doe they draw there youthfull pryme,
Knowing no more, then what poore tryall showes,
As fishe sure tryall hath of muddy slyme.
This paterne good, vnto our children goes,
For what they see, their parents loue or hate
Their first caught sence prefers to teachers blowes.
These cocklinges cockred we be waile to late,
When that we see our ofspring gaily bent,
Wemen man-wood, & men effeminate.

Geron.

Fy man, fy man, what wordes hath thy tonge lent?
Yet thou art mickle warse then ere was I,
Thy too much zeale, I feare thy braine hath spent.
We oft are angrier, with the feeble flie.
For busines, where it pertaines him not,
Then with the poisno'us todes that quiet lie.
I pray thee what hath ere the Parret gott,
And yet they say he talkes in greate mens bowers?
A Cage (guilded perchaunce) is all his lott.
Who of his tongue the lickowr gladly powrs,
A good foole call'd with paine, perhapps may be,
But euen for that shall suffer mightie Lowers.
Let swannes example siker serue for thee,
Who once all birdes, in sweetly-singing past,
But now to silence turn'd his minstralsie.
For he woulde sing, but others were defaste;
The peacockes pride, the pyes pild stattery,
Cormoraunts glutt, Kites spoile, king fishers waste.
The Falcons fercenes, Sparrows letchery
The Cockows shame, the Gooses good intent,
Euen turtle toutcht he with hypocrisie.
And worse of other more, till by assent
Of all the birdes, but namely those were grieued,
Of fowles there called was a parliament.
There was the swan of dignitie depriued,
And statute made he neuer shoulde haue voice,
Since when I thinke he hath in silence liued.
I warne thee therefore (since thou maist haue choice)
Let not thy tonge become a firy matche,
No sword soe bytes as that euill toole annoyes.
Lett our vnpartiall eyes a litle watche
Our owne demeane, and soone we wondre shall
That huntinge faultes, our selues we did not catch.
Into our mindes let vs a little fall,
And we shall find more spottes then Leopards skinne.
Then who makes vs such iudges ouer all?
But farewell nowe, thy fault is no great sinne,
Come, come my currs, tis late I will goe in.

And away with his doggs streight he went as if he would be sure to haue the laste worde: all the assemblie laughing at the lustines of the olde fellowe who departed muttering to himselfe he had sene more in his daies then twentie of them. But Basilius, who neuer before had heard Philisides (though hauing seldome failed to beat these metings) desired him hee woulde begin some Ecloge with some other of the shepheardes according to the accustomed guise. Philisides though very vnwilling, at the Kings comaundemet offred to sing with Thyrsis. But he directly refused him, seing, he should within few dayes be maried to the faire Kala; and since he had gotten his desire he would sing no more. Then the king willed Philisides to declare the discourse of his owne fortunes vnknowen to them as being a stranger in that countrie but hee praied the King to pardon him, the time being farre to ioyfull to suffer the rehearsall of his miseries. But to satisfie Basilius someway, hee began an Eclogue betwixt himselfe and the Echo, framing his voice so in those desert places as what wordes he would haue the Echo replie vnto, those he woulde sing higher then the rest; and so, kindelie framed a disputation betwixt himselfe and it, which with these hexameters in the following order he vttered.


Philisides. Echo.


   Faire Rocks, goodly riuers, sweet woods, when shall I see peace? Peace,
Peace? what barrs me my tongue? who is it that comes me so ny? I.
Oh! I do know what guest I haue mett; it is Echo. 't is Echo.
Well mett Echo, aproche: then tell me thy will too. I will too.
   Echo, what do I gett yelding my sprite to my grieues? Grieues.
What medecin may I finde for a griefe that draw's me to death? Death.
O poisonous medecin! what worse to me can be then it? It.
In what state was I then, when I tooke this deadly disease? Ease.
And what manner a mind which had to that humor a vaine? Vaine.
Hath not Reason enough vehemence the desire to reproue? Proue.
Oft proue I: but what salue, when Reason seeks to be gone? One
Oh! what is it? what is it that may be a salue to my Loue? Loue.
What do louers seeke for, long seeking for to enioy? Ioy.
What be the ioyes which for to enioy they went to the paines? Paines.
Then to an earnest Loue what doth best victorie lend? Ende.
End? but I can neuer end, loue will not giue me the leaue? Leaue.
How be the minds dispos'd that can not tast thy physick? Sick.
Yet say againe thy aduise for th' eu'lls that I told thee? I told thee.
Doth th'infected wretch, of his harme th' extremity know? No.
But if he know not his harms what guides hath he whil'st he be blind? Blind.
What blinde guides can he haue that leanes to a fancy? A fancy.
Can fancies want eies, or he fall that steppeth aloft? Oft.
What causes first made these torments on me to light? Light.
Can then a cause be so light that forceth a man to go die? Yea.
Yet tell what light thinge I had in me to draw me to die? Eye.
Eysight made me to yeelde, but what first pierst to my eies? Eies.
Eies hurters, eies hurt. but what from them to me fall's? Fall's.
But when I first did fal, what brought most fall to my hart? Arte.
Arte? what can be that art that thou dost meane by thy speche? Speche.
What be the fruites of speaking arte? what growes by the words? Words.
O much more then words: those words seru'd more me to blesse. Lesse.
Oh when shall I be knowne, wher most to be knowne I do longe? Long.
Long be thy woes for such newes, but how reck's she my thoughts? Oughts.
Then then what do I gaine, since vnto hir will I do winde? Winde.
Winde, tempests, & stormes, yet in ende what giues she desire? Ire,
Silly rewarde! yet among women hath she of vertu the most, Most.
What great name may I giue to so heau'nly a woman? Awoe-man,
Woe, but seems to me ioy, that agrees to my thought so. I thought so.
Think so, for of my desired blisse it is only the course. Curse.
Curs'd be thy selfe for cursing that which leades me to ioies. Toies.
What be the sweet creatures wher lowly demaunds be not heard? Hard.
What makes them be vnkind? speake for th' hast narroly pride? Pride.
Whence can pride come there, since springs of beawty be thence? Thence,
Horrible is this blasphemy vnto the most holy. O lie.
Thou li'st false Echo, their minds as vertu be iust, Iust.
Mock'st thou those Diamonds which only be matcht by the gods? Ods,
Ods? what an ods is their since them to the heau'ns I prefer? erre.
Tell yet againe me the names of these faire form'd to do eu'lls. Deu'lls.
Deu'lls? if in hell such deu'lls do a bide, to the hells I do go. Go.

Philisides was commended for the placing of his Echo, but little did hee regarde their praises, who had sett the foundation of his honour there, where hee was most despisde: and therefore retorning againe to the traine of his desolate pensiuenes, Zelmanes seing no body offer to fill the stage, as if her long restrayned conceates did now burst out of prison: she thus desiring her voice should be accorded to nothing, but to Philocleas eares, threw downe the burden of her minde in Anacreous kinde of verses.


My muse what ail's this ardour
To blase my onely secretts?
Alas it is no glory
To sing my owne decaid state.
Alas it is no comfort,
To speake without an answere.
Alas it is no wisdome
To shew the wound without cure, My muse what ail's this ardour?
Mine eys be dym, my lyms shake,
My voice is hoarse, my throte scerchte,
My tong to this my roofe cleaues,
My fancy amazde, my thought dull'd,
My harte doth ake, my life faints,
My sowle beginnes to take leaue.
So greate a passion all feele,
To think a soare so deadly
I should so rashly ripp vp. My muse what ail's this ardour?
If that to sing thou arte bent
Go sing the fall of old, Thebes
The warres of ougly Centaurs,
The life, the death of Hector
So may the songe be famous,
Or if to loue thou art bent,
Rocount the rape of Europe,
Adonis end, Venus nett
The sleepy kisse the moone stale:
So may thy song be pleasant. My muse what ail's this ardour
To blase my onely secretts?
Wherein do only flowrish
The sorry fruites of anguish.
The song thereof a last will,
The tunes be cryes, the words plaints,
The singer is the songs theame
When no eare can haue ioy,
Nor ey receaue due obiect
Ne pleasure here, ne same gett. My muse what ail's this ardour?
Alas she saith I am thine,
So are thy pains my pains too.
Thy heated harte my seat is
Wherein I burne thy breath is
My voice, too hott to keepe in,
Besides lo here the auther
Of all thy harmes: Lo here she,
That only can redresse thee,
Of her I will demaund helpe. My muse I yeeld, my muse singe,
But all thy songe herein knitt,
The life we leade is all loue:
The loue we holde is all death,
Nor ought I craue to feede life,
Nor ought I seeke to shun death,
But onely that my goddesse
My life my death do counte hers.

Basilius when shee had fully ended her song, fell prostrate vpon the ground, and thanked the Gods they had preserued his life so longe, as to heare the very musicke they themselues vsed, in an earthly body. And then with like grace to Zelmane neuer left intreating her till she had (taking a Lyra Basilius helde for her) song these Phaieuciakes


Reason, tell me thy mind, if here be reason
In this strange violence, to make resistance.
Where sweet graces erect the stately banner
Of vertues regiment, shining in harnesse
Of fortunes Diademes, by beauty mustred.
Say then Reason, I say what is thy counsell? Her loose haire be the shott, the breaste the pykes be,
Skowts each motion is, the hands be horsmen,
Her lipps are the riches the warres to maintaine,
Where well couched abides a coffer of pearle,
Her legges carriage is of all the sweet campe:
Say then Reason I say what is thy counsell? Her cannons be her eys, myne eys the walls be,
Which at firste voly gaue too open entry,
Nor ramper did abide; my braine was vp blowne,
Vndermin'd with a speech the pearcer of thoughts.
Thus weakned by my selfe, no helpe remaineth
Say then Reason; I say, what is thy counsell? And now fame the herald of her true honour,
Doth proclaime with a sound made all by mens mouths
That nature souerayne of earthly dwellers,
Commands all creatures, to yeeld obeysance
Vnder this, this her owne, her only dearling.
Say then Reason I say what is thy counsell? Reason sighes but in end he thus doth answere.
Nought can reason auaile in heau'nly matters.
Thus natures Diamond receaues thy conquest,
Thus pure pearle, I do yeeld, my senses and soule.
Thus sweete paine, I do yeeld, what ere I can yeelde,
Reason looke to thy selfe, I serue a goddesse.

Dorus had long he thought kept silence from saying, somwhat which might tend to the glorie of her in whom all glory to his seeming was included, but nowe hee brake it, singing these verses called Asclepiadikes.


O sweet woods the delight of solitarines!
O how much I do like your solitarines!
where mans mind hath afreed consideration
Of goodnes to receiue louely direction.
Where senses do behold th'order of heau'nly hoste,
And wise thoughts do behold what the creator is:
Contemplation here holdeth his only seate:
Bownded with no limitts, borne with a wing of hope
Clymes euen vnto the starres, Nature is vnder it.
Nought disturbs thy quiet, all to thy seruice yeelds,
Each sight draws on a thought, thought mother of science,
Sweet birds kindly do graunt harmony vnto thee,
Faire trees shade is enough fortification,
Nor danger to thy selfe if be not in thy selfe. O sweete woods the delight of solitarines!
O how much I do like your solitarines!
Here nor treason is hidd, vailed in innocence,
Nor enuies snaky ey, finds any harbor here,
Nor flatterers venomous insinuations,
Nor comming humorists puddled opinions,
Nor courteous ruin of proffered vsury,
Nor time pratled away, cradle of ignorance,
Nor causelesse duty, nor comber of arrogance,
Nor trifling title of vanity dazleth vs,
Nor golden manacles, stand for a paradise,
Here wrongs name is vnheard: slander a monster is
Keepe thy sprite from abuse, here no abuse doth haunte.
What man grafts in a tree dissimulation? O sweete woods the delight of solitarines!
O how well I do like your solitarines!
Yet deare soile, if a soule closed in a mansion
As sweete as violetts, faire as lilly is,
Streight as Cedar, a voice staines the Cannary birds,
Whose shade safely doth hold, danger auoideth her:
Such wisedome, that in her liues speculation:
Such goodnes that in her simplicitie triumphs:
Where enuies snaky ey, winketh or els dyeth,
Slander wants a prelext, flattery gone beyond:
Oh! if such a one haue bent, to a lonely life,
Her stepps gladd we receaue, gladd we receaue her eys.
   And thinke not she doth hurt our solitarines,
   For such company decks such solitarines.

The other Shepeheards were offring themselues to haue continued the sportes, but the night had so quietlie spent the most parte of herselfe among them that the king for that time licesed the. And so bringing Zelmane to her lodging, who would much rather haue done the same for Philoclea, of all sides they went to counterfett a sleepe in their bedd, for a trewe one there agonies could not aforde them. Yet there they Lay (so might they be moste solitarie for the foode of their thoughts) til it was neere noone the next day, after which Basilius was to continue his Appollo deuotions, and the other to meditate vpon their priuate desires.


The end of the second Eclogues.

THE THIRDE BOOKE OF THE COVNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA.

This last dayes danger, hauing made Pamalaes loue discerne, what a losse it should haue suffered, if Dorus had bene destroied, bred such tendernesse of kindnes in her toward him: that she could no longer keep loue from loking out through her eyes, and going forth in her words; whom before as a close prisoner she had to her hart onely committed; so as finding not only by his speeches and letters, but by the pitifull oration of a languishing behauiour, and the easily discyphered character of a sorowfull face, that Dispaire began now to threaten him destruction, she grewe content both to pittie him, and let him see she pityed him: as well by making her owne beautifull beames to thawe awaye the former icinesse of her behauiour, as by entertaining his discourses (whensoeuer he did vse them) in the third person of Musidorus; to so farre a degree, that in the ende she said, that if she had bene the Princes, whom that disguised Prince had vertuously loued, she would haue requited his faith with faithfull affectio: finding in her hart, that nothing could so hartily loue as vertue: with many mo words to the same sence of noble fauour, and chast plainnesse. Which when at the first it made that expected blisse shine vpo Dorus; he was like one frozen with extremitie of colde, ouer-hastilye brought to a great fire, rather oppressed, then relieued with such a lightning of felicitie. But after the strength of nature had made him able to feele the sweetnes of ioyfulnes, that againe being a childe of Passion, and neuer acquainted with mediocrity, could not set bounds vpon his happines, nor be content to giue Desire a kingdome, but that it must be an vnlimitted Monarchie. So that the ground he stoode vpon being ouerhigh in happines, and slippery through affection, he could not holde himselfe from falling into such an error, which with sighs blew al comfort out of his brest, & washt away all cheerfulnes of his cheer, with teares. For this fauour filling him with hope, Hope encouraging his desire, and Desire considering nothing, but oportunitie: one time ( Mopsa being called away by her mother, and he left alone with Pamela) the sudden occasion called Loue, and that neuer staide to aske Reasons leaue; but made the too-much louing Dorus take her in his armes, offering to kisse her, and as it were, to establish a trophee of his victorie. But she, as if she had bin ready to drink a wine of excellent tast & colour, which suddenly she perceiued had poison in it, so did she put him away fro her: loking first vp to heauen, as amazed to finde herselfe so beguiled in him; then laying the cruell punishment vpon him of angry Loue, and lowring beautie, shewing disdain, & a despising disdain, Away (said she) vnworthy man to loue, or to be loued. Assure thy self, I hate my selfe for being so deceiued; iudge then what I doo thee, for deceiuing me. Let me see thee no more, the only fall of my indgement, and staine of my conscience. With that she called Mopsa, not staying for any answer (which was no other, but a flood of teares) which she seemed not to mark (much lesse to pity) & chid her for hauing so left her alone.

It was not an amazement, it was not a sorrow, but it was euen a death, which then laid hold of Dorus: which certainly at that instant would haue killed him, but that the feare to tarrie longer in her presence (contrarye to her commaundement) gaue him life to cary himself away from her sight, and to run into the woods, where throwing himselfe downe at the foot of a tree, he did not fall to lamentation, for that proceeded of pittying) or grieuing for himself (which he did no way) but to curses of his life, as one that detested himselfe. For finding himselfe not onely vnhappy, but vnhappy after being falne from all happines: and to be falne from all happines, not by any misconceiuing, but by his own fault, and his fault to be done to no other but to Pamela: he did not tender his owne estate, but despised it; greedily drawing into his minde, all conceipts which might more and more torment him. And so remained he two daies in the woods, disdaining to giue his bodie food, or his mind comfort, louing in himselfe nothing, but the loue of her. And indeede that loue onelye straue with the fury of his anguish, telling it, that if it destroyed Dorus, it should also destroy the image of her that liued in Dorus: and whe the thought of that was crept in vnto him, it bega to win of him some compassion to the shrine of that image, & to bewaile not for himself (who he hated, but that so notable a loue should perish. The began he onely so far to wish his owne good, as that Pamela might pardon him the fault, though not the punishmet: and the vttermost height he aspired vnto, was, that after his death she might yet pitie his error, & know that it proceeded of loue, & not of boldnes. That coceipt found such friendship in his thoughts, that at last he yelded since he was banished her presece, to seek some means by writing to shew his sorow and testifie his repetance. Therfore getting him the necessary instrumets of writing, he thought best to couterfait his had (fearing that as already she knew his, she would cast it away as soon as she saw it) & to put it in verse, hoping that would draw her on to read the more, chusing the Elegiac as fittest for mourning: but neuer pen did more quakingly perform his office; neuer was paper more double moistned with inke & teares; neuer words more slowly maried together, & neuer the Muses more tired tha now with changes & rechanges of his deuises: fearing how to end, before he had resolued how to begin, mistrusting ech word, condemning eche sentence. This word was not significant, that word was too plain: this would not be coceiued, the other would be ill coceiued. Here Sorow was not enough expressed; there he seemed too much for his own sake to be sory. This sentece rather shewed art, the passion; that setence rather foolishly passionate, the forcibly mouing. At last, marring with meding and putting out better, then he left, he made an end of it; and being ended, was diuerse times readie to teare it: till his reason assuring him, the more he studied, the worse it grew, he folded it vp, deuoutly inuoking good acceptation vnto it; and watching his time, when they were all gone one day to dinner (sauing Mopsa) to the other lodge, stale vp into Pamelaes chamber, and in her standish (which first he kissed; and craued of it a safe and friendly keeping) left it there, to be seene at her next vsing her inke (himselfe returning againe to be true prisoner to desperate sorrow) leauing her standish vpon her beds head, to giue her the more occasion to marke it: which also fell out.

For she finding it at her after noone-returne, in another place then she left it, opened it. But when she saw the letter, her hart gaue her from whence it came. And therefore clapping it to againe, she went away from it, as if it had bene a contagious garment of an infected person: and yet was not long away, but that she wished she had read it, though she were loth to read it. Shall I (said she) secod his boldnes so far, as to read his presumptuous letters? And yet (said she) he sees me not now to grow the bolder therby: And how can I tel, whether they be presumptuous? The paper came from him & therfore not worthy to be receiued? and yet the paper (she thought was not guiltie. At last, she concluded, it were not much amisse to looke it ouer, that she might out of his words pick some further quarrell against him. Then she opened it, and threw it away, and took it vp againe, till (ere she were aware) her eyes would needs read it, conteining this matter.



Vnto a caitife wretch, whom long affliction holdeth,
   and now fully beleeues helpe to be quite perished;
Grant yet, grant yet a looke, to the last monument of his anguishe,
   O you (alas so I finde) cause of his onely ruine.
Dread not a whit (O goodly cruell) that pittie may enter
   into thy hart by the sight of this Epistle I send:
And so refuse to beholde of these strange wounds the recitall,
   least it might th'allure home to thy selfe to returne,
(Vnto thy selfe I do meane those graces dwell so within thee,
   gratefulnes, sweetnes, holy loue, hartie regard)
Such thing cannot I seeke (Despaire hath giu'n me my answere
   Despaire most tragicall clause to a deadly request)
Such thing cannot he hope, that knowes thy determinat hardnes;
   hard like a rich marbell: hard, but a faire Diamond.
Can those eyes that of eyes drownd in most harty flowing teares,
   (teares and teares of a man) had no returne to remorse;
Can those eyes now yeeld to the kind conceit of a sorow,
   which inke onely relates, but ne laments, ne replies?
Ah, that, that I do I not conceiue (though that to my blisse were)
   more then Nestors yeares, more then a King diademe.
Ah, that, that do I not conceiue; to the heauen when a mouse climes
   then may I hope t'atchieue grace of a heauenly tiger.
But, but alas, like a man condemn'd doth craue to be heard speak
   not that he hopes for amends of the desaster he feeles,
But finding th'approch of death with an inly relenting,
   giues an adieu to the world, as to his onely delight:
Right so my boiling hart, enflam'de with fire of a faire eye,
   bubling out doth breath signes of his hugie dolours:
Now that he findes to what end his life, and loue be reserued,
   and that he thence must part where to liue only he liu'd.
O faire, O fairest, are such thy triumphs to thy fairenesse?
   can death beautie become? must I be such monument?
Must I be onely the marke, shall proue that vertue is angrie?
   shall proue that fiercenes can with a white doue abide?
Shall to the world appeare that faith and loue be rewarded
   with mortall disdaine, bent to vnendly reuenge?
Vnto reuenge? O sweete, on a wretch wilt thou be reuenged?
   shall such high Plannets tend to the losse of a worme?
And to reuenge who doo bend, would in that kinde be reuenged,
   as th'offence was done, and goe beyond if he can.
All my'offence was Loue: with Loue then must I be chastned,
   and with more, by the lawes that to reuenge doo belong.
If that loue be a fault, more fault in you to be louely:
   Loue neuer had me opprest, but that I saw to be lou'd.
You be the cause that I lou'd: what Reason blameth a shadowe,
   that with a body't goes? since by a body it is.
If that Loue you did hate, you should your beauty haue hidden:
   you should those faire eyes haue with a veile couered.
But fooole, foole that I am, those eyes would shine from a darke caue.
   what veiles then doo preuaile, but to a more miracle?
Or those golden lockes, those lockes which lock me to bondage,
   torne you should disperse vnto the blasts of a winde.
But foole, foole that I am, tho I had but a haire of her head found,
   eu'n as I am, so I should vnto that haire be a thrall.
Or with faire hands-nailes (ô hand which nailes me to this death)
   you should haue your face (since Loue is ill) blemished.
O wretch, what do I say? should that faire face be defaced?
   should my too-much sight cause so true a Sunne to be lost?
First let Cimmerian darknes be my onel'habitacion:
   first be mine eyes pulde out, first be my braine perished;
Ere that I should consent to doo so exceßiue a dammage
   vnto the earth, by the hurt of this her heauenly iewell.
O not, but such loue you say you could haue afoorded,
   as might learne Temp'rance voide of a rages euents.
O sweet simplicitie: from whence should Loue be so learned?
   vnto Cupid that boy shall a Pedante be found?
Well: but faultie I was: Reason to my Paßion yeelded,
   Paßion vnto my rage, Rage to a hastie reuenge.
But what's this for a fault, for which such faith be abolisht,
   such faith, so staineles, inuiolate, violent?
Shall I not? ô may I not thus yet refresh the remembrance,
   what sweete ioyes I had once, and what a place I did hold?
Shall I not once obiect, that you, you graunted a fauour
   vnto the man, whom now such miseries you awarde?
Bend your thoughts to the dear sweet words which then to me giu'n were:
   thinke what a world is now, thinke who hath altred her hart.
What? was I then worthie such good, now worthie such euill?
   now fled, then cherished? then so nie, now so remote?
Did not arosed breath, from lips more rosie proceeding,
   say, that I should well finde in what a care I was had?
With much more: now what doo I finde, but Care to abhor me,
   Care that I sinke in griefe, Care that I liue banished?
And banished doo I liue, nor now will seeke a recou'rie,
   since so she will, whose will is to me more then a lawe.
If then a man in most ill case may giue you a farewell;
   farewell, long farewell, all my woe, all my delight.

What this would haue wrought in her, she her selfe could not tell: for, before her Reason could moderate the disputatio betwene Fauour & Faultines, her sister, and Miso, called her downe to entertaine Zelmane, who was come to visite the two sisters; about whom, as about two Poles, the Skie of Beautie was turned: while Gynecia wearied her bed with her melancholie sicknes, and made Misos shrewdnesse (who like a sprite, set to keep a treasure, bard Zelmane from any further conference) to be the Lieutenant of her iealousie: Both she and her husband, driuing Zelmane to such a streight of resolution, either of impossible graunting, or dangerous refusing, as the best escape she had, was (as much as she could) to auoyde their companie. So as, this day, being the fourth day after the vprore, (Basilius being with his sicke wife, conferring vpon such examinations, as Philanax, and other of his noblemen had made of this late sedition, all touching Cecropia with vehement suspition of giuing either flame or fuell vnto it) Zelmane came with her bodie, to find her mind, which was gone long before her, and had gotten his seate in Philoclea: who now with a bashfull cheerefulnesse (as though she were ashamed, that she could not choose but be glad) ioyned with her sister, in making much of Zelmane.

And so as they sate deuising how to giue more feathers to the wings of Time, there came to the lodge dore, sixe maides, all in one liuerie of skarlet petticotes, which were tuckt vp almost to their knees, the petticotes them selues being in many places garnished with leaues, their legges naked, sauing that aboue the anckles they had little black silke laces, vpon which did hang a few siluer belles: like which they had a little aboue their elbowes, vpon their bare armes. Vpon their haire they ware garlands of roses and gilliflowers; and the haire was so drest, as that came againe aboue the garlandes; enterchaunging a mutuall couering: so as it was doubtfull, whether the haire drest the garlandes, or the garlands drest the haire. Their breasts liberall to the eye: the face of the formost of them, in excellencie faire; and of the rest louely, if not beautifull: and beautifull might haue bene, if they had not suffered greedy Phæbus, ouer-often, and harde, to kisse them. Their countenaunces full of a gracefull grauitie; so as the gesture matcht with the apparrell, it might seeme a wanton modestie, and an entising sobernes. Each of them had an instrument of musick in their hands, which consorting their wel-pleasing tunes, did charge each eare with vnsensiblenes, that did not lend it self vnto them. The Musick entring alone into the lodge, the Ladies were all desirous to see fro whence so pleasant a guest was come: and therfore went out together; where before they could take the paines to doubt, much lesse to aske the question of their qualitie, the fairest of them (with a gay, but yet discreete demeanour) in this sort spake vnto them. Most excellent Ladies, (whose excellencies haue power to make cities enuie these woods, and solitarines to be accounted the sweetest companie) vouchsafe our message your gracious hearing, which as it comes fro Loue, so comes it from louely persons. The maides of all this coast of Arcadia, vnderstanding the often accesse that certaine shepheards of these quarters, are allowed to haue in this forbidden place; and that their rurall sports are not disdained of you, haue ben stird with emulation to them, & affectio to you, to bring forth something, which might as well breed your contentment: and therefore hoping that the goodnes of their intention, & the hurtlesnes of their sex shal excuse the breach of the commandemet in comming to this place vnsent for, they chose out vs, to inuite both your princely parents, and your selues, to a place in the woods about halfe a mile hence: where they haue prouided some such sports, as they trust your gratious acceptations will interpret to be delightfull. We haue bene at the other lodge, but finding them there, busied in weightier affaires, our trust is, that you yet will not denie the shining of your eies vpon vs. The Ladies stood in some doubt, whether they should goe or not, lest Basilius might be angry withall. But Miso (that had bene at none of the pastorals, & had a great desire to lead her old senses abroad to some pleasure) told them plainly, they should nor will nor choose, but go thether, and make the honest countrie people know, that they were not so squeamish as folkes thought of them. The Ladies glad to be warranted by her authoritie; with a smiling humblenesse obeied her: Pamela only casting a seeking looke, whether she could see Dorus (who poore wretch wandred halfe mad for sorrow in the woods, crying for pardon of her, who could not heare him) but indeed was grieued for his absence, hauing giuen the wound to him through her owne harte. But so the three Ladies & Miso went with those six Nymphes, conquering the length of the way with the force of musique, leauing only Mopsa behind, who disgraced weeping with her countenace, because her mother would not suffer her to shew her newskoured face among the. But the place apointed (as they thought) met them halfe in their way, so well were they pleased with the sweete tunes & prettie conuersation of their inuiters. There found they in the midst of the thickest part of the wood, a litle square place, not burdened with trees, but with a boord couered, & beautified with the pleasantest fruites, that Sunburnd Autumne could deliuer vnto the. The maids besought the Ladies to sit down and tast of the swelling grapes, which seemed great with child of Bacchus: and of the diuers coloured plums, which gaue the eye a pleasant tast before they came to the mouth. The Ladies would not shew to scorne their prouision, but eat, & dranke a little of their coole wine, which seemed to laugh for ioy to come to such lips.

But after the collation was ended, and that they looked for the coming foorth of such deuises, as were prepared for them, there rusht out of the woods twentie armed men, who round about enuironed them, and laying hold of Zelmane before she could draw her sword, and taking it from her, put hoods ouer the heads of all fower, and so muffled, by force set them on horsebacke and carried them away; the sisters in vaine crying for succour, while Zelmanes harte was rent in peeces with rage of the iniurie, and disdaine of her fortune. But when they had caried them a foure or fiue mile further, they lefte Miso with a gagge in her mouth, and bound hande and foote, so to take her fortune: and brought the three Ladies (by that time that the Night seemed with her silence to conspire to their treason) to a castle about ten mile fro the Lodges: where they were fain to take a boat which wayted for them. For the castle stood in the midst of a great lake vpon a high rocke, where partly by Arte, but principallie by Nature, it was by all men estemed impregnable. But at the Castle gate their faces were discouered, & there were mett with a great number of torches, after whom the sisters knew their aunt in law, Cecropia. But that sight increased the deadly terrour of the Princesses, looking for nothing but death, since they were in the power of the wicked Cecropia: who yet came vnto them, making courtesie the outside of mischiefe, and desiring them not to bee discomforted: for they were in a place dedicated to their seruice, Philoclea (with a looke where Loue shined through the miste of Feare) besought her to be good vnto the, hauing neuer deserued euill of her. But Pamelas high harte disdayning humblenesse to iniurie, Aunt, (said she) what you haue determined of vs I pray you doo it speedily: for my part I looke for no seruice, where I finde violence.

But Cecropia (vsing no more words with them) conueyed them all three to seuerall lodgings (Zelmanes harte so swelling with spite, that she could not bring foorth a word) and so lefte them: first taking from them their kniues, because they should do themselues no hurte, before she had determined of them: and then giuing such order that they wanted nothing but libertie, & comfort, shee went to her sonne, who yet kept his bed, because of his wounde hee had receiued of Zelmane, & tolde him, whom now he had in his power. Amphialus was but euen then returned from far countries, where he had wonne immortal fame, both of courage & courtesie, when he met with the Princesses, and was hurt by Zelmane, so as hee was vtterly ignorant of all his mothers wicked deuises, to which he would neuer haue consented, being (like a rose out of a brier) an excellent sonne of an euill mother: and now when hee heard of this, was as much amazed, as if he had seen the Sunne fall to the earth. And therefore desired his mother that shee would tell him the whole discourse, howe all these matters had happened. Sonne (saide shee) I will doo it willingly, & since all is done for you, I will hide nothing from you. And howsoeuer I might be ashamed to tell it straungers, who would thinke it wickednes, yet what is done for your sake (how euill soeuer to others) to you is vertue. To begin then euen with the beginning, this doting foole Basilius that now raignes, hauing liued vnmaried till hee was nigh threescore yeares old (and in all his speaches affirming, and in all his dooinges assuring, that he neuer would marrie) made all the eyes of this country to bee bent vpon your father, his onely brother (but younger by thirty yeares) as vpon the vndoubted successour: being indeed a ma worthy to raigne, thinking nothing enough for himselfe: where this goose (you see) puts downe his head, before there be any thing neere to touch him. So that he holding place and estimation as heyre of Arcadia, obteyned me of my father the King of Argos, his brother helping to the conclusion, with protesting his bachelerly intention: for else you may be sure the King of Argos, nor his daughter would haue suffered their Royall bloud to bee stained with the base name of subiection. So that I came into this countrie as apparant Princesse thereof, and accordingly was courted, and followed of all the Ladies of this countrie My porte and pompe did well become a King of Argos daughter: in my presence their tongues were turned into eares, and their eares were captiues vnto my tongue. Their eyes admired my Maiestie, & happy was he or she, on whom I would suffer the beames therof to fall. Did I goe to church? it seemed the very Goddes wayted for me, their deuotions not being solemnized till I was ready. Did I walke abroad to see any delight? Nay, my walking was the delight it selfe: for to it was the concourse; one thrusting vpon another, who might shewe him selfe most diligent and seruiceable towardes me: my sleepes were inquired after, and my wakings neuer vnsaluted: the very gate of my house full of principall persons, who were glad, if their presents had receaued a gratefull acceptation. And in this felicitie wert thou borne, the very earth submitting it self vnto thee to be troden on as by his Prince; & to that passe had my husbands vertue (by my good help) within short time brought it, with a plot we laide, as wee should not haue needed to haue waited the tedious worke of a naturall end of Basilius; when the heauens (I thinke enuying my great felicity) then stopt thy fathers breath, when he breathed nothing but power and soueraigntie. Yet did not thy orphancie, or my widdowhood, depriue vs of the delightfull prospect, which the hill of honour dooth yeeld, while expectation of thy succession did bind dependencies vnto vs.

But before, (my sonne) thou wert come to the age to feele the sweetnesse of authoritie, this beast (whom I can neuer name with patience) falsely and foolishly married this Gynecia, then a young girle, and brought her to sit aboue me in al feasts to turne her shoulder to me-warde in all our solemnities. It is certaine, it is not so great a spite to bee surmounted by straungers, as by ones owne allies. Thinke then what my minde was, since withall there is no question: The fall is greater from the first to the second, then from the second to the vndermost. The rage did swell in my harte, so much the more as it was faine to bee suppressed in silence, and disguised with humblenes. But aboue all the rest, the griefe of grieues was, when with these two daughters (now thy prisoners (she cut of all hope of thy successio. It was a tedious thing to me; that my eies should loke lower then any bodies, that (my self being by) anothers voice then mine, should be more respected. But it was in supportable vnto me, to think that not only I, but thou shouldst spend al thy time in such misery and that the Sun should see my eldest son lesse then a Prince. And though I had ben a sainct I could not choose, finding the chaunge this chaunge of fortune bred vnto me, for now from the multitude of followers, silece grew to be at my gate, & absence in my presence. The guesse of my mind could preuaile more before; then now many of my earnest requests. And thou (my deare sonne) by the fickle multitude no more then an ordinary person (borne of the mud of the people) regarded. But I (remembring that in all miseries weeping becomes fooles, and practize wise folks) haue tried diuers meanes to pull vs out of the mire of subiection. And though many times Fortune failed me, yet did I neuer faile my selfe. Wild beastes I kept in a caue harde by the lodges, which I caused by night to be fed in the place of their pastorales, I as then liuing in my house hard by the place, and against the houre they were to meet (hauing kept the beastes without meate) then let them loose, knowing that they would seeke their food there, and deuoure what they founde. But blind Fortune hating sharpe-sighted inuentions, made them vnluckily to bee killed. After I vsed my seruant Clinias to stir a notable tumult of country people: but those loutes were too grosse instruments for delicate conceits. Nowe lastly, finding Philanax his examinations grow daungerous, I thought to play double or quit; and with a sleight I vsed of my fine-witted wench Artesia, with other maids of mine, woulde haue sent these goodly inheritrixes of Arcadia, to haue pleaded their cause before Pluto, but that ouer-fortunatly for the, you made me know the last day how vehemetly this childish passion of loue, doth torment you. Therfore I haue brought them vnto you, yet wishing rather hate then loue in you. For Hate often begetteth victory; Loue commonly is the instrument of subiection. It is true, that I would also by the same practise haue entrapped the parentes, but my maides failed of it, not daring to tary long about it. But this sufficeth, since (these being taken away) you are the vndoubted inheritor, and Basilius will not long ouer-liue this losse.

O mother (said Amphialus) speak not of doing them hurt, no more the to mine eyes, or my hart, or if I haue any thing more deare then eyes, or hart vnto me. Let others finde what sweetnes they will in euer fearing, because they are euer feared: for my part, I will think my selfe highlye intitled, if I may be once by Philoclea accepted for a seruant. Well (said Cecropia) I would I had borne you of my minde, as wel as of my body: then should you not haue suncke vnder these base weaknesses. But since you haue tied your thoughts in so wilful a knot, it is happie my policy hath brought matters to such a passe, as you may both enioy affection, and vpon that builde your soueraigntie. Alas (said Amphialus) my hart would faine yeeld you thanks for setting me in the way of felicitie, but that feare killes the in me, before they are fully borne. For if Philoclea be displeased, how can I be pleased? if she count it vnkindenes, shal I giue tokens of kindnes? perchance she condemnes me of this action, and shall I triumph? perchance she drownes now the beauties I loue with sorrowfull teares, and where is then my reioycing? You haue reason said (Cecropia with a fained grauitie) I will therefore send her away presently, that her contentment may be recouered. No good mother (saide Amphialus) since she is here, I would not for my life constraine presence, but rather would I die then consent to absence. Pretie intricate follies (said Cecropia) but get you vp, and see how you can preuaile with her, while I go to the other sister. For after we shal haue our hands full to defend our selues, if Basilius hap to besiege vs. But remembring herselfe, she turned back and asked him what he would haue done with Zelmane, since now he might be reuenged of his hurt. Nothing but honorably, answered Amphialus, hauing deserued no other of me, especially being (as I hear) greatly cherished of Philoclea: and therfore I could wish they were lodged together. O no (said Cecropia) company confirmes resolutions, and lonelines breeds a werines of ones thoughts, and so a sooner consenting to reasonable profers.

But Amphialus (taking of his mother Philocleas kniues, which he kept as a relique, since she had worne the) gat vp, and calling for his richest apparell, nothing seemed sumptuous inough for his mistresses eyes: and that which was costly, he feared were not dainty: and though the inuention were delicat, he misdoubted the making. As carefull he was too of the colour; lest if gay, he might seem to glory in his iniury, & her wrong; if mourning, it might strike some euil presage vnto her of her fortune. At length he took a garmet more rich then glaring, the ground being black veluet, richly embrodered with great pearle, & precious stones, but they set so among certaine tuffes of cipres, that the cipres was like black clowds, through which the stars might yeeld a dark luster. About his neck he ware a brode & gorgeous coller; whereof the pieces enterchageably answering; the one was of diamods & pearle, set with a white enamell, so as by the cunning of the workman it seemed like a shining ice, and the other piece being of Rubies, and Opalles, had a fierie glistring, which he thought pictured the two passions of Feare & Desire, wherein he was enchained. His hurt (not yet fully well) made him a little halt, but he straue to giue the best grace he coulde vnto his halting.

And in that sorte hee went to Philocleas Chamber: whome he found (because her Chamber was ouer-lightsome) sitting of that side of her bedde which was from the windowe; which did cast such a shadowe vpon her, as a good Painter would bestowe vpon Venus, when vnder the trees she bewailed the murther of Adonis: her hands and fingers (as it were) indented one within the other: her shoulder leaning to her beds head, and ouer her head a scarfe, which did eclipse almost halfe her eyes, which vnder it fixed their beames vpon the wall by, with so steddie a maner, as if in that place they might well chaunge, but not mende their obiect: and so remayned they a good while after his comming in, he not daring to trouble her, nor she perceiuing him, till that (a little varying her thoughts something quickening her senses) she heard him as he happed to stirre his vpper garment: and perceiuing him, rose vp, with a demeanure, where in the booke of Beauty there was nothing to be read but Sorrow: for Kindenes was blotted out, & Anger was neuer there.

But Amphialus that had entrusted his memorie with long and forcible speeches, found it so locked vp in amazement, that he could pike nothing out of it, but the beseeching her to take what was don in good part, and to assure herselfe there was nothing but honour meant vnto her person. But she making no other aunswere, but letting her handes fall one from the other, which before were ioyned (with eyes something cast aside, and a silent sigh) gaue him to vnderstande, that considering his dooings, she thought his speeche as full of incongruitie, as her aunswere would be voyde of purpose: whereupon he kneeling downe, and kissing her hand, (which she suffered with a countenance witnessing captiuitie, but not kindnesse) he besought her to haue pitie of him, whose loue went beyond the boundes of conceite, much more of vttering: that in her hands the ballance of his life or death did stand; whereto the least motion of hers would serue to determine, she being indeed the mistres of his life, and he her eternall slaue; and with true vehemencie besought her that he might heare her speak, wherevpon she suffered her sweete breath to turne it selfe into these kinde of words.

Alas cousin, (saide she) what shall my tongue be able to doo, which is infourmed by the eares one way, and by the eyes another? You call for pittie, and vse crueltie; you say, you loue me, and yet do the effects of enmitie. You affirme your death is in my handes, but you haue brought me to so neere a degree to death, as when you will, you may lay death vpon me: so that while you saye I mistresse of your life, I am not mistresse of mine owne. You entitle your selfe my slaue, but I am sure I am yours. If then violence, iniurie, terror, and depriuing of that which is more deare then life it selfe, libertie, be fit orators for affection, you may expect that I will be easily perswaded. But if the nearenesse of our kinred breede any remorse in you, or there be any such thing in you, which you call loue towarde me, then let not my fortune be disgraced with the name of imprisonment: let not my hart waste it selfe by being vexed with feeling euill, and fearing worse. Let not me be a cause of my parents wofull destruction; but restore me to my selfe; and so doing I shall account I haue receiued my selfe of you. And what I say for my selfe, I say for my deare sister, and my friend Zelmane: for I desire no wel-being, without they may be partakers. With that her teares rayned downe from her heauenly eyes, and seemed to water the sweete and beautifull flowers of her face.

But Amphialus was like the poore woman, who louing a tame Doe she had, aboue all earthly things, hauing long played withall, and made it feed at her hand and lappe, is constrained at length by famine (all her flocke being spent, and she fallen into extreeme pouertie) to kill the Deare, to sustaine her life. Many a pitifull looke doth she cast vpon it, and many a time doth she drawe backe her hand before she can giue the stroke. For euen so Amphialus by a hunger-starued affection, was compelled to offer this iniurie, and yet the same affection made him with a tormenting griefe, thinke vnkindnesse in himselfe, that he coulde finde in his hart any way to restraine her freedome. But at length, neither able to graunt, nor denie, he thus answered her. Deare Lady (said he) I will not say vnto you (how iustly soeuer I may do it) that I am nether author, nor accessarie vnto this your with holding. For since I do not redres it, I am as faulty as if I had begun it. But this I protest vnto you (and this protestation of mine, let the heauens heare, and if I lye, let them answer me with a deadly thunderbolt) that in my soule I wish I had neuer seene the light, or rather, that I had neuer had a father to beget such a child, then that by my means those eyes should ouerflow their own beauties, then by my means the skie of your vertue should be ouerclowded with sorrow. But woe is me, most excellent Ladye, I finde my selfe most willing to obey you: neither truelye doo mine eares receaue the least word you speak, with any lesse reuerence, then as absolute, and vnresistable commaundements. But alas, that tirant Loue, (which now possesseth the holde of all my life and reason) will no way suffer it. It is Loue, it is Loue, not I, which disobey you. What then shall I say? but that I, who am redie to lye vnder your feete, to venture, nay to loose my life at your least commandement: I am not the staye of your freedome, but Loue, Loue, which tyes you in your owne knots. It is you your selfe, that imprison your selfe: it is your beauty which makes these castlewalles embrace you: it is your own eyes, which reflect vpon themselues this iniurye. Then is there no other remedie, but that you some way vouchsafe to satisfie this Loues vehemencie, which (since it grew in your selfe) without question you shall finde it (far more then I) tractable.

But with these wordes Philoclea fell to so extreame a quaking, and her liuelye whitenesse did degenerate to such a deadly palenesse, that Amphialus feared some daungerous traunce: so that taking her hande, and feelinge that it (which was woonte to be one of the chiefe firebrands of Cupid) had all the sence of it wrapt vp in coldnes, he began humblie to beseech her to put away all feare, and to assure herselfe vpon the vowe he made thereof vnto God, and her selfe, that the vttermost forces he would euer employ to conquere her affection, should be Desire, and Desert. That promise brought Philoclea againe to her selfe, so that slowly lifting vp her eyes vpon him, with a countenaunce euer courteous, but then languishing, she tolde him, that he should do well to do so, if indeed he had euer tasted what true loue was: for that where now she did beare him good will, she should (if he tooke any other way) hate, and abhor the very thought of him: assuring him withall, that though his mother had taken away her kniues, yet the house of Death had so many doores, as she would easilie flie into it, if euer she found her honor endaungered.

Amphialus hauing the colde ashes of Care cast vpon the coales of Desire, leauing some of his mothers Gentlewomen to waite vpon Philoclea, himselfe indeede a prisoner to his prisoner, and making all his authoritie to be but a footestoole to Humblenes, went from her to his mother. To whome with words which Affection endited, but Amazement vttered, he deliuered what had passed between him and Philoclea: beseeching her to trie what her perswasions could doo with her, while he gaue order for all such things as were necessarie against such forces, as he looked dayly Basilius would bring before his castle. His mother bad him quiet him selfe, for she doubted not to take fit times. But that the best way was, first to let her owne Passion a little tire it selfe.

So they calling Clinias, and some other of their counsell, aduised vpon their present affaires. First, he dispatched priuat letters to all those principall Lords and gentlemen of the country, whom he thought ether alliance, or friendship to himselfe might drawe; with speciall motions from the generall consideration of duetie: not omitting all such, whom either youthfull age, or youthlike mindes did fill with vnlimited desires: besides such, whom any discontentment made hungry of change, or an ouer-spended want, made want a ciuill war: to each (according to the counsell of his mother) conforming himselfe after their humors. To his friends, friendlines; to the ambitious, great expectations; to the displeased, reuenge; to the greedie, spoile: wrapping their hopes with such cunning, as they rather seemed giuen ouer vnto them as partakers: then promises sprong of necessitie. Then sent he to his mothers brother, the king of Argos: but he was as then so ouer-laid with war himselfe, as from thence he could attend small succour.

But because he knew how violently rumors doo blow the sailes of popular iudgments, and how fewe there be that can discerne betweene truth and truthlikenes, betweene showes and substance; he caused a iustification of this his action to be written, wherof were sowed abroad many copies, which with some glosses of probabilitie, might hide indeede the foulenes of his treason; and from true common-places, fetch downe most false applications. For, beginning how much the duetie which is owed to the countrie, goes beyond all other dueties, since in it selfe it conteines them all, and that for the respect therof, not onely all tender respectes of kinred, or whatsoeuer other friendshippes, are to be laide aside, but that euen long-helde opinions (rather builded vpon a secret of gouernement, then any ground of truthe) are to be forsaken. He fell by degrees to shew, that since the ende whereto any thing is directed, is euer to be of more noble reckning, then the thing thereto directed: that therefore, the weale-publike was more to be regarded, then any person or magistrate that thereunto was ordained. The feeling consideration whereof, had moued him (though as nere of kinne to Basilius as could be, yet) to set principally before his eyes, the good estate of so many thousands, ouer whom Basilius raigned: rather then so to hoodwinke himselfe with affection, as to suffer the realme to runne to manifest ruine. The care whereof, did kindly appertaine to those who being subalterne magistrates and officers of the crowne, were to be employed as from the Prince, so for the people; and of all other, especiallie himselfe, who being descended of the Royall race, and next heire male, Nature had no soner opened his eyes, but that the soyle where-upon they did looke, was to looke for at his hands a continuall carefulnes: which as from his childhood hee had euer caried; so now finding that his vncle had not only giuen ouer al care of gouernmet, but had put it into the hands of Philanax, (a man neither in birth comparable to many, nor for his corrupt, prowde, and partiall dealing, liked of any) but beside, had set his daughters (in whom the whole estate, as next heires thereunto, had no lesse interest then himselfe) in so vnfit and il-guarded a place, as it was not only dangerous for their persons, but (if they should be conueied to any forraine country) to the whole common-wealth pernicious: that therefore he had brought them into this strong castle of his, which way, if it right seem strange, they were to consider, that new necessities require new remedies: but there they should be serued and honored as belonged to their greatnes, vntill by the generall assembly of the estates, it should be determined how they should to their best (both priuate, and publique) aduantage be matched; vowing all faith & duty both to the father & children, neuer by him to be violated. But if in the meane time, before the estates could be assebled, he should be assailed, he would the for his own defence take armes: desiring al, that either tendred the dagerous case of their country, or in their harts loued iustice, to defed him in this iust actio. And if the Prince should comaund them otherwise, yet to know, that therein he was no more to be obeied, then if he should call for poison to hurt himself withal: since all that was done, was done for his seruice, howsoeuer he might (seduced by Philanax) interprete of it: he protesting, that whatsoeuer he should do for his owne defence, should be against Philanax, and no way against Basilius.

To this effect, amplified with arguments and examples, and painted with rhetoricall colours, did he sow abroad many discourses: which as they preuailed with some of more quicke then sounde conceipt, to runne his fortune with him; so in many did it breed a coolenesse, to deale violently against him, and a false-minded neutralitie to expect the issue. But besides the waies he vsed to weaken the aduerse partie, he omitted nothing for the strengthning of his owne. The chiefe trust whereof (because he wanted men to keepe the field) he reposed in the suretie of his castle; which at lest would winne him much time, the mother of many mutations. To that therfore he bent both his outward and inward eyes, striuing to make Art striue with Nature, to whether of them two that fortification should be most beholding. The seat Nature bestowed, but Arte gaue the building: which as his rocky hardnesse would not yeeld to vndermining force, so to open assaults he tooke counsell of skill, how to make all approches, if not impossible, yet difficult; as well at the foot of the castle, as round about the lake, to giue vnquiet lodgings to them, whome onely enmitie would make neighbors. Then omitted he nothing of defence, as well simple defence, as that which did defend by offending, fitting instruments of mischiefe to places, whence the mischiefe might be most liberally bestowed. Nether was his smallest care for victuals, as well for the prouiding that which should suffice, both in store & goodnesse, as in well preseruing it, and wary distributing it, both in quantitie, and qualitie; spending that first which would keepe lest.

But wherein he sharpned his wits to the pearcingest point, was touching his men (knowing them to be the weapon of weapons, & master-spring (as it were) which makes all the rest to stir; and that therfore in the Arte of man stood the quintessence, and ruling skill of all prosperous gouernment, either peaceable, or military) he chose in number as many as without pestring (and so daunger of infection) his victuall would serue for two yeare to maintaine; all of hable bodies, and some few of able mindes to direct, not seeking many commaunders, but contenting himselfe, that the multitude should haue obeying wittes, euery one knowing whom he should commaund, and whom he should obey, the place where, and the matter wherein; distributing each office as neere as he could, to the disposition of the person that should exercise it: knowing no loue, daunger, nor discipline can sodainly alter an habite in nature. Therefore would he not employ the still man to a shifting practise, nor the liberall man to be a dispenser of his victuals, nor the kind-harted man to be a punisher: but would exercise their vertues in sorts, where they might be profitable, employing his chiefe care to know them all particularly, and throughly, regarding also the constitution of their bodies; some being able better to abide watching, some hunger, some labour, making his benefit of ech hability, and not forcing beyond power. Time to euery thing by iust proportion he allotted, and as wel in that, as in euery thing els, no small errour winckt at, lest greater should be animated. Euen of vices he made his profite, making the cowardly Clinias to haue care of the watch, which he knew his own feare would make him very wakefully performe. And before the siege began, he himselfe caused rumors to be sowed, and libels to be spread against himselfe, fuller of mallice, then witty persuasion: partly, to knowe those that would be apt to stumble at such motions, that he might cull them from the faithfuller band; but principally, because in necessitie they should not know when any such thing were in earnest attempted, whether it were, or not, of his owne inuention. But euen then (before the enemies face came neere to breed any terrour) did he exercise his men dayly in all their charges, as if Daunger had presently presented his most hideous presence: him selfe rather instructing by example, then precept; being neither more sparing in trauaile, nor spending in diet, then the meanest souldier: his hand and body disdaining no base matters, nor shrinking from the heauy.

The onely ods was, that when others tooke breath, he sighed; and when others rested, he crost his armes. For Loue passing thorow the pikes of Daunger, and tumbling it selfe in the dust of Labour, yet still made him remember his sweete desire, and beautifull image. Often when he had begun to commaund one, somewhat before halfe the sentence were ended, his inward guest did so entertaine him, that he would breake it off, and a prettie while after end it, when he had (to the maruaile of the standers by) sent himselfe in to talke with his own thoughts. Sometimes when his hand was lifted vp to do some thing, as if with the sight of Gorgons head he had bene sodainely turned into a stone, so would he there abide with his eyes planted, and hand lifted, till at length, comming to the vse of himselfe, he would looke about whether any had perceiued him; then would he accuse, and in himselfe condemne all those wits, that durst affirme Idlenesse to be the well-spring of Loue. O, would he say, all you that affect the title of wisdome, by vngratefull scorning the ornaments of Nature, am I now piping in a shaddow? or doo slouthfull feathers now enwrap me? Is not hate before me, and doubt behinde me? is not daunger of the one side, and shame of the other? And doo I not stande vpon paine, and trauaile, and yet ouer all, my affection triumphes? The more I stirre about vrgent affaires, the more me thinks the very stirring breedes a breath to blow the coales of my loue: the more I exercise my thoughts, the more they encrease the appetite of my desires. O sweet Philoclea (with that he would cast vp his eyes wherein some water did appeare, as if they would wash themselues against they should see her) thy heauenly face is my Astronomie; thy sweet vertue, my sweet Philosophie: let me profite therein, and farewell all other cogitations. But alas, my minde misgiues me, for your planets beare a contrarie aspect vnto me. Woe, woe is me, they threaten my destruction: and whom do they threaten this destruction? euen him that loues them; and by what meanes will they destroy, but by louing them? O deare (though killing) eyes, shall death head his darte with the golde of Cupids arrowe? Shall death take his ayme from the rest of Beautie? O beloued (though hating Philoclea, how if thou beest mercifull, hath crueltie stolne into thee? Or how if thou beest cruell, doth crueltie looke more beautifull then euer Mercie did? Or alas, is it my destinie that makes Mercie cruell? Like an euill vessell which turnes sweete licour to sowernes; so when thy grace falls vpon me, my wretched constitution makes it become fiercenesse. Thus would he exercise his eloquence, when she could not heare him, and be dumbe-striken, when her presence gaue him fit occasion of speaking: so that his witte could finde out no other refuge, but the comfort and counsell of his mother, desiring her (whose thoughts were vnperplexed) to vse for his sake the most preuailing manners of intercession.

She seing her sonnes safetie depende thereon, (though her pride much disdained the name of a desirer) tooke the charge vpon her, not doubting the easie conquest of an vnexpert virgin, who had alreadie with subtiltie and impudencie begun to vndermine a monarchy. Therefore, waighing Philocleas resolutions by the counterpease of her owne youthfull thoughts, which she then called to minde, she doubted not at least to make Philoclea receiue the poyson distilled in sweete liquour, which she with little disguising had drunke vp thirstily. Therefore she went softly to Philocleas chamber, and peeping through the side of the doore, then being a little open, she sawe Philoclea sitting lowe vpon a cushion, in such a giuen-ouer manner, that one would haue thought, silence, solitarinesse, and melancholie were come there, vnder the ensigne of mishap, to conquere delight, and driue him from his naturall seate of beautie: her teares came dropping downe like raine in Sunshine, and she not taking heede to wipe the teares, they hoong vpon her cheekes, and lips, as vpon cherries which the dropping tree bedeweth. In the dressing of her haire and apparell, she might see neither a carefull arte, nor an arte of carelesnesse, but euen left to a neglected chaunce, which yet could no more vnperfect her perfections, then a Die anie way cast, could loose his squarenesse.

Cecropia (stirred with no other pitie, but for her sonne) came in, and haling kindnesse into her countenance, What ayles this sweet Ladie, (said she) will you marre so good eyes with weeping? shall teares take away the beautie of that complexion, which the women of Arcadia wish for, and the men long after? Fie of this peeuish sadnesse; in sooth it is vntimely for your age. Looke vpon your owne bodie, and see whether it deserue to pine away with sorrow: see whether you will haue these hands (with that she tooke one of her hands and kissing it, looked vppon it as if she were enamoured with it) fade from their whitenesse, which makes one desire to touch them; and their softnesse, which rebounds againe a desire to looke on them, and become drie, leane and yellow, and make euerie bodie woonder at the chaunge, and say, that sure you had vsed some arte before, which now you had left? for if the beauties had beene naturall, they would neuer so soone haue beene blemished. Take a glasse, and see whether these teares become your eies: although, I must confesse, those eies are able to make teares comely. Alas Madame (answered Philoclea) I know not whether my teares become mine eyes, but I am sure mine eies thus beteared, become my fortune. Your fortune (saide Cecropia) if she could see to attire herselfe, would put on her best raiments. For I see, and I see it with griefe, and (to tell you true) vnkindnes: you misconster euery thing, that only for your sake is attempted. You thinke you are offended and are indeed defended: you esteeme your selfe a prisoner, and are in truth a mistres: you feare hate, and shall finde loue. And truely, I had a thing to say to you, but it is no matter, since I finde you are so obstinatly melancholy, as that you woo his felowship: I will spare my paines, and hold my peace: And so staied indeede, thinking Philoclea would haue had a female inquisitiuenesse of the matter. But she, who rather wished to vnknow what she knewe, then to burden her hart with more hopeles knowledge, only desired her to haue pity of her, and if indeed she did meane her no hurt, then to graunt her liberty: for else the very griefe and feare, would proue her vnappointed executioners. For that (said Cecropia) beleue me vpon the faith of a kings daughter, you shall be free, so soone as your freedome may be free of mortall danger, being brought hither for no other cause, but to preuent such mischiefes as you know not of. But if you thinke indeed to winne me to haue care of you, euen as of mine owne daughter, then lend your eares vnto me, and let not your mind arme it selfe with a wilfulnesse to be flexible to nothing. But if I speake reason, let Reason haue his due reward, persuasion. Then sweet neece (said she) I pray you presuppose, that now, euen in the midst of your agonies, which you paint vnto your selfe most horrible, wishing with sighes, and praying with vowes, for a soone and safe deliuerie. Imagin neece (I say) that some heauenly spirit should appeare vnto you, and bid you follow him through the doore, that goes into the garden, assuring you, that you should therby returne to your deare mother, and what other delights soeuer your minde esteemes delights: would you (sweet neece) would you refuse to folow him, and say, that if he led you not through the chiefe gate, you would not enioy your ouer-desired liberty? Would you not drink the wine you thirst for, without it were in such a glasse, as you especially fancied? tell me (deare neece:) but I will answer for you, because I know your reason & wit is such, as must needs coclude, that such nicenesse can no more be in you, to disgrace such a mind, then disgracefulnesse can haue any place in so faultles a beauty. Your wisdom would assuredly determin, how the mark were hit, not whether the bow were of Ewe or no, wherein you shot. If this be so, & thus sure (my deare neece) it is, then (I pray you) imagin, that I am that same good Angel, who grieuing in your griefe, and in truth not able to suffer, that bitter sighs should be sent foorth with so sweet a breath, am come to lead you, not only to your desired, and imagined happines, but to a true and essentiall happines; not only to liberty, but to libertie with commandement. The way I will shew you (which if it be not the gate builded hitherto in your priuate choise, yet shall it be a doore to bring you through a garden of pleasures, as sweet as this life can bring foorth; nay rather, which makes this life to be a life: (My son,) let it be no blemish to him that I name him my son, who was your fathers own nephew: for you know I am no small kings daughter,) my sonne (I say) farre passing the neernesse of his kinred, with neernesse of good-will, and striuing to match your matchlesse beautie with a matchlesse affection, doth by me present vnto you the full enioying of your liberty, so as with this gift you will accept a greater, which is, this castell, with all the rest which you knowe he hath, in honorable quantitie; and will cofirme his gift, and your receipt of both, with accepting him to be yours. I might say much both for the person and the matter; but who will crie out the Sun shines? It is so manifest a profit vnto you, as the meanest iudgement must straight apprehend it: so farre is it from the sharpnesse of yours, therof to be ignorant. Therfore (sweet neece) let your gratefulnes be my intercession, and your gentlenesse my eloquence, and let me cary comfort to a hart which greatly needs it. Philoclea looked vpon her, and cast downe her eie againe. Aunt (said she) I would I could be so much a mistres of my owne mind, as to yeeld to my cousins vertuous request: for so I construe of it. But my hart is already set (and staying a while on that word, she brought foorth afterwards) to leade a virgins life to my death: for such a vow I haue in my selfe deuoutly made. The heauens preuent such a mischiefe (said Cecropia.) A vowe, quoth you? no, no, my deere neece, Nature, whe you were first borne, vowed you a woman, and as she made you child of a mother, so to do your best to be mother of a child: she gaue you beautie to moue loue; she gaue you wit to know loue; she gaue you an excellent body to reward loue: which kind of liberall rewarding is crowned with an vnspeakable felicitie. For this, as it bindeth the receiuer, so it makes happy the bestower: this doth not impouerish, but enrich the giuer. O the sweet name of a mother: O the comfort of comforts, to see your children grow vp, in whom you are (as it were) eternized: if you could conceiue what a hart-tickling ioy it is to see your owne litle ones, with awfull loue come running to your lap, & like litle models of your selfe, still cary you about them, you would think vnkindnes in your owne thoughts, that euer they did rebel against the mean vnto it. But perchace I set this blessednes before your eies, as Captains do victorie before their souldiers, to which they must come through many paines, grieues & dangers. No, I am cotent you shrinke fro this my counsel, if the way to come vnto it, be not most of all pleasant. I know not (answered the sweet Philoclea, fearing least silence would offend for sullennes) what contentment you speake of: but I am sure the best you can make of it, (which is mariage) is a burdenous yoke. Ah, deere neece (said Cecropia) how much you are deceiued? A yoke indeed we all beare, laid vpo vs in our creation, which by mariage is not increased, but thus far eased, that you haue a yokefellow to help to draw through the cloddy cumbers of this world. O widow-nights, beare witnes with me of the difference. How often alas do I embrace the orfan-side of my bed, which was wont to be imprinted by the body of my deare husband, and with teares acknowledge, that I now enioy such a liberty as the banished ma hath; who may, if he list, wader ouer the world, but is for euer restrained fro his most delightful home? that I haue now such a liberty as the seeled doue hath, which being first depriued of eies, is the by the falconer cast off? For beleue me, neece, beleue me, mans experiece is womas best eie-sight. Haue you euer seene a pure Rosewater kept in a christal glas? how fine it lokes? how sweet it smels, while that beautifull glasse imprisons it? Breake the prison, and let the water take his owne course, doth it not imbrace dust, and loose all his former sweetnesse, & fairenesse? Truly so are we, if we haue not the stay, rather then the restraint of Cristalline mariage. My hart melts to thinke of the sweet comforts, I in that happy time receiued, when I had neuer cause to care, but the care was doubled: when I neuer reioiced, but that I saw my ioy shine in anothers eies. What shall I say of the free delight, which the hart might embrace, without the accusing of the inward conscicee, or feare of outward shame? and is a solitary life as good as this? then can one string make as good musicke as a consort: then can one colour set forth a beautie. But it may be, the generall consideration of mariage doth not so much mislike you, as the applying of it to him. He is my sonne, I must confesse, I see him with a mothers eyes, which if they doo not much deceiue me, he is no such one, ouer whom Contempt may make any iust chalenge. He is comely, he is noble, he is rich; but that which in it selfe should carie all comelinesse, nobilitie, and riches, he loues you; and he loues you, who is beloued of others. Driue not away his affection (sweete Ladie) and make no other Ladie hereafter proudly bragge, that she hath robbed you of so faithfull and notable a seruant. Philoclea heard some pieces of her speches, no otherwise then one doth when a tedious pratler combers the hearing of a delightfull musicke. For her thoughts had left her eares in that captiuitie, and conueied themselues to behold (with such eies as imagination could lend them) the estate of her Zelmane: for whome how well she thought many of those sayings might haue ben vsed with a farre more gratefull acceptation. Therfore listing not to dispute in a matter whereof her selfe was resolued, and desired not to enforme the other, she onely told her, that whilest she was so captiued, she could not conceiue of any such persuasions (though neuer so reasonable) any otherwise, then as constraints: and as constraints must needs euen in nature abhor them, which at her libertie, in their owne force of reason, might more preuaile with her: and so faine would haue returned the strength of Cecropias perswasions, to haue procured freedome.

But neither her wittie words in an enemie, nor those words, made more then eloquent with passing through such lips, could preuaile in Cecropia, no more then her perswasions could winne Philoclea to disauowe her former vowe, or to leaue the prisoner Zelmane, for the commaunding Amphialus. So that both sides being desirous, and neither graunters, they brake off conference. Cecropia sucking vp more and more spite out of her deniall, which yet for her sonnes sake, she disguised with a visarde of kindnes, leauing no office vnperfourmed, which might either witnes, or endeare her sonnes affection. Whatsoeuer could be imagined likely to please her, was with liberall diligence perfourmed: Musickes at her windowe, and especially such Musickes, as might (with dolefull embassage) call the mind to thinke of sorow, and thinke of it with sweetnes; with ditties so sensiblie expressing Amphialus case, that euerie word seemed to be but a diuersifying of the name of Amphialus. Daily presents, as it were oblations, to pacifie an angrie Deitie, sent vnto her: wherein, if the workmanship of the forme, had striuen with the sumptuousnes of the matter, as much did the inuention in the application, contende to haue the chiefe excellencie: for they were as so many stories of his disgraces, and her perfections; where the richnes did inuite the eyes, the fashion did entertaine the eyes, and the deuice did teach the eyes, the present miserie of the presenter himselfe awefully seruiceable: which was the more notable, as his authoritie was manifest. And for the bondage wherein she liued, all meanes vsed to make knowen, that if it were a bondage, it was a bondage onely knitte in loue-knots: but in harte alreadie vnderstanding no language but one. The Musicke wrought indeede a dolefulnes, but it was a dolefulnes to be in his power: the dittie intended for Amphialus, she translated to Zelmane: the presents seemed so many tedious clogs of a thralled obligation: and his seruice, the more diligent it was, the more it did exprobrate (as she thought) vnto her, her vnworthie estate: that euen he that did her seruice, had authoritie of commanding her, onely construing her seruitude in his owne nature, esteeming it a right, and a right bitter seruitude: so that all their shots (how well soeuer leuelled) being carried awrie from the marke, by the storme of her mislike, the Prince Amphialus affectionately languished, and Cecropia spitefullie cunning, disdained at the barrennes of their successe.

Which willingly Cecropia would haue reuenged, but that she saw, her hurt could not be diuided from her sonnes mischiefe: wherefore, she bethought her selfe to attempt Pamela, whose beautie being equall, she hoped, if shee might bee woon- that her sonnes thoughtes would rather rest on a beautifull gratefulnes, then still be tormented with a disdaining beautie. Therefore, giuing new courage to her wicked inuentions, and vsing the more industry, because she had mist in this, and taking euen precepts of preuailing in Pamela, by her fayling in Philoclea, shee went to her chamber, and (according to her owne vngratious method of subtile proceeding) stood listning at the dore, because that out of the circumstance of her present behauiour, there might kindly arise a fitte beginning of her intended discourse.

And to shee might perceaue that Pamela did walke vp and downe, full of deepe (though patient) thoughts. For her look and countenance was setled, her pace soft and almost still of one measure, without any passionate gesture, or violent motion: till at length (as it were) awaking, and strengthning her selfe, Well (said she) yet this is, the best, and of this I am sure, that how soeuer they wrong me, they cannot ouer-master God. No darkenes blinds his eyes, no Iayle barres him out. To whom then else should I flie, but to him for succoure? And therewith kneeling downe, euen where she stood, she thus said. O all-seeing Light, and eternall Life of al things to whom nothing is either so great, that it may resist; or so small, that it is contemned: looke vpon my miserie with thine eye of mercie, and let thine infinite power vouchsafe to limite out some proportio of deliuerance vnto me, as to thee shal seem most conuenient. Let not iniurie, ô Lord, triumphe ouer me, and let my faultes by thy hande be corrected, and make not mine vniuste enemie the minister of thy Iustice. But yet, my God, if in thy wisdome, this be the aptest chastizement for my vnexcuseable follie; if this low bondage bee fittest for my ouer-hie desires; if the pride of my not-inough humble harte, bee thus to bee broken, O Lorde, I yeeld vnto thy will, and ioyfully embrace what sorrow thou wilt haue me suffer. Onely thus much let me craue of thee, (let my crauing, ô Lord, be accepted of thee, since euen that proceedes from thee) let mee craue, euen by the noblest title, which in my greatest affliction I may giue my selfe, that I am thy creature, and by thy goodnes (which is thy selfe) that thou wilt suffer some beame of thy Maiestie so to shine into my mind, that it may still depende confidently vpon thee. Let calamitie bee the exercise, but not the ouerthrowe of my vertue: let their power preuaile, but preuaile not to destruction: let my greatnes be their praie: let my paine bee the sweetnes of their reuenge: let them (if so it seem good vnto thee) vexe me with more and more punishment. But, ô Lord, let neuer their wickednes haue such a hand, but that I may carie a pure minde in a pure bodie. (And pausing a while) And ô most gracious Lorde (said she) what euer become of me, preserue the vertuous Musidorus.

The other parte Cecropia might well heare, but this latter prayer for Musidorus, her hart helde it, as so iewel-like a treasure, that it woulde scarce trust her owne lippes withall. But this prayer, sent to heauen, from so heauenly a creature, with such a feruent grace, as if Deuotion had borowed her bodie, to make of it selfe a most beautifull representation; with her eyes so lifted to the skie-ward, that one woulde haue thought they had begunne to flie thetherwarde, to take their place among their fellow starres; her naked hands raising vp their whole length, and as it were kissing one another, as if the right had ben the picture of Zeale, and the left, of Humblenesse, which both vnited themselues to make their suites more acceptable. Lastly, all her senses being rather tokens then instruments of her inwarde motions, altogether had so straunge a working power, that euen the harde-harted wickednesse of Cecropia, if it founde not a loue of that goodnes, yet it felt an abashment at that goodnes; and if she had not a kindly remorse, yet had she an yrksome accusation of her own naughtines, so that she was put from the biasse of her fore-intended lesson. For well shee found there was no way at that time to take that mind, but with some, at lest, image of Vertue, and what the figure thereof was her hart knew not.

Yet did she prodigally spend her vttermost eloquence, leauing no argument vnproued, which might with any force inuade her excellent iudgement: the iustnes of the request being, but for marriage; the worthinesse of the suiter: then her owne present fortune, which shoulde not onely haue amendment, but felicitie: besides falsely making her belieue, that her sister would thinke her selfe happie, if now shee might haue his loue which before shee contemned: and obliquely touching, what daunger it should be for her, if her sonne should accept Philoclea in marriage, and so match the next heire apparant, shee being in his powre: yet plentifully periuring how extreamely her sonne loued her, and excusing the little shewes hee made of it, with the duetifull respect he bare vnto her, and taking vpon her selfe that she restrayned him, since shee found shee could set no limits to his passions. And as shee did to Philoclea, so did she to her, with the tribute of gifts, seeke to bring her mind into seruitude: and all other meanes, that might either establish a beholdingnesse, or at lest awake a kindnes; doing it so, as by reason of their imprisonment, one sister knew not how the other was wooed; but each might thinke, that onely shee was sought. But if Philoclea with sweet and humble dealing did auoid their assaults, she with the Maiestie of Vertue did beate them of.

But this day their speach was the sooner broken of, by reason that he, who stood as watche vpon the top of the keepe, did not onely see a great dust arise (which the earth sent vp, as if it would striue to haue clowdes as well as the aire) but might spie sometimes, especially when the dust (wherein the naked winde did apparaile, it selfe) was caried a side from them, the shining of armour; like flashing of lightning, wherewith the clowdes did seeme to bee with childe; which the Sunne guilding with his beames, it gaue a sight delightfull to any, but to them that were to abide the terrour. But the watch gaue a quicke Alarum to the souldiers within, whome practise already hauing prepared, began each, with vnabashed hartes or at lest countenaunces, to looke to their charge, or obedience, which was allotted vnto them.

Onely Clinias and Amphialus did exceed the bounds of mediocrity: the one in his naturall coldnesse of cowardise, the other in heate of courage. For Clinias (who was bold onely in busie whisperings, and euen in that whisperingnes rather indeede confident in his cunning, that it should not bee bewraied, then any way bolde, if euer it should bee bewrayed) now that the enemy gaue a dreadfull aspect vnto the castle, his eyes saw no terror, nor eare heard any martiall sounde, but that they multiplied the hideousnesse of it to his mated minde. Before their comming he had many times felt a dreadfull expectation, but yet his minde (that was willing to ease it selfe of the burden of feare) did somtime faine vnto it selfe possibilitie of let; as the death of Basilius, the discord of the nobilitie, and (when other cause fayled him) the nature of chaunce serued as a cause vnto him: and sometimes the hearing other men speake valiantly, and the quietnesse of his vnassailed senses, woulde make himselfe beleue, that hee durst doo something. But now, that present daunger did display it selfe vnto his eye, and that a daungerous dooing must be the onely meane to preuent the danger of suffering, one that had marked him woulde haue iudged, that his eies would haue run into him, and his soule out of him; so vnkindly did either take a sent of daunger. He thought the lake was too shallow, and the walles too thin: he misdouted ech mans treason, and coniectured euery possibilitie of misfortune, not onely fore-casting likely perils, but such as all the planets together coulde scarcely haue conspired: and already began to arme him selfe, though it was determined he should tarrie within doores; and while he armed himselfe, imagined in what part of the vault he would hide himselfe, if the enimies wonne the castle. Desirous he was that euery body should do valiantly, but himselfe; and therefore was afraid to shew his feare, but for very feare would haue hid his feare; lest it shoulde discomfort others: but the more he sought to disguize it, the more the vnsutablenes of a weake broken voice to high braue wordes, and of a pale shaking countenance to a gesture of animating did discouer him.

But quite contrarily Amphialus, who before the enimies came was carefull, prouidently diligent, & not somtimes with out doubting of the issue; now the nearer danger approched (like the light of a glow-worme) the lesse still it seemed: and now his courage began to boile in choler, and with such impatience to desire to powre out both vpon the enimie, that he issued presently into certaine boates he had of purpose and carying with him some choise men, went to the fortresse he had vpon the edge of the lake, which hee thought would bee the first thing, that the enimy woulde attempt; because it was a passage, which commanding all that side of the country, and being lost would stop victuall, or other supply, that might be brought into the castle & in that fortresse hauing some force of horsemen, he issued out with two hundred horse, & fiue hundred footmen, embushed his footmen in the falling of a hill, which was ouer shadowed with a wood, he with his horsmen went a quarter of a mile further; aside hand of which he might perceaue the many troupes of the enimie, who came but to take view where best to encampe themselues.

But as if the sight of the enimie had bene a Magnes stone to his courage he could not containe himselfe, but shewing his face to the enimie, and his backe to his souldiers, vsed that action, as his onely oration, both of denouncing warre to the one and perswading help of the other. Who faithfully following an example of such authoritie, they made the earth to grone vnder their furious burden, and the enimies to begin to be angry with them, whom in particular they knew not. Among whom there was a young man, youngest brother to Philanax , whose face as yet did notbewray his sex, with so much as shew of haire; of a minde hauing no limits of hope, nor knowing why to feare; full of iollitie in conuersation, and lately growne a Louer. His name was Agenor, of all that armie the most beautifull: who hauing ridden in sportfull conuersation among the foremost, all armed sauing that his beauer was vp, to haue his breath in more freedome, seing Amphialus come a pretty way before his copany, neither staying the commaundement of the captaine, nor recking whether his face were armed, or no, set spurs to his horse, and with youthfull brauerie casting his staffe about his head, put it then in his rest, as carefull of comely carying it, as if the marke had beene but a ring, and the lookers on Ladies, But Amphialus launce was already come to the last of his descending line, and began to make the ful point of death against the head of this young Gentleman, when Amphialus perceyuing his youth and beautie, Compassion so rebated the edge of Choller, that hee spared that faire nakednesse, and let his staffe fal to Agenors vampalt: so as both with braue breaking should hurtleslie haue perfourmed that match, but that the pittilesse launce of Amphialus (angry with being broken) with an vnlucky counterbusseful of vnsparing splinters, lighted vpon that face farre fitter for the combats of Venus; geuing not onely a suddaine, but a fowle death, leauing scarsely any tokens of his former beautie: but his hands abandoning the reynes, and his thighes the saddle, hee fell sidewarde from the horse. Which sight comming to Leontius, a deere friende of his, who in vaine had lamentably cried vnto him to stay, when he saw him beginne his careere, it was harde to say, whether pittie of the one, or reuenge against the other, helde as then the soueraigntie in his passions. But while hee directed his eye to his friende, and his hinde to his enimie, so worngly-consorted a power coulde not resist the ready minded force of Amphialus: who perceyuing his il-directed direction against him, so paide him his debt before it was lent, that hee also fell to the earth onely happy that one place, and one time, did finish both their Loues and liues together.

But by this time there had bene a furious meeting of either side: where after the terrible salutation of warlike noyse, the shaking of handes was with sharpe weapons: some launces according to the mettall they mett, and skill of the guider, did staine themselues in bloud; some flew vp in pieces, as if they would threaten heauen, because they fayled on earth. But their office was quickly inherited, either by (the Prince of weapons) the sworde, or by some heauy mase, or biting axe; which hunting still the weakest chase, sought euer to light there, wher smallest resistance might worse preuent mischiefe. The clashing of armour, and crushing of staues; the iustling of bodies, the resounding of blowes, was the first parte of that ill-agreeing musicke, which was beautified with the griselinesse of woundes, the rising of dust; the hideous falles, and grones of the dying. The very horses angrie in their masters anger, with loue and obedience brought foorth the effects of hate and resistance, and with minds of seruitude, did as if they affected glorie. Some lay deade vnder their dead maisters, whome vnknightly wounds had vniustly punished for a faithfull dutie, Some lay vppon their Lordes by like accidents, and in death had the honour to be borne by them, whom in life they had borne. Some hauing lost their commaunding burthens, ranne scattered about the fielde, abashed with the madnesse of mankinde. The earth it selfe woont to be a buriall of men) was nowe (as it were) buried with men: so was the face thereof hidden with deade bodies, to whom Death hade come masked in diuerse manners. In one place lay disinherited heades, dispossessed of their naturall seignories: in an other, whole bodies to see to, but that their hartes wont to be bound all ouer so close, were nowe with deadly violence opened: in others, fowler deaths had ouglily displayed their trayling guttes. There lay armes, whose fingers yet mooued, as if they would feele for him that made them feele: and legges, which contrarie to common reason, by being discharged of their burden, were growne heauier. But no sword payed so large a tribute of soules to the eternall Kingdome, as that of Amphialus, who like a Tigre, from whome a companie of Woolues did seeke, to rauish a newe gotten pray; so he (remembring they came to take away Philoclea) did labour to make valure, strength, choller and hatred, to answere the proportion of his loue, which was infinit.

There died of his handes the olde knight Æschylus, who though by yeares might well haue beene allowed to vse rather the exercises of wisedome, then of courage; yet hauing a lustie bodie and a merrie hart, he euer tooke the summons of Time in iest, or else it had so creepingly stollen vpon him, that he had heard scarcely the noise of his feete, and therefore was as fresh in apparell, and as forwarde in enterprises, as a farre yonger man: but nothing made him bolder, then a certaine prophecie had beene tolde him, that he shoulde die in the armes of his sonne, and therefore feared the lesse the arme of an enemie. But now when Amphialus sword was passed through his throate, he thought himselfe abused; but that before he died, his sonne, indeede seeing his father beginne to fall, helde him vp in his armes, till a pitilesse souldier of of the other side, with a mace brained him, making father & sonne become twinnes in the neuer againe dying birth. As for Drialus. Memnon, Nisus and Policrates ; the first had his eyes cut out so, as he could not see to bid the neare following death welcome: the seconde had met with the same Prophet that olde Æschylus had, and hauing founde many of his speeches true, beleeued this to, that hee should neuer bee killed, but by his owne companions: and therefore no man was more valiant then he against an enimie, no man more suspicious of his friends: so as he seemed to sleep in securitie, when he went to a battell, and to enter into a battaile, when he began to sleepe, such guards he would set about his person; yet mistrusting those verie guards lest they would murther him. But now Amphialus helped to vnriddle his doubtes; for he ouerthrowing him from his horse, his owne companions comming with a fresh supplie, pressed him to death. Nisus grasping with Amphialus, was with a short dagger slaine. And for Policrates , while hee shunned as much as hee could, keeping onely his place for feare of punishment, Amphialus with a memorable blowe strake of his head, where, with the conuulsions of death setting his spurres to his horse, he gaue so braue a charge vpon the enemie, as it grewe a prouerbe, that Policrates was onely valiant, after his head was off. But no man escaped so well his handes as Phebilus did: for hee hauing long loued Philoclea, though for the meannesse of his estate he neuer durst reueale it, nowe knowing Amphialus, setting the edge of a riuall vpon the sworde of an enemie, he helde strong fight with him. But Amphialus had already in the daungerousest places disarmed him, and was lifting vp his sworde to send him away from himselfe, when he thinking indeede to die, O Philoclea (said he) yet this ioyes mee, that I die for thy sake. The name of Philoclea first staied his sworde, and when he heard him out, though he abhord him much worse then before, yet could he not vouchsafe him the honour of dying for Philoclea, but turned his sworde another way, doing him no hurt for ouer-much hatred. But what good did that to poore Phebilus, if escaping a valiant hand, hee was slaine by base souldiour, who seeing him so disarmed, thrust him through?

But thus with the well-followed valure of Amphialus were the other almost ouer-throwne, when Philanax (who was the marshall of the army) came in, with newe force renuing the almost decayed courage of his souldiers. For, crying to them (and asking them whether their backes or their armes were better fighters) hee himselfe thrust into the presse, and making force and furie waite vppon discretion and gouernement, he might seeme a braue Lion who taught his yong Lionets, how in taking of a pray, to ioine courage with cunning. Then Fortune (as if shee had made chases inow of the one side of that bloody Teniscourt) went of the other side the line, making as many fall downe of Amphialus followers, as before had done of Philanaxis, they loosing the ground, as fast as before they had woon it, onely leauing them to keepe it, who had lost themselues in keeping it. Then those that had killed, inherited the lot of those that had bene killed; and cruel Deaths made them lie quietly to gether, who most in their liues had sought to disquiet ech other; and many of those first ouerthrowne, had the comfort to see the murtherers ouerrun them to Charons ferrie.

Codrus, Ctesiphon, and Milo, lost their liues vpon Philanax his sword: but no bodies case was more pitied, then of a yong esquire of Amphialus, called Ismenus, who neuer abandoning his maister, and making his tender age aspire to actes of the strongest manhoode, in this time that his side was put to the worst, and that Amphialus-his valure was the onely stay of them from deliuering themselues ouer to a shamefull flight, hee sawe his masters horse killed vnder him. Whereupon, asking no aduise of no thought, but of faithfulnes and courage, he presently lighted from his owne horse, and with the helpe of some choise and faithfull seruants, gat his master vp. But in the multitude that came of either side, some to succour, some to saue Amphialus, hee came vnder the hande of Philanax: and the youth perceyuing he was the man that did most hurt to his partie, (desirous euen to change his life for glorie) strake at him, as hee rode by him, and gaue him a hurt vpon the legg, that made Philanax turn towards him; but seing him so yong, and of a most louely presence, he rather toke pity of him; meaning to make him prisoner, & then to giue him to his brother Agenor to be his companion, because they were not much vnlike, neither in yeeres, nor countenance. But as he loked down vpon him with that thought he spied wher his brother lay dead, & his friend Leontius by him, euen almost vnder the squiers feet. Then soroing not only his owne sorow, but the past-comfort sorow which he fore-knew his mother would take, (who with many teares, and misgiuing sighs had suffred him to go with his elder brother Philanax) blotted out all figures of pitie out of his minde, and putting foorth his horse (while Ismenus doubled two or three more valiant, then well set blowes) saying to himselfe, Let other mothers bewaile and vntimely death as well as mine; hee thrust him through. And the boy fearce though beautifull; & beautifull, though dying, not able to keepe his failinge feete, fell downe to the earth, which he bit for anger, repining at his Fortune, and as long as he could resisting Death, which might seeme vnwilling to; so long he was in taking away his yong struggling soule.

Philanax himselfe could haue wished the blow vngiuen, when hee saw him fall like a faire apple, which some vncourteous bodie (breaking his bowe) should throw downe before it were ripe. But the case of his brother made him forget both that, and himselfe: so as ouerhastily pressing vpon the retiring enemies, hee was (ere hee was aware) further engaged then his owne souldiers could relieue him; where being ouerthrowne by Amphialus, Amphialus glad of him, kept head aginst his enemies while some of his men caried away Philanax .

But Philanax his men as if with the losse of Philanax they had lost the fountaine of their valure, had their courages so dried vp in feare; that they began to set honour at their backs, and to vse the vertue of pacience in an vntimely time: when into the presse comes (as hard as his horse, more afraied of the spurre, then the sworde coulde carie him) a Knight in armor as darke as blacknes coulde make it, followed by none, and adorned by nothing; so far without authoritie that hee was without knowledge, But vertue quickly made him knowne, and admiration bred him such authoritie, that though they of whose side he came knew him not, yet they all knew it was fitte to obey him: and while he was followed by the valiantest, hee made way for the vilest. For, taking part with the besiegers, he made the Amphialians bloud serue for a caparison to his horse, and a decking to his armour. His arme no oftner gaue blowes, then the blowes gaue wounds, then the wounds gaue deathes: so terrible was his force, and yet was his quicknes more forcible then his force, and his iudgement more quick then his quicknes. For though his sword went faster then eyesight could follow it, yet his owne iudgement went still before it. There died of his hand, Sarpedon, Plistonax, Strophilus, and Hippolitus, men of great proofe in warres, and who had that day vndertaken the guard of Amphialus. But while they sought to saue him, they lost the fortresses that Nature had placed them in. Then slew he Megalus, who was a little before proude, to see himselfe stained in the bloud of his enemies: but when his owne bloud came to be married to theirs, he then felt, that Crueltie dooth neuer enioy a good cheape glorie. After him sent he Palemon, who had that daye vowed (with foolish brauerie) to be the death of tenne: and nine already he had killed, and was careful to performe his (almost performed) vowe, when the Blacke Knight helpt him to make vp the tenth himselfe.

And now the often-changing Fortune began also to chaunge the hewe of the battailes. For at the first, though it were terrible, yet Terror was deckt so brauelie with rich furniture, guilt swords, shining armours, pleasant pensils, that the eye with delight had scarce leasure to be afraide: But now all vniuersally defiled with dust, bloud, broken armours, mangled bodies, tooke away the maske, and sette foorth Horror in his owne horrible manner. But neither could danger be dreadfull to Amphialus his vndismayable courage, nor yet seeme ougly to him, whose truely-affected minde, did still paint it ouer with the beautie of Philoclea. And therefore he, rather enflamed then troubled with the encrease of dangers, and glad to finde a woorthie subiect to exercise his courage, sought out this newe Knight, whom he might easilie finde: for he, like a wanton rich man, that throwes downe his neighbours houses, to make himselfe the better prospecte, so had his sworde made him so spatious a roome, that Amphialus had more cause to wonder at the finding, then labour for the seeking: which, if it stirred hate in him, to see how much harme he did to the one side, it prouoked as much emulation in him, to perceaue how much good he did to the other side. Therefore, they approaching one to the other, as in two beautifull folkes, Loue naturally stirres a desire of ioyning, so in their two courages Hate stirred a desire of triall. Then began there a combatte betweene them, worthy to haue had more large listes, and more quiet beholders: for with the spurre of Courage, and the bitte of Respect, each so guided himselfe, that one might well see, the desire to ouercome, made them not forget how to ouercome: in such time and proportion they did employ their blowes, that none of Ceres seruaunts could more cunningly place his flaile: while the left foote spurre set forward his owne horse, the right set backward the contrarie horse, euen sometimes by the aduauntage of the enemies legge, while the left hande (like him that helde the sterne) guyded the horses obedient courage: All done in such order, that it might seeme, the minde was a right Prince indeede, who sent wise and diligent Lieutenants into each of those well gouerned partes. But the more they fought, the more they desired to fight; and the more they smarted, the lesse they felte the smarte: and now were like to make a quicke proofe, to whome Fortune or Valour would seeme most friendly, when in comes an olde Gouernour of Amphialus, alwayes a good Knight, and carefull of his charge; who giuing a sore wound to the blacke Knights thigh, while he thought not of him, with an other blowe slewe his horse vnder him. Amphialus cried to him, that he dishonoured him: You say well (answered the olde Knight) to stand now like a priuate souldier, setting your credite vpon particular fighting, while you may see Basilius with all his hoste, is getting betweene you and your towne. He looked that way, and found that true indeede, that the enemie was beginning to encompasse him about, and stoppe his returne: and therefore causing the retreite to be sounded, his Gouernour ledde his men homeward, while hee kept him selfe still hindmost, as if hee had stoode at the gate of a sluse, to let the streame goe, with such proportion, as should seeme good vnto him: and with so manfull discretion perfourmed it, that (though with losse of many of his men) he returned in him selfe safe, and content, that his enemies had felte, how sharpe the sworde could bite of Philocleas Louer. The other partie being sorie for the losse of Philanax, was yet sorrier when the blacke Knight could not be found. For he hauing gotten a horse, whom his dying master had bequeathed to the world, finding him selfe sore hurt, and not desirous to be knowen, had in the time of the enemies retiring, retired away also: his thigh not bleeding bloud so fast, as his harte bledde reuenge. But Basilius hauing attempted in vaine to barre the safe returne of Amphialus, encamped himselfe as strongly as he could, while he (to his griefe) might heare the ioy was made in the towne by his owne subiects, that he had that day sped no better. For Amphialus (being well beloued of that people) when they saw him not vanquished, they esteemed him as victorious, his youth setting a flourishing shew vpon his worthinesse, and his great nobilitie ennobling his dangers.

But the first thing Amphialus did, being returned, was to visite Philoclea, and first presuming to cause his dreame to be song vnto her (which he had seen the night before he fell in loue with her) making a fine boy he had, accorde a prettie dolefulnes vnto it. The song was this.



Now was our heau'nly vaulte depriued of the light
With Sunnes depart: and now the darkenes of the night
Did light those beamy stars which greater light did darke:
Now each thing that enioy'd that firie quickning sparke
(Which life is cald) were mou'd their spirits to repose,
And wanting vse of eyes their eyes began to close:
A silence sweet each where with one consent embraste
(A musique sweet to one in carefull musing plaste)
And mother Earth, now clad in mourning weeds, did breath
A dull desire to kisse the image of our death:
When I, disgraced wretch, not wretched then, did giue
My senses such reliefe, as they which quiet liue,
Whose braines broile not in woes, nor brests with beating ake,
With natures praise are wont in safest home to take.
Far from my thoughts was ought, whereto their minds aspire,
Who vnder courtly pompes doo hatch a base desire.
Free all my powers were from those captiuing snares,
Which heau'nly purest gifts defile in muddy cares.
Ne could my soule it selfe accuse of such a faulte,
As tender conscience might with furious pangs assaulte.
But like the feeble flower (whose stalke cannot sustaine
His weighty top) his top downeward doth drooping leane:
Or as the silly birde in well acquainted nest
Doth hide his head with cares but onely how to rest:
So I in simple course, and vnentangled minde
Did suffer drousie lids mine eyes then cleare to blinde;
And laying downe my head, did natures rule obserue,
Which senses vp doth shut the senses to preserue.
They first their vse forgot, then fancies lost their force;
Till deadly sleepe at length possest my liuing coarse.
A liuing coarse I lay: but ah, my wakefull minde
(Which made of heau'nly stuffe no mortall chaunge doth blind)
Flew vp with freer wings of fleshly bondage free;
And hauing plaste my thoughts, my thoughts thus placed me.
Me thought, nay sure I was, I was in fairest wood
Of Samothea lande; a lande, which whilom stood
An honour to the world, while Honour was their ende,
And while their line of yeares they did in vertue spende.
But there I was, and there my calmie thoughts I fedd
On Natures sweet repast, as healthfull senses ledd.
Her giftes my study was, her beauties were my sporte:
My worke her workes to know, her dwelling my resorte.
Those lamps of heau'nly fire to fixed motion bound,
The euer-turning spheares, the neuer-mouing ground;
What essence dest'nie hath; if fortune be or no;
Whence our immortall soules to mortall earth doo flowe:
What life it is, and how that all these liues doo gather,
With outward makers force, or like an inward father.
Such thoughts, me thought, I thought, and straind my single mind
Then void of neerer cares, the depth of things to find.
When lo with hugest noise (such noise a tower makes
When it blowne downe with winde a fall of ruine takes)
(Or such a noise it was, as highest thunders sende,
Or canons thunder-like, all shot togither, lende)
The Moone asunder rent; whereout with sodaine fall
(More swift then falcons stoope to feeding Falconers call)
There came a chariot faire by doues and sparrowes guided:
Whose stormelike course staid not till hard by me it bided.
I wretch astonisht was, and thought the deathfull doome
Of heauen, of earth, of hell, of time and place was come.
But streight there issued forth two Ladies (Ladies sure
They seemd to me) on whom did wait a Virgin pure.
Straunge were the Ladies weeds; yet more vnfit then strange.
The first with cloth's tuckt vp as Nymphes in woods do range;
Tuckt vp euen with the knees, with bowe and arrowes prest:
Her right arme naked was, discouered was her brest.
But heauy was her pace, and such a meagre cheere,
As little hunting minde (God knowes) did there appeere.
The other had with arte (more then our women knowe,
As stuffe meant for the sale set out to glaring showe)
A wanton womans face, and with curld knots had twinde
Her haire, which by the helpe of painters cunning, shinde.
When I such guests did see come out of such a house,
The mountaines great with childe I thought brought foorth a mouse.
But walking forth, the first thus to the second saide,
Venus come on: said she, Diane you are obaide.
Those names abasht me much, when those great names I hard:
Although their fame (me seemd) from truth had greatly iard.
As I thus musing stood, Diana cald to her
The waiting Nymphe, a Nymphe that did excell as farr
All things that earst I sawe, as orient pearles exceed,
That which their mother hight, or els their silly seed.
Indeed a perfect hewe, indeed a sweet consent
Of all those Graces giftes the heauens haue euer lent.
And so she was attirde, as one that did not prize
Too much her peerles parts, nor yet could them despise.
But cald, she came apace; apace wherein did moue
The bande of beauties all, the little world of Loue.
And bending humbled eyes (ô eyes the Sunne of sight)
She waited mistresse will: who thus disclosd her spright.
Sweet Mira mine (quoth she) the pleasure of my minde,
In whom of all my rules the perfect proofe I finde,
To onely thee thou seest we graunt this speciall grace
Vs to attend, in this most priuate time and place.
Be silent therefore now, and so be silent still
Of that thou seest: close vp in secrete knot thy will.
She answer'd was with looke, and well perform'd behest:
And Mira I admirde: her shape sonke in my brest.
But thus with irefull eyes, and face that shooke with spite
Diana did begin. What moude me to inuite
Your presence (sister deare) first to my Moony spheare,
And hither now, vouchsafe to take with willing eare.
I know full well you know, what discord long hath raign'd
Betwixt vs two; how much that discord foule hath stain'd
Both our estates, while each the other did depraue,
Proofe speakes too much to vs that feeling triall haue.
Our names are quite forgot, our temples are defac'd:
Our offrings spoil'd, our priests from priesthood are displac'd.
Is this the fruite of strife? those thousand churches hie,
Those thousand altars faire now in the dust to lie?
In mortall mindes our mindes but planets names preserue:
No knees once bowed, forsooth, for them they say we serue.
Are we their seruants growne? no doubt a noble staye:
Celestiall powers to wormes, Ioues children serue to claye.
But such they say we be: this praise our discord bred,
While we for mutuall spight, a striuing paßion fed.
But let vs wiser be; and what foule discorde brake,
So much more strong againe let fastest concorde make.
Our yeares doo it require: you see we both doo feele
The weakning worke of Times for euer-whirling wheele.
Although we be diuine, our grandsire Saturne is
With ages force decay'd, yet once the heauen was his.
And now before we seeke by wise Apollos skill
Our young yeares to renew (for so he saith he will)
Let vs a perfect peace betweene vs two resolue:
Which lest the ruinous want of gouernment dissolue,
Let one the Princesse be, to her the other yeeld:
For vaine equalitie is but contentions field.
And let her haue the giftes that should in both remaine:
In her let beautie both, and chastnesse fully raigne.
So as if I preuaile, you giue your giftes to me:
If you, on you I lay what in my office be.
Now resteth onely this, which of vs two is she,
To whom precedence shall of both accorded be.
For that (so that you like) hereby doth lie a youth
(She beckned vnto me) as yet of spotlesse truth,
Who may this doubt discerne: for better, witt, then lot
Becommeth vs: in vs fortune determines not.
This crowne of amber faire (an amber crowne she held)
To worthiest let him giue, when both he hath beheld:
And be it as he saith. Venus was glad to heare
Such proffer made, which she well showd with smiling cheere.
As though she were the same, as when by Paris doome
She had chiefe Goddesses in beautie ouercome.
And smirkly thus gan say. I neuer sought debate
Diana deare; my minde to loue and not to hate
Was euer apt: but you my pastimes did despise.
I neuer spited you, but thought you ouerwise.
Now kindnesse profred is, none kinder is then I:
And so most ready am this meane of peace to trie.
And let him be our iudge: the lad doth please me well.
Thus both did come to me, and both began to tell
(For both togither spake, each loth to be behinde)
That they by solemne oth their Deities would binde
To stand vnto my will: their will they made me know.
I that was first agast, when first I saw their showe:
Now bolder waxt, waxt prowde, that I such sway must beare:
For neere acquaintance dooth diminish reuerent feare.
And hauing bound them fast by Styx, they should obaye
To all what I decreed, did thus my verdict saye.
How ill both you can rule, well hath your discord taught:
Ne yet for ought I see, your beauties merit ought.
To yonder Nymphe therefore (to Mira I did point)
The crowne aboue you both for euer I appoint.
I would haue spoken out: but out they both did crie;
Fie, fie, what haue we done? vngodly rebell fie.
But now we needs must yeelde, to that our othes require.
Yet thou shalt not go free (quoth Venus) such a fire
Her beautie kindle shall within thy foolish minde,
That thou full oft shalt wish thy iudging eyes were blinde.
Nay then (Diana said) the chastnesse I will giue
In ashes of despaire (though burnt) shall make thee liue.
Nay thou (said both) shalt see such beames shine in her face
That thou shalt neuer dare seeke helpe of wretched case.
And with that cursed curse away to heauen they fled,
First hauing all their giftes vpon faire Mira spred.
The rest I cannot tell, for therewithall I wak'd
And found with deadly feare that all my sinewes shak'd.
Was it a dreame? O dreame, how hast thou wrought in me,
That I things erst vnseene should first in dreaming see?
And thou ô traytour Sleepe, made for to be our rest,
How hast thou framde the paine wherewith I am opprest?
O cowarde Cupid thus doost thou thy honour keepe,
Vnarmde (alas) vnwarn'd to take a man asleepe?

Laying not onely the conquests, but the hart of the conquerour at her feet. But she receiuing him after her woonted sorrowfull (but otherwise vnmoued) maner, it made him thinke, his good successe was but as a pleasant monumet of a dolefull buriall: Ioy it selfe seeming bitter vnto him, since it agreed not to her taste.

Therefore, still crauing his mothers helpe to persuade her, he himselfe sent for Philanax vnto him, whome he had not onely long hated, but now had his hate greatly encreased by the death of his Squire Ismenus. Besides he had made him as one of the chiefe causes that mooued him to this rebellion, and therefore was enclined (to colour the better his action, and the more to embrewe the handes of his accomplices by making them guiltie of such a trespasse) in some formall sort to cause him to be executed: being also greatly egged thereunto by his mother, and some other, who long had hated Philanax, onely because he was more worthy, then they to be loued.

But while that deliberation was handeled, according rather to the humour then the reason of ech speaker, Philoclea comming to knowledge of the hard plight wherein Philanax stood, she desired one of the gentlewomen appoynted to waite vpon her, to goe in her name, and beseech Amphialus, that if the loue of her had any power of perswasion in his minde, he would lay no further punishment, then imprisonment, vppon Philanax. This message was deliuered euen as Philanax was entring to the presence of Amphialus, comming (according to the warning was giuen him) to receyue a iudgement of death. But when he with manfull resolution attended the fruite of such a tyrannicall sentence, thinking it wrong, but no harme to him that shoulde die in so good a cause; Amphialus turned quite the fourme of his pretended speech, & yeelded him humble thankes, that by his meanes he had come to that happinesse, as to receiue a commaundement of his Ladie: and therfore he willingly gaue him libertie to returne in safetye whether he would, quiting him, not onely of all former grudge, but assuring him that he would be willing to do him any friendshipp, and seruice: onely desiring thus much of him, that hee would let him know the discourse and intent of Basilius-his proceeding.

Truely my Lorde (answered Philanax) if there were any such knowne to mee, secrete in my maisters counsaile, as that the reuealing thereof might hinder his good successe, I should loath the keeping of my blood, with the losse of my faith; & would thinke the iust name of a traitour a hearde purchase of a fewe yeares liuing. But since it is so, that my maister hath indeede no way of priuie practise, but meanes openly & forcibly to deale against you, I will not sticke in few words to make your required declaration. Then told he him in what a maze of a mazemet, both Basilius & Gynecia were, when they mist their childre & Zelmane. Somtimes apt to suspect some practise of Zelmane, because she was a straunger; somtimes doubting some reliques of the late mutinie, which doubt was rather encreased, the any way satisfied, by Miso: who (being foud, almost dead for hunger, by certaine Countrey-people) brought home word, with what cuning they were trayned out, & with what violence they were caried away. But that within a few dayes they came to knowledge wher they were, by Amphialus-his own letters sent abroad to procure cofederates in his attemptes. That Basilius his purpose was neuer to leaue the sieg of this town, til he had take it, & reueged the iniurie done vnto him. That he meant rather to winne it by time, & famine, then by force of assault: knowing howe valiant men he had to deale withall in the towne: that he had sent order, that supplyes of souldiours, pioners, and all thinges else necessarie, should dayly be brought vnto him: so as, my Lord (sayde Philanax) let me nowe, hauing receyued my life by your grace. let me giue you your life and and honour by my counsaile; protesting vnto you, that I cannot choose but loue you, being my maister-his nephewe; and that I wish you well in all causes but this, You knowe his nature is as apte to forgiue, as his power is able to conquere. Your fault passed is excusable, in that Loue perswaded, and youth was perswaded. Doo not vrge the effects of angrie victorie, but rather seeke to obtaine that constantly by courtesie, which you can neuer assuredly enioy by violence. One might easily haue seene in the cheare of Amphialus, that disdainfull choller would faine haue made the aunswere for him, but the remembraunce of Philoclea serued for forcible barriers betweene Anger, and angry effects: so as he said no more, but that he woulde not put him to the trouble to giue him any further counsaile: But that hee might returne, if hee listed, presently. Philanax glad to receyue an vncorrupted libertie, humbly accepted his fauourable conuoy out of the towne; and so departed, not visitinge the Princesses, thinking it might be offensiue to Amphialus, and no way fruitfull to them who were no way but by force to be reskued.

The poore Ladies indeede, not suffered either to meet together, or to haue conference with any other, but such as Cecropia had alreadie framed to sing al their songs to her tune, she herselfe omitting no day, and catching holde of euerie occasion to mooue forwarde her sonnes desire, and remoue their owne resolutions: vsing the same arguments to the one sister, as to the other; determining that whom she could winne first, the other shoulde (without her sonnes knowledge) by poyson be made away. But though the reasons were the same to both, yet the handling was diuerse, according as she saw their humours to prepare a more or lesse aptnesse of apprehension. This day hauing vsed long speech to Philoclea, amplifying not a little the great duetifulnesse her sonne had shewed in deliuering Philanax : of whom she could get no aunswere, but a silence sealed vp in vertue, & so sweetly graced, as that in one instant it caried with it both resistance, and humblenes: Cecropia threatning in her selfe to rune a more rugged race with her, went to her sister Pamela: who that day hauing wearied her self with reading, & with the height of her hart disdaining to keep companie with any of the Gentlewome appointed to attend her, whome she accounted her iaylours, was working vppo a purse certain Roses & Lillies, as by the finenesse of the worke, one might see she had borowed her wittes of the sorow that then owed them, & lent them wholy to that exercise. For the flowers shee had wrought, caried such life in the, that the cuningest painter might haue learned of her needle: which with so prety a maner made his careers to & fro through the cloth, as if the needle it self wold haue ben loth to haue gone froward such a mistres, but that it hoped to return thitherward very quickly againe: the cloth loking with many eies vpon her, & louingly embracing the wounds she gaue it: the sheares also were at hand to behead the silke, that was grown to short. And if at any time she put her mouth to bite it off it seemed, that where she had beene long in making of a Rose with her hands, shee would in an instat make Roses with her lips; as the Lillies semed to haue their whitenesse, rather of the hand that made them, then of the matter wherof the were made; & that they grew therby the Sunes of her eys, & were refreshed by the most indiscofort comfortable ayre, which an vnwares sigh might bestow vpon them. But the colours for the ground were so well chosen, neither sullenly darke, nor glaringly lightsome, & so wel proportioned, as that, though much cunning were in it, yet it was but to serue for an ornament of the principall woorke; that it was not without maruaile to see, how a mind which could cast a carelesse semblant vpon the greatest conflictes of Fortune, could commaund it selfe to take care for so small matters. Neither had she neglected the daintie dressing of her selfe: but as if it had been her mariage time to Affliction, she rather semed to remember her owne worthinesse, then the vnworthinesse of her husband. For wel one might perceyue she had not reiected the counsaile of a glasse, & that her hands had pleased themselues, in paying the tribute of vndeceyuing skill, to so high perfections of Nature.

The sight whereof so diuerse from her sister, (who rather suffered sorrowe to dresse it selfe in her beautie, then that she would bestow any intertainment of so vnwelcome a guest made Cecropia take a suddaine assurednesse of hope, that she should obtaine somewhat of Pamela: thinking (according to the squaring out of her owne good nature) that beautie, carefully set foorth, woulde soone proue a signe of an vnrefusing harborough. Animated wherewith, shee sate downe by Pamela: and taking the purse, and with affected curiositie looking vpon the worke, Full happie is he (saide she) at least if hee knew his owne happinesse, to whom a purse in this maner, and by this hand wrought, is dedicated. In faith he shall haue cause to account it, not as a purse for treasure, but as a treasure it selfe, worthie to bee pursed vp in the purse of his owne hart. And thinke you so indeede (saide Pamela halfe smiling) I promise you I wrought it, but to make some tedious houres beleeue, that I thought not of them: for else I valued it, but euen as a verie purse. It is the right nature (saide Cecropia) of Beauty, to worke vnwitting effectes of wonder. Truely (saide Pamela) I neuer thought till now, that this outward glasse, intitled Beautie, which it pleaseth you to lay to my (as I thinke) vnguiltie charge, was but a pleasaunt mixture of naturall colours, delightfull to the eye, as musicke is to the eare, without any further consequence: since it is a thing, which not onely beastes haue; but euen stones and trees many of them doo greatly excell in it. That other thinges (answered Cecropia) haue some portion of it, takes not away the excellencie of it, where indeede it doth excell: since we see, that euen those beastes, trees, & stones, are in the name of Beauty onely highly praised. But that the beautie of humaine persons be beyond al other things there is great likelihood of reason, since to them onely is giuen the iudgement to discerne Beautie; and among reasonable wightes, as it seemes, that our sex hath the preheminence, so that in that preheminence, Nature counteruailes al other liberalities, wherein she may bee thought to haue dealte more fauourably towarde mankind. How doo men crowne (thinke you) themselues with glorie, for hauing either by force brought others to yeelde to their minde, or with long studie, and premeditated orations, perswaded what they would haue perswaded? and see, a faire woman shall not onely commaund without authoritie, but perswade without speaking. She shall not neede to procure attention, for their owne eyes will chaine their eares vnto it. Men venture liues to coquere; she conqueres liues without venturing. She is serued, and obeyed, which is the most notable, not because the lawe: so commaund it, but because they become lawes themselues to obey her; not for her parents sake, but for her own sake. She need not dispute, whether to gouerne by Feare or Loue, since without her thinking thereof, their loue will bring foorth feare, and their feare will fortifie their loue: and shee neede not seeke offensiue, or defensiue force, since her onely lippes may stande for ten thousand shieldes, and tenne thousand vneuitable shot goe from her eyes. Beautie, Beautie (deere Neece) is the crowne of the feminine greatnes; which gifte, on whom soeuer the heauens (therein most nigardly) do bestowe, without question, she is bound to vse it to the noble purpose, for which it is created: not onely winning, but preseruing; since that indeede is the right happines, which is not onely in it selfe happie, but can also deriue the happines to another. Certainly Aunt (said Pamela