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SHAKESPEAREPS LIBRARY:
A COLLECTION OF THE
ROMANCES, NOWELS,
POEM S, AND HISTORIES,
us ED BY
S H A K E S P E A R E
AS THE FOUNDATION OF HIS DRAMAS.
Now FIRST collected, AND AccuRATELY REPRINTED FROM THE or IGINAL
Editions.
WITH INTRODUCTORY NOTICES,
By J. PAYNE COLLIER, Esq. F.S.A.
WOL. I.
LONDON:
THOMAS RODD,
9, GREAT N E W P OR T S T R EET.
23.23.


C! a (, , º, *
London :
Compton AND R11 chie, print ERs, Middle st REET, cloth FAIR.


PR E FA C E.
The following work supplies an important defi-
ciency in our literature as regards Shakespeare: it
brings into one view all that has been recovered
of the sources he employed, in various degrees, in
the composition of such of his dramas as are not
derived from Grecian, Roman, or English History,
or were not formed upon some earlier play.
The romances, novels, and poems, to which he
resorted are scattered over many volumes, some
of them of the rarest occurrence, existing only
in our public libraries: these are included in the
ensuing pages. We have ventured to call the
work “Shakespeare's Library,” since our great
dramatist, in all probability, must have possessed
the books to which he was indebted, and some
of which he applied so directly and minutely to
his own purposes. Until now the ordinary reader


ii PREFACE.
of Shakespeare's plays has enjoyed very imperfect
means of judging how far, and in what respects, our
most original poet was obliged to others, and what
he owed only to the exhaustless resources of his
own mind. He employed the materials supplied
by some of his predecessors and contemporaries
merely as a great painter uses what is called a
lay-figure: he borrowed the position, but invested
it himself with drapery, colour, character, and senti-
ment. He exceeded all art, by communicating to
it life and action.
It is remarkable, after all that has been written
and accumulated regarding Shakespeare during the
last century and a half, that it should have been
left to us, and to our time, to perform this under-
taking, so necessary to the formation of a just esti-
mate of his productions. An unsatisfactory attempt
of the kind was made about a century ago, and the
Commentators have here and there furnished ex-
tracts from most of the pieces we have reprinted;
but those extracts afford no adequate opportunity
of judging of the works as a whole.


PREFACE. iii
The Editor has had time to do little more than
to afford a general superintendence, and to prepare
the introductory notices: the intelligent publisher,
who has devoted so much time and study to
Shakespearian literature, has often saved him
the trouble of searching for materials in public
and private depositories, and of collating the re-
prints with the originals. For this part of the task,
therefore, Mr. Rodd is responsible; and in the per-
formance of it he gladly, and thankfully, acknow-
ledges the ready assistance he has received from
the Rev. Dr. Bandinel, of the Bodleian Library,
Oxford, and from the Rev. Mr. Smith, of Trinity
College Library, Cambridge.
KENsiNGToN,
July 14, 1843.





SHAKESPEARE'S LIBRARY.
VOL. I.
CONTENTS.
GREENE's PANDosto, the Story on which is founded The
WINTER'S TALE.
LODGE's ROSALYND, the Novel on which is founded AS YOU
LIKE IT.
The Historie of HAMBLET, the History on which the Tragedy
of HAMLET is constructed.
APOLLONIUS, PRINCE OF TYRE, from which the incidents of the
Play of PERICLES are derived.





INTRODUCTION
To
R. G R E E N E'S P AND OST O.
THE more we become acquainted with the sources from
which Shakespeare derived the plots of his dramas, the more
room we find to wonder at the extent, power, and variety of
his genius. We cannot justly estimate his excellence with-
out the knowledge which this publication, and others of a
like kind by which it will be followed, are intended to
furnish.
Those who are best informed regarding the productions of
his contemporaries and rivals are most ready to admit his
immeasurable superiority to all of them. He seems greater
by comparison than when judged of by his own positive and
separate merits; and this position will be completely esta-
blished by the instance before us.
Robert Greene was a man who possessed all the advan-
tages of education: he was a graduate of both Universities—
he was skilled in ancient learning and in modern languages—
he had, besides, a prolific imagination, a lively and elegant
fancy, and a grace of expression rarely exceeded; yet let
any person well acquainted with The Winter's Tale read
the novel of “Pandosto,” upon which it was founded, and he
will be struck at once with the vast pre-eminence of Shake-
speare, and with the admirable manner in which he has
converted materials supplied by another to his own use.
The bare outline of the story (with the exception of Shake-
speare's miraculous conclusion) is nearly the same in both ;
but this is all they have in common, and Shakspeare may be
said to have scarcely adopted a single hint for his descriptions,
0.


ii INTRODUCTION.
or a line for his dialogue"; while in point of passion and
sentiment Greene is cold, formal, and artificial: the very op-
site of every thing in Shakespeare.
It is fair to observe, however, that Greene ceased to write
not long after Shakespeare had commenced his career. Greene
died in September 1592, and the plausible conjecture seems
to be, that by this date Shakespeare had not composed any
of his great works, and had probably not written any thing
original for the stage prior to the year 1588 or 1589. All
the known facts regarding the life of Greene may be found
in the preliminary matter to the Rev. Mr. Dyce's excellent
edition of Greene's Poetical Works. He was certainly an
author in 1584, and perhaps before that date. It is a point
not hitherto touched, that there was, perhaps, an earlier im-
pression of “Pandosto” than any yet discovered; but it
depends not upon obvious facts or inferences, but upon
minute circumstances not worth detailing, and upon a close
observation of the errors of the press, which, in the edition
of 1588, appear to be those which would be made by a com-
positor engaged rather upon a reprint than upon a manu-
* Some verbal resemblances and trifling obligations have been in-
cidentally pointed out by the commentators in their notes to “The
Winter's Tale.” One of the principal instances occurs in Activ, sc. 3,
where Florizel says,
“The gods themselves,
Humbling their deities to love, have taken
The shapes of beasts upon them : Jupiter
Became a bull and bellow'd; the green Neptune
A ram and bleated; and the fire-rob'd god,
Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain,
As I seem now. Their transformations
Were never for a piece of beauty rarer,
Nor in a way so chaste.” -
“This (says Malone) is taken almost literally from the novel,” when,
in fact, the resemblance merely consists in the adoption by Shakespeare
of part of the mythological knowledge supplied by Greene. “The
Gods above disdaine not to love women beneath. Phoebus liked
Daphne; Jupiter Io; and why not I then Fawnia?”—Wide p. 34.
The resemblance is any thing but literal. g * ~ *, p. st J


INTRODUCTION. iii
script." It is a well ascertained fact, that there must have
been an earlier edition of one of the same author's pieces
(a “Quip for an upstart Courtier”) than any that has come
down to us.
As the means of comparison, page by page, and scene by
scene, are now for the first time afforded to the modern
reader, it is not necessary to point out the particular instances
in which Shakespeare follows or differs from his original.
The variation in the conclusion has already been mentioned:
nothing can well be more lame, unsatisfactory, and even
offensive than the winding up of Greene's novel, where
he makes Pandosto first fall desperately and grossly in love
with his own daughter, and then, without any adequate
motive, commit suicide. Here the genius of Shakespeare
triumphed over all competition: he saw at once how the
preceding incidents might be converted to a great dramatic
and moral purpose, the most pathetic and the most beautiful.
In other places the skill and judgment of our great drama-
tist are scarcely less conspicuous: as, for instance, in the very
outset of his play, where he represents Polixenes (the Egistus
of the novel) as previously prepared to take his departure in
his ships, which had only, therefore, to weigh anchor; while
in Greene's novel the determination of the visitor to quit the
kingdom of his royal friend is sudden, and all his vessels
have to be got ready on the instant. The variation in the
time of the disclosure of the decision of the Oracle may
also be noticed as a proof of the knowledge Shakespeare pos-
sessed of dramatic effect. It is, nevertheless, to be admitted,
that a mere prose narrative and an acting drama would re-
quire different treatment.
Steevens correctly stated (Prel. Rem. to the Winter's
* Mr. Dyce (Greene's Works, ii, 242) prints from an edition of
“Pandosto,” as late as 1694 a “love-passion,” addressed by Dorastus
to Fawnia, observing that he had met with it in no earlier impression.
The poem is unquestionably old, and it may possibly have been taken
from the earliest, and now lost, edition of “Pandosto.”


iv INTRODUCTION.
Tale) that “the parts of Antigonus, Paulina, and Autolicus, are
of Shakespeare's own invention;" but he ought to have added
the Shepherd's son to the list, and he committed a strange
blunder (which shews that he had read Greene's work with
very little attention), when he asserted that the Leontes of
Shakespeare is the Egistus of the novel. Pandosto is
Leontes, and Egistus is Polixenes. None of the other com-
mentators corrected the error, or, perhaps, were able to do so,
from not having taken the trouble to go through the incidents
in the original story, and to compare them with those of the
play.
There is one circumstance that ought not to be passed over
without observation; and it will serve to strengthen the
position, that The Tempest was produced anterior to The
Winter's Tale. The Rev. Mr. Hunter, if he have not es-
tablished that The Tempest was written in 1596 (“Disqui-
sition on the Scene, Origin, Date, &c. of the Tempest,” p. 87),
has at all events shewn that it was written earlier than 1611,
to which year Malone assigns both it and The Winter's
Tale. (Shakespeare, by Boswell, ii, 296). Now, the reason
for the opinion, that The Winter's Tale was posterior in
composition to The Tempest is this—that, in his novel of
“Pandosto,” Greene describes the turning adrift of Fawnia
(the Perdita of Shakespeare) at sea in a boat, very much in
the same manner as Prospero describes what had happened
to himself and Miranda under similar circumstances. Shake-
speare having already employed this species of incident in
The Tempest, was obliged to vary it in The Winter's Tale,
or he would probably have followed Greene's description,
which is certainly one of the prettiest and most natural
portions of his narrative. Shakespeare, also, without any
very apparent reason, reverses the scene: his play opens in
Sicily, and Perdita is exposed on the coast of Bohemia; while
Greene's novel begins in Bohemia, and Fawnia is found by
the old Shepherd on the coast of Sicily. Bohemia is, how-
ever, over and over again spoken of by Greene as a maritime


INTRODUCTION. V
country, and Shakespeare, supposing he knew better, did not
think it worth while to disturb the popular notion. We have
the evidence of Taylor, the water-poet, in his “Travels to
Prague,” that in 1620 it was not considered a piece of very
unusual ignorance in an Alderman of London not to be
aware that “a fleet of ships” could not arrive at a port of
Bohemia.
“Pandosto" appears to have been extraordinarily popular,
and Mr. Dyce enumerates twelve editions: to these at least
two others are to be added, with which he was not acquainted,
viz. in 1609 and 1632. No doubt several more have been
lost, as we do not find it to have been reprinted between
1588 and 1607, a period during which it would probably
have been most attractive. The only known copy of the
edition of 1588 is in the British Museum; but it is defec-
tive in one place, and we have necessarily been compelled
to complete our impression from a later copy. Whether the
story were the invention of Greene, or whether, as was not
unusual with him, he adopted it from a foreign language,
cannot now be ascertained; but it is not known abroad in
any other form than that in which it has been received from
this country.
It will not be out of place to take some notice here of a
production by Greene, which Mr. Dyce had never seen, con-
taining a good deal of poetry which ought to have been in-
cluded in his two volumes of Greene's works. It is asserted
by the bookseller to have come from the pen of that prolific
author; but at all events he could have had nothing to do
with the title-page, which runs thus:—“Greenes Vision:
Written at the instant of his death. Conteyning a penitent
passion for the folly of his Pen. sero sed serio. Imprinted at
London for Thomas Newman, and are to be sould at his shop
in Fleetestreete, in Saint Dunstons Churchyard.” It is in 4to,
and in black letter, but without date, though we need not
hesitate in assigning it to the close of 1592. It is autobio-
graphical, which renders the tract more interesting, and in
*


vi INTRODUCTION.
the address to the readers, Greene expresses deep regret that
his lighter pieces had ever been published, adding, “many
things I have wrote to get money, which I could otherwise
wish supprest: povertie is the father of innumerable infirmi-
ties.” The first poem is called “Greene's Ode on the Wa-
nitie of wanton Writings,” which after six introductory lines,
thus speaks of himself under the name of Tytirus:—
“Telling in his song how faire
Phillis eie-browes and her haire:
How her face past all supposes
For white lillies and red roses.
Though he sounded on the hils
Such fond passions as love wils,
That all the swaines that foulded by
Flockt to heare his harmonie,
And vowed by Pan that Tytirus
Did poet-like his loves discusse;
That men might learne mickle good
By the verdict of his mood;
Yet old Menalcas, over-ag'd,
That many winters there had wag'd,
Sitting by and hearing this,
Said their wordes were all amisse,” &c.
The ode is followed by a prayer full of self-reproach, and
afterwards the author represents himself as lying down upon
his bed, and in a vision seeing Chaucer and Gower, both of
whom he describes in verse. The portrait of Chaucer runs
thus:–
“His stature was not very tall;
Leane he was, his legs were small,
Hosd within a stock of red;
A buttond bonnet on his head,
From under which did hang, Iweene,
Silver haires both bright and sheene.
His beard was white, trimmed round,
His countenance blithe and merry found.
A sleevelesse jacket, large and wide,
With many pleights and skirts side,
i


INTRODUCTION. vii
Of water chamlet did he weare.
A whittell by his belt he beare.
His shoes were corned, broad before ;
His inckhorne at his side he wore,
And in his hand he bore a booke:
Thus did this auntient poet looke.”
The “Description of John Gower” may be found extracted
in “Farther Particulars regarding Shakespeare and his
Works,” p. 35. Both are curious, as they were probably
derived from some then existing painting or illumination, not
now known. In the course of the tract Greene acknow-
ledges various works, but he especially repudiates “The
Cobbler of Canterbury," which had been falsely attributed
to him. He speaks of his “Never too Late,” printed in
1590, and of his “Mourning Garment,” as if it were then in
the press; but according to Mr. Dyce (1, cv.) it had been
printed two years before. Greene’s “Repentance,” the title of
which is also introduced, bears date in 1592. Chaucer and
Gower discuss the merits and vices of Greene's productions,
and king Solomon is called in as an umpire, who exhorts
Greene to abandon folly and to seek wisdom.
Another tract by Greene, with a copy of which Mr. Dyce
could never meet, is entitled “The Royal Exchange,” printed
in 1590, and dedicated to the Lord Mayor of that year. It
is a mere prose translation from the Italian, and does not
contain a line of poetry, nor a word to throw farther light
upon Greene's history.





PANDOSTO.
1 The Triumph
Of Time.
JWHEREIN IS DISCOPERED
by a pleasant Historie, that although by the meanes
of sinister fortune, Truth may be concealed
yet by Time in spight of fortune if
is most manifestly reuealed.
Pleasant for age to auoyde drowsie thoughtes,
profitable for youth to eschue other wanton
pastimes, and bringing to both a de-
sired content.
Temporis filia veritas.
* By Robert Greene, Maister of Artes
in Cambridge.
Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit vtile dulci.
Imprinted at London by Thomas Orwin for Thomas
Cadman, dwelling at the Signe of the Bible, neere
wnto the North doore of Paules,
1588.


TO THE GENTLEMEN READERS
HEALTH.
The paultring Poet Aphranius, being blamed for troublinge
the Emperor Trajan with so many doting poems, adventured
notwithstanding stil to present him with rude and homely
verses, excusing himselfe with the courtesie of the Emperour,
which did as friendly accept, as he fondly offerd. So, gentle-
men, if any condemne my rashnesse for troubling your eares
with to many unlearned pamphlets, I will straight shroud
my selfe under the shadowe of your courtesies, and with
Aphranius lay the blame on you, as well for frendly reading
them, as on my selfe for fondly penning them. Hoping,
though fond, curious, or rather currish backbiters breathe out
slaunderous speeches, yet the courteous readers (whom I
feare to offend) will requite my travell at the least with
silence : and in this hope I rest, wishing you health and
happines.
ROBERT GREENE.


TO THE
RIGHT HONORABLE GEORGE CLIFFORD,
EA R I, E OF CUM BER LAND,
ROBERT GREENE
WISHETH INCREASE OF HONOUR AND VERTUE.
THE Rascians (right honorable), when by long gazing
against the sunne they become halfe blinde, recover their
sightes by looking on the blacke loade-stone. Unicornes,
being glutted with brousing on roots of licquoris, sharpen
their stomacks with crushing bitter grasse.
Alexander vouchsafed as well to smile at the croked pic-
ture of Vulcan, as to wonder at the curious counterfeite of
Venus. The minde is sometimes delighted as much with
simall trifles as with sumptuous triumphs; and as wel pleased
with hearing of Pans homely fancies, as of Hercules re-
nowmed laboures.
Syllie Baucis coulde not serve Jupiter in a silver plate,
but in a woodden dish. Al that honour Esculapius decke
not his shrine with jewels. Apollo gives oracles as wel to
the poor man for his mite, as to the rich man for his treasure.
The stone Echites is not so much liked for the colour, as for
vertue, and giftes are not to be measured by the worth, but by
the will. Mison, that unskilfull painter of Greece, adven-
tured to give unto Darius the shielde of Pallas, so roughlie
shadowed, as he smiled more at the follie of the man, then at
the imperfection of his arte. So I present unto your honour
the triumph of time, so rudelic finished, as I feare your honour
wil rather frowne at my impudencie, then laugh at my igno-
A 2


THE EPISTLE DEDICATORIE.
rancie: but I hope my willing minde shal excuse my slender
skill, and your honours curtesie shadowe my rashnes.
They which feare the biting of vipers doe carie in their
hands the plumes of a Phoenix. Phydias drewe Vulcan
sitting in a chaire of ivory. Caesar's crow durst never cry,
Ave, but when she was pearked on the Capitol. And I
seeke to shroude this imperfect pamphlet under your honours
patronage, doubting the dint of such invenomed vipers, as
seeke with their slaunderous reproches to carpe at al, being
oftentimes most unlearned of all; and assure myselfe, that
your honours renowmed valure, and vertuous disposition
shall be a sufficient defence to protect me from the poy-
soned tongues of such scorning sycophants; hoping that as
Jupiter vouchsafed to lodge in Philemons thatched cotage,
and Phillip of Macedon to take a bunch of grapes of a country
pesant, so I hope your honour, measuring my worke by my
will, and wayghing more the mind than the matter, will,
when you have cast a glaunce at this toy, with Minerva,
under your golden target cover a deformed owle. And in
this hope I rest, wishing unto you, and the vertuous Coun-
tesse your wife, such happy successe as your honours can
desire or I imagine.
Your Lordships most duetifully to commaunde,
ROBERT GREENE.


THE HISTORIE
OF
DORASTUS AND FAWNIA.
AMONG al the passions where with humane mindes are
perplexed, there is none that so galleth with restlesse de-
spight as the infectious soare of jealousie; for all other griefes
are eyther to bee appeased with sensible perswasions, to be
cured with wholesome counsel, to be relieved in want, or
by tract of time to be worne out, (jealousie only excepted)
which is so sawsed with suspitious doubtes, and pinching
mistrust, that whoso seekes by friendly counsaile to rase out
this hellish passion, it foorthwith suspecteth that he geveth
this advise to cover his owne guiltinesse. Yea, who so is
payned with this restlesse torment doubteth all, dystrusteth
him-selfe, is alwayes frosen with feare and fired with sus-
pition, having that wherein consisteth all his joy to be the
breeder of his miserie. Yea, it is such a heavy enemy to
that holy estate of matrimony, sowing betweene the married
couples such deadly seedes of secret hatred, as love being
once rased out by spightful distrust, there oft ensueth bloudy
revenge, as this ensuing hystorie manifestly prooveth; where-
in Pandosto (furiously incensed by causelesse jealousie) pro-
cured the death of his most loving and loyall wife, and his
owne endlesse sorrow and misery.
In the countrey of Bohemia, there raygned a king called
Pandosto, whose fortunate successe in warres against his foes,
and bountifull curtesie towardes his friendes in peace, made
him to be greatly feared and loved of all men. This Pan-
dosto had to wife a ladie called Bellaria, by birth royall,


6 THE HISTORIE OF [Winter's
learned by education, faire by nature, by vertues famous, so
that it was hard to judge whether her beautie, fortune, or
vertue wanne the greatest commendations. These two, lincked
together in perfect love, led their lives with such fortunate
content that their subjects greatly rejoyced to see their quiet
disposition. They had not beene married long, but Fortune
(willing to increase their happines) lent them a sonne, so
adorned with the gifts of nature, as the perfection of the
childe greatly augmented the love of the parentes, and the
joy of their commons; in so much that the Bohemians, to
shewe their inward joyes by outwarde actions, made bonefires
and triumphs throughout all the kingdome, appointing justes
and turneyes for the honour of their young prince : whether
resorted not only his nobles, but also divers kings and princes
which were his neighbours, willing to shewe their friendship
they ought to Pandosto, and to win fame and glory by their
prowesse and valour. Pandosto, whose minde was fraught
with princely liberality, entertayned the kings, princes, and
noble men with such submisse curtesie and magnifical bounty,
that they all sawe how willing he was to gratifie their good
wils, making a generall feast for subjects, which continued
by the space of twentie dayes; all which time the justes and
turneys were kept to the great content both of the lordes
and ladies there present. This solemne tryumph being once
ended, the assembly, taking their leave of Pandosto and Bel-
laria, the young sonne (who was called Garinter) was nursed
up in the house to the great joy and content of the parents.
Fortune envious of such happy successe, willing to shewe
some signe of her inconstancie, turned her wheele, and dark-
ned their bright sunne of prosperitie with the mistie cloudes
of mishap and misery. For it so happened that Egistus,
king of Sycilia, who in his youth had bene brought up with
Pandosto, desirous to shewe that neither tracte of time, nor
distance of place could diminish their former friendship, pro-
vided a navie of ships and sayled into Bohemia to visite his
old friend and companion; who hearing of his arrivall, went


Tale.] DORASTUS AND FAWNIA. 7
himselfe in person, and his wife Bellaria accompanied with
a great traine of lords and ladies, to meete Egistus; and
espying him, alighted from his horse, embraced him very
lovingly, protesting that nothing in the world could have
happened more acceptable to him then his comming, wishing
his wife to welcome his olde friend and acquaintance: who
(to shewe how she liked him whom her husband loved) inter-
tayned him with such familiar curtesie as Egistus perceived
himselfe to bee verie well welcome. After they had thus
saluted and embraced eche other, they mounted againe on
horsbacke and rode toward the citie, devising and recount-
ing howe being children they had passed their youth in
friendely pastimes: where by the meanes of the citizens
Egistus was receyved with triumphs and shewes, in such
sort that he marvelled how on so small a warning they coulde
make such preparation.
Passing the streetes thus with such rare sightes they rode
on to the pallace, where Pandosto entertained Egistus and
his Sycilians with such banqueting and sumptuous cheare,
so royally as they all had cause to commend his princely
liberality; yea, the verie basest slave that was knowne to
come from Sycilia was used with such curtesie, that Egistus
might easily perceive how both he and his were honored for
his friendes sake. Bellaria (who in her time was the flower
of curtesie), willing to shew how unfaynedly shee looved her
husband by his friends intertainement, used him likewise
so familiarly that her countenance bewraied how her minde
was affected towardes him, oftentimes comming her selfe
into his bed chamber to see that nothing should be amis to
mislike him. This honest familiarity increased dayly more
and more betwixt them; for Bellaria, noting in Egistus a
princely and bountifull minde, adorned with sundrie and
excellent qualities, and Egistus, finding in her a vertuous
and curteous disposition, there grew such a secret uniting of
their affections, that the one could not well be without the
company of the other : in so much, that when Pandosto was


S THE HISTORIE OF [ Winter's
busied with such urgent affaires that hee could not bee pre-
sent with his friend Egistus, Bellaria would walke with him
into the garden, where they two in privat and pleasant de-
vises would passe away the time to both their contents.
This custome still continuing betwixt them, a certaine me-
lancholy passion entring the minde of Pandosto drave him
into sundry and doubtfull thoughts. First, he called to minde
the beauty of his wife Bellaria, the comelines and braverie of
his friend Egistus, thinking that love was above all lawes
and therefore to be staied with no law; that it was hard to
put fire and flaxe together without burning; that their open
pleasures might breede his secrete displeasures. He consi-
dered with himselfe that Egistus was a man and must needes
love, that his wife was a woman and therefore subject unto
love, and that where fancy forced friendship was of no force.
These and such like doubtfull thoughtes, a long time
smoothering in his stomacke, beganne at last to kindle in
his minde a secret mistrust, which, increased by suspition,
grewe at last to a flaming jealousie that so tormented him
as he could take no rest. He then began to measure all
their actions, and to misconstrue of their too private familia-
ritie, judging that it was not for honest affection, but for
disordinate fancy, so that hee began to watch them more
narrowely to see if he coulde gette any true or certaine
proofe to confirme his doubtfull suspition. While thus he
noted their lookes and gestures and suspected their thoughtes
and meaninges, they two seely soules, who doubted nothing
of this his treacherous intent, frequented daily eache others
companie, which drave him into such a franticke passion,
that he beganne to beare a secret hate to Egistus and a low-
ring countenance to Bellaria; who marveiling at such unac-
customed frowns, began to cast beeyond the moone, and to
enter into a thousand sundrie thoughtes, which way she
should offend her husband: but finding in her selfe a cleare
conscience ceassed to muse, until such time as she might find
fit opportunitie to demaund the cause of his dumps. In the


Tale.] DORASTUS AND FAWNIA. 9
meane time Pandostoes minde was so farre charged with jea-
lousy, that he did no longer doubt, but was assured, (as he
thought) that his friend Egistus had entered a wrong pointe
in his tables, and so had played him false play : whereupon,
desirous to revenge so great an injury, he thought best to
dissemble the grudge with a faire and friendly countenance,
and so under the shape of a friend to shew him the tricke of
a foe. Devising with himself a long time how he might
best put away Egistus without suspition of treacherous mur-
der, hee concluded at last to poyson him; which opinion
pleasing his humour he became resolute in his determination,
and the better to bring the matter to passe he called unto him
his cupbearer, with whom in secret he brake the matter,
promising to him for the performance thereof to geve him
a thousande crownes of yearely revenues.
His cupbearer, eyther being of a good conscience or will-
ing for fashion sake to deny such a bloudy request, began
with great reasons to perswade Pandosto from his deter-
minate mischief, shewing him what an offence murther was
to the Gods; how such unnaturall actions did more displease
the heavens than men, and that causelesse cruelty did sel-
dome or never escape without revenge : he layd before his
face that Egistus was his friend, a king, and one that was
come into his kingdome to confirme a league of perpetuall
amitie betwixt them; that he had and did shew him a most
friendly countenance; how Egistus was not onely honoured
of his owne people by obedience, but also loved of the Bohe-
inians for his curtesie, and that if he now should without
any just or manifest cause poyson him, it would not onely
be a great dishonour to his majestie, and a meanes to sow
perpetuall enmity between the Sycilians and the Bohemians,
but also his owne subjects would repine at such treacherous
cruelty. These and such like perswasions of Franion (for
so was his cupbearer called) could no whit prevaile to dis-
swade him from his divellish enterprize, but remaining reso-
lute in his determination (his fury so fired with rage as it


10 THE HISTORIE OF [Winter's
could not be appeased with reason), he began with bitter
taunts to take up his man, and to lay before him two baites,
preferment and death; saying that if he would poyson Egis-
tus, he would advance him to high dignities; if he refused
to doe it of an obstinate minde, no torture should be too
great to requite his disobedience. Franion, seeing that to
perswade Pandosto any more was but to strive against the
streame, consented as soone as an opportunity would give
him leave to dispatch Egistus: wherewith Pandosto re-
mained somewhat satisfied, hoping now he should be fully
revenged of such mistrusted injuries, intending also as soon as
Egistus was dead to give his wife a sop of the same sawce,
and so be rid of those which were the cause of his restles
sorrow. While thus he lived in this hope, Franion being
secret in his chamber began to meditate with himselfe in
these termes.
Ah, Franion, treason is loved of many, but the traitor hated
of all: unjust offences may for a time escape without danger,
but never without revenge. Thou art servant to a king and
must obey at command; yet, Franion, against law and con-
science it is not good to resist a tyrant with armes, nor to
please an unjust king with obedience. What shalt thou
doe? Folly refused gold, and frenzie preferment: wisdome
seeketh after dignity, and counsell keepeth for gaine. Egis-
tus is a stranger to thee, and Pandosto thy soveraigne: thou
has little cause to respect the one, and oughtest to have great
care to obey the other. Thinke this, Franion, that a pound of
gold is worth a tunne of lead; great gifts are little Gods; and
preferment to a meane man is a whetstone to courage: there
is nothing sweeter then promotion, nor lighter then report.
Care not then though most count thee a traitor, so all call
thee rich. Dignity (Franion) advaunceth thy posteritie, and
evill report can but hurt thy selfe. Know this, where eagles
builde falcons may prey; where lyons haunt, foxes may
steale. Kings are knowne to commaund, servants are blame-
lesse to consent: feare not thou then to lift at Egistus; Pan-


Tale.] DORASTUS AND FAWNIA. 11
dosto shall beare the burthen. Yea but, Franion, conscience
is a worme that ever biteth, but never ceaseth : that which is
rubbed with the stone Galactites will never be hot. Flesh
dipped in the sea AEgeum will never bee sweete: the hearbe
Trigion beeing once bit with an aspis never groweth, and
conscience, once stained with innocent blood, is alwaies tyed
to a guiltie remorse. Prefer thy content before riches, and
a cleare minde before dignity; so beeing poore thou shalt
have rich peace, or else rich, thou shalt enjoy disquiet.
Franion having muttered out these or such like words,
seeing either he must die with a cleare minde, or live with
a spotted conscience, he was so cumbred with divers cogita-
tions that hee could take no rest, untill at last he deter-
mined to breake the matter to Egistus; but fearing that the
king should eyther suspect or heare of such matters, he con-
cealed the device till opportunitie would permit him to re-
veale it. Lingring thus in doubtfull feare, in an evening he
went to Egistus lodging, and desirous to breake with him of
certaine affaires that touched the king, after all were com-
maunded out of the chamber, Franion made manifest the
whole conspiracie which Pandosto had devised against him,
desiring Egistus not to account him a traytor for bewraying
his maisters counsaile, but to thinke that he did it for con-
science: hoping that although his maister, inflamed with rage
or incensed by some sinister reportes or slanderous speeches,
had imagined such causelesse mischiefe, yet when time
should pacifie his anger, and try those talebearers but flat-
tering parasites, then he would count him as a faithfull ser-
uant that with such care had kept his maisters credite. Egis-
tus had not fully heard Franion tell forth his tale, but a quak-
ing feare possessed all his limmes, thinking that there was
some treason wrought, and that Franion did but shaddow his
craft with these false colours: wherefore he began to waxe
in choller, and saide that he doubted not Pandosto, sith he
was his friend, and there had never as yet beene any breach
of amity. He had not sought to invade his lands, to conspire
with his enemies, to disswade his subjects from their allege-
-


12 THE HISTORIE OF [[Pinter's
ance; but in word and thought he rested his at all times:
he knew not therefore any cause that should moove Pan-
dosto to seeke his death, but suspected it to be a compacted
knavery of the Bohemians to bring the king and him to
oddes.
Franion staying him the middst of his talke, told him
that to dally with princes was with the swannes to sing
against their death, and that if the Bohemians had intended
any such mischiefe, it might have beene better brought to
passe then by revealing the conspiracie : therefore his Ma-
jestie did ill to misconstrue of his good meaning, sith his
intent was to hinder treason, not to become a traytor; and to
confirme his promises, if it pleased his Majestie to fly into
Sicilia for the safegarde of his life, hee would goe with him,
and if then he found not such a practise to be pretended, let
his imagined treacherie be repayed with most monstrous tor-
ments. Egistus, hearing the solemne protestation of Franion,
beganne to consider that in love and kingdomes neither
faith nor lawe is to bee respected, doubting that Pandosto
thought by his death to destroy his men, and with speedy
warre to invade Sycilia. These and such doubtes throughly
weyghed he gave great thankes to Franion, promising if hee
might with life returne to Syracusa, that he would create him
a duke in Sycilia, craving his counsell how hee might es-
cape out of the countrie. Franion, who having some small
skill in navigation was well acquainted with the ports and
havens, and knew every daunger in the sea, joyning in coun-
sell with the maister of Egistus navie, rigged all their ships,
and setting them a flote, let them lie at anchor to be in the
more readines when time and winde should serve.
Fortune, although blind, yet by chaunce favouring this just
cause, sent them within six dayes a good gale of winde ;
which Franion seeing fit for their purpose, to put Pandosto
out of suspition, the night before they should sayle he went
to him, and promised that the next day he would put the
device in practice, for he had got such a forcible poyson, as
the very smell thereof wold procure suddain death. Pan-


Tale.] DORASTUS AND FAW NIA. 1:3
dosto was joyfull to heare this good newes, and thought every
houre a day till he might be glutted with bloudy revenge;
but his suit had but ill successe. For Egistus, fearing that
delay might breede danger, and willing that the grasse should
not be cut from under his feete, taking bagge and baggage,
by the helpe of Franion conveied himselfe and his men out
at a posterne gate of the cittie, so secretly and speedily that
without any suspition they got to the sea shoare; where with
many a bitter curse taking their leave of Bohemia, they went
aboord. Weighing their anchors and hoisting sayle, they
passed as fast as wind and sea would permit towards Sycilia,
Egistus being a joyfull man that he had safely past such
treacherous perils. But as they were quietly floating on the
sea, so Pandosto and his cittizens were in an oproare; for
seeing that the Sycilians without taking their leave were fled
away by night, the Bohemians feared some treason, and the
king thought that without question his suspition was true,
seeing the cup-bearer had bewrayed the sum of his secret
pretence. Whereupon he began to imagine that Franion
and his wife Bellaria had conspired with Egistus, and that
the fervent affection shee bare him was the onely meanes of
his secret departure; in so much that incensed with rage he
commaundes that his wife should be carried straight to prison
untill they heard further of his pleasure. The guarde, un-
willing to lay their hands one such a vertuous princesse and
yet fearing the kings fury, went very sorrowfull to fulfill their
charge. Comming to the queenes lodging they found her
playing with her yong sonne Garinter, unto whom with teares
doing the message, Bellaria, astonished at such a hard cen-
sure and finding her cleere conscience a sure advocate to
pleade in her cause, went to the prison most willingly, where
with sighes and teares shee past away the time till she
might come to her triall.
But Pandosto, whose reason was suppressed with rage
and whose unbridled follie was incensed with fury, seeing
Franion had bewrayed his secrets, and that Egistus might
well be rayled on, but not revenged, determined to wreake


14 THE HISTORIE OF [Winter's
all his wrath on poore Bellaria. He therefore caused a
generall proclamation to be made through all his realme
that the Queene and Egistus had, by the helpe of Franion,
not onely committed most incestuous adultery, but also had
conspired the kings death; whereupon the traitor Franion
was fled away with Egistus, and Bellaria was most justly
imprisoned. This proclamation being once blazed through
the country, although the vertuous disposition of the queene
did halfe discredit the contents, yet the suddaine and speedy
passage of Egistus, and the secret departure of Franion, in-
duced them (the circumstances throughly considered) to thinke
that both the proclamation was true, and the king greatly
injured: yet they pittyed her case, as sorrowful that so good
a lady should be crossed with such adverse fortune. But the
king, whose restlesse rage would remit no pitty, thought that
although he might sufficiently requite his wives falshood with
the bitter plague of pinching penury, yet his minde should
never be glutted with revenge till he might have fit time and
opportunity to repay the trechery of Egistus with a totall in-
jury. But a curst cow hath oftentimes short hornes, and
a willing minde but a weake arme; for Pandosto, although
he felt that revenge was a spurre to warre, and that envy
alwaies proffereth steele, yet he saw that Egistus was not
onely of great puissance and prowesse to withstand him, but
had also many kings of his alliance to ayde him, if neede
should serve, for he married the Emperours daughter of
Russia. These and the like considerations something daunted
Pandosto his courage, so that he was content rather to put up
a manifest injurie with peace, then hunt after revenge, dis-
honor and losse; determining, since Egistus had escaped
scot-free, that Bellaria should pay for all at an unreasonable
price.
Remayning thus resolute in his determination, Bellaria
continuing still in prison and hearing the contents of the
proclamation, knowing that her minde was never touched
with such affection, nor that Egistus had ever offered her such
discurtesie, would gladly have come to her answere, that both


Tale.] DORASTUS AND FAW NIA. 15
shee might have knowne her just accusers, and cleared her
selfe of that guiltlesse crime.
But Pandosto was so inflamed with rage and infected with
jelousie, as he would not vouchsafe to heare her, nor admit
any just excuse; so that shee was faine to make a vertue of
her neede and with patience to beare those heavie injuries.
As thus shee lay crossed with calamities (a great cause to in-
crease her griefe) she founde her selfe quicke with childe,
which as soone as she felt stirre in her body she burst forth
into bitter teares, exclayming against fortune in these termes.
Alas, Bellaria, how infortunate art thou, because fortunate
Better thou hadst beene borne a beggar then a prince, so
shouldest thou have bridled fortune with want, where now
shee sporteth her selfe with thy plentie. Ah happy life,
where poore thoughts and meane desires live in secure con-
tent, not fearing fortune because too low for fortune. Thou
seest now, Bellaria, that care is a companion to honor, not to
povertie; that high cedars are crushed with tempests, when
low shrubs are not touched with the winde; pretious diamonds
are cut with the file, when despised pibbles lye safe in the
sand. Delphos is sought to by princes, not beggers, and For-
tunes altars smoke with kings presents, not with poore mens
gifts. Happie are such, Bellaria, that curse fortune for con-
tempt, not feare, and may wish they were, not sorrow they
have beene. Thou art a princesse, Bellaria, and yet a pri-
soner; borne to the one by descent, assigned to the other by
dispite; accused without cause, and therefore oughtest to dye
without care, for patience is a shield against fortune, and a
guiltlesse minde yeeldeth not to sorrow. Ah, but infamy
galleth unto death, and liveth after death: report is plumed
with Times feathers, and envie oftentimes soundeth Fames
trumpet: the suspected adultery shall fly in the ayre, and thy
knowne vertues shall lye hid in the earth; one moale staineth
the whole face, and what is once spotted with infamy can
hardly be worne out with time. Die then, Bellaria, Bellaria
die; for if the Gods should say thou art guiltlesse, yet envie


16 THE HISTORIE OF [ Winter's
would heare the Gods, but never beleeve the Gods. Ah,
haplesse wretch, cease these tearmes: desperate thoughts are
fit for them that feare shame, not for such as hope for credite.
Pandosto hath darkened thy fame, but shall never discredite
thy vertues. Suspition may enter a false action, but proofe
shall never put in his plea: care not then for envie, sith re-
port hath a blister on her tongue, and let sorrow baite them
which offend, not touch thee that art faultlesse. But alas,
poor soule, how canst thou but sorrow ! Thou art with childe,
and by him that in steed of kinde pittie pincheth thee in cold
prison.
And with that, such gasping sighes so stopping her breath
that shee could not utter more words, but wringing her hands,
and gushing forth streames of teares, shee passed away the
time with bitter complaints. The jaylor, pitying those her
heavie passions, thinking that if the king knew she were
with childe he would somewhat appease his fury and re-
lease her from prison, went in al hast and certified Pandosto
what the effect of Bellarias complaint was ; who no sooner
heard the jaylor say she was with childe, but as one pos-
sessed with a phrenzie he rose up in a rage, swearing that
shee and the basterd brat she was [big] withall should die
if the Gods themselves said no; thinking that surely by
computation of time that Egistus and not he was the father
to the childe. This suspitious thought galled a fresh this
halfe healed sore, in so much as he could take no rest untill
he might mittigate his choller with a just revenge, which
happened presently after. For Bellaria was brought to bed
of a faire and beautifull daughter, which no sooner Pandosto
hearde, but he determined that both Bellaria and the young
infant should be burnt with fire. His nobles hearing of the
kings cruell sentence sought by perswasions to divert him
from his bloodie determination, laying before his face
innocencie of the childe, and vertuous disposition
how she had continually loved and honour
derly that without due proofe he coul


Tale.] DORASTUS AND FAWNIA. 17
to appeach her of that crime. And if she had faulted, yet it
were more honourable to pardon with mercy then to punish
with extremity, and more kingly to be commended of
pitty than accused of rigour: and as for the childe, if he
should punish it for the mothers offence, it were to strive
against nature and justice; and that unnatural actions doe
more offend the gods then men; how causelesse cruelty, nor
innocent blood never scapes without revenge. These and
such like reasons could not appease his rage, but he rested
resolute in this, that Bellaria being an adultresse the childe
was a bastard, and he would not suffer that such an infamous
brat should call him father. Yet at last (seeing his noble
men were importunate upon him) he was content to spare the
childes life, and yet to put it to a worse death. For he found
out this devise, that seeing (as he thought) it came by fortune,
so he would commit it to the charge of fortune, and therefore
caused a little cock-boat to be provided, wherein he meant to
put the babe, and then send it to the mercies of the seas and
the destenies. From this his peeres in no wise could per-
swade him, but that he sent presently two of his guard to
fetch the childe: who being come to the prison, and with
weeping teares recounting their maisters message, Bellaria
no sooner heard the rigorious resolution of her mercilesse
husband, but she fell downe in a swound, so that all thought
she had bin dead : yet at last being come to her selfe, shee
cryed and screeched out in this wise.
Alas, sweete infortunate babe, scarce borne, before envied
by fortune! would the day of thy birth had beene the terme
of thy life; then shouldest thou have made an ende to care
and prevented thy fathers rigour. Thy faults cannot yet de-
serve such hatefull revenge; thy dayes are too short for so
sharpe a doome, but thy untimely death must pay thy mothers
debts, and her guiltlesse crime must bee thy gastly curse.
And shalt thou, sweete babe, be committed to fortune, when
thou art already spited by fortune? Shall the seas be thy har-
bour and the hard boate thy cradle? Shall thy tender mouth,
B


18 THE HISTORIE OF [Winter's
in steede of sweete kisses, be nipped with bitter stormes :
Shalt thou have the whistling windes for thy lullabie, and the
salt sea fome in steede of sweete milke 1 Alas, what des-
tinies would assigne such hard hap! What father would be
so cruell, or what gods will not revenge such rigor? Let
me kisse thy lippes (sweete infant) and wet thy tender
cheekes with my teares, and put this chayne about thy little
necke, that if fortune save thee, it may helpe to succour thee.
This, since thou must goe to surge in the gastfull seas, with a
sorrowfull kisse I bid thee farewell, and I pray the gods thou
maist fare well.
Such, and so great was her griefe, that her vitall spirits
being suppressed with sorrow, she fell againe downe into a
trance, having her sences so sotted with care that after shee
was revived yet shee lost her memorie, and lay for a great
time without moving, as one in a trance. The guard left her
in this perplexitie, and carried the child to the king, who
quite devoide of pity commanded that without delay it should
bee put in the boat, having neither saile nor other to guid it,
and so to be carried into the midst of the sea, and there left to
the wind and wave as the destinies please to appoint. The
very ship-men, seeing the sweete countenance of the yong
babe, began to accuse the king of rigor, and to pity the childs
hard fortune; but feare constrayned them to that which their
nature did abhorre, so that they placed it in one of the ends
of the boat, and with a few greene bows made a homely
cabben to shrowd it as they could from wind and weather.
Having thus trimmed the boat they tied it to a ship and so
haled it into the mayne sea, and then cut in sunder the coarde;
which they had no sooner done, but there arose a mighty
tempest, which tossed the little boate so vehemently in the
waves that the shipmen thought it could not continue long
without sincking; yea, the storme grewe so great, that with
much labour and perill they got to the shoare.
But leaving the childe to her fortunes, againe to Pandosto,
who not yet glutted with sufficient revenge devised which way


Tale.] DORASTUS AND FAWNIA. 19
he should best increase his wives calamitie. But first assem-
bling his nobles and counsellors, hee called her for the more
reproch into open court, where it was objected against her
that she had committed adulterie with Egistus, and conspired
with Franion to poyson Pandosto her husband, but their pre-
tence being partely spyed, she counselled them to flie away by
night for their better safety. Bellaria, who standing like a
prisoner at the barre, feeling in her selfe a cleare conscience
to withstand her false accusers, seeing that no lesse than
death could pacifie her husbands wrath, waxed bolde and
desired that she might have lawe and justice, for mercy shee
neyther craved nor hoped for; and that those perjured wretches
which had falsely accused her to the king might be brought
before her face to give in evidence. But Pandosto, whose
rage and jealousie was such as no reason nor equitie could
appease, tolde her, that for her accusers they were of such
credite as their wordes were sufficient witnesse, and that
the sodaine and secret flight of Egistus and Franion con-
firmed that which they had confessed; and as for her, it was
her parte to deny such a monstrous crime, and to be impu-
dent in forswearing the fact, since shee had past all shame
in committing the fault: but her stale countenaunce should
stand for no coyne, for as the bastard which she bare was
served, so she should with some cruell death be requited.
Bellaria, no whit dismayed with this rough reply, tolde her
husband Pandosto that he spake upon choller and not con-
science, for her vertuous life had beene ever such as no spot
of suspicion could ever staine. And if she had borne a
frendly countenaunce to Egistus, it was in respect he was
his friende, and not for any lusting affection; therefore, if she
were condemned without any further proofe it was rigour
and not law.
The noble men which sate in judgement said that Bellaria
spake reason, and intreated the king that the accusers might
be openly examined and sworne, and if then the evidence
were such as the jury might finde her guilty, (for seeing
B 2


20 THE HISTORIE OF [Winter's
she was a prince she ought to be tryed by her peeres) then
let her have such punishment as the extremitie of the law
will assigne to such malefactors. The king presently made
answere that in this case he might and would dispence
with the law, and that the jury being once panneld they
should take his word for sufficient evidence, otherwise he
would make the proudest of them repent it. The noble
men seeing the king in choler were all whist; but Bellaria,
whose life then hung in the ballaunce, fearing more perpe-
tuall infamie then momentarie death, tolde the king if his
furie might stand for a law that it were vaine to have the
jury yeeld their verdict; and therefore she fell downe upon
her knees, and desired the king that for the love he bare to
his young sonne Garinter, whome she brought into the world,
that hee woulde graunt her a request; which was this, that it
would please his majestie to send sixe of his noble men
whome he best trusted to the Isle of Delphos, there to en-
quire of the oracle of Apollo whether she had committed
adultery with Egistus, or conspired to poyson him with Fra-
nion? and if the god Apollo, who by his devine essence knew
al secrets, gave answere that she was guiltie, she were con-
tent to suffer any torment were it never so terrible. The
request was so reasonable that Pandosto could not for shame
deny it, unlesse he would bee counted of all his subjects
more wilfull than wise: he therefore agreed that with as much
speede as might be there should be certaine Embassadores
dispatched to the Ile of Delphos, and in the meane season
he commanded that his wife should be kept in close prison.
Bellaria having obtained this graunt was now more carefull
for her little babe that floated on the seas then sorrowful for
her owne mishap, for of that she doubted: of her selfe shee
was assured, knowing if Apollo should give oracle according
to the thoughts of the hart, yet the sentence should goe on her
side, such was the clearenes of her minde in this case. But
Pandosto (whose suspitious head still remained in one song)
chose out six of his nobility whom hee knew were scarse


22 THE HISTORIE OF [Winter's
jestie that they had received an aunswere of the God written
in a scroule, but with this charge, that they should not reade
the contents before they came in the presence of the king,
and with that they delivered him the parchment: but his
noble men entreated him that, sith therein was contayned
either the safetie of his wives life and honesty or her death
and perpetuall infamy, that he would have his nobles and
commons assembled in the judgment hall, where the queene,
brought in as prysoner, should heare the contents. If shee
were found guilty by the oracle of the God, then all should
have cause to thinke his rigour proceeded of due desert: if
her grace were found faultlesse, then shee should bee cleared
before all, sith she had been accused openly. This pleased
the king so, that he appointed the day, and assembled al his
lords and commons, and caused the queene to be brought in
before the judgemente seate, commaunding that the indite-
ment shoulde bee read wherein she was accused of adultery
with Egistus and of conspiracy with Franion. Bellaria hear-
ing the contentes was no whit astonished, but made this
chearefull aunswer:—
If the devine powers bee privy to humane actions (as no
doubt they are) I hope my patience shall make fortune blushe,
and my unspotted life shall staine spightful discredit. For
although lying report hath sought to appeach mine honor,
and suspition hath intended to soyle my credit with infamie,
yet where vertue keepeth the forte, report and suspition may
assayle, but never sack: how I have led my life before Egis-
tus comming, I appeale, Pandosto, to the gods and to thy con-
science. What hath passed betwixt him and me, the gods
onely know, and I hope will presently reveale: that I loved
Egistus I can not denie; that I honored him I shame not to
confesse: to the one I was forced by his vertues, to the other
for his dignities. But as touching lascivious lust, I say Egis-
tus is honest, and hope my selfe to be found without spot: for
Franion, I can neither accuse him nor excuse him, for I was


Tale.] DORASTUS AND FAWNIA, 23
not privie to his departure; and that this is true which I have
heere rehearsed I referre myself to the devine oracle.
Bellaria had no sooner sayd but the king commaunded that
one of his dukes should reade the contentes of the scroule,
which after the commons had heard they gave a great showt
rejoysing and clapping their hands that the queene was cleare
of that false accusation. But the king, whose conscience was
a witnesse against him of his witlesse furie and false sus-
pected jealousie, was so ashamed of his rashe folly that he
entreated his nobles to perswade Bellaria to forgive and for-
get these injuries; promising not onely to shew himselfe a
loyall and loving husband, but also to reconcile himselfe to
Egistus and Franion; revealing then before them all the
cause of their secrete flighte, and how treacherously hee
thought to have practised his death, if the good minde of
his cupbearer had not prevented his purpose. As thus he
was relating the whole matter, there was worde brought him
that his young sonne Garinter was sodainly dead, which
newes so soone as Bellaria heard, surcharged before with ex-
treame joy and now suppressed with heavie sorrowe, her vitall
spirites were so stopped that she fell downe presently dead,
and could never be revived. This sodaine sight so appalled
the kingessences, that he sanck from his seate in a sound, so as
he was fayne to be carried by his nobles to his pallace, where
hee lay by the space of three dayes without speache. His
commons were, as men in dispaire, diversly distressed: there
was nothing but mourning and lamentation to be heard
throughout al Bohemia: their young prince dead, their vertuous
queene bereaved of her life, and their king and soveraigne in
great hazard. This tragicall discourse of fortune so daunted
them, as they went like shadowes, not men; yet somewhat to
comfort their heavie hearts, they heard that Pandosto was come
to himselfe, and had recovered his speache, who as in a fury
brayed out these bitter speaches:
O miserable Pandosto! what surer witnesse then conscience 1


24 THE HISTORIE OF [Winter's
what thoughts more sower then suspition? what plague more
bad then jealousie! unnaturall actions offend the gods more
than men, and causelesse crueltie never scapes without re-
venge. I have committed such a bloudy fact, as repent I may,
but recall I cannot. Ah, jealousie! a hell to the minde, and a
horror to the conscience, suppressing reason, and inciting rage;
a worse passion than phrensie, a greater plague than mad-
nesse. Are the gods just 1 then let them revenge such
brutishe crueltie. My innocent babe I have drowned in the
seas; my loving wife I have slaine with slaunderous suspi-
tion; my trusty friend I have sought to betray, and yet the
gods are slack to plague such offences. Ah, unjust Apollo'
Pandosto is the man that hath committed the faulte, why
should Garinter, seely childe, abide the paine ! Well, sith the
gods meane to prolong my dayes to increase my dolour, I
will offer my guiltie bloud a sacrifice to those sackles soules
whose lives are lost by my rigorous folly.
And with that he reached at a rapier to have murdered
himselfe, but his peeres being present stayed him from such
a bloudy acte, perswading him to think that the common-
wealth consisted on his safetie, and that those sheepe could
not but perish that wanted a sheepheard; wishing that if hee
would not live for himselfe, yet he should have care of his sub-
jects, and to put such fancies out of his minde, sith in sores
past help salves doe not heale but hurt, and in thinges past
cure, care is a corrosive. With these and such like per-
swasions the kinge was overcome, and began somewhat to
quiet his minde; so that as soone as he could goe abroad hee
caused his wife to bee embalmed, and wrapt in lead with
her young sonne Garinter; erecting a rich and famous sepul-
chre wherein hee intombed them both, making such solemme
obsequies at her funeral as al Bohemia might perceive he did
greatly repent him of his forepassed folly; causing this epi-
taph to be ingraven on her tombe in letters of golde —


Tale.] DORASTUS AND FAW NIA. 25
T THE EPITAPH.
HERE LYES ENTOMBDE BELLARIA FAIRE,
FALSLY ACCU SED TO BE UN CHAste :
CLEARED BY APOLLOS SACRED DOOME,
YEt SLAiNE BY JEALO USIE AT LAST.
whAT ERE THou BE THAT Pass Est BY,
CURSSE HIM THAT CAUSDE THIS QUEENE TO DIE.
This epitaph being ingraven, Pandosto would once a day
repaire to the tombe, and there with watry plaintes bewaile
his misfortune, coveting no other companion but sorrowe, nor
no other harmonie but repentance. But leaving him to his
dolorous passions, at last let us come to shewe the tragicall
discourse of the young infant.
Who beeing tossed with winde and wave floated two whole
daies without succour, readie at every puffe to bee drowned
in the sea, till at last the tempest ceassed and the little boate
was driven with the tyde into the coast of Sycilia, where
sticking uppon the sandes it rested. Fortune minding to be
wanton, willing to shewe that as she hath wrinckles on her
browes so shee hath dimples in her cheekes, thought after so
many sower lookes to lend a fayned smile, and after a puffing
storme to bring a pretty calme, shee began thus to dally.
It fortuned a poore mercenary sheepheard that dwelled in
Sycilia, who got his living by other mens flockes, missed
one of his sheepe, and thinking it had strayed into the co-
vert that was hard by, sought very diligently to find that
which he could not see, fearing either that the wolves or
eagles had undone him (for he was so poore as a sheepe was
halfe his substaunce), wandered downe toward the sea cliffes
to see if perchaunce the sheepe was browsing on the sea ivy,
whereon they greatly doe feede; but not finding her there,
as he was ready to returne to his flocke hee heard a child
crie, but knowing there was no house nere, he thought he
had mistaken the sound and that it was the bleatyng of his
sheepe. Wherefore looking more narrowely, as he cast his
eye to the sea he spyed a little boate, from whence, as he


26 THE HISTORIE OF [Winter's
attentively listened, he might heare the cry to come. Stand-
ing a good while in a maze, at last he went to the shoare,
and wading to the boate, as he looked in he saw the little
babe lying al alone ready to die for hunger and colde, wrap-
ped in a mantle of scarlet richely imbrodered with golde, and
having a chayne about the necke.
The sheepeheard, who before had never seene so faire a babe
nor so riche jewels, thought assuredly that it was some little
god, and began with great devocion to knock on his breast.
The babe, who wrythed with the head to seeke for the pap,
began againe to cry a fresh, whereby the poore man knew
that it was a childe, which by some sinister meanes was
driven thither by distresse of weather; marvailing how such
a seely infant, which by the mantle and the chayne could
not be but borne of noble parentage, should be so hardly
crossed with deadly mishap. The poore sheepheard, perplex-
ed thus with divers thoughts, tooke pitty of the childe, and
determined with himselfe to carry it to the king, that there it
might be brought up according to the worthinesse of.birth,
for his ability could not afforde to foster it, though his good
minde was willing to further it. Taking therefore the chylde
in his armes, as he foulded the mantle together the better to
defende it from colde there fell downe at his foote a very faire
and riche purse, wherein he founde a great summe of golde;
which sight so revived the shepheard's spirits, as he was
greatly ravished with joy and daunted with feare; joyful to
see such a summe in his power, and feareful if it should be
knowne that it might breede his further daunger. Neces-
sitie wisht him at the least to retaine the golde, though he
would not keepe the childe: the simplicity of his conscience
scared him from such deceiptfull briberie. Thus was the
poore manne perplexed with a doubtfull dilemma untill at
last the covetousnesse of the coyne overcame him; for what
will not the greedy desire of golde cause a man to doe! so
that he was resolved in himselfe to foster the childe, and with
the summe to relieve his want. Resting thus resolute in this


Tale.] DORASTUS AND FAWNIA. 27
point he left seeking of his sheepe, and as covertly and
secretly as he coulde, went by a by way to his house, least
any of his neighbours should perceave his carriage. As soone
as he was got home, entring in at the doore, the childe
began to crie, which his wife hearing, and seeing her husband
with a yong babe in his armes, began to bee somewhat
jealousse, yet marveiling that her husband should be so wanton
abroad sith he was so quiet at home: but as women are
naturally given to beleeve the worste, so his wife, thinking it
was some bastard, beganne to crow against her goodman, and
taking up a cudgel (for the most maister went breechles)
sware solemnly that she would make clubs trumps if hee
brought any bastard brat within her dores. The goodman,
seeing his wife in her majestie with her mace in her hand,
thought it was time to bowe for feare of blowes, and desired
her to be quiet, for there was non such matter; but if she
could holde her peace they were made for ever: and with
that he told her the whole matter, how he had found the
child in a little boat, without any succour, wrapped in that
costly mantle, and having that rich chaine about the neck. But
at last, when he shewed her the purse full of gold, she began
to simper something sweetely, and, taking her husband about
the neck kissed him after her homely fashion, saying that
she hoped God had seene their want and now ment to
relieeve their poverty, and seeing they could get no chil-
dren, had sent them this little babe to be their heire. Take
heed in any case, (quoth the shepherd) that you be secret,
and blabbe it not out when you meete with your gossippes,
for if you doe, we are like not only to loose the golde and
jewels, but our other goodes and lives. Tush (quoth his wife),
profit is a good hatch before the doore: feare not, I have
other thinges to talke of than this; but I pray you let us lay
up the money surely, and the jewels, least by any mishap
it be spied.
After that they had set all things in order the shepheard
went to his sheepe with a merry note, and the good wife
learned to sing lullaby at home with her yong babe, wrap-


28 THE HISTORIE OF [Winter's
ping it in a homely blanket in sted of a rich mantle;
nourishing it so clenly and carefully as it began to bee a
jolly girle, in so much that they began both of them to
be very fond of it, seeing as it waxed in age so it increased
in beauty. The shepheard every night at his comming home
would sing and daunce it on his knee and prattle, that in a
short time it began to speake, and call him Dad, and her Mam:
at last when it grew to ripe yeeres that it was about seven
yeares olde, the shepheard left keeping of other mens sheepe,
and with the money he found in the purse he bought him
the lease of a pretty farme, and got a smal flocke of sheepe,
which when Fawnia (for so they named the child) came to
the age of ten yeres hee set her to keepe, and shee with such
diligence performed her charge as the sheepe prospered
marveilously under her hand. Fawnia thought Porrus had
ben her father, and Mopsa her mother, (for so was the shep-
heard and his wife called) honoured and obeyed them with
such reverence that all the neighbours praised the duetifull
obedience of the child. Porrus grewe in a short time to bee
a man of some wealth and credite, for fortune so favoured
him in having no charge but Fawnia, that he began to pur-
chase land, intending after his death to give it to his daughter,
so that divers rich farmers sonnes came as wooers to his
house. For Fawnia was something clenly attired, being of
such singular beautie and excellent witte, that whoso saw
her would have thought shee had bene some heavenly nymph
and not a mortal creature, in so much that when she came to
the age of sixteene yeeres shee so increased with exquisite
perfection both of body and minde, as her natural disposition
did bewray that she was borne of some high parentage;
but the people thinking she was daughter to the shephard
Porrus rested only amazed at her beauty and wit; yea, she
won such favour and commendations in every mans eye,
as her beautie was not onely praysed in the countrey, but also
spoken of in the court; yet such was her submisse modestie,
that although her praise daily increased, her minde was no
whit puffed up with pride, but humbled her selfe as became


Tale.] DORASTUS AND FAWNIA. 29
a country mayde and the daughter of a poore sheepheard.
Every day she went forth with her sheepe to the field, keep-
ing them with such care and diligence as al men thought she
was verie painfull, defending her face from the heat of the
sunne with no other vale but with a garland made of bowes
and flowers, which attire became her so gallantly as shee
seemed to bee the goddesse Flora her selfe for beauty.
Fortune, who al this while had shewed a frendly face, began
now to turne her back and to shew a lowring countenaunce,
intending as she had given Fawnia a slender checke, so she
would give her a harder mate; to bring which to passe, she layd
her traine on this wise. Egistus had but one only son, called
Dorastus, about the age of twenty yeeres; a prince so decked
and adorned with the gifts of nature, so fraught with beauty
and vertuous qualities, as not onely his father joyed to have
so good a sonne, and al his commons rejoyced that God had
lent them such a noble prince to succeede in the kingdom.
Egistus placing al his joy in the perfection of his sonne,
seeing that hee was now marriageable, sent embassadors to
the king of Denmarke to intreate a mariage betweene him
and his daughter, who willingly consenting made answer
that the next spring, if it please Egistus with his sonne to
come into Denmarke, hee doubted not but they should agree
upon reasonable conditions. Egistus resting satisfied with
this friendly answer thought convenient in the meane time
to breake with his sonne: finding therefore on a day fit
opportunity, he spake to him in these fatherly tearmes:—
Dorastus, thy youth warneth me to prevent the worst, and
mine age to provide the best. Oportunities neglected are
signes of folly: actions measured by time are seldome bitten
with repentance. Thou art young, and I olde; age hath
taught me that which thy youth cannot yet conceive. I
therefore will counsell thee as a father, hoping thou wilt
obey as a childe. Thou seest my white hayres are blossomes
for the grave, and thy freshe colour fruite for time and fortune,
so that it behooveth me to thinke how to dye, and for thee to


30 THE HISTORIE OF [Winter's
care how to live. My crowne I must leave by death, and
thou enjoy my kingdome by succession, wherein I hope thy
vertue and prowesse shall bee such, as though my subjectes
want my person, yet they shall see in thee my perfection.
That nothing either may faile to satisfie thy minde, or increase
thy dignities, the onely care I have is to see thee well marryed
before I die and thou become olde.
Dorastus, who from his infancy delighted rather to die with
Mars in the fielde then to dally with Venus in the chamber,
fearing to displease his father, and yet not willing to be wed,
made him this reuerent answere.
Sir, there is no greater bond then duetie, nor no straiter
law then nature: disobedience in youth is often galled with
despight in age. The commaund of the father ought to be a
constraint to the childe: so parentes willes are laws, so they
passe not all laws. May it please your Grace therefore to
appoint whome I shall love, rather then by deniall I should be
appeached of disobedience. I rest content to love, though it
bee the only thing I hate.
Egistus hearing his sonne to flie so farre from the marke
began to be somewhat chollericke, and therefore made him
this hastie aunswere. *
What, Dorastus, canst thou not love? Commeth this cynicall
passion of prone desires or peevish frowardnesse 1 What durst
thou thinke thy selfe to good for all, or none good inough for
thee! I tel thee, Dorastus, there is nothing sweeter then youth,
nor swifter decreasing while it is increasing. Time past
with folly may bee repented, but not recalled. If thou marrie
in age, thy wives freshe couloures will breed in thee dead
thoughtes and suspition, and thy white hayres her lothesom-
nesse and sorrowe; for Venus affections are not fed with
kingdomes, or treasures, but with youthfull conceits and
sweet amours. Vulcan was allotted to shake the tree, but Mars
allowed to reape the fruit. Yeelde, Dorastus, to thy fathers
perswasions, which may prevent thy perils. I have chosen
thee a wife, faire by nature, royall by birth, by vertues famous,


Tale.] DORASTUS AND FAWNIA. 31
learned by education and rich by possessions, so that it is hard
to judge whether her bounty or fortune, her beauty or vertue
bee of greater force. I mean, Dorastus, Euphrania, daughter
and heire to the king of Denmarke.
Egistus pausing here a while, looking when his son should
make him answere, and seeing that he stoode still as one in
a trance, he shooke him up thus sharply.
Well, Dorastus, take heede; the tree Alpya wasteth not
with fire, but withereth with the dewe: that which love
nourisheth not, perisheth with hate. If thou like Euphrania,
thou breedest my content, and in loving her thou shalt have
my love; otherwise and with that hee flung from his sonne
in a rage, leaving him a sorrowfull man, in that he had by
deniall displeased his father, and halfe angrie with him selfe
that hee could not yeeld to that passion whereto both reason
and his father perswaded him. But see how fortune is plumed
with times feathers, and how shee can minister strange causes
to breede straunge effectes.
It happened not long after this that there was a meeting
of all the farmers daughters in Sycilia, whither Fawnia was
also bidden as the mistres of the feast, who having attired
her selfe in her best garments, went among the rest of her
companions to the merry meeting, there spending the day in
such homely pastimes as shepheards use. As the evening
grew on and their sportes ceased, ech taking their leave at
other, Fawnia, desiring one of her companions to beare her
companie, went home by the flocke to see if they were well
folded, and as they returned it fortuned that Dorastus (who
all that daye had bene hawking, and kilde store of game)
incountred by the way these two mayds, and casting his eye
sodenly on Fawnia he was halfe afraid, fearing that with
Acteon he had seene Diana; for he thought such exquisite per-
ſection could not be founde in any mortall creature. As thus
he stoode in a maze one of his pages told him that the maide
with the garland on her head was Fawnia, the faire shepheard
whose beauty was so much talked of in the court, Dorastus,


32 THE HISTORIE OF [Winter's
desirous to see if nature had adorned her minde with any
inward qualities, as she had decked her body with outward
shape, began to question with her whose daughter she was,
of what age, and how she had bin trained up ! who answered
him with such modest reverence and sharpnesse of witte, that
Dorastus thought her outward beautie was but a counterfait to
darken her inward qualities, wondring how so courtly beha-
viour could be found in so simple a cottage, and cursing fortune
that had shadowed wit and beauty with such hard fortune.
As thus he held her a long while with chat, beauty seeing
him at discovert thought not to lose the vantage, but strooke
him so deepely with an invenomed shafte, as he wholy lost
his libertie, and became a slave to love, which before con-
temned love, glad now to gaze on a poore shepheard, who
before refused the offer of a riche princesse; for the perfection
of Fawnia had so fired his fancie as he felt his minde greatly
chaunged, and his affections altered, cursing love that had
wrought such a chaunge, and blaming the basenesse of his
mind that would make such a choice; but thinking that these
were but passionat toies that might be thrust out at pleasure,
to avoid the syren that inchaunted him he put spurs to his
horse, and bad this faire shepheard farwell.
Fawnia (who all this while had marked the princely gesture
of Dorastus) seeing his face so wel featured, and each lim so
perfectly framed, began greatly to praise his perfection, com-
mending him so long till she found her selfe faultie, and per-
ceived that if she waded but a little further she might slippe
over her shooes: shee therefore, seeking to quench that fier
which never was put out, went home and faining her selfe not
well at ease got her to bed; where casting a thousand thoughts
in her head she could take no rest: for if she waked, she
began to call to minde his beautie, and thinking to beguile
such thoughts with sleepe, she then dreamed of his perfection.
Pestered thus with these unacquainted passions, she passed
the night as she could in short slumbers.
Dorastus (who all this while rode with a flea in his eare)


Tale.] DORASTUS AND FAW NIA. 33
could not by any meanes forget the sweete favour of Fawnia,
but rested so bewitched with her wit and beauty, as hee could
take no rest. He felt fancy to give the assault, and his
wounded mind readie to yeeld as vanquished: yet he began
with divers considerations to suppresse this frantick affection,
calling to minde that Fawnia was a shepheard, one not worthy
to be looked at of a prince, much lesse to bee loved of such
a potentate; thinking what a discredite it were to himselfe,
and what a griefe it would be to his father, blaming fortune
and accusing his owne follie that should bee so fond as but
once to cast a glaunce at such a country slut. As thus he was
raging against him selfe, Love fearing if she dallied long to
loose her champion, stept more nigh, and gave him such a
a fresh wounde as it pearst him at the heart, that he was
faine to yeeld, maugre his face, and to forsake the companie
and gette him to his chamber, where being solemnly set hee
burst into these passionate tearmes.
Ah, Dorastus, art thou alone " No not alone, while thou art
tired with these unacquainted passions. Yeld to fancy thou
canst not by thy fathers counsaile, but in a frenzie thou art
by just destinies. Thy father were content if thou couldest
love, and thou therefore discontent because thou doest love.
O, devine love! feared of men because honoured of the Gods,
not to be suppressed by wisdome, because not to be compre-
hended by reason; without lawe, and therefore above all law.
How now, Dorastus! why doest thou blaze that with praises,
which thou hast cause to blaspheme with curses? yet why
should they curse love that are in love? Blush, Dorastus, at
thy fortune, thy choice, thy love: thy thoughts cannot be
uttered without shame, nor thy affections without discredit.
Ah Fawnia, sweete Fawnia, thy beauty Fawnia! Shamest
not thou, Dorastus, to name one unfitte for thy birth, thy digni-
ties, thy kingdomes? Dye, Dorastus, Dorastus die. Better
hadst thou perish with high desires, then live in base thoughts.
Yea, but beautie must be obeyed because it is beauty, yet
framed of the Gods to feede the eye, not to fetter the heart.
C


34 THE HISTORIE OF [Winter's
Ah, but he that striveth against love, shooteth with them
of Scyrum against the winde, and with the cockeatrice peck-
eth against the steele. I will therefore obey, because I must
obey. Fawnia, yea Fawnia shall be my fortune in spight of
fortune. The Gods above disdain not to love women beneath.
Phoebus liked Sibilla, Jupiter Io, and why not I then Fawnia?
one something inferiour to these in birth, but farre superiour
to them in beautie, borne to be a shepheard, but worthy to be
a goddesse. Ah, Dorastus, wilt thou so forget thy selfe as to
suffer affection to suppresse wisdome, and love to violate thine
honour ! how sower will thy choice be to thy father, sorrowfull
to thy subjects, to thy friends a griefe, most gladsome to thy
foes! Subdue then thy affections, and cease to love her whome
thou couldst not love unlesse blinded with too much love.
Tushe, Italke to the wind, and in seeking to prevent the causes
I further the effectes. I will yet praise Fawnia; honour, yea,
and love Fawnia, and at this day followe content, not counsaile.
Doo, Dorastus: thou canst but repent.
And with that his page came into the chamber, whereupon
hee ceased from his complaints, hoping that time would weare
out that which fortune had wrought. As thus he was pained,
so poore Fawnia was diversly perplexed; for the next morn-
ing getting up very earely shee went to her sheepe, think-
ing with hard labours to passe away her new conceived amours,
beginning very busily to drive them to the field, and then to
shifte the foldes. At last, (wearied with toile) she sate her
down, where (poore soule) she was more tryed with fond affec-
tions; for love beganne to assault her, in so much that as she
sate upon the side of a hill she began to accuse her owne folly
in these tearmes.
Infortunate Fawnia, and therefore infortunate because
Fawnia! thy shepherds hooke sheweth thy poore state, thy
proud desires an aspiring mind: the one declareth thy want,
the other thy pride. No bastard hauke must soare so hie as
the hobbie, no fowle gaze against the sunne but the eagle:
actions wrought against nature reape despight, and thoughts


Tale.] DORASTUS AND FAW NIA. 35
above fortune disdaine. Fawnia, thou art a shepheard,
daughter to poore Porrus: if thou rest content with this thou
art like to stande; if thou climbe thou art sure to fal. The
herb Anita growing higher then sixe ynches becommeth a
weede. Nylus flowing more then twelve cubits procureth a
dearth. Daring affections that passe measure are cut shorte by
time or fortune: suppresse then, Fawnia, those thoughts which
thou mayest shame to expresse. But ah, Fawnia, love is a
lord who will commaund by power, and constraine by force.
Dorastus, ah, Dorastus is the man I love! the woorse is thy hap,
and the lesse cause hast thou to hope. Will eagles catch at
flyes! will cedars stoupe to brambles, or mighty princes looke
at such homely trulles! No, no; thinke this: Dorastus disdaine
is greater then thy desire; hee is a prince respecting his
honour, thou a beggars brat forgetting thy calling. Cease
then not onely to say, but to thinke to love Dorastus, and dis-
semble thy love, Fawnia; for better it were to dye with griefe,
then to live with shame. Yet in despight of love I will sigh,
to see if I can sigh out love.
Fawnia somewhat appeasing her griefes with these pithie
perswasions began, after her wonted maner, to walke about
her sheepe, and to keepe them from straying into the corne,
suppressing her affection with the due consideration of her
base estate, and with the impossibilities of her love; thinking
it were frenzy, not fancy, to covet that which the very
destinies did deny her to obteine.
But Dorastus was more impatient in his passions, for love
so fiercely assayled him, that neither companie nor musicke
could mitigate his martirdome, but did rather far the more
increase his maladie : shame would not let him crave counsaile
in this case, nor feare of his fathers displeasure reveyle it to
any secrete friend; but he was faine to make a secretarie of
himselfe, and to participate his thoughtes with his owne
troubled mind. Lingring thus awhile in doubtfull suspence,
at last stealing secretely from the court without either men or
page, hee went to see if hee could espie Fawnia walking
C 2


36 THE HISTORIE OF [Winter's
abroade in the field; but as one having a great deal more skill
to retrive the partridge with his spaniels then to hunt after
such a straunge pray, he sought, but was little the better;
which crosse lucke drave him into a great choler, that he be-
gan to accuse love and fortune. But as he was readie to re-
tire he saw Fawnia sitting all alone under the side of a hill,
making a garland of such homely flowres as the fields did
afoord. This sight so revived his spirites that he drewe nigh,
with more judgement to take a view of her singular perfection,
which hee found to bee such as in that countrey attyre shee
stained al the courtlie dames of Sicilia. While thus he stoode
gazing with pearcing lookes on her surpassing beautie, Fawnia
cast her eye aside and spyed Dorastus, with sudden sight
made the poore girle to blush, and to die her christal cheeks
with a vermilion red, which gave her such a grace as she
seemed more beautiful. And with that she rose up, saluting
the prince with such modest curtesies as he wondred how
a country maid could afoord such courtly behaviour. Do-
rastus, repaying her curtesie with a smiling countenance,
began to parlie with her on this manner.
Faire maide (quoth he), either your want is great, or a
shepheards life very sweete, that your delight is in such
country labors. I can not conceive what pleasure you should
take, unlesse you meane to imitate the nymphes, being your-
selfe so like a nymph. To put me out of this doubt, shew
me what is to be commended in a shepherdes life, and what
pleasures you have to countervaile these drudging laboures.
Fawnia with blushing face made him this ready aunswere.
Sir, what richer state then content, or what sweeter life then
quiet! we shepheards are not borne to honor, nor beholding
unto beautie, the lesse care we have to feare fame or fortune.
We count our attire brave inough if warme inough, and our
foode dainty iſ to suffice nature: our greatest enemie is the
wolfe, our only care in safekeeping our flock: in stead of courtly
ditties we spend the daies with country songs: our amorous
conceites are homely thoughtes; delighting as much to talke


Tale.] DORASTUS AND FAWNIA. 37
of Pan and his cuntrey prankes, as ladies to tell of Venus and
her wanton toyes. Our toyle is in shifting the fouldes and
looking to the lambes, easie labours: oft singing and telling
tales, homely pleasures: our greatest welth not to covet, our
honor not to climbe, our quiet not to care. Envie looketh
not so lowe as shepheards: shepheards gaze not so high as
ambition. We are rich in that we are poore with content, and
proud only in this, that we have no cause to be proud.
This wittie aunswer of Fawnia so inflamed Dorastus fancy,
as he commended him selfe for making so good a choyce, think-
ing if herbirth were aunswerable to her wit and beauty, that she
were a fitte mate for the most famous prince in the worlde. He
therefore beganne to siſte her more narrowely on this manner.
Fawnia, I see thou art content with country labours, because
thou knowest not courtly pleasures. I commend thy wit,
and pitty thy want; but wilt thou leave thy fathers cottage
and serve a courtlie mistresse !
Sir (quoth she) beggers ought not to strive against fortune,
nor to gaze after honour, least either their fall be greater, or
they become blinde. I am borne to toile for the court, not in
the court, my nature unfit for their nurture: better live, then, in
meane degree, than in high disdaine.
Well saide, Fawnia (quoth Dorastus): I gesse at thy
thoughtes; thou art in love with some countrey shephearde.
No, sir (quoth she): shepheards cannot love that are so
simple, and maides may not love that are so young.
Nay, therefore (quoth Dorastus) maides must love because
they are young; for Cupid is a child, and Venus, though olde,
is painted with fresh coloures.
I graunt (quoth she) age may be painted with new shadowes,
and youth may have imperfect affections; but what arte con-
cealeth in one, ignorance revealeth in the other. Dorastus
seeing Fawnia helde him so harde, thought it was vaine so
long to beate about the bush; therefore he thought to have
given her a fresh charge, but he was so prevented by certaine
of his men, who missing their maister came poffing to seeke


3S THE HISTORIE OF | Winter's
him, seeing that he was gone foorth all alone: yet before they
drewe so nie that they might heare their talke, he used these
speeches.
Why, Fawnia, perhappes I love thee, and then thou must
needes yeelde, for thou knowest I can commaunde and con-
straine. Trueth, sir, (quoth she) but not to love; for con-
strained love is force, not love: and know this, sir, mine honesty
is such, as I hadde rather dye then be a concubine even to a
king, and my birth is so base as I am unfitte to bee a wife to
a poore farmer. Why then (quoth he) thou canst not love
Dorastus. Yes, saide Fawnia, when Dorastus becomes a
shepheard. And with that the presence of his men broke off
their parle, so that he wente with them to the palace and left
Fawnia sitting still on the hill side, who, seeing that the night
drewe on, shifted her fouldes, and busied her selfe about other
worke to drive away such fond fancies as began to trouble
her braine. But all this could not prevaile; for the beautie
of Dorastus had made such a deepe impression in her heart,
as it could not be worne out without cracking, so that she
was forced to blame her owne folly in this wise.
Ah, Fawnia, why doest thou gaze against the sunne, or catch
at the winde 1 starres are to be looked at with the eye, not
reacht at with the hande: thoughts are to be measured by
fortunes, not by desires: falles come not by sitting low, but
by climing too hie. What then, shal al feare to fal because
some happe to fall! No, lucke commeth by lot, and fortune
windeth those threedes which the destinies spin. Thou art
favored, Fawnia, of a prince, and yet thou art so fond to
reject desired favours: thou hast deniall at thy tonges end,
and desire at thy hearts bottome; a womans fault to spurne
at that with her foote, which she greedily catcheth at with her
hand. Thou lovest Dorastus, Fawnia, and yet seemest to
lower. Take heede: if hee retire thou wilt repent; for unles
hee love, thou canst but dye. Dye then, Fawnia, for Dorastus
doth but jest: the lyon never prayeth on the mouse, nor faul-
cons stoupe not to dead stales. Sit downe then in sorrow,


Tale.] DORASTUS AND FAWNIA. 39
ceasse to love and content thy selfe that Dorastus will vouch-
safe to flatter Fawnia, though not to fancy Fawnia. Heigh ho!
ah, foole, it were seemelier for thee to whistle as a shepheard,
then to sigh as a lover. And with that she ceassed from these
perplexed passions, folding her sheepe and hying home to her
poore cottage. *
But such was the incessant sorrow of Dorastus to thinke
on the witte and beautie of Fawnia, and to see how fond hee
was being a prince, and how forward she was being a beg-
gar, that he began to loose his wonted appetite, to looke pale
and wan; instead of mirth, to feede on melancholy, for
courtly daunces to use cold dumpes; in so much that not onely
his owne men, but his father and all the court began to mar-
vaile at his sudden change, thinking that some lingring sick-
nes had brought him into this state. Wherefore he caused
phisitions to come, but Dorastus neither would let them mi-
nister, nor so much as suffer them to see his urine; but
remained stil so oppressed with these passions, as he feared
in himselfe a farther inconvenience. His honor wished him
to ceasse from such folly, but love forced him to follow fancy.
Yea, and in despight of honour, love wonne the conquest, so
that his hot desires caused him to find new devises; for hee
presently made himselfe a shepheards coate, that he might
goe unknowne and with the lesse suspition to prattle with
Fawnia, and conveied it secretly into a thick grove hard
joyning to the pallace, whether finding fit time and oportu-
nity he went all alone, and putting off his princely apparel
got on those shepheards roabes, and taking a great hooke in
his hand (which he had also gotten) he went very anciently
to finde out the mistres of his affection. But as he went by
the way, seeing himselfe clad in such unseemely ragges, he
began to smile at his owne folly and to reprove his fondnesse
in these tearmes.
Well, said Dorastus, thou keepest a right decorum; base
desires and homely attires: thy thoughtes are fit for none
but a shepheard, and thy apparell such as only becomes a
shepheard. A strang change from a prince to a pesant! what,


40 THE HISTORIE OF [Winter's
is it thy wretched fortune or thy wilful folly! Is it thy
cursed destinies, or thy crooked desires, that appointeth thee
this penance 1 Ah, Dorastus, thou canst but love; and unlesse
thou love, thou art like to perish for love. Yet, fond foole,
choose flowers, not weedes; diamondes, not peables; ladies
which may honor thee, not shepheards which may disgrace
thee. Venus is painted in silkes, not in ragges; and Cupid
treadeth on disdaine, when he reacheth at dignitie. And yet,
Dorastus, shame not at thy shepheards weede. the heavenly
godes have sometime earthly thoughtes. Neptune became a
ram, Jupiter a bul, Apollo a shepheard : they gods, and yet
in love; and thou a man appointed to love.
Devising thus with himselfe hee drew nigh to the place
where Fawnia was keeping her shepe, who casting her eye
aside and seeing such a manerly shepheard, perfectly limmed
and comming with so good a pace, she began halfe to forget
Dorastus and to favor this prety shepheard, whom she
thought shee might both love and obtaine. But as shee was
in these thoughts, she perceived then that it was the yong
prince Dorastus, wherefore she rose up and reverently sa-
luted him. Dorastus taking her by the hand repaied her
curtesie with a sweete kisse, and praying her to sit downe
by him, he began thus to lay the batterie.
If thou marvell Fawnia at my strange attyre, thou wouldest
more muse at my unaccustomed thoughtes: the one disgraceth
but my outward shape, the other disturbeth my inward
sences. I love, Fawnia, and therefore what love liketh I
cannot mislike. Fawnia, thou hast promised to love, and I
hope thou wilt performe no lesse. I have fulfilled thy request,
and now thou canst but graunt my desire. Thou wert content
to love Dorastus when he ceast to be a prince and to become
a shepheard, and see I have made the change, and therefore
not to misse of my choice.
Trueth, quoth Fawnia, but all that wear cooles are not
monkes: painted eagles are pictures, not eagles. Zeusis
grapes were like grapes, yet shadowes: rich clothing make
not princes, nor homely attyre beggers: shepheards are not


Tale.] DORASTUS AND FAWNIA. 41
called shepheardes because they were hookes and bagges,
but that they are borne poore and live to keepe sheepe; so
this attire hath not made Dorastus a shepherd, but to seeme
like a shepherd.
Well, Fawnia, answered Dorastus, were I a shepherd, I
could not but like thee, and being a prince I am forst to love
thee. Take heed, Fawnia: be not proud of beauties painting,
for it is a flower that fadeth in the blossome. Those which
disdayne in youth are despised in age. Beauties shadowes
are tricked up with times colours, which being set to drie in
the sunne are stained with the sunne, scarce pleasing the
sight ere they beginne not to be worth the sight; not much
unlike the herbe Ephemeron, which flourisheth in the morning
and is withered before the sunne setting. If my desire were
against lawe, thou mightest justly deny me by reason; but I
love thee, Fawnia, not to misuse thee as a concubine, but to
use thee as my wife. I can promise no more, and meane to
performe no lesse.
Fawnia hearing this solemne protestation of Dorastus could
no longer withstand the assault, but yeelded up the forte in
these friendly tearmes.
Ah, Dorastus, I shame to expresse that thou forcest me
with thy sugred speeche to confesse: my base birth causeth
the one, and thy high dignities the other. Beggars thoughts
ought not to reach so far as kings, and yet my desires reach
as high as princes. I dare not say, Dorastus, I love thee,
because I am a shepherd; but the gods know I have honored
Dorastus (pardon if I say amisse), yea, and loved Dorastus
with such dutiful affection as Fawnia can performe, or Do-
rastus desire. I yeeld, not overcome with prayers but with
love, resting Dorastus handmaid ready to obey his wil, if no
prejudice at all to his honour, nor to my credit.
Dorastus hearing this freendly conclusion of Fawnia em-
braced her in his armes, swearing that neither distance, time,
nor adverse fortune, should diminish his affection; but that
in despight of the destinies he would remaine loyall unto
death. Having thus plight their troath each to other, seeing


42 THE HISTORIE OF [Winter's
they could not have the full fruition of their love in Sycilia,
for that Egistus consent woulde never beegraunted to so meane
a match, Dorastus determined, as sone as time and oportunitie
would give them leave, to provide a great masse of money,
and many rich and costly jewels for the easier cariage, and
then to transporte themselves and their treasure into Italy,
where they should leade a contented life, until such time as
either he could be reconciled to his father, or els by suces-
sion come to the kingdome. This devise was greatly praysed
of Fawnia, for she feared if the king his father should but
heare of the contract, that his furie would be such as no lesse
then death would stand for payment. She therefore tould him
that delay bred daunger; that many mishaps did fall out be-
tweene the cup and the lip; and that to avoid danger, it were
best with as much speed as might be to passe out of Sycilia,
least fortune might prevent their pretence with some newe
despight. Dorastus, whom love pricked forward with desire,
promised to dispatch his affaires with as great hast as
either time or oportunitie would geve him leave, and so
resting upon this point, after many imbracings and sweete
kisses, they departed.
Dorastus having taken his leave of his best beloved
Fawnia went to the grove where hee had his rich apparel,
and there uncasing himself as secretly as might be, hiding
up his shepheards attire till occasion should serve againe to
use it, he went to the pallace, shewing by his merrie coun-
tenaunce that either the state of his body was amended, or
the case of his minde greatly redressed. Fawnia, poore
sowle, was no lesse joyful, that being a shepheard, fortune
had favoured her so as to reward her with the love of a
prince, hoping in time to be advaunced from the daughter of
a poore farmer to be the wife of a riche king; so that she
thought every houre a yeere, till by their departure they
might prevent danger, not ceasing still to goe every daye to
her sheepe, not so much for the care of her flock, as for the
desire she had to see her love and lord, Dorastus, who often-
times, when oportunitie would serve, repaired thither to feede


Tale.] DORASTUS AND FAWNIA. 43
his fancy with the sweet content of Fawnias presence. And
although he never went to visit her but in his shepheards
ragges, yet his ofte repaire made him not onely suspected,
but knowne to divers of their neighbours; who for the good
will they bare to old Porrus tould him secretly of the matter,
wishing him to keepe his daughter at home, least she went so
ofte to the field that shee brought him home a yong sonne,
for they feared that Fawnia, being so beautifull, the yong
prince would allure her to folly. Porrus was striken into a
dump at these newes, so that thanking his neighboures for
their good will, he hyed him home to his wife, and calling her
aside, wringing his handes and shedding forth teares, he
brake the matter to her in these tearmes.
I am afraid, wife, that my daughter Fawnia hath made
her selfe so fine, that she will buy repentance too deare. I
heare newes, which, if they be true, some will wish they had
not proved true. It is tould me by my neighbours that
Dorastus, the kings sonne, begins to looke at oure daughter
Fawnia; which if it be so, I will not geve her a halfepeny
for her honestie at the yeeres end. I tell thee, wife, now-
adaies beautie is a great stale to trap young men, and faire
wordes and sweete promises are two great enemies to a
maydens honestie; and thou knowest, where poore men in-
treate and cannot obtaine, there princes may commaund and
wil obtaine. Though kings sonnes daunce in nettes they
may not be seene; but poore mens faultes are spied at a little
hole. Well, it is a hard case where kinges lustes are lawes,
and that they should binde poore men to that which they
themselves wilfully breake.
Peace husband (quoth his wife), take heede what you say:
speake no more than you should, least you heare what you
would not: great streames are to be stopped by sleight, not
by force, and princes to be perswaded by submission, not
by rigor. Doe what you can, but no more than you may,
least in saving Fawnias mayden-head you loose your owne
head. Take heede, I say: it is ill jesting with edged tooles,
and bad sporting with kinges. The wolfe had his skinne


44 THE HISTORIE OF [Winter's
puld over his eares for but looking into the lions den.
Tush, wife, (quoth he) thou speakest like a foole: if the
king should knowe that Dorastus had begotten our daughter
with childe (as I feare it will fall out little better) the
kings furie would be such as, no doubt, we should both
loose our goodes and lives. Necessitie therefore hath no lawe,
and I will prevent this mischiefe with a newe devise that is
come into my head, which shall neither offend the king nor
displease Dorastus. I meane to take the chaine and the
jewels that I found with Fawnia, and carrie them to the king,
letting him then to understand how she is none of my daughter,
but that I founde her beaten up with the water, alone in a
little boate wrapped in a riche mantle, wherein was inclosed
this treasure. By this meanes I hope the king will take
Fawnia into his service, and we, whatsoever chaunceth, shal
be blamelesse. This device pleased the good wife very well,
so that they determined, assoone as they might know the
king at leisure, to make him privie to this case.
In the meane time Dorastus was not slacke in his affaires,
but applyed his matters with such diligence that he provided
all thinges fitte for their journey. Treasure and jewels he had
gotten great store, thincking there was no better friend then
money in a strange countrey: rich attire he had provided for
Fawnia, and, because he could not bring the matter to passe
without the helpe and advice of some one, he made an old
servant of his, called Capnio, who had served him from his
childhood, privie to his affaires; who seeing no perswasions
could prevaile to divert him from his setled determination,
gave his consent, and dealt so secretly in the cause that
within short space hee had gotten a ship ready for their pas-
sage. The mariners seeing a fitt gale of winde for their pur-
pose wished Capnio to make no delayes, least if they pre-
termitted this good weather they might stay long ere they
had such a fayre winde. Capnio, fearing that his negligence
should hinder the journey, in the night time conveyed the
trunckes full of treasure into the shippe, and by secrete
meanes let Fawnia understand that the next morning they


Tale.] DORASTUS AND FAWNIA. 45
meant to depart. She upon this newes slept verie little that
night, but gotte up very early, and wente to her sheepe, look-
ing every minute when she should see Dorastus, who taried
not long for feare delay might breede daunger, but came as
fast as he could gallop, and without any great circumstance
tooke Fawnia up behinde him and rode to the haven where
the shippe lay, which was not three quarters of a mile dis-
tant from that place. He no sooner came there but the
marriners were readie with their cockboate to set them aboard,
where being coucht together in a cabben they past away the
time in recounting their old loves till their man Capnio should
come. Porrus, who had heard that this morning the king
would go abroade to take the ayre, called in haste to his wife
to bring him his holyday hose and his best jacket, that he
might goe like an honest substantiall man to tell his tale.
His wife, a good cleanly wenche, brought him all things fitte,
and spungd him up very handsomlie, giving him the chaines
and jewels in a little boxe, which Porrus for the more safety
put in his bosom. Having thus all his trinkets in a readi-
nes, taking his staffe in his hand he bad his wife kisse him
for good lucke, and so hee went towards the pallace. But as
he was going, fortune (who meant to she we him a little false
play) prevented his purpose in this wise.
He met by chaunce in his way Capnio, who trudging as fast
as he could with a little coffer under his arme to the ship,
and spying Porrus, whome he knewe to be Fawnias father,
going towardes the pallace, being a wylie fellow, began to
doubt the worst, and therefore crost him by the way, and
askt him whither he was going so earely this morning !
Porrus (who knew by his face that he was one of the court)
meaning simply, told him that the kings son Dorastus dealt
hardly with him; for he had but one daughter who was a little
beautifull, and that the neighboures told him the young prince
had allured her to folly: he went therefore now to complaine
to the king how greatly he was abused.
Capnio (who straight way smelt the whole matter) began
to soth him in his talke, and said that Dorastus dealt not


46 THE HISTORIE OF [Winter's
like a prince to spoile any poore manes daughter in that sort:
he therefore would doe the best for him he could, because he
knew he was an honest man. But (quoth Capnio) you lose
your labour in going to the pallace, for the king meanes this
day to take the aire of the sea and to goe aboord of a shippe
that lies in the haven. I am going before, you see, to provide
all things in redinesse, and if you wil follow my counsaile,
turne back with me to the haven, where I will set you in such
a fitte place as you may speake to the king at your pleasure.
Porrus giving credit to Capnios smooth tale, gave him a thou-
sand thanks for his friendly advise, and went with him to the
haven, making all the way his complaintes of Dorastus, yet
concealing secretlie the chaine and the jewels. As soone as
they were come to the sea side, the marriners seeing Capnio
came a land with their cock-boote, who still dissembling the
matter demaunded of Porrus if he would go see the ship?
who, unwilling and fearing the worst because he was not
well acquainted with Capnio, made his excuse that he could
not brooke the sea, therefore would not trouble him.
Capnio, seeing that by faire meanes hee could not get him
aboord, comaunded the mariners that by violence they should
carrie him into the shippe; who like sturdy knaves hoisted
the poore shepheard on their backes, and bearing him to the
boate launched from the land.
Porrus seeing himselfe so cunningly betraied durst not crie
out, for hee sawe it would not prevaile, but began to intreate
Capnio and the marriners to be good to him, and to pittie his
estate: hee was but a poore man that lived by his labour. They
laughing to see the shepheard so afraide made as much haste
as they could, and set him aboorde. Porrus was no sooner in
the shippe but he saw Dorastus walking with Fawnia; yet he
scarse knew her, for she had attired her selfe in riche apparell,
which so increased her beauty that shee resembled rather an
angell then a mortall creature.
Dorastus and Fawnia were halfe astonished to see the olde
shepherd, marvailing greatly what wind had brought him
thither, til Capnio told him al the whole discourse; how


Tale.] DORASTUS AND FAW NIA. 47
Porrus was going to make his complaint to the king, if by
policie he had not prevented him, and therefore now, sith he
was aboord, for the avoiding of further danger it were best
to carrie him into Italy.
Dorastus praised greatly his mans devise, and allowed of
his counsaile; but Fawnia (who stil feared Porrus as her
father) began to blush for shame, that by her meanes he
should either incure daunger or displeasure.
The old shephard hearing this hard sentence, that he
should on such a sodaine be caried from his wife, his country,
and kinsfolke, into a forraine lande amongst straungers, be-
gan with bitter teares to make his complaint, and on his knees
to intreate Dorastus, that pardoning his unadvised folly he
would give him leave to goe home; swearing that hee
would keepe all thinges as secret as they could wish. But
these protestations could not prevaile, although Fawnia in-
treated Dorastus very earnestly; but the mariners hoisting
their maine sailes waied ankers, and hailed into the deepe,
where we leave them to the favour of the wind and seas,
and returne to Egistus.
Who having appointed this day to hunt in one of his forests
called for his sonne Dorastus to go sport himselfe, because hee
saw that of late hee began to loure; but his men made answer
that hee was gone abroade none knew whither, except he
were gone to the grove to walke all alone, as his custome
was to doe every day.
The king willing to waken him out of his dumpes sent
one of his men to goe seeke him, but in vaine, for at last he
returned, but finde him he could not, so that the king went
himselfe to goe see the sport; where passing away the day,
returning at night from hunting, hee asked for his sonne, but
hee could not be heard of, which drave the king into a great
choler: where upon most of his noblemen and other courtiers
poasted abroad to seek him, but they could not heare of him
through all Sicilia, onely they missed Capnio his man, which
againe made the king suspect that hee was not gone farre.


48 THE HISTORIE OF [Winter's
Two or three daies being passed, and no newes heard of
Dorastus, Egistus began to feare that he was devoured with
some wilde beastes, and upon that made out a greate troupe
of men to go seeke him; who coasted through all the coun-
trey, and searched in everie daungerous and secrete place,
untill at last they mette with a fisherman that was mending
his nettes when Dorastus and Fawnia tooke shipping; who
being examined if he either knewe or heard where the kinges
sonne was, without any secrecie at all revealed the whole
matter, how he was sayled two dayes past, and had in his
company his man Capnio, Portus and his faire daughter
Fawnia. This heavie newes was presently caryed to the
king, who, halfe dead for sorrow commaunded Porrus wife
to bee sent for. She being come to the pallace, after due
examination, confessed that her neighbours had oft told her
that the kings sonne was too familier with Fawnia, her
daughter; whereuppon, her husband, fearing the worst, about
two dayes past (hearing the king should goe an hunting) rose
earely in the morning and went to make his complaint;
but since she neither heard of him, nor saw him. Egistus
perceiving the womans unfeyned simplicity, let her depart
without incurring further displeasure, conceiving such secret
greeſe for his sonnes recklesse follie, that he had so forgotten
his honour and parentage by so base a choise to dishonor
his father and discredit himselfe, that with very care and
thought he fel into a quartan fever, which was so unfit for
his aged yeeres and complexion, that he became so weake as
the phisitions would graunt him no life.
But his sonne Dorastus little regarded either father, coun-
trie, or kingdome in respect of his lady Fawnia; for fortune
smyling on this young novice lent him so lucky a gale of
winde for the space of a day and a night, that the maryners
lay and slept upon the hatches; but on the next morning,
about the breake of day the aire began to be overcast, the
winds to rise, the seas to swel, yea, presently there arose such
a fearfull tempest, as the ship was in danger to be swallowed


Tale.] DORASTUS AND FAWNIA. 49
up with every sea, the maine mast with the violence of the
wind was thrown over boord, the sayles were torne, the tack-
lings went in sunder, the storme raging still so furiously that
poore Fawnia was almost dead for feare, but that she was
greatly comforted with the presence of Dorastus. The tem-
pest continued three dayes, at which time the mariners everie
minute looked for death, and the aire was so darkned with
cloudes that the maister could not tell by his compasse in
what coast they were. But upon the fourth day, about ten
of the clocke, the wind began to cease, the sea to wax calme,
and the sky to be cleare, and the mariners descryed the
coast of Bohemia, shooting of their ordance for joy that they
had escaped such a fearefull tempest.
Dorastus hearing that they were arrived at some harbour
sweetly kissed Fawnia, and bad her be of good cheare: when
they tolde him that the port belonged unto the cheife cittie of
Bohemia, where Pandosto kept his court, Dorastus began to
be sad, knowing that his father hated no man so much as
Pandosto, and that the king himself had sought secretly to
betray Egistus: this considered, he was halfe afraide to goe
on land, but that Capnio counselled him to chaunge his name
and his countrey, until such time as they could get some other
barke to transport them into Italy. Dorastus liking this
devise made his case privy to the marriners, rewarding them
bountifully for their paines, and charging them to saye that
he was a gentleman of Trapolonia called Meleagrus. The
shipmen, willing to shew what friendship they could to
Dorastus, promised to be as secret as they could, or hee might
wish; and uppon this they landed in a little village a mile
distant from the citie, where after they had rested a day,
thinking to make provision for their mariage, the fame of
Fawnias beauty was spread throughout all the citie, so that
it came to the eares of Pandosto; who then being about the
age of fifty had notwithstanding yong and freshe affections,
so that he desired greatly to see Fawnia; and to bring this
matter the better to passe, hearing they had but one man,
D


50 THE HISTORIE OF [Winter's
and how they rested at a very homely house, he caused
them to be apprehended as spies, and sent a dozen of his
garde to take them: who being come to their lodging tolde
them the kings message. Dorastus no whit dismayed, ac-
companied with Fawnia and Capnio, went to the court (for
they left Porrus to keepe the stuffe) who being admitted to
the kings presence, Dorastus and Fawnia with humble obey-
sance saluted his majestie.
Pandosto amazed at the singular perfection of Fawnia
stood halfe astonished, viewing her beauty, so that he had
almost forgot himselfe what hee had to doe: at last with
stearne countenance he demaunded their names, and of what
countrey they were, and what caused them to land in Bohe-
mia Sir (quoth Dorastus) know that my name Meleagrus is,
a knight borne and brought up in Trapolonia, and this gen-
tlewoman, whom I meane to take to my wife, is an Italian,
borne in Padua, from whence I have now brought her. The
cause I have so small a trayne with me is for that her friends
unwilling to consent, I intended secretly to convey her into
Trapolonia; whither as I was sailing, by distresse of weather
I was driven into these coasts: thus have you heard my name,
my country, and the cause of my voiage. Pandosto, starting
from his seat as one in choller, made this rough reply.
Meleagrus, I feare this smooth tale hath but small trueth,
and that thou coverest a foule skin with faire paintings. No
doubt this ladie by her grace and beauty is of her degree
more meete for a mighty prince, then for a simple knight,
and thou like a perjured traitour hath bereft her of her pa-
rents, to their present griefe and her insuing sorrow. Till
therefore I heare more of her parentage and of thy calling I
will stay you both here in Bohemia.
Dorastus, in whome rested nothing but kingly valor, was
not able to suffer the reproches of Pandosto, but that he
made him this answer.
It is not meete for a king without due proofe to appeach
any man of ill behaviour, nor upon suspition to inferre beleeſe:


Tale.] DORASTUS AND FAWN IA. 51
straungers ought to bee entertained with courtesie not to bee
intreated with crueltie, least being forced by want to put up
injuries, the gods revenge their cause with rigor.
Pandosto hearing Dorastus utter these wordes commaunded
that he should straight be committed to prison untill such time
as they heard further of his pleasure; but as for Fawnia, he
charged that she should be entertained in the court with such
curtesie as belonged to a straunger and her calling. The rest
of the shipmen he put into the dungeon.
Having thus hardly handled the supposed Trapolonians,
Pandosto, contrarie to his aged yeares, began to be somwhat
tickled with the beauty of Fawnia, in so much that hee could
take no rest, but cast in his old head a thousand new devises:
at last he fell into these thoughtes.
How art thou pestred, Pandosto, with fresh affections,
and unfitte fancies, wishing to possesse with an unwilling
mynde, and a hot desire troubled with a could disdaine! shall
thy mynde yeeld in age to that thou hast resisted in youth !
Peace, Pandosto: blabbe not out that which thou maiest be
ashamed to reveale to thy self. Ah, Fawnia is beautifull, and
it is not for thine honour (fond foole) to name her that is thy
captive, and an other man's concubine. Alas, I reach at that
with my hand which my hart would faine refuse; playing
like the bird Ibys in Egipt, which hateth serpents yet feed-
eth on their egges. Tush, hot desires turne oftentimes to
colde disdaine: love is brittle, where appetite, not reason,
beares the sway: kinges thoughtes ought not to climbe so
high as the heavens, but to looke no lower then honour: bet-
ter it is to pecke at the starres with the young eagles, then
to pray on dead carkasses with the vulture: tis more honour-
able for Pandosto to dye by concealing love, than to enjoy
such unfitte love. Dooth Pandosto then love? Yea:
whome 1 A maide unknowne, yea, and perhapps immodest,
stragled out of her owne countrie; beautifull, but not therefore
chast; comely in bodie, but perhappes crooked in minde.
Cease then, Pandosto, to looke at Fawnia, much lesse to love


52 THE HISTORIE OF [Winter's
her: be not overtaken with a womans beauty, whose eyes
are framed by arte to inamour, whose hearte is framed by
nature to inchaunt, whose false teares knowe their true
times, and whose sweete wordes pearce deeper then sharpe
swordes.
Here Pandosto ceased from his talke, but not from his love :
although he sought by reason and wisedome to suppresse
this franticke affection, yet he could take no rest, the beauty
of Fawnia had made such a deepe impression in his heart.
But on a day, walking abroad into a parke which was hard
adjoining to his house, he sent by one of his servants for
Fawnia, unto whome he uttered these wordes.
Fawnia, I commend thy beauty and wit, and now pittie
thy distresse and want; but if thou wilt forsake Sir Meleagrus,
whose poverty, though a knight, is not able to maintaine an
estate aunswerable to thy beauty, and yeld thy consent to
Pandosto, I wil both increase thee with dignities and riches.
No, sir, answered Fawnia; Meleagrus is a knight that
hath wonne me by love, and none but he shal weare me:
his sinister mischance shall not diminish my affection, but
rather increase my good will: thinke not, though your grace
hath imprisoned him without cause, that feare shall make
mee yeeld my consent: I had rather be Meleagrus wife and
a begger, then live in plenty and be Pandostos concubine.
Pandosto hearing the assured aunswere of Fawnia would,
notwithstanding, prosecute his suite to the uttermost, seeking
with faire words and great promises to scale the fort of her
chastitie, swearing that if she would graunt to his desire
Meleagrus should not only be set at libertie, but honoured in
his courte amongst his nobles. But these alluring baytes could
not entise her minde from the love of her newe betrothed
mate Meleagrus; which Pandosto seeing he left her alone
for that time to consider more of the demaund. Fawnia
being alone by her selfe began to enter into these solitarie
meditations.
Ah, infortunate Fawnia! thou seest to desire above fortune


Tale.] DORASTUS AND FAWNIA. 53
is to strive against the gods, and fortune. Who gazeth at
the sunne weakeneth his sight: they which stare at the skie
fall ofte into deepe pits: haddest thou rested content to have
bene a shepheard, thou needest not to have feared mischaunce:
better had it bene for thee by sitting lowe to have had
quiet, then by climing high to have fallen into miserie. But
alas, I feare not mine owne daunger, but Dorastus displeasure.
Ah sweete Dorastus, thou art a prince, but now a prisoner, by
too much love procuring thine owne losse: haddest thou not
loved Fawnia thou haddest benefortunate: shall I then be false
to him that hath forsaken kingdomes for my cause! no: would
my death might deliver him, so mine honour might be pre-
served With that, fetching a deepe sigh, she ceased from
her complaints, and went againe to the pallace, injoying a
libertie without content, and profered pleasure with smal
joy. But poore Dorastus lay all this while in close prison,
being pinched with a hard restraint, and pained with the
burden of colde and heavie irons, sorrowing sometimes that
his fond affection had procured him this mishappe, that by
the disobedience of his parentes he had wrought his owne
despight: an other while cursing the gods and fortune, that
they should crosse him with such sinister chaunce, uttering
at last his passions in these words.
Ah, unfortunate wretch! borne to mishappe, now thy folly
hath his desert: art thou not worthie for thy base minde to
have bad fortune 1 could the destinies favour thee, which
hast forgot thine honor and dignities? wil not the gods
plague him in despight that payneth his father with dis-
obedience Oh, gods ! if any favour or justice be left,
plague me, but favour poore Fawnia, and shrowd her from
the tirannies of wretched Pandosto; but let my death free
her from mishap, and then welcome death. Dorastus payned
with these heavie passions sorrowed and sighed, but in
vaine, for which he used the more patience. But againe to
Pandosto, who broyling at the heat of unlawfull lust, coulde
take no rest, but still felt his minde disquieted with his new


54 THE HISTORIE OF [Winter's
love, so that his nobles and subjectes marveyled greatly at this
sudaine alteration, not being able to conjecture the cause of
this his continued care. Pandosto, thinking every hower a
yeare til he had talked once againe with Fawnia, sent for
her secretly into his chamber, whither though Fawnia un-
willingly comming, Pandosto entertained her very courte-
ously, using these familiar speaches, which Fawnia answered
as shortly in this wise.
Pandosto.
Fawnia, are you become lesse wilfull and more wise to
preferre the love of a king before the liking of a poore
knight! I thinke ere this you thinke it is better to be
favoured of a king then of a subject.
Fawnia. -
Pandosto, the body is subject to victories, but the minde
not to be subdued by conquest: honesty is to be preferred
before honour; and a dramme of faith weigheth downe a
tunne of gold. I have promised to Meleagrus to love, and
will performe no lesse.
Pandosto.
Fawnia, I know thou art not so unwise in thy choice as
to refuse the offer of a king, nor so ingrateful as to dispise
a good turne. Thou art now in that place where I may com-
maunde, and yet thou seest I intreate : my power is such as
I may compell by force, and yet I sue by prayers. Yeelde,
Fawnia, thy love to him which burneth in thy love: Melea-
grus shall be set free, thy countrymen discharged, and thou
both loved and honoured.
Fawnia.
I see, Pandosto, where lust ruleth it is a miserable thing
to be a virgin; but know this, that I will alwaies preferre
ſame before life, and rather choose death then dishonour.


Tale.] DORASTUS AND FAWNIA. 55
Pandosto seeing that there was in Fawnia a determinate
courage to love Meleagrus, and a resolution without feare to
hate him, flong away from her in a rage, swearing if in shorte
time she would not be wonne with reason, he would forget
all courtesie, and compel her to graunt by rigour: but these
threatning wordes no whit dismayed Fawnia, but that she
still both dispighted and dispised Pandosto. While thus
these two lovers strove, the one to winne love, the other to
live in hate, Egistus heard certaine newes by merchauntes of
Bohemia, that his sonne Dorastus was imprisoned by Pan-
dosto, which made him feare greatly that his sonne should
be but hardly entreated: yet considering that Bellaria and
hee was cleared by the Oracle of Apollo from that crime
wherewith Pandosto had unjustly charged them, he thought
best to send with all speed to Pandosto, that he should set
free his sonne Dorastus, and put to death Fawnia and her
father Porrus. Finding this by the advise of counsaile the
speediest remedy to release his sonne, he caused presently too
of his shippes to be rigged, and thoroughly furnished with
provision of men and victuals, and sent divers of his nobles
embassadoures into Bohemia; who willing to obey their king,
and receive their yong prince, made no delayes for feare of
danger, but with as much speede as might be sailed towards
Bohemia. The winde and seas favored them greatly, which
made them hope of some good happe, for within three daies
they were landed; which Pandosto no sooner heard of their
arrivall, but he in person went to meete them, intreating them
with such sumptuous and familiar courtesie, that they might
well perceive how sory he was for the former injuries he
had offered to their king, and how willing (if it might be) to
make amendes.
As Pandosto made report to them, how one Maleagrus, a
knight of Trapolonia, was lately arived with a lady called
Fawnia in his land, comming very suspitiously, accompanied
onely with one servant and an olde shepheard, the embassa-
dours perceived by the halfe, what the whole tale ment, and


56 THE HISTORIE OF [Winter's
began to conjecture that it was Dorastus, who for feare to
bee knowne had chaunged his name; but dissembling the
matter they shortly arrived at the court, where after they
had bin verie solemnly and sumptuously feasted, the noble
men of Sicilia being gathered togither, they made reporte of
their embassage, where they certified Pandosto that Me-
leagrus was sonne and heire to the king Egistus, and that
his name was Dorastus; how contrarie to the kings minde
he had privilie convaied away that Fawnia, intending to
marrie her, being but daughter to that poore shepheard
Porrus : whereupon the kings request was that Capnio,
Fawnia, and Porrus, might be murthered and put to death,
and that his sonne Dorastus might be sent home in safetie.
Pandosto having attentively, and with great mervaile, heard
their embassage, willing to reconcile himselfe to Egistus and
to shew him how greatlie he esteemed his labour, although
love and fancy forbad him to hurt Fawnia, yet in despight
of love hee determined to execute Egistus will without mercy;
and therefore he presently sent for Dorastus out of prison,
who mervailing at this unlooked for curtesie, found at his
comming to the kings presence that which he least doubted
of, his fathers embassadours; who no sooner saw him, but
with great reverence they honored him, and Pandosto em-
bracing Dorastus set him by him very lovingly in a chaire
of estate. Dorastus, ashamed that his follie was bewraied,
sate a long time as one in a muse, til Pandosto told him the
summe of his fathers embassage; which he had no sooner
heard, but he was toucht at the quicke, for the cruell sen-
tence that was pronounced against Fawnia. But neither
could his sorrow nor his perswasions prevaile, for Pandosto
commaunded that Fawnia, Porrus, and Capnio, should bee
brought to his presence; who were no sooner come, but Pan-
dosto, having his former love turned to a disdainful hate,
began to rage against Fawnia in these tearines.
Thou disdainfull vassal, thou currish kite, assigned by
the destinies to base fortune, and yet with an aspiring minde


Tale.] DORASTUS AND FAWNIA. 57
gazing after honor, how durst thou presume, being a beggar,
to match with a prince 1 by thy alluring lookes to inchant
the sonne of a king to leave his owne countrie to fulfill thy
disordinate lusts O despightfull minde a proud heart in
a beggar is not unlike to a great fire in a smal cottage, which
warmeth not the house, but burneth it: assure thy selfe that
thou shalt die. And thou, old doating foole, whose follie hath
bene such as to suffer thy daughter to reach above thy for-
tune, looke for no other meede but the like punishment. But
Capnio, thou which hast betrayed the king, and hast con-
sented to the unlawfull lust of thy lord and maister, I know
not how justly I may plague thee: death is too easie a pu-
nishment for thy falsehood, and to live (if not in extreme
miserie) were not to shew thee equitie. I therefore award that
thou shall have thine eyes put out, and continually while thou
diest, grinde in a mil like a brute beast. The feare of death
brought a sorrowfull silence upon Fawnia and Capnio, but
Porrus seeing no hope of life burst forth into these speeches.
Pandosto, and ye noble embassadours of Sicilia, seeing
without cause I am condemned to die, I am yet glad I have
opportunitie to disburden my conscience before my death.
I will tel you as much as I know, and yet no more than is
true. Whereas I am accused that I have bene a supporter of
Fawnias pride, and shee disdained as a vilde begger, so it is,
that I am neither father unto her, nor she daughter unto me.
For so it happened, that I being a poore shepheard in Si-
cilia, living by keeping other mens flockes, one of my sheepe
straying downe to the sea side, as I went to seeke her, I saw
a little boat driven upon the shoare, wherein I found a babe
of sixe daies olde, wrapped in a mantle of skarlet, having
about the necke this chaine. I pittying the child, and de-
sirous of the treasure, carried it home to my wife, who with
great care nursed it up and set it to keepe sheepe. Heere
is the chaine and the jewels, and this Fawnia is the childe
whome I found in the boate. What shee is, or of what pa-
E -


58 THE HISTORIE OF [Winter's
rentage I knowe not, but this I am assured that shee is none
of mine. -
Pandosto would scarce suffer him to tell out his tale, but
that he enquired the time of the yeere, the manner of the
boate and other circumstaunces; which when he found agree-
ing to his count he sodainelie leapt from his seate and kissed
Fawnia, wetting her tender cheeks with his teares, and cry-
ing, my daughter Fawnia ah sweete Fawnia I am thy
father, Fawnia. This sodaine passion of the king drave them
all into a maze, especially Fawnia and Dorastus. But when
the king had breathed himselfe a while in this newe joy, hee
rehearsed before the embassadours the whole matter, how
hee had entreated his wife Bellaria for jealousie, and that
this was the childe whome hee had sent to floate in the seas.
Fawnia was not more joyfull that she had found such a
father, then Dorastus was glad he should get such a wife.
The embassadors rejoyced that their yong prince had made
such a choice, that those kingdomes, which through enmitie
had long time been dissevered, should now through perpetual
amitie be united and reconciled. The citizens and subjects
of Bohemia (hearing that the king had found againe his
daughter, which was supposed dead, joyfull that there was
an heire apparent to his kingdome) made bonfires and showes
throughout the cittie. The courtiers and knights appointed
justs and turneis to signifie their willing mindes in gratifying
the kings hap.
Eighteene daies being past in these princely sports, Pan-
dosto, willing to recompence old Porrus, of a shepheard made
him a knight; which done, providing a sufficient navie to
receive him and his retinue, accompanied with Dorastus,
Fawnia, and the Sicilian embassadours, he sailed towards
Sicilia, where he was most princelie entertained by Egistus;
who hearing this most comicall event, rejoyced greatly at his
sonnes good happe, and without delay (to the perpetuall joy
of the two yong lovers) celebrated the marriage: which was


Tale.] DORASTUS AND FAWNIA. 59
no sooner ended, but Pandosto (calling to mind how first he
betraied his friend Egistus, how his jealousie was the cause of
Bellarias death, that contrarie to the law of nature hee had
lusted after his owne daughter) moved with these desperate
thoughts, he fell into a melancholie fit, and to close up the
comedie with a tragicall stratageme, hee slewe himselfe; whose
death being many daies bewailed of Fawnia, Dorastus,
and his deere friend Egistus, Dorastus, taking his
leave of his father, went with his wife and the
dead corps into Bohemia, where after
they were sumptuouslie intoombed,
Dorastus ended his daies in
contented quiet.
FIN IS.


NOTES.
Page 18, line 9, “This, since thou must goe,” &c.; we ought to read
“Thus since,” &c. as it stands in some of the later editions.
Page 18, line 18, “Having neither saile nor other to guid it,” &c.;
we ought to read, “Having neither saile nor rudder to guid it." The
error is corrected in the impressions subsequent to that which is con-
sidered the first.
Page 21, line 18, for “his babe innocent,” read, “his babe an inno-
cent."
Page 24, line 13, “Sackles" is guiltless; and in some of the later
editions (as in that of 1632), the one word is substituted for the other.
Page 29, line 34, “Thou seest my white hayres are blossomes for
the grave,” &c. Percy in his “Reliques,” II, 177, Edit. 1812, quotes
the following as part of an old song on the story of the Beggars Daugh-
ter of Bethnall Green:—
“His reverend lockes
In comelye curles did wave,
And on his aged temples grewe
The blossomes of the grave.”
Page 37, line 9, “We are rich in that we are poore with content.”
So Shakespeare, Othello, Act III, Scene 3:—
“Poor and content is rich, and rich enough."
Page 38, line 24, “Starres are to be looked at with the eye, not
reacht at with the hand.” So Shakespeare, Two Gentlemen of Verona,
Act III, Scene 1 :—
“Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee ?”
Page 43, line 24, “Though kings sonnes daunce in nettes, they may
not be seene.” Alluding to the old story of the fisherman's daughter
who was ordered to dance before a great lord, so that she might be seen,
yet not seen, to effect which she covered herself with one of her father's
nets. The Italian fool and jester Gonella for the same purpose is said
to have put himself behind a sieve.
Page 55, line 21, “Who willing to obey their king, and receive the
yong prince,” &c. Ought we not to read relieve instead of receire,
though the old copies follow the edition of 1588 °
Page 56, line 15, “And to shew him how greatlie he esteemed his
labour." Later editions read favour for labour, which is clearly right.


ROSALYND.
EU PHUES’ GOLDEN LEGACIE,
FOUND AFTER HIS DEATH
IN HIS C E L L A T S I L E X E D R A.
&c.
BY THOMAS LODGE, GENT.
Upon which shAKESPEARE FOUNDED HIS “AS YOU LIKE IT.”
REPRINTED FROM THE EDITION OF 1592.
LONDON :
THOMAS RODD, 2, GREAT NEWPORT STREET.
MDCCCXLI.





INTRODUCTION.
STEEVENS, speaking of the obligations of Shakespeare to
the novel we have here reprinted, says, that our great dra-
matist followed it “more exactly than is his general custom,
when he is indebted to such worthless originals.” Let it be
remembered, that this opinion as to the value of Lodge's
“Rosalynd” was given by the commentator who asserted
that the force of an Act of Parliament would not be sufficient
to compel people to read Shakespeare's Sonnets, and who pro-
nounced Watson a more elegant writer than Shakespeare in
that department of poetry.
Comparing “Rosalynd” with “As you like it,” the former
may indeed be termed “worthless,” inasmuch as Shakespeare's
play is so immeasurably superior to it; but Steevens spoke
in the abstract of works of the kind of which Shakespeare
had availed himself; and placing Lodge's novel by the side
of other productions of the same class, we cannot hesitate to
declare it a very amusing and varied composition, full of
agreeable and graceful invention (for we are aware of no
foreign authority for any of the incidents), and with much
natural force and simplicity in the style of the narrative.
That it is here and there disfigured by the faults of the time,
by forced conceits, by lowness of allusion and expression, and
sometimes by inconsistency and want of decorum in the
characters, cannot be denied. These are errors which the
judgment and genius of Shakespeare taught him to avoid;
but the admitted extent and nature of his general obligations
to Lodge afford a high tribute to the excellence of that “ori-
ginal,” which Steevens pronounced “worthless.” It may
almost be doubted whether he had even taken the trouble to


ii INTRODUCTION.
read carefully that performance upon which he delivered so
dogmatical and definitive a condemnation.
As in the case of Greene's “Dorastus and Fawnia,” so in
that of Lodge’s “Rosalynd,” the means of exact comparison
between it and the play being now (for the first time) afforded
to the modern reader, it would only be a waste of time and
space for us to enter into any details on the point. The re-
semblance throughout will be found rather general than par-
ticular; and the characters of Jaques, Touchstone, and Au-
drey are entirely new in Shakespeare. The names of the
other personages engaged in the drama have also been changed,
with the exception of those of the heroine, Phoebe, Adam,
and Charles the Wrestler.
The edition we have followed is that of 1592, in 4to, B. L.;
and by our notes it will be seen that we have carefully col-
lated it with the impression of 1598. “Rosalynd” originally
came out in 1590; but Ritson was unacquainted with its ex-
istence, and as no perfect copy of the first edition is known,
we have necessarily adopted the text of the second. It was
reprinted at least ten times before the breaking out of the Civil
Wars—a sufficient evidence of the popularity of the story.
On the title-page Lodge tells us that it was “fetched from
the Canaries;” and in the Dedication he informs Lord Hunsdon
that he wrote the novel “to beguile the time” while he was
on a voyage “to the islands of Terceras and the Canaries,”
with Captain Clarke. He does not speak of it as a transla-
tion (as he does of his “Margarite of America,” printed in
1596, and written in 1592 while Lodge was at sea with Ca-
vendish), and there is no reason to suppose that it was not
an original production. Several of the poems interspersed
in “Rosalynd” were copied into “England's Helicon,” 4to,
1600.
We have it on Lodge's own evidence (see the Dedication),
that he was educated at Oxford under Sir Edward Hobby,
and that he was contemporary there with two of the sons of
Lord Hunsdon. In fact, he was entered at Trinity College


INTRODUCTION. iii
in 1573, and, as Anthony Wood states, took “one degree in
arts;” after which he went to London. There he joined a
theatrical company, became an actor and a dramatic author,
and about 1580 wrote a Defence of Stage-plays, in answer
to Stephen Gosson’s “School of Abuse,” which had been
printed in the preceding year. Lodge's Defence was sup-
pressed by the public authorities, and only two copies of it
are now known, both of which have been mutilated, being
without title-pages. His oldest production with a date is his
“Alarum against Usurers,” 4to, 1584, in which he mentions
the fate of his answer to Gosson. It seems likely that he en-
tered the army soon afterwards, and accompanied Captains
Clarke and Cavendish on their several expeditions.
At the close of his “Rosalynd,” Lodge promises a work
which, as far as we know, was never printed, to be called
“The Sailor's Calendar,” and it most likely had relation to
his sea adventures. However, we find him again in connec-
tion with the stage soon after 1590; and his tragedy called
“The Wounds of Civil War” was published in 1594.
This is the only extant dramatic piece which he wrote alone,
though he had joined Robert Greene in “A Looking Glass for
London and England,” which must have been composed be-
fore September 1593, and was printed in the next year. If any
other dramas came from his pen, we have no record of them
either in print or in manuscript; but as he certainly wrote
with much facility, it is likely that he produced several other
plays for the association of actors with which Philip Hens-
lowe was connected, and of which Lodge was a member.
As early as 1589, we learn from the title-page of his
“Scilla's Metamorphosis,” that he was a “student of Lincoln's
Inn,” and he still styled himself “ of Lincoln's Inn, gentle-
man,” when he published his “Fig for Momus,” in 1595.
How soon, and from what motive, he abandoned the study
of the law and took up that of medicine, we have no infor-
mation: probably it happened about the year 1596, when
he published his latest miscellaneous work, “Wits Miserie,”


iv 1NTRODUCTION.
and dated it “from my house at Low Layton.” Wood says
that he took his degree in medicine at Avignon; but we hear
no more of him until 1603, when he printed “A Treatise
on the Plague,” which was then raging in London; and of
which disorder he is supposed to have died in 1625. In the
interval he practised as a physician, and is mentioned by his
contemporary dramatist and actor, Thomas Heywood, in his
Troja Britannica, 1609, in that capacity. Lodge was the
author of a translation of Josephus, in 1609, and of Seneca in
1614; and in 1616 he obtained a passport from the Privy
Council, that he might “travel into the Arch Duke's country,”
to “recover debts,” said to be due to him, though circum-
stances make it appear likely that it was to avoid his own
creditors.
It seems not improbable that our novelist and poet was in
some way related to Sir Thomas Lodge, who was Lord
Mayor of London in 1563, and regarding the necessity of
supporting whose credit a letter from the Lord Treasurer is
preserved among the Lansdowne MSS. in the British Mu-
seum (No. 6.) Sir Thomas Lodge was one of the persons
who fitted out the Minion and Primrose for the coast of
Guinea in 1562 (See Hakluyt's Voyages); and it is very
possible that the author of “Rosalynd” accompanied Clarke
and Cavendish on their respective expeditions in conse-
quence of his family connection with one of the promoters
of previous naval adventures. He speaks of his “birth,”
and of “the offspring from whence he came,” in his earliest
dated production, and for aught that appears to the contrary,
he might be the son of Sir Thomas Lodge, who met with
misfortunes both during and subsequent to his mayoralty.
This, however, is a new point of speculation, not touched by
any of those who have hitherto adverted to the particulars of
the life of the author of the ensuing novel.


| Roſalynde.
Euphues golden Legacie, found aſ-
ter his death in his Cell at Sile-
xedra.
B E Q V E A T H E D TO PH I L A V T V S
Sonnes, nursed vp with their Father in
England.
Fetcht from the Canaries by T. L. Gent.
L ON DO N
Printed by Abel Ieffes for T. G.
and Iohn Bushi.e. 1592.





To the Right Honorable and his most es-
teemed Lord the Lord of Hunsdon, Lord
Chamberlaine to her Majesties houshold,
and Governor of her Towne of Barwicke :
T. L. G. wisheth increase of all honourable
Vertues.
Such Romanes (right honorable) as delighted in martiall
exploites, attempted their actions in the honour of Augustus,
because he was a patron of souldiors : and Virgil dignified
him with his poems, as a Maecenas of schollers; both joyntly
advancing his royaltie, as a prince warlike and learned.
Such as sacrifice to Pallas present her with bayes as she is
wise, and with armour as she is valiant; observing heerein that
excellent ro resrow, which dedicateth honours according to
the perfection of the person. When I entred (right honora-
ble) with a deepe insight into the consideration of these pre-
misses, seeing your L. to be a patron of all martiall men, and
a Maecenas of such as apply themselves to studie, wearing
with Pallas both the launce and the bay, and aiming with
Augustus at the favour of all, by the honourable vertues of
your minde, being myselfe first a student, and afterwards
falling from bookes to armes, even vowed in all my thoughts
dutifully to affect your Lordshippe. Having with Captaine
Clarke made a voyage to the Ilands of Terceras and the
Canaries, to beguile the time with labour I writ this booke;
rough, as hatcht in the stormes of the ocean, and feathered in
the surges of many perillous seas. But as it is the woorke
of a souldiour and a scholler, I presumed to shrowd it under
your honors patronage, as one that is the fautor and favourer
of all vertuous actions; and whose honorable loves, growne
from the generall applause of the whole common-welth for
your higher desertes, may keepe it from the mallice of every
B 2


THE EPISTLE DEDICATORIE.
bitter toong. Other reasons more particular (right honourable)
chalenge in me a speciall affection to your Lordshippe, as
being a scholler with your two noble sonnes, Maister Edmund
Carew, and M. Robert Carew, (two siens worthy of so ho-
norable a tree, and a tree glorious in such honourable fruite)
as also being scholler in the Universitie under that learned
and vertuous knight Sir Edward Hobby, when he was
Batcheler in Artes, a man as well lettered as well borne, and,
after the etymologie of his name, soaring as high as the
winges of knowledge can mount him, happie every way, and
the more fortunate, as blessed in the honor of so vertuous a
lady. Thus (right honourable) the duetie that I owe to the
sonnes, chargeth me that all my affection be placed on the
father; for where the braunches are so pretious, the tree of
force must be most excellent. Commaunded and imboldened
thus, with the consideration of these forepassed reasons, to
present my booke to your Lordship, I humbly intreate your
honour will vouch of my labours, and favour a souldiers and
a schollers penne with your gratious acceptance, who an-
sweres in affection what he wants in eloquence; so devoted
to your honour, as his only desire is, to ende his life under
the favour of so martiall and learned a patron. Resting thus
in hope of your Lordships curtesie, in deyning the patronage
of my worke, I cease, wishing you as many honorable for-
tunes as your L. can desire or I imagine.
Your honors souldiour most
humbly affectionate:
THOMAS LODGE.


TO THE GENTLEMEN READERS.
GENTLEMEN, looke not heere to finde anie sprigs of Pallas
bay tree, nor to heare the humour of any amorous lawreat,
nor the pleasing vaine of any eloquent orator: Nolo allum
sºpere, they bee matters above my capacitie: the coblers
checke shal never light on my heade, Ne su!or ultra crepi-
dam, I will go no further than the latchet, and then all is wel.
Heere you may perhaps finde some leaves of Venus mirtle,
but hewen down by a souldier with his curtlaxe, not boght
with the allurement of a filed tongue. To bee briefe, gentle-
men, roome for a souldier and a sailer, that gives you the
fruits of his labors that he wrote in the ocean, when everie
line was wet with a surge, and every humorous passion
countercheckt with a storme. If you like it, so; and yet I
will bee yours in duetie, if you be mine in favour. But if
Momus or any squinteied asse, that hath mighty eares to con-
ceive with Midas, and yet little reason to judge, if he come
abord our barke to find fault with the tackling, when hee
knowes not the shrowds, Ile downe into the hold, and fetch
out a rustie pollax, that sawe no sunne this seaven yeare, and
either well bebast him, or heave the cockescombe over boord
to feed cods. But curteous gentlemen, that favour most, back-
bite none, and pardon what is overslipt, let such come and
welcome; Ile into the stewards roome, and fetch them a kanne
of our best bevradge. Well, gentlemen, you have Euphues
Legacie. I fetcht it as farre as the Ilands of Terceras, and
therefore read it: censure with favour, and farewell.
Yours, T. L.


THE SCEDULE ANNEXED TO EU PHUEs TESTAMENT, THE
TENOUR OF HIS LEGACIE, THE TOKEN OF HIS LOVE.
The vehemency of my sicknes (Philautus) hath made mee
doubtfull of life, yet must I die in counsailing thee like
Socrates, because I love thee. Thou hast sons by Camilla,
as I heare, who being yong in yeres have green thoghts,
and nobly born have great minds: bend them in their youth
like the willow, least thou bewayle them in their age for their
wilfulnes. I have bequeathed them a golden legacie, be-
cause I greatly love thee. Let them read it as Archelaus
did Cassender, to profit by it; and in reading let them medi-
tate, for I have approved it the best methode. They shall
find love anatomized by Euphues with as lively colours as in
Appelles table: roses to whip him when he is wanton, reasons
to withstand him when he is wilie. Here may they read that
vertue is the king of labours, opinion the mistres of fooles; that
vanitie is the pride of nature, and contention the overthrow of fa-
milies: here is elleborus, bitter in taste, but beneficial in triall.
I have nothing to sende thee and Camilla but this counsel, that
in stead of worldly goods you leave your sons vertue and
glorie; for better were they to bee partakers of your honours
then lords of your mannors. I feele death that summoneth
me to my grave, and my soule desirous of his God. Fare-
well, Philautus, and let the tenor of my counsaile be applyed
to thy childrens comfort.
Euphues dying to live.
If any man find this scrowle, send it to Philautus in
England.


ROSALYNDE.
THERE dwelled adjoyning to the cittie of Bordeaux a
knight of most honourable parentage, whome Fortune had
graced with many favors, and Nature honoured with sundry
exquisite qualities, so beautified with the excellence of both,
as it was a question whether Fortune or Nature were more
prodigall in deciphering the riches of their bounties.
Wise he was, as holding in his head a supreme con-
ceipt of pollicie, reaching with Nestor into the depth of all
civil governement; and to make his wise.dome more gratious,
he had that salem ingenii, and pleasant eloquence that was so
highly commended in Ulisses: his valour was no lesse then
his witte, nor the stroke of his launce no lesse forcible than
the sweetnesse of his tongue was perswasive; for he was for
his courage chosen the principall of all the knights of Malta.
This hardy knight thus enricht with vertue and honour, sur-
named Sir John of Burdeux, having the prime of his youth in
sundry battailes against the Turkes, at last (as the date of
time hath his course) grewe aged. His haires were silver
hued, and the map of his age was figured on his forhead:
honour sate in the furrowes of his face, and many yeares were
pourtrayed in his wrinckled lineaments, that all men might
perceive his glasse was runne, and that nature of necessitie
chalenged her due. Sir John (that with the phenix knewe
the tearme of his life was now expired, and could, with the
swan, discover his end by her songs) having three sonnes by
his wife Lynida, the very pride of all his forepassed yeares,
thought now (seeing death by constraint would compel him
to leave them) to bestow upon them such a legacie as might
bewray his love, and increase their insuing amitie. Calling
therefore these yong gentlemen before him, in the presence of


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 9
Ayme your deedes by my honorable endevours, and shew
yourselves siens worthy of so florishing a tree, least, as the
birdes Halcyones, which exceede in whitenesse, I hatch yong
ones that exceed in blacknes. Climb not, my sonnes: as-
piring pride is a vapour that ascendeth hie, but soone turneth
to a smoake; they which stare at the starres stumble upon
the stones, and such as gaze at the sunne (unless they be
eagle eyed) fal blinde. Soare not with the hobbie, least you
fal with the larke, nor attempt not with Phaeton, least you
drowne with Icarus. Fortune, when shee wils you to flye,
tempers your plumes with waxe; and therefore eyther sit stil
and make no wing, or else beware the sunne, and hold
Dedalus axiome authentical (medium tenuere tutissimum.)
Low shrubs have deepe rootes, and poore cottages great pa-
tience. Fortune looks ever upward, and envy aspireth to
nestle with dignitie. Take heed, my sonnes, the meane is
sweetest melodie; where strings high stretch, eyther soone
cracke, or quickly grow out of tune. Let your countryes
care be your hearts content, and thinke that you are not
borne for your selves, but to levell your thoughts to be loyal
to your prince, careful for the common-weale, and faythful to
your friendes; so shal Fraunce say, these men are as excellent
in vertues as they be exquisite in features. Oh my sons, a
friend is a pretious jewell, within whose bosome you may
unload your sorrowes, and unfold your secrets, and he eyther
wil releeve with counsaile, or perswade with reason; but
take heed in the choyce: the outward shew makes not the
inwarde man, nor are the dimples in the face the calenders of
truth. When the liquorice leafe looketh most dry, then it
is most wet: when the shoares of Lepanthus are most quiet,
then they forepoint a storme. The baarran leafe the more
fayre it lookes, the more infectious it is, and in the sweetest
wordes is oft hid most trechery. Therefore, my sonnes,
chuse a friend as the Hiperborei do the mettals, sever them
from the ore with fire, and let them not bide the stampe before
they be currant: so trie and then trust: let time be the touch-


10 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
stone of friendship, and then frends faithful lay them up for
jewels. Be valiant, my sonnes, for cowardice is the enemy
to honour; but not too rash, for that is extreme. Fortitude
is the meane, and that is limited within bonds, and prescribed
with circumstance. But above al, and with that he fetcht a
deep sigh, beware of love, for it is farre more perillous then
pleasant, and yet, I tel you, it allureth as ill as the syrens.
Oh my sonnes, fancie is a fickle thing, and beauties paintings
are trickt up with times colours, which, being set to drie in
the sunne, perish with the same. Venus is a wanton, and
though her lawes pretend libertie, yet there is nothing but
losse and glistering miserie. Cupids wings are plumed with
the feathers of vanitie, and his arrowes, where they pierce,
inforce nothing but deadly destres: a womans eye, as it is
pretious to behold, so is it prejudicial to gaze upon; for as it
affoordeth delight, so it snareth unto death. Trust not theyr
fawning favours, for their loves are like the breath of a man
uppon steele, which no sooner lighteth on but it leapeth off,
and their passions are as momentary as the colours of a
polipe, which changeth at the sight of every object.
My breath waxeth short, and mine eyes waxeth dimme: the
houre is come, and I must away; therefore let this suffice:
women are wantons, and yet men cannot want one : and
therefore, if you love, choose her that hath eyes of adamant,
that wil turne onely to one poynt; her heart of a diamond,
that will receive but one forme; her tongue of a sethin leafe,
that never wagges, but with a south-east winde: and yet, my
sonnes, if she have all these qualities, to be chast, obedient,
and silent, yet for that she is a woman, shalt thou finde in
her sufficient vanities to countervaile her vertues. Oh now,
my sonnes, even now take these my last wordes as my latest
legacie, for my threed is spunne, and my foot is in the grave.
Keepe my precepts as memorials of your fathers counsailes,
and let them bee lodged in the secrete of your hearts; for
wise.dome is better than wealth, and a golden sentence worth
a world of treasure. In my fal see and marke, my sonnes,


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 11
the folly of man, that being dust climbeth with Biares to reatch
at the heavens, and ready every minute to dye, yet hopeth for
an age of pleasures. Oh, mans life is like lightning, that is
but a flash, and the longest date of his yeares but as a bavens
blaze. Seeing then man is so mortal, be careful that thy life
be vertuous, that thy death may bee ful of admirable honors:
so shalt thou chalenge fame to be thy fautor, and put oblivion
to exile with thine honorable actions. But, my sonnes, least
you should forget your fathers axiomes, take this scroule,
wherein reade what your father dying wils you to execute
living. At this hee shrunke downe in his bed, and gave up
the ghost.
John of Bourdeaux being thus dead was greatly lamented
of his sonnes, and bewayled of his friends, especially of his
fellow knights of Malta, who attended on his funerals, which
were performed with great solemnitie. His obsequies done,
Saladyne caused, next his epitaph, the contents of the scroule
to bee pourtrayed out, which were to this effect.
THE CONTENTS OF THE SCEDULE WHICH SIR JOHN OF
BOURDEAUX GAVE TO HIS SONNES.
My sonnes, behold what portion I do give.
I leave you goods, but they are quickly lost:
I leave advise, to schoole you how to live :
I leave you wit, but wonne with little cost:
But keepe it well, for counsaile still is one,
When father, friends, and worldly goods are gone.
In choice of thrift let honour be your gaine,
Winne it by vertue and by manly might;
In dooing good esteeme thy toyle no paine;
Protect the fatherlesse and widowes right:
Fight for thy faith, thy country, and thy king,
For why? this thrift wil prove a blessed thing.
In choise of wife, preferre the modest chast;
Lillies are faire in shew, but foule in smell.
The sweetest lookes by age are soon defast;
Then choose thy wife by wit and living well.
Who brings thee wealth and many faults withall,
Presents the hony mixt with bitter gall.


12 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACI E.
In choise of friends, beware of light beliefe ;
A painted tongue may shroud a subtill heart:
The Syrens teares doe threaten mickle griefe.
Foresee, my sonnes, for feare of sodaine smart:
Chuse in your wants, and he that friends you then,
When richer growne, befriend you him again.
Learne with the ant in summer to provide ;
Drive with the bee the droane from out the hive:
Buyld lyke the swallow in the summer tyde;
Spare not too much (my sonnes) but sparing thrive:
Be poore in folly, rich in all but sinne,
So by your death your glory shall beginne.
Saladyne having thus set up the scedule, and hangd about
his fathers hearse many passionate poems, that France might
suppose him to be passing sorrowful, hee clad himselfe and
his brothers all in black, and in such sable sutes discoursed
his griefe: but as the hiena when she mourns is then most
guilefull, so Saladine under this shewe of griefe shaddowed
a heart ful of contented thoughts. The tyger, though he hide
his claws, wil at last discover his rapine: the lions looks are
not the maps of his meaning, nor a mans phismomie is not the
display of his secrets. Fire cannot be hid in the straw, nor
the nature of man so concealed, but at last it will have his
course: nurture and art may do much, but that natura natu-
rans, which by propagation is ingrafted in the hart, will be
at last perforce predominant according to the olde verse,
Naturam expellas furca licet, tamen usque recurret.
So fares it with Saladine, for after a months mourning was
past, he fel to consideration of his fathers testament; how hee
had bequeathed more to his yoonger brothers than himselfe,
that Rosader was his fathers darling, but now under his tui-
tion, that as yet they were not come to yeares, and he being
their gardian, might (if not defraud them of their due) yet
make such havocke of theyr legacies and lands, as they
should be a great deal the lighter: wherupon he began thus
to meditate with himselfe.


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 13
SALADYNES MEDITATION WITH HIMSELFE.
Saladyne, how art thou disquieted in thy thoughts, and
perplexed with a world of restlesse passions, having thy
minde troubled with the tenour of thy fathers testament, and
thy heart fiered with the hope of present preferment! By
the one thou art counsaild to content thee with thy fortunes,
by the other, perswaded to aspire to higher wealth. Riches
(Saladyne) is a great royaltie, and there is no sweeter phi-
sick than store. Avicen, like a foole, forgot in his apho-
rismes to say that gold was the most precious restorative,
and that treasure was the most excellent medecine of the
minde. Oh, Saladyne, what, were thy fathers precepts
breathed into the winde! hast thou so soone forgotten his prin-
ciples' did he not warne thee from coveting without honor,
and climing without vertue 1 did he not forbid thee to ayme
at any action that should not bee honourable! and what will
bee more prejudiciall to thy credite, than the carelesse ruine of
thy brothers prosperitie! and wilt thou become the subversion
of their fortunes 1 is there any sweeter thing than concord, or
a more precious jewel then amitieſ are you not sonnes of one
father, siens of one tree, birds of one neast, and wilt thou
become so unnaturall as to robbe them, whom thou shouldest
relieve " No, Saladyne, intreat them with favours, and enter-
taine them with love, so shalt thou have thy conscience cleare
and thy renowne excellent. Tush, what wordes are these ?
base foole, farre unfit (if thou be wise) for thy humour.
What though thy father at his death talked of many frivilous
matters, as one that doted for age and raved in his sicknes,
shal his words be axioms, and his talk be so authenticall, that
thou wilt (to observe them) prejudice thy selfe! No no, Sala-
dyne, sicke mens willes, that are parole and have neither
hand nor seale, are like the lawes of a cittie written in dust,
which are broken with the blast of every winde. What,
man, thy father is dead, and hee can neither helpe thy for-


14 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACI E.
tunes, nor measure thy actions; therfore bury his words
with his carkasse, and be wise for thy selfe. What, tis not
so olde as true,
Non sapit, qui sibi non sapit.
Thy brother is yoong, keepe him now in awe; make him
not checke mate with thy selfe, for
Nimia familiaritas contemptum parit.
Let him know litle, so shall he not be able to execute much :
suppresse his wittes with a base estate, and though hee be a
gentleman by nature, yet forme him anew, and make him a
peasant by nourture. So shalt thou keepe him as a slave, and
raigne thy selfe sole Lord over all thy fathers possessions.
As for Fernandyne, thy middle brother, he is a scholler and
hath no minde but on Aristotle: let him reade on Galen while
thou riflest with golde, and pore on his booke til thou doest
purchase landes : witte is great wealth; if he have learning it
is enough, and so let all rest,
In this humour was Saladyne, making his brother Rosader
his foote boy for the space of two or three yeares, keeping
him in such servile subjection, as if he had been the sonne
of any country vassal. The young gentleman bare all with
patience, til on a day, walking in the garden by himselfe, he
began to consider how he was the sonne of John of Bour-
deaux, a knight renownied for many victories, and a gentle-
man famozed for his vertues; how, contrarie to the testament
of his father, hee was not only kept from his land and in-
treated as a servant, but smothered in such secret slaverie, as
hee might not attaine to any honourable actions. As, quoth
hee to himselfe (nature woorking these effectuall passions)
why should I that am a gentleman borne, passe my time in
such unnatural drudgery were it not better either in Paris
to become a scholler, or in the court a courtier, or in the field


EU PHUFS GOLDEN LEGACIE. 15
a souldier, then to live a foote boy to my own brother na-
ture hath lent me wit to conceive, but my brother denied mee
art to contemplate: I have strength to performe any honor-
able exployt, but no libertie to accomplish my vertuous in-
devours: those good partes that God hath bestowed upon
mee, the envy of my brother doth smother in obscuritie; the
harder is my fortune, and the more his frowardnes. With
that casting up his hand he felt haire on his face, and per-
ceiving his beard to bud for choler hee began to blush, and
swore to himselfe he would be no more subject to such slaverie.
As thus he was ruminating of his melancholie passions in
came Saladyne with his men, and seeing his brother in a
browne study, and to forget his wonted reverence, thought to
shake him out of his dumps thus. Sirha (quoth he) what is
you heart on your halfepeny, or are you saying a dirge for
your fathers soule what, is my dinner readie! At this ques-
tion Rosader, turning his head ascance, and bending his
browes as if anger there had ploughed the furrowes of her
wrath, with his eyes full of fire, hee made this replie. Doest
thou aske mee (Saladyne) for thy cates! aske some of thy
churles who are fit for suche an office: I am thine equal by
nature, though not by birth, and though thou hast more cardes
in the bunch, I have as many trumpes in my handes as thy
selfe. Let me question with thee, why thou hast feld my
woods, spoyled my manner houses, and made havocke of
suche utensalles as my father bequeathed unto meet I tell
thee, Saladyne, either answere mee as a brother, or I wil
trouble thee as an enemie.
At this replie of Rosaders Saladyne smiled, as laughing at
his presumption, and frowned as checking his folly: he ther-
fore tooke him up thus shortly : What, sirha, wel I see early
pricks the tree that wil proove a thorne: hath my familiar
conversing with you made you coy, or my good lookes
drawne you to be thus contemptuous ! I can quickly remedie
such a fault, and I wil bend the tree while it is a wand. In
faith (sir boy) I have a snaffle for such a headstrong colt.


16 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
You, sirs, lap holde on him and binde him, and then I wil
give him a cooling carde for his choller. This made Rosader
halfe mad, that stepping to a great rake that stood in the
garden, hee laide such loade uppon his brothers men that hee
hurt some of them, and made the rest of them run away.
Saladyne seeing Rosader so resolute, and with his resolution
so valiant, thought his heeles his best safetie, and tooke him
to a loaft adjoyning to the garden, whether Rosader pursued
him hotlie. Saladine, afraide of his brothers furie, cried out
to him thus: Rosader, be not so rash: I am thy brother and
thine elder, and if I have done thee wrong ile make thee
amendes: revenge not anger in blood, for so shalt thou staine
the vertue of old Sir John Bourdeaux; say wherein thou art
discontent and thou shalt bee satisfied. Brothers frownes
ought not to be periodes of wrath: what, man, looke not so
sowerly; I know we shalbe friendes, and better friends then
we have been. For, Amantium ira amoris redintegratio est.
These wordes appeased the choller of Rosader (for he was
of a milde and curteous nature) so that hee layde downe his
weapons, and upon the faith of a gentleman assured his bro-
ther hee would offer him no prejudice: wherupon Saladyne
came down, and after a little parley they imbraced eache
other and became friends; and Saladyne promising Rosader
the restitution of all his lands, and what favour els (quoth he)
any waies my ability or the nature of a brother may per-
forme, upon these sugred reconciliations they went into the
house arme in arme togither, to the great content of all the old
servants of Sir John of Bourdeaux. Thus continued the pad
hidden in the strawe, til it chaunced that Torismond, king of
France, had appointed for his pleasure a day of wrastling and
of tournament to busie his commons heades, least, being idle,
their thoughts should runne uppon more serious matters, and
call to remembrance their old banished king. A champion
there was to stand against all commers, a Norman, a man of
tall stature and of great strength; so valiant, that in many
such conflicts he alwaies bare away the victorie, not onely


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 17
overthrowing them which hee incountred, but often with the
weight of his bodie killing them outright. Saladyne hearing
of this, thinking now not to let the ball fal to the ground,
but to take opportunitie by the forehead, first by secret
meanes convented with the Norman, and procured him with
rich rewards to sweare, that if Rosader came within his
clawes hee would never more returne to quarrel with Sala-
dyne for his possessions. The Norman desirous of pelfe, as
(quis nisi mentis inops oblatum respuit aurum) taking great
gifts for litle gods, tooke the crownes of Saladyne to performe
the stratagem. Having thus the champion tied to his vilan-
ous determination by oath, hee prosecuted the intent of his
purpose thus:—He went to yoong Rosader (who in all his
thoughts reacht at honour, and gazed no lower then vertue
commanded him), and began to tel him of this tournament
and wrastling, how the king should bee there, and all the
chiefe peeres of France, with all the beautiful damosels of the
countrey. Now, brother (quoth hee) for the honor of Sir
John of Bourdeaux, our renowned father, to famous that
house that never hath bin found without men approoved in
chivalrie, shewe thy resolution to be peremptorie. For my-
selfe thou knowest, though I am eldest by birth, yet never
having attempted any deedes of armes, I am yongest to per-
forme any martial exploytes, knowing better how to survey
my lands then to charge my launce: my brother Fernandyne
hee is at Paris poring on a fewe papers, having more insight
into sophistrie and principles of philosophie, then anie war-
lyke indeveurs; but thou, Rosader, the youngest in yeares but
the eldest in valour, art a man of strength, and darest doo
what honour allowes thee. Take thou my fathers launce, his
sword, and his horse, and hye thee to the tournament, and
either there valiantly cracke a speare, or trie with the Nor-
man for the palme of activitie. The words of Saladyne were
but spurres to a free horse, for hee had scarce uttered them,
ere Rosader tooke him in his armes, taking his proffer so
kindly, that hee promised in what hee might to requite his
C


18 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
curtesie. The next morrow was the day of the tournament,
and Rosader was so desirous to shew his heroycal thoughts
that he past the night with litle sleep; but assoone as
Phoebus had valled the curteine of the night, and made Aurora
blush with giving her the bezoles labres in her silver couch,
he gat him up, and taking his leave of his brother, mounted
himselfe towardes the place appoynted, thinking every mile
ten leagues til he came there. But leaving him so desirous
of the journey, to Torismond, the king of France, who hav-
ing by force banished Gerismond, their lawful king that
lived as an outlaw in the forest of Arden, sought now by all
meanes to keep the French busied with all sports that might
breed their content. Amongst the rest he had appointed this
solemne turnament, wherunto hee in most solemne maner
resorted, accompanied with the twelve peers of France, who,
rather for fear then love, graced him with the shew of their
dutiful favours. To feede their eyes, and to make the be-
holders pleased with the sight of most rare and glistring ob-
jects, he had appoynted his owne daughter Alinda to be there,
and the fair Rosalynd, daughter unto Gerismond, with al the
beautifull dammoselles that were famous for their features
in all France.
Thus in that place did love and war triumph in a simpa-
thy; for such as were martial might use their launce to be
renowned for the excellency of their chevalrie, and suche as
were amorous might glut themselves with gazing on the
beauties of most heavenly creatures. As every mans eye
had his several survey, and fancie was partial in their lookes,
yet all in general applauded the admirable riches that nature
bestowed on the face of Rosalynde; for uppon her cheekes
there seemed a battaile betweene the graces, who should be-
stow most favours to make her excellent. The blush that
gloried Luna, when she kist the shepheard on the hilles of
Latmos, was not tainted with such a pleasant dye, as the ver-
milion flourisht on the silver hue of Rosalyndes countenance:
her eyes were lyke those lampes that make the wealthie


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 19
covert of the heavens more gorgious, sparkling favour and
disdaine; courteous and yet coye, as if in them Venus had
placed all her amorets, and Diana all her chastitie. The tra-
melles of her hayre, foulded in a call of golde, so farre surpast
the burnisht glister of the mettal, as the sunne doth the
meanest starre in brightnesse: the tresses that foldes in the
browes of Apollo were not halfe so rich to the sight, for in her
hayres it seemed love had laide herselfe in ambush, to intrappe
the proudest eye that durst gaze uppon their excellence.
What should I neede to decipher her particular beauties,
when by the censure of all shee was the paragon of all earthly
perfection? This Rosalynd sat, I say, with Alinda as a be-
holder of these sportes, and made the cavaliers cracke their
lances with more courage: many deedes of knighthood that
day were performed, and many prizes were given according
to their several desertes. At last when the tournament ceased,
the wrastling beganne, and the Norman presented himselfe
as a chalenger against all commers, but hee looked lyke
Hercules when he advaunst himselfe agaynst Achelotis, so
that the furie of his countenaunce amazed all that durst at-
tempte to incounter with him in any deed of activitie: til
at last a lustie Francklin of the country came with two tall
men, that were his sonnes, of good lyniaments and comely
personage: the eldest of these dooing his obeysance to the
king entered the lyst, and presented himselfe to the Norman,
who straight coapt with him, and as a man that would tri-
umph in the glorie of his strength, roused himselfe with such
furie, that not onely hee gave him the fall, but killed him
with the weight of his corpulent personage; which the
yoonger brother seeing, lepte presently into the place, and
thirstie after the revenge, assayled the Norman with such
valour, that at the first incounter hee brought him to his
knees: which repulst so the Norman, that recovering him-
selfe, feare of disgrace doubling his strength, hee stept so
stearnely to the yoong Francklin, that taking him up in his
armes hee threw him against the grounde so violently, that hee
C 2


20 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
broake his necke, and so ended his dayes with his brother.
At this unlookt for massacre the people murmured, and were
all in a deepe passion of pittie; but the Franklin, father unto
these, never chaunged his countenance, but as a man of a cou-
ragious resolution tooke up the bodies of his sonnes without
shewe of outward discontent.
All this while stood Rosader and sawe this tragedie; who,
noting the undoubted vertue of the Francklins minde, alight-
ed of from his horse, and presently sat downe on the grasse,
and commanded his boy to pul off his bootes, making him
ready to try the strength of this champion. Being furnished
as he would, he clapt the Francklin on the shoulder and said
thus. Bold yeoman, whose sonnes have ended the tearme of
their yeares with honour, for that I see thou scornest fortune
with patience, and thwartest the injury of fate with content
in brooking the death of thy sonnes, stand awhile, and either
see me make a third in their tragedie, or else revenge their
fal with an honourable triumph. The Francklin, seeing so
goodly a gentleman to give him such curteous comfort, gave
him hartie thankes, with promise to pray for his happy suc-
cesse. With that Rosader vailed bonnet to the king, and
lightly leapt within the lists, where noting more the companie
then the combatant, he cast his eye upon the troupe of ladies
that glistered there lyke the starres of heaven; but at last
Love willing to make him as amourous as hee was valiant,
presented him with the sight of Rosalynd, whose admirable
beautie so inveagled the eye of Rosader, that forgetting him-
selfe, hee stood and fedde his lookes on the favour of
Rosalyndes face; which shee perceiving, blusht, which was
such a doubling of her beauteous excellence, that the bashful
redde of Aurora at the sight of unacquainted Phaeton, was
not halfe so glorious.
The Normane seeing this young gentleman fettered in the
lookes of the ladyes drave him out of his memento with a
shake by the shoulder. Rosader looking backe with an an-
grie frowne, as if hee had been wakened from some pleasaunt


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 21
dreame, discovered to all by the furye of his countenance
that hee was a man of some high thoughts: but when they
all noted his youth, and the sweetnesse of his visage, with a
general applause of favours, they grieved that so goodly a
yoong man should venture in so base an action; but seeing
it were to his dishonour to hinder him from his enterprise,
they wisht him to bee graced with the palme of victorie.
After Rosader was thus called out of his memento by the
Norman, he roughly clapt to him with so fierce an incounter,
that they both fel to the ground, and with the violence of the
fal were forced to breathe : in which space the Norman called
to minde by all tokens, that this was hee whome Saladyne
had appoynted him to kil; which conjecture made him stretch
every limbe, and try every sinew, that working his death hee
might recover the golde which so bountifuly was promised
him. On the contrary part, Rosader while he breathed was
not idle, but stil cast his eye upon Rosalynde, who to in-
courage him with a favour, lent him such an amorous looke,
as might have made the most coward desperate: which
glance of Rosalynd so fiered the passionate desires of Rosader,
that turning to the Noman hee ranne upon him and braved
him with a strong encounter. The Norman received him as
valiantly, that there was a sore combat, hard to judge on
whose side fortune would be prodigal. At last Rosader,
calling to minde the beautie of his new mistresse, the fame of
his fathers honours, and the disgrace that should fal to his
house by his misfortune, rowsed himselfe and threw the Nor-
man against the ground, falling uppon his chest with so will-
ing a weight, that the Norman yelded nature her due, and
Rosader the victorie. *-
The death of this champion, as it highly contented the
Francklin, as a man satisfied with revenge, so it drue the
king and all the peeres into a great admiration, that so yoong
yeares and so beautiful a personage should contain such
martiall excellence; but when they knew him to bee the
yoongest sonne of Sir John of Bourdeaux, the king rose from


22 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
his seat and imbraced him, and the peeres intreated him
with all favourable curtesie, commending both his valour and
his vertues, wishing him to go forward in such haughtie
deeds, that hee might attaine to the glory of his fathers honour-
able fortunes.
As the king and lordes graced him with embracyng, so the
ladyes favoured him with theyr lookes, especially Rosalynd,
whome the beautie and valour of Rosader had already
touched: but she accounted love a toye, and fancie a momen-
tary passion, that as it was taken in with a gaze, might be
shaken off with a winke, and therefore feared not to dally
in the flame; and to make Rosader know she affected him,
tooke from her necke a jewel, and sent it by a page to the
yong gentleman. The prize that Venus gave to Paris was
not halfe so pleasing to the Trojan as this jemme was to
Rosader; for if fortune had sworne to make himself sole
monarke of the world, he would rather have refused such
dignitie, then have lost the jewel sent him by Rosalynd. To
return hir with the like he was unfurnished, and yet that he
might more than in his lookes discover his affections, hee stept
into a tent, and taking pen and paper writ this fancie:—
Two sunnes at once from one faire heaven there shinde,
Ten braunches from two boughes tipt, all with roses,
Pure lockes more golden than is golde refinde,
Two pearled rowes that natures pride incloses;
Two mounts faire marble white, downe-soft and dainty,
A snow died orbe, where love increast by pleasure
Full wofull makes my heart, and body faintie:
Hir faire (my woe) exceeds all thought and measure.
In lines confusde my lucklesse harme appeareth,
Whom sorrow clowdes, whom pleasant smiling cleareth.
This sonnet he sent to Rosalynd, which when she read
shee blusht, but with a sweet content in that she perceived
love had alotted her so amorous a servant. Leaving her to
her intertained fancies, againe to Rosader, who triumphing in
the glorie of this conquest, accompanyed with a troupe of


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 23
yoong gentlemen that were desirous to be his familiars, went
home to his brother Saladynes, who was walking before the
gates, to heare what successe his brother Rosader should have,
assuring himself of his death, and devising how with dis-
simuled sorrowe to celebrate his funerals. As he was in his
thought, he cast up his eye, and sawe where Rosader re-
turned with the garland on his head, as having won the prize,
accompanied with a crue of boon companions: greeved at
this, he stepped in and shut the gate. Rosader seeing this,
and not looking for such unkind entertainment, blusht at the
disgrace, and yet smothering his griefe with a smile, he
turned to the gentlemen, and desired them to hold his brother
excused, for he did not this upon any malitious intent or ni-
gardize, but being brought up in the country, he absented
himselfe as not finding his nature fit for such youthful com-
pany. Thus he sought to shadow abuses proffered him by
his brother, but in vaine, for hee could by no meanes be suf-
fered to enter: wherupon he ran his foot against the doore,
and brake it open, drawing his sword, and entering boldly
into the hall, where he found none (for all were fled) but one
Adam Spencer, an English man, who had beene an old and
trustie servant to Sir John of Bourdeaux. He for the love hee
bare to his deceased maister, favored the part of Rosader,
and gave him and his such entertainment as he could. Ro-
sader gave him thanks, and looking about, seeing the hall
empty, saide, Gentlemen, you are welcome; frolike and be
merry: you shall be sure to have wine enough, whatsoever
your fare be. I telyou, cavaliers, my brother hath in his house
five tunne of wine, and as long as that lasteth, Ibeshrew him
that spares his lyquor. With that he burst open the buttery
doore, and with the helpe of Adam Spencer covered the
tables, and set downe whatsoever he could find in the house;
but what they wanted in meat, was supplyed with drinke,
yet had they royall cheare, and withal such hartie welcome
as would have made the coursest meats seeme delicates.
After they had feasted and frolickt it twise or thrise with


24 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
an upsey freeze, they all tooke leave of Rosader and departed.
Assoone as they were gone, Rosader growing impatient of
the abuse, drewe his sword, and swore to be revenged on the
discourteous Saladyne; yet by the meanes of Adam Spencer,
who sought to continue friendshippe and amity betwixt the
brethren, and through the flattering submission of Saladyne,
they were once againe reconciled, and put up all forepassed
injuries with a peaceable agreement, living together for a
good space in such brotherly love, as did not onely rejoice the
servantes, but made all the gentlemen and bordering neigh-
bours glad of such friendly concord. Saladyne, hiding fire in
the straw, and concealing a poysoned hate in a peaceable
countenance, yet deferring the intent of his wrath till fitter
oportunity, he shewed himselfe a great favorer of his bro-
thers vertuous endevors: where, leaving them in this happy
league, let us returne to Rosalynd.
Rosalynd returning home from the tryumph, after she
waxed solitary love presented her with the idea of Rosaders
perfection, and taking her at discovert stroke her so deepe,
as she felte her selfe grow passing passionate. Shee began to
cal to minde the comlinesse of his person, the honor of his
parents, and the vertues that, excelling both, made him so gra-
tious in the eies of every one. Sucking in thus the hony of
love by imprinting in her thoughts his rare qualities, shee
began to surfet with the contemplation of his vertuous condi-
tions; but when she cald to remembrance her present estate,
and the hardnesse of her fortunes, desire began to shrink, and
fancie to vale bonnet, that betweene a chaos of confused
thoughts she began to debate with herselfe in this maner.
ROSALYNDS PASSION.
Infortunate Rosalynde, whose misfortunes are more than
thy yeares, and whose passions are greater then thy patience
The blossoms of thy youth are mixt with the frosts of envy,
and the hope of thy ensuing fruits perish in the bud. Thy


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 25
father is by Torismond banisht from the crown, and thou, the
unhappy daughter of a king detained captive, living as dis-
quieted in thy thoughts, as thy father discontented in his exile.
Ah Rosalynd, what cares wait upon a crown! what griefs
are incident to dignity what sorrows haunt royal pallaces !
The greatest seas have the sorest stormes, the highest birth
subject to the most bale, and of all trees the cedars soonest
shake with the wind : smal currents are ever calme, lowe
valleys not scorcht in any lightnings, nor base men tyed to
anie baleful prejudice. Fortune flies, and if she touch poverty
it is with hir heele, rather disdaining their want with a
frown, then envying their welth with disparagement. Oh
Rosalynd, hadst thou beene born low, thou hadst not
falne so high, and yet beeing great of blood thine honour is
more, if thou brookest misfortune with patience. Suppose I
contrary fortune with content, yet fates unwilling to have me
any waies happy, have forced love to set my thoughts on fire
with fancie. Love, Rosalynd! becommeth it women in dis-
tresse to thinke on Love! Tush, desire hath no respect of
persons: Cupid is blind and shooteth at random, assoone
hitting a ragge as a robe, and piercing assoone the bosome of
a captive, as the brest of a libertine. Thou speakest it, poore
Rosalynd, by experience; for being every way distrest, sur-
charged with cares, and overgrowne with sorrowes, yet
amidst the heape of all these mishaps, love hath lodged in
thy heart the perfection of yong Rosader, a man every way
absolute as wel for his inward life, as for his outward lynia-
ments, able to content the eye with beauty, and the eare
with the report of his vertue. But consider, Rosalynde, his
fortunes, and thy present estate: thou art poore and without
patrymony, and yet the daughter of a prince; he a yonger
brother, and voyd of such possessions as eyther might main-
taine thy dignities or revenge thy fathers injuries. And
hast thou not learned this of other ladies, that lovers cannot
live by looks! that womens ears are sooner content with a
pound of give me, then a dram of heare me ! that gold is


26 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
sweeter than eloquence? that love is a fire, and wealth is the
fewell that Venus coffer should be ever ful! Then, Rosalynd,
seeing Rosader is poore, thinke him lesse beautiful, because
hee is in want, and account his vertues but qualities of course,
for that he is not indued with wealth. Doth not Horace tell
thee what methode is to be used in love!
Querenda pecunia primum, post nummos virtus.
Tush, Rosalynd, be not over rash: leape not before thou
looke: either love such a one as may with his landes purchase
thy libertie, or els love not at all. Chuse not a faire face
with an empty purse, but say as most women use to say,
Sinihil attuleris, ibis Homere foras.
Why, Rosalynd, can such base thoughts harbour in such
high beauties? can the degree of a princesse, the daughter of
Gerismond harbour such servile conceites, as to prize gold
more than honour, or to measure a gentleman by his wealth,
not by his vertues 1 No, Rosalynd, blush at thy base resolu-
tion, and say, if thou lovest, eyther Rosader or none. And
why? because Rosader is both beautiful and vertuous.
Smiling to her selfe to thinke of her new intertained passions,
taking up her lute that lay by her, she warbled out this dittie.
ROSALYNDS MADRIGALL.
Love in my bosome like a bee
Doth sucke his sweete:
Now with his wings he playes with me,
Now with his feete.
Within mine eyes he makes his nest,
His bed amidst my tender brest:
My kisses are his dayly feast,
And yet he robs me of my rest.
Ah, wanton, will ye?


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 27
And if I sleepe, then pearcheth he
With pretty flight,
And makes his pillow of my knee
The livelong night.
Strike I my lute, he tunes the string;
He musicke playes if so I sing.
He lends me every lovely thing,
Yet cruell he my heart doth sting:
Whist, wanton, still ye!
Else I with roses every day
Will whip you hence,
And binde you, when you long to play,
For your offence.
Ile shut mine eyes to keep you in,
Ile make you fast it for your sinne,
Ile count your power not worth a pinne.
Alas, what hereby shall I winne,
If he gainsay me?
What if I beate the wanton boy
With many a rod?
He wil repay me with annoy,
Because a God.
Then sit thou safely on my knee,
And let thy bower my bosome be;
Lurke in mine eies, I like of thee,
O Cupid, so thou pittie me,
Spare not but play thee.
Scarce had Rosalynde ended her madrigale, before Toris-
mond came in with his daughter Alinda and many of the
peers of France, who were enamoured of her beauty; which
Torismond perceiving, fearing least her perfection might be
the beginning of his prejudice, and the hope of his fruit ende
in the beginning of her blossomes, he thought to banish her
from the court: for, quoth he to himselfe, her face is so ful of
favour, that it pleads pittie in the eye of every man: her
beauty is so heavenly and devine, that she wil prove to me
as Helen did to Priam: some one of the peeres wil ayme at
her love, end the marriage, and then in his wives right at-
tempt the kingdome. To prevent therefore had I wist in


28 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
all these actions, shee tarryes not about the court, but shall
(as an exile) eyther wander to her father, or else seeke other
fortunes. In this humour, with a sterne countenance ful of
wrath, he breathed out this censure unto her before the peers,
that charged her that that night shee were not seene about the
court: for (quoth he) I have heard of thy aspiring speeches,
and intended treasons. This doome was strange unto Rosa-
lynd, and presently covred with the shield of her innocence,
she boldly brake out in reverent tearms to have cleared her-
self; but Torismond would admit of no reason, nor durst his
lords plead for Rosalynd, although her beauty had made
some of them passionate, seeing the figure of wrath pourtrayed
in his brow. Standing thus all mute, and Rosalynd amazed,
Alinda, who loved her more than herself, with grief in her
hart and teares in her eyes, falling down on her knees,
began to intreat her father thus.
ALINDAS ORATION TO HER FATHER IN DEFENCE OF
ROSALYNDE.
If (mighty Torismond) I offend in pleading for my friend,
let the law of amitie crave pardon for my boldnesse; for
where there is depth of affection, there friendship alloweth a
priviledge. Rosalynd and I have beene fostered up from our
infancies, and noursed under the harbour of our conversing
togeather with such private familiarities, that custome had
wrought an unyon of our nature, and the sympathie of our
affections such a secret love, that we have two bodies and
one soule. Then marvell not (great Torismond) if, seeing my
friend distrest, I finde myselfe perplexed with a thousand
sorrowes; for her vertuous and honourable thoughts (which
are the glories that maketh women excellent) they be such
as may challenge love, and race out suspition. Her obedience
to your majestie I referre to the censure of your owne eye,
that since her fathers exile hath smothered al griefs with pa-
tience, and in the absence of nature, hath honored you with all


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 29
dutie, as her owne father by nouriture, not in word uttering any
discontent, nor in thought as (far as conjecture may reach)
hammering on revenge; only in all her actions seeking to
please you, and to win my favor. Her wisdome, silence, chas-
titie, and other such rich qualities, Ineed not decypher; onely it
rests for me to conclude in one word, that she is innocent. If
then, fortune who tryumphs in variety of miseries, hath pre-
sented some envious person (as minister of her intended stra-
tagem) to tainte Rosalynde with any surmise of treason, let
him be brought to her face, and confirme his accusation by
witnesses; which proved, let her die, and Alinda wil execute
the massacre. If none can avouch any confirmed relation of
her intent, use justice, my lord, it is the glory of a king, and
let her live in your wonted favour; for if you banish her,
myselfe, as copartner of her harde fortunes, will participate
in exile some part of her extremities.
Torismond (at this speech of Alinda) covered his face with
such a frown, as tyranny seemed to sit triumphant in his
forhead, and checkt her up with such taunts, as made the
lords (that only were hearers) to tremble. Proud girle (quoth
he) hath my looks made thee so light of toong, or my favours
incouraged thee to bee so forward, that thou darest presume
to preach after thy father 1 hath not my yeares more experi-
ence than thy youth, and the winter of mine age deeper in-
sight into civil policie, than the prime of thy florishing
dayes! The olde lion avoides the toyles, where the yoong
one leapes into the nette: the care of age is provident and
foresees much: suspition is a vertue, where a man holdes his
enemie in his bosome. Thou, fond girle, measurest all by
present affection, and as thy heart loves, thy thoughts cen-
sure; but if thou knowest that in liking Rosalynd thou
hatchest up a bird to pecke out thine owne eyes, thou wouldst
intreat as much for hir absence as now thou delightest in her
presence. But why doe I alleadge policie to thee! sit you
downe, huswife, and fall to your needle: if idlenes make you
so wanton, or libertie so malipert, I can quickly tye you to a


30 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
sharper taske. And you (mayd) this night be packing, eyther
into Arden to your father, or whither best it shall content
your humour, but in the court you shall not abide. This
rigorous replie of Torismond nothing amazed Alinda, for stil
she prosecuted her plea in the defence of Rosalynd, wishing
her father (if his censure might not be reverst) that he would
appoynther partner of her exile; which if he refused, eyther
she would by some secret meanes steale out and followe her,
or else ende her dayes with some desperate kind of death.
When Torismond heard his daughter so resolute, his heart
was so hardened against her, that he set down a definitive and
peremptory sentence, that they should both be banished,
which presently was done, the tyrant rather choosing to
hazard the losse of his onely child than any wayes to put in
question the state of his kingdome; so suspitious and fearfull
is the conscience of an usurper. Wel, although his lords
perswaded him to retaine his owne daughter, yet his resolu-
tion might not be reverst, but both of them must away from
the court without eyther more company or delay. In hee
went with great melancholy, and left these two ladyes alone.
Rosalynd waxed very sad, and sate downe and wept. Alinda
she smiled, and sitting by her friend began thus to comfort
her.
ALINDAS COMFORT TO PERPLEXED ROSALYND.
Why how now, Rosalynd, dismayd with a frowne of con-
trary fortune? Have I not oft heard thee say, that hygh
mindes were discovered in fortunes contempt, and heroycal
seene in the depth of extremities? Thou wert wont to tel
others that complained of distresse, that the sweetest salve
for misery was patience, and the onely medicine for want
that pretious implaister of content. Being such a good phisi-
tion to others, wilt thou not minister receipts to thy selfe'
but perchance thou wilt say,
Consulenti nunquam caput doluit.


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 31
Why then, if the patients that are sicke of this disease
can finde in themselves neither reason to perswade, nor art to
cure, yet (Rosalynd) admit of the counsaile of a friend, and
applie the salves that may appease thy passions. If thou
grievest that being the daughter of a prince, and envy
thwarteth thee with such hard exigents, thinke that royaltie
is a faire marke, that crowns have crosses when mirth is
in cottages; that the fairer the rose is, the sooner it is bitten
with caterpillers; the more orient the pearle is, the more apt
to take a blemish; and the greatest birth, as it hath most
honour, so it hath much envy. If then fortune aymeth at
the fairest, be patient Rosalynd, for first by thine exile thou
goest to thy father: nature is higher prised then wealth, and
the love of ones parents ought to bee more pretious then all
dignities. Why then doth my Rosalynd grieve at the frowne
of Torismond, who by offering her a prejudice proffers her a
greater pleasure! and more (mad lasse) to be melancholy,
when thou hast with thee Alinda, a friend who wil be a
faithful copartner of althy misfortunes; who hath left her
father to follow thee, and chooseth rather to brooke al ex-
tremities then to forsake thy presence. What, Rosalynd,
Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris.
Cheerly, woman: as wee have been bedfellowes in royaltie,
we wil be felow mates in povertie: I wil ever be thy Alinda,
and thou shalt ever rest to me Rosalynd; so shall the world
canonize our friendship, and speake of Rosalynd and Alinda,
as they did of Pilades and Orestes. And if ever fortune
smile, and we returne to our former honour, then folding our
selves in the sweete of our friendship, we shal merily say
(calling to mind our forepassed miseries)
Olim haec meminisse juvabit.
At this Rosalynd began to comfort her, and after shee had
wept a fewe kinde teares in the bosome of her Alinda, shee


32 EU PHUFS GOLDEN LEGACIE.
gave her heartie thankes, and then they sat them downe to
consult how they should travel. Alinda grieved at nothing
but that they might have no man in their company, saying,
it would bee their greatest prejudice in that two women
went wandring without either guide or attendant. Tush
(quoth Rosalynd) art thou a woman, and hast not a sodeine
shift to prevent a misfortune 1 I (thou seest) am of a tall
stature, and would very wel become the person and apparel
of a page: thou shalt bee my mistresse, and I wil play the
man so properly, that (trust me) in what company so ever I
come I wil not be discovered. I will buy me a suite, and
have my rapier very handsomly at my side, and if any
knave offer wrong, your page wil shew him the poynt of
his weapon. At this Alinda smiled, and upon this they
agreed, and presently gathered up al their jewels, which
they trussed up in a casket, and Rosalynd in all hast pro-
vided her of robes; and Alinda being called Aliena, and
Rosalynd Ganimede, they traveiled along the vineyardes,
and by many by-waies, at last got to the forrest side, where
they traveiled by the space of two or three dayes without
seeing anye creature, being often in danger of wilde beasts,
and payned with many passionate sorrowes. Now the black
oxe began to tread on their feet, and Alinda thought of her
wonted royaltie; but when she cast her eyes on her Rosalynd,
she thought every daunger a step to honour. Passing thus
on along, about midday they came to a fountaine, compast
with groave of cipresse trees, so cunningly and curiously
planted, as if some goddesse had intreated nature in that
place to make her an arbour. By this fountaine sat Aliena
and her Ganimede, and forth they pulled such victuals as
they had, and fedde as merely as if they had been in Paris
with all the kings delicates, Aliena onely grieving that they
could not so much as meete with a shepheard to discourse them
the way to some place where they might make their abode.
At last Ganimede casting up his eye espied where on a tree
was ingraven certaine verses; which assoone as he espied,


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 33
he cryed out, be of good cheare, mistresse: I spie the figures
of men; for heere in these trees bee ingraven certaine verses
of shepheards, or some other swaines that inhabite here
about. With that Aliena start up joyful to hear these newes,
and looked, where they found carved in the barke of a pine
tree this passion.
MONTANUS PASSION.
Hadst thou been borne wher as perpetuall cold
Makes Tanais hard, and mountaines silver old:
Had I complainde unto a marble stone,
Or to the flouds bewraide my bitter mone,
I then could beare the burthen of my griefe :
But even the pride of countries at thy birth,
Whilste heavens did smile, did new aray the earth
With flowers chiefe;
Yet thou, the flower of beautie blessed borne,
Hast pretie lookes, but all attirde in scorne.
Had I the power to weep sweet Mirrhas teares,
Or by my plaints to pearce repining eares:
Hadst thou the heart to smile at my complaint,
To scorne the woes that doth my hart attaint,
I then could beare the burthen of my griefe:
But not my teares, but truth with thee prevailes,
And seeming sowre my sorowes thee assailes:
Yet small releife;
For if thou wilt thou art of marble hard,
And if thou please my suite shall soone be heard.
No doubt (quoth Aliena) this poesie is the passion of some
perplexed shepheard, that being enamoured of some faire and
beautifull shepheardesse, suffered some sharpe repulse, and
therfore complained of the crueltie of his mistresse. You
may see (quoth Ginimede) what mad cattel you women be,
whose harts sometimes are made of adamant that wil touch
with no impression, and sometime of wax that is fit for
every forme: they delight to be courted, and then they glory
D


34 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
to seeme coy, and when they are most desired then they
freese with disdaine: and this fault is so common to the sex,
that you see it painted out in the shepheardes passions, who
found his mistres as froward as he was enamoured. And I
pray you (quoth Aliena) if your robes were off, what mettal
are you made of that you are so satyrical against women? is
it not a foule bird defiles his own nest? beware (Ganimede)
that Rosader heare you not, if hee doe, perchance you wil
make him leape so farre from love, that he wil anger every
vaine in your heart. Thus (quoth Ganimede) I keepe deco-
rum: I speak now as I am Aliena's page, not as I am Geris-
monds daughter; for put mee but into a peticoat, and I wil
stand in defiance to the uttermost, that women are curteous,
constant, vertuous, and what not. Stay there (quoth Aliena)
and no more words, for yonder be caracters graven uppon
the barke of the tall beech tree. Let us see (quoth Ganimede);
and with that they read a fancy written to this effect.
First shall the heavens want starry light,
The seas be robbed of their waves,
The day want sunne, and sunne want bright,
The night want shade, the dead mens graves;
The April flowers, and leafe, and tree,
Before I false my faith to thee.
First shall the tops of highest hils
By humble plaines be overpride;
And poets scorne the muses quils,
And fish forsake the water glide,
And Iris loose her coloured weed,
Before I faile thee at thy need.
First direful hate shall turne to peace,
And love relent in deepe disdaine,
And poets scorne the muses quils,
And fish forsake the water glide.
And Iris loose her coloured weed,
Before I faile thee at thy need.


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 35
First direfull hate shall turn to peace,
And love relent in deep disdain,
And death his fatall stroake shall cease,
And envy pitie every paine;
And pleasure mourn and sorow smile,
Before I talke of any guile.
First time shall stay his staylesse race,
And winter blesse his browes with corne;
And snow bemoysten Julies face,
And winter spring, and summer mourn,
Before my pen, by helpe of fame,
Cease to recite thy sacred name.
Mont ANUs.
No doubt (quoth Ganimede) this protestation grew from
one full of passions. I am of that minde too (quoth Aliena)
but see, I pray, when poore women seeke to keepe themselves
chaste, how men woo them with many fained promises; al-
luring with sweet words as the syrens, and after prooving as
trothlesse as AEneas. Thus promised Demophoon to his
Phillis, but who at last grew more false? The reason was
(quoth Ganimede) that they were womens sonnes, and tooke
that fault of their mother, for if man had growne from man, as
Adam did from the earth, men had never been troubled with
inconstancie. Leave off (quoth Aliena) to taunt thus bit-
terly, or els Ile pull off your pages apparell, and whip you
(as Venus doth her wantons) with nettles. So you will
(quoth Ganimede) perswade mee to flattery, and that needs
not; but come (seeing we have found here by this fount the
tract of shepheardes by their madrigalles and roundelaies)
let us forwarde; for either wee shall finde some foldes, sheep-
coates, or els some cottages wherin for a day or two to rest.
Content (quoth Aliena) and with that they rose up, and
marched forward till towards the even, and then comming
into a faire valley (compassed with mountaines, whereon
grew many pleasaunt shrubbes) they descrie where two flockes
of sheepe did feed. Then, looking about, they might perceive
where an old shepheard sate (and with him a yoong swaine)
D 2


36 EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
/
under a covert most pleasantly scituated. The ground where
they sate was diapred with Floras riches, as if she ment to
wrap Tellus in the glorie of her vestments: round about in
the forme of an amphitheater were most curiously planted
pine trees, interseamed with lymons and cytrons, which with
the thicknesse of their boughes so shadowed the place, that
Phoebus could not prie into the secret of that arbour; so
united were the tops with so thick a closure, that Venus
might there in her jollitie have dallied unseene with her deer-
est paramour. Fast by (to make the place more gorgious)
was there a fount so christalline and cleare, that it seemed
Diana with her Driades and Hemadriades had that spring,
as the secret of all their bathings. In this glorious arbour
satte these two shepheardes (seeing their sheepe feede) play-
ing on their pipes many pleasant tunes, and from musicke
and melodie falling into much amorous chat. Drawing more
nigh we might descry the countenance of the one to be full
of sorrow, his face to bee the very pourtraiture of discontent,
and his eyes full of woes, that living he seemed to dye; we
(to heare what these were) stole privily behinde the thicke,
where we overheard this discourse.
A PLEASANT EGLOG BETWEEN MONTANUS AND CORIDON.
4 ſr.
Coridon.
Say, shepheards boy, what makes thee greet so sore?
Why leaves thy pipe his pleasure and delight?
Yoong are thy yeares, thy cheeks with roses dight:
Then sing for joy (sweet swain) and sigh no more.
This milk-white poppy, and this climbing pine
Both promise shade; then sit thee downe and sing,
And make these woods with pleasant notes to ring,
Till Phoebus daine all westward to decline.


FU PHU ES GOLDEN LEGACI E. 37
Montanus.
Ah (Coridon) unmeet is melody
To him whom proud contempt hath overborn:
Slain are my joyes by Phoebus bitter scorn;
Far hence my weale, and nere my jeopardy.
Loves burning brand is couched in my breast,
Making a Phoenix of my faintfull hart:
And though his fury doo inforce my smart,
Ay blyth am I to honour his behest.
Preparde to woes, since so my Phoebe wils,
My lookes dismaid, since Phoebe will disdain;
I banish blisse and welcome home my pain:
So stream my teares as showers from alpine hils.
In errors maske I blindfold judgements eye,
I fetter reason in the snares of lust,
I seeme secure, yet know not how to trust;
I live by that which makes me living dye.
Devoyd of rest, companion of distresse,
Plague to myselfe, consumed by my thought,
How may my voyce or pipe in tune be brought,
Since I am reft of solace and delight?
Coridon.
Ah, lorrell lad, what makes thee herry love?
A sugred harme, a poyson full of pleasure,
A painted shrine full-fild with rotten treasure;
A heaven in shew, a hell to them that prove.
A gaine in seeming, shadowed stil with want,
A broken staffe which follie doth upholde,
A flower that fades with everie frostie colde,
An orient rose sprong from a withred plant.
A minutes joy to gaine a world of griefe,
A subtil net to snare the idle minde,
A seeing scorpion, yet in seeming blinde,
A poore rejoice, a plague without reliefe.


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
For thy, Montanus, follow mine arreede,
(Whom age hath taught the traines that fancy useth)
Leave foolish love, for beautie wit abuseth,
And drownes (by folly) vertues springing seede.
Montanus.
So blames the childe the flame, because it burnes,
And bird the snare, because it doth intrap,
And fooles true love, because of sorry hap,
And saylers cursse the ship that overturnes.
But would the childe forbeare to play with flame,
And birds beware to trust the flowlers gin,
And fooles foresee before they fall and sin,
And maisters guide their ships in better frame;
The childe would praise the fire, because it warmes,
And birds rejoyce to see the fowler faile,
And fooles prevent before their plagues prevaile,
And saylers blesse the barke that saves from harmes.
Ah, Coridon, though many be thy yeares,
And crooked elde hath some experience left,
Yet is thy mind of judgement quite bereft,
In view of love, whose power in me appeares.
The ploughman litle wots to turn the pen,
Or bookeman skils to guide the ploughmans cart;
Nor can the cobler count the tearmes of art,
Nor base men judge the thoughts of mighty men.
Nor withered age (unmeet for beauties guide,
Uncapable of loves impression)
Discourse of that whose choyce possession
May never to so base a man be tied.
But I (whom nature makes of tender mold,
And youth most pliant yeelds to fancies fire)
Do build my haven and heaven on sweet desire,
On sweet desire, more deere to me than gold.
Thinke I of love, O, how my lines aspire
How hast the muses to imbrace my browes,
And hem my temples in with lawrell bowes,
And fill my braines with chast and holy fire!


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 39
Then leave my lines their homely equipage,
Mounted beyond the circle of the sunne:
Amazed I read the stile when I have done,
And herry love that sent that heavenly rage.
Of Phoebe then, of Phoebe then I sing,
Drawing the puritie of all the spheares,
The pride of earth, or what in heaven appeares,
Her honoured face and fame to light to bring.
In fluent numbers, and in pleasant vaines,
I robbe both sea and earth of all their state,
To praise her parts: I charme both time and fate,
To bless the nymph that yeelds me love sicke paines.
My sheepe are turnd to thoughts, whom froward will
Guydes in the restles laborynth of love;
Feare lends them pasture whereso ere they move,
And by their death their life renueth still.
My sheephooke is my pen, mine oaten reed
My paper, where my many woes are written.
Thus silly swaine (with love and fancie bitten)
I trace the plaines of paine in wofull weed.
Yet are my cares, my broken sleepes, my teares,
My dreames, my doubts, for Phoebe sweet to me:
Who wayteth heaven in sorrowes vale must be,
And glory shines where daunger most appeares.
Then, Coridon, although I blith me not,
Blame me not, man, since sorrow is my sweet :
So willeth love, and Phoebe thinkes it meet,
And kind Montanus liketh well his lot.
Coridon.
Oh, staylesse youth, by errour so misguided,
Where will proscribeth lawes to perfect wits,
Where reason mournes, and blame in triumph sits,
And folly poysoneth all that time provided !


40
EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
With wilfull blindnesse bleard, prepard to shame,
Prone to neglect Occasion when she smiles:
Alas, that love, by fond and froward guiles,
Should make thee tract the path to endlesse blame!
Ah (my Montanus) cursed is the charme,
That hath bewitched so thy youthfull eyes.
Leave off in time to like these vanities,
Be forward to thy good, and fly thy harme.
As many bees as Hibla daily shields,
As many frie as fleet on oceans face;
As many heards as on the earth do trace,
As many flowers as decke the fragrant fields:
As many stars as glorious heaven contains,
As many storms as wayward winter weepes,
As many plagues as hell inclosed keepes,
So many griefs in love, so many pains.
Suspitions, thoughts, desires, opinions, prayers,
Mislikes, misdeedes, fond joies, and fained peace,
Illusions, dreames, great paines, and small increase,
Vowes, hope, acceptance, scorns, and deepe despaires;
Truce, warre, and wo do wait at beauties gate;
Time lost, laments, reports, and privy grudge,
And lust: fierce love is but a partiall judge,
Who yeelds for service shame, for friendship hate.
Montanus.
All adder-like I stop mine eares (fond swaine)
So charm no more, for I will never change.
Call home thy flocks betime that stragling range,
For loe, the sunne declineth hence amaine.
Terentius.
In amore haec insunt vitia: induciae, inimicitiae, bellum, pax rursum :
incerta haec si tu postules, ratione certa fieri nihilo plus agas, quam
fides operam, ut cum ratione insanias.


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACI E. 41
The shepheards having thus ended their Eglogue, Aliena
stept with Ganimede from behind the thicket; at whose
sodayne sight the shepheards arose, and Aliena saluted them
thus: Shepheards, all haile (for such wee deeme you by your
flockes) and lovers, good lucke, (for such you seeme by your
passions) our eyes being witnesse of the one, and our eares of
the other. Although not by love, yet by fortune, I am a dis-
tressed gentlewoman, as sorrowfull as you are passionate, and
as full of woes as you of perplexed thoughts. Wandring this
way in a forrest unknown, onely I and my page, wearied with
travel, would faine have some place of rest. May you appoint
us any place of quiet harbour (bee it never so meane) I shall
bee thankfull to you, contented in my selfe, and gratefull to
whosoever shall be mine host. Coridon, hearing the gentle-
woman spéake so courteously, returned her mildly and re-
verently this answere.
Faire mistresse, wee returne you as hearty a welcome as
you gave us a courteous salute. A shepheard I am, and
this a lover, as watchful to please his wench as to feed his
sheep: ful of fancies, and therefore, say I, full of follyes.
Exhort him I may, but perswade him I cannot; for love ad-
mits neither of counsaile nor reason. But leaving him to his
passions, if you be distrest, I am sorrowfull such a faire creature
is crost with calamitie: pray for you I may, but releeve you
I cannot. Marry, if you want lodging, if you vouch to shrowd
your selves in a shepheards cottage, my house for this night
shall be your harbour. Aliena thankt Coridon greatly, and
presently sate her downe and Ganimede by hir, Coridon
looking earnestly upon her, and with a curious survey view-
ing all her perfections applauded (in his thought) her excel-
lence, and pitying her distresse was desirous to heare the
cause of her misfortunes, began to question her thus.
If I should not (faire Damosell) occasionate offence, or
renew your griefs by rubbing the scar, I would faine crave
so much favour as to know the cause of your misfortunes,
and why, and whither you wander with your page in so dan-


42 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
gerous forest! Aliena (that was as courteous as she was
fayre) made this replie. Shepheard, a friendly demaund
ought never to be offensive, and questions of curtesie carry
priviledged pardons in their forheads. Know, therefore, to
discover my fortunes were to renew my sorrowes, and I
should, by discoursing my mishaps, but rake fire out of the
cynders. Therefore let this suffice, gentle shepheard: my dis-
tress is as great as my travaile is dangerous, and I wander in
this forrest to light on some cotage where I and my page
may dwell: for I meane to buy some farme, and a flocke of
sheepe, and so become a shepheardesse, meaning to live low,
and content mee with a country life; for I have heard the
swaines saye, that they drunke without suspition, and slept
without care. Marry, mistress, quoth Coridon, if you meane
so you came in good time, for my landlord intends to sell
both the farme I tyll, and the flocke I keepe, and cheape you
may have them for ready money: and for a shepheards life
(oh mistres) did you but live a while in their content, you
would say the court were rather a place of sorrow then of
solace. Here, mistresse, shal not fortune thwart you, but in
mean misfortunes, as the losse of a few sheepe, which, as it
breedes no beggery, so it can bee no extreame prejudice:
the next yeare may mend all with a fresh increase. Envy
stirres not us, we covet not to climbe, our desires mount not
above our degrees, nor our thoughts above our fortunes. Care
cannot harbour in our cottages, nor doe our homely couches
know broken slumbers: as wee exceed not ill dyet, so we
have inough to satisfie: and, mistresse, I have so much Latin,
satis est quod sufficit.
By my trueth, shepheard (quoth Aliena) thou makest mee
in love with your countrey life, and therfore send for thy
landlord, and I will buy thy farme and thy flocks, and thou
shalt still under me bee overseer of them both : onely for
pleasure sake I and my page will serve you, lead the flocks
to the field, and folde them. Thus will I live quiet, un-
knowne, and contented. This newes so gladded the hart of


44
EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
MONTANUS SONNET.
Phoebe sate,
Sweet she sate,
Sweet sate Phoebe when I saw her,
White her brow,
Coy her eye:
Brow and eye how much you please me !
Words I spent,
Sighes I sent;
Sighs and words could never draw hir.
Oh my love,
Thou art lost,
Since no sight could ever ease thee.
Phoebe sat
By a fount,
Sitting by a fount I spide her:
Sweet hir touch,
Rare her voyce:
Touch and voyce what may distain you ?
As she sung
I did sigh,
And by sighs whilst that I tride her,
Oh mine eyes!
You did loose
Hir first sight whose want did pain you.
Phoebes flockes,
White as wooll,
Yet were Phoebes locks more whiter.
Phoebes eyes
Dovelike mild,
Dovelike eyes, both mild and cruell.
Montan sweares,
In your lampes
He will die for to delight her.
Phoebe yeeld,
Or I die.
Shall true hearts be fancies fuell?


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 45
Montanus had no sooner ended his sonnet, but Coridon
with a lowe curtesie rose up, and went with his fellow, and
shut their sheepe in the folds; and after returning to Aliena
and Ganimede, conducted them home weary to his poore
cottage. By the waye there was much good chat with Mon-
tanus about his loves, hee resolving Aliena that Phoebe was
the fairest shepherdice in al France, and that in his eye her
beautie was equal with the nimphs. But, quoth he as of all
stones the diamond is most cleerest, and yet most hard for
the lapidorie to cut, as of all flowres the rose is the fairest,
and yet guarded with the sharpest prickles: so of al our
country lasses Phoebe is the brightest, but the most coy of all
to stoop unto desire. But let her take heed quoth he, I have
heard of Narcissus, who for his high disdain against love,
perished in the folly of his owne love. With this they were
at Coridons cottage, where Montanus parted from them, and
they went in to rest. Aliena and Ganimede glad of so con-
tented a shelter, made merry with the poore swaine; and
though they had but countrey fare and course lodging, yet
their welcome was so greate, and their cares so little, that
they counted their diet delicate, and slept as soundly as if
they had beene in the court of Torismond. The next morne
they lay long in bed, as wearyed with the toyle of unaccus-
tomed travaile; but assoone as they got up, Aliena resolved
there to set up her rest, and by the helpe of Coridon swapt a
bargaine with his landslord, and so became mistres of the
farme and the flocke, her selfe putting on the attyre of a
shepherdesse, and Ganimede of a yong swaine: everye day
leading foorth her flockes, with such delight, that she held
her exile happy, and thoght no content to the blisse of a
countrey cottage. Leaving her thus famous amongst the shep-
heards of Arden, againe to Saladyne.
When Saladyne had a long while concealed a secrete reso-
lution of revenge, and could no longer hide fire in the flax,
nor oyle in the flame, (for envy is like lightning, that will
appeare in the darkest fog) it chaunced on a morning very


46 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE
early he cald up certain of his servants, and went with them
to the chamber of Rosader, which being open, hee entred with
his crue, and surprised his brother when he was a sleepe,
and bound him in fetters, and in the midst of his hall chained
him to a post. Rosader, amazed at this strange chaunce,
began to reason with his brother about the cause of this so-
daine extremity, wherin he had wrongd, and what fault he
had committed worthy so sharpe a penance Saladyne an-
swered him onely with a look of disdain, and went his way,
leaving poore Rosader in a deepe perplexity; who, thus
abused, fell into sundry passions, but no means of releefe could
be had: wherupon for anger he grew into a discontented me-
lancholy. In which humour he continued two or three daies
without meat, insomuch that seeing his brother would give him
no food, he fel into despaire of his life. Which Adam Spencer,
the old servant of Sir John of Bourdeaux, seeing, touched
with the dutie and love hee ought to his olde maister, felt a
remorse in his conscience of his sonnes mishap; and therefore,
although Saladyne had given a generall charge to his servants
that none of them upon pain of death should give either meat
or drink to Rosader, yet Adam Spencer in the night rose se-
cretly, and brought him such victuals as he could provide,
and unlockt him, and set him at liberty. After Rosader had
well feasted himselfe, and felt he was loose, straight his
thoughts aymed at revenge, and now (all being a sleepe) hee
would have quit Saladyne with the methode of his own mis-
chiefe. But Adam Spencer did perswade him to the con-
trary with these reasons. Sir, quoth hee, be content, for this
night go againe into your olde fetters, so shall you trie the
faith of friends, and save the life of an old servant. Tomorrow
hath your brother invited al your kinred and allyes to a
solempne breakefast, onely to see you, telling them all that
you are mad, and faine to be tied to a poast. Assoone as they
come complain to them of the abuse proffered you by Sala-
dyne. If they redresse you, why so; but if they passe over
your playntes sicco pede, and hold with the violence of your


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 47
brother before your innocence, then thus: I will leave you
unlockt that you may breake out at your pleasure, and at the
ende of the hall shall you see stand a couple of good pollaxes,
one for you and another for mee. When I give you a
wincke, shake off your chaines, and let us plaie the men, and
make havocke amongst them, drive them out of the house
and maintaine possession by force of armes, till the king hath
made a redresse of your abuses.
These wordes of Adam Spencer so perswaded Rosader, that
he went to the place of his punishment, and stood there while
the next morning. About the time appointed, came all the
guestes bidden by Saladyne, whom hee intreated with curteous
and curious entertainment, as they all perceived their welcome
to be great. The tables in the hall, where Rosader was tyed,
were covered, and Saladyne bringing in his guests togither,
shewed them where his brother was bound, and was inchainde
as a man lunaticke. Rosader made reply, and with some in-
vectives made complaintes of the wrongs proffered him by
Saladyne, desiring they would in pitie seeke some meanes for
his reliefe. But in vaine, they had stopt their eares with
Ulisses, that were his words never so forceable, he breathed
onely his passions into the winde. They, carelesse, sat downe
with Saladyne to dinner, beeing very frolicke and pleasant,
washing their heades well with wine. At last, when the fume
of the grape had entered peale meale into their braines, they
began in satyricall speeches to raile against Rosader: which
Adam Spencer no longer brooking, gave the signe, and Rosader
shaking off his chaines got a pollaxe in his hande, and flew
amongst them with such violence and fury, that he hurt many,
slew some, and drave his brother and the rest quite out of
the house. Seeing the coast cleare, he shut the doores, and
being sore an hungred, and seeing such good victuals, he sat
him downe with Adam Spencer, and such good fellowes as
he knew were honest men, and there feasted themselves with
such provision as Saladyne had provided for his friends.


48 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
After they had taken their repast, Rosader rampierd up the
house, least upon a sodeine his brother should raise some
crew of his tennants, and surprise them unawares. But Sala-
dyne tooke a contrary course, and went to the sheriffe of the
shire and made complaint of Rosader, who giving credite to
Saladyne, in a determined resolution to revenge the gentle-
mans wrongs, tooke with him five and twentie tall men, and
made a vow, either to break into the house and take Rosader,
or else to coope him in till hee made him yeeld by famine.
In this determination, gathering a crue togither, hee went
forward to set Saladyne in his former estate. Newes of this
was brought unto Rosader, who smiling at the cowardize of
his brother, brookt al the injuries of fortune with patience,
expecting the comming of the sheriffe. As he walked upon
the battlements of the house, he descryed where Saladyne
and he drew neare, with a troupe of lustie gallants. At this
he smilde, and calde Adam Spencer, and shewed him the
envious treacherie of his brother, and the folly of the sheriffe
to bee so credulous. Now, Adam, quoth he, what shall I do?
It rests for me either to yeeld up the house to my brother
and seek a reconcilement, or els issue out, and break through
the company with courage, for coopt in like a coward I will
not bee. If I submit (ah Adam') I dishonor my selfe, and
that is worse then death, for by such open disgraces, the
fame of men growes odious: if I issue out amongst them,
fortune may favour mee, and I may escape with life; but
suppose the worst: if I be slaine, then my death shall be
honorable to me, and so inequall a revenge infamous to Sala-
dyne. Why then, master, forward and feare not: out amongst
them: they bee but faint hearted lozels, and for Adam Spencer,
if hee die not at your foote, say he is a dastard.
These words cheered up so the heart of yong Rosader, that he
thought himselfe sufficient for them al, and therefore prepared
weapons for him and Adam Spencer, and were readie to en-
tertaine the sheriffe; for no sooner came Saladyne and he to
-P


‘EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 49
the gates, but Rosader, unlookt for, leapt out and assailed
them, wounded many of them, and caused the rest to give
backe, so that Adam and he broke through the prease in
despite of them all, and tooke their way towards the forrest
of Arden. This repulse so set the sheriffs hart on fire to
revenge, that he straight raised all the country, and made
hue and crie after them. But Rosader and Adam, knowing
full well the secret waies that led through the vineyards,
stole away privily through the province of Bourdeaux, and
escaped safe to the forrest of Arden. Being come thether,
they were glad they had so good a harbor; but fortune (who
is like the camelion) variable with every object, and constant
in nothing but inconstancie, thought to make them myrrours of
her mutabilitie, and therefore still crost them thus contrarily.
Thinking still to passe on by the by waies to get to Lions, they
chanced on a path that led into the thicke of the forrest, where
they wandred five or sixe dayes without meate, that they
were almost famished, finding neither shepheard nor cottage
to relieve them; and hunger growing on so extreame, Adam
Spencer, (being olde) began to faint, and sitting him downe
on a hill, and looking about him, espied where Rosader laye
as feeble and as ill perplexed: which sight made him shedde
teares, and to fall into these bitter tearmes.
ADAM SPENCERS SPEECH.
Oh, how the life of man may well bee compared to the state
of the ocean seas, that for every calme hath a thousand storms,
resembling the rose tree, that for a few flowers hath a multi-
tude of sharpe prickles! All our pleasures ende in paine, and
our highest delightes are crossed with deepest discontents.
The joyes of man, as they are few, so are they momentarie,
scarce ripe before they are rotten, and withering in the blos-
some, either parched with the heate of envy or fortune.
Fortune, oh inconstant friend, that in all thy deedes art fro-
E


50 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACI E.
ward and fickle, delighting in the povertie of the lowest, and
the overthrow of the highest! To decypher thy inconstancy
thou standest upon a globe, and thy wings are plumed with
Times feathers, that thou maist ever be restlesse: thou art
double faced like Janus, carrying frownes in the one to
threaten, and smiles in the other to betray. Thou profferest
an eele, and performest a scorpion, and wher thy greatest fa-
vours be, there is the feare of the extreamest misfortunes, so
variable are all thy actions. But why, Adam, doest thou ex-
claime against Fortune 1 she laughes at the plaintes of the
distressed, and there is nothing more pleasing unto her, then
to heare fooles boast in her fading allurements, or sorrowfull
men to discover the sower of their passions. Glut her not,
Adam, then with content, but thwart her with brooking all
mishappes with patience. For there is no greater check to
the pride of Fortune, then with a resolute courage to passe
over her crosses without care. Thou art old, Adam, and thy
haires waxe white: the palme tree is alreadie full of bloomes,
and in the furrowes of thy face appeares the kalenders of
death: wert thou blessed by Fortune thy yeares could not bee
many, nor the date of thy life long : then sith Nature must
have her due, what is it for thee to resigne her debt a little
before the day.—Ah, it is not that which grieveth mee, nor
do I care what mishaps Fortune can wage against mee, but
the sight of Rosader that galleth unto the quicke. When
I remember the worships of his house, the honour of his
fathers, and the vertues of himselfe, then doo I say, that
Fortune and the Fates are most injurious, to censure so hard
extreames, against a youth of so great hope. Oh, Rosader,
thou art in the flower of thine age, and in the pride of thy
yeares, buxsome and full of May. Nature hath prodigally
inricht thee with her favours, and vertue made thee the myr-
ror of her excellence; and now, through the decree of the
unjust starres, to have all these good partes nipped in the
blade, and blemisht by the inconstancie of Fortune! Ah,
Rosader, could I helpe thee, my griefe were the lesse, and


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 51
happie should my death be, if it might bee the beginning of
thy reliefe : but seeing we perish both in one extreame, it is
a double sorrow. What shall I doo! prevent the sight of his
further misfortune with a present dispatch of mine owne life?
Ah, despaire is a merciless sinne!
As he was readie to go forward in his passion, he looked
earnestly on Rosader, and seeing him chaunge colour, hee rose
up and went to him, and holding his temples, said, What
cheere, maister though all faile, let not the heart faint: the
courage of a man is shewed in the resolution of his death.
At these wordes Rosader liſted up his eye, and looking on
Adam Spencer, began to weep. Ah, Adam, quoth he, I
sorrow not to dye, but I grieve at the maner of my death.
Might I with my launce encounter the enemy, and so die in
the field, it were honour, and content: might I (Adam) com-
bate with some wilde beast, and perish as his praie, I were
satisfied; but to die with hunger, O, Adam, it is the ex-
treamest of all extreames! Maister (quoth he) you see we
are both in one predicament, and long I cannot live without
meate; seeing therefore we can finde no foode, let the death of
the one preserve the life of the other. I am old, and over-
worne with age, you are yoong, and are the hope of many
honours: let me then dye, I will presently cut my veynes,
and, maister, with the warme blood relieve your fainting spi-
rites: sucke on that till I ende, and you be comforted. With
that Adam Spencer was ready to pull out his knife, when
Rosader full of courage (though verie faint) rose up, and
wisht A. Spencer to sit there til his returne; for my mind
gives me, quoth he, I shall bring thee meate. With that,
like a mad man, he rose up, and raunged up and downe the
woods, seeking to encounter some wilde beast with his rapier,
that either he might carry his friend Adam food, or els pledge
his life in pawn for his loyaltie. It chaunced that day, that
Gerismond, the lawfull king of France banished by Toris-
mond, who with a lustie crue of outlawes lived in that forest,
that day in honour of his birth made a feast to all his bolde
E 2


52 EU PHUES GOLDEN LIEGACI F.
yeomen, and frolickt it with store of wine and venison, sitting
all at a long table under the shadow of lymon trees. To that
place by chance fortune conducted Rosader, who seeing such
a crue of brave men, having store of that for want of which hee
and Adam perished, hee stept boldly to the boords end, and
saluted the company thus:—
Whatsoever thou be that art maister of these lustie squiers,
I salute thee as graciously as a man in extreame distresse
may : know, that I and a fellow friend of mine are here fa-
mished in the forrest for want of food: perish wee must, un-
lesse relieved by thy favours. Therefore, if thou be a gentle-
man, give meate to men, and to such as are everie way woorthie
of life. Let the proudest squire that sits at thy table rise and
incounter with mee in any honorable point of activitie whatso-
ever, and if hee and thou proove me not a man, send me away
comfortlesse. If thou refuse this, as a niggard of thy cates,
I will have amongst you with my sword; for rather wil I dye
valiantly, then perish with so cowardly an extreame. Geris-
mond, looking him earnestly in the face, and seeing so proper
a gentleman in so bitter a passion, was mooved with so great
pitie, that rising from the table, he tooke him by the hand
and badde him welcome, willing him to sit downe in his place,
and in his roome not onely to eat his fill, but the lord of the
feast. Gramercy, sir (quoth Rosader) but I have a feeble
friend that lyes hereby famished almost for food, aged and
therefore lesse able to abide the extremitie of hunger then
my selfe, and dishonour it were for me to taste one crumme,
before I made him partner of my fortunes: therefore I will
runne and fetch him, and then I wil gratefully accept of your
proffer. Away hies Rosader to Adam Spencer, and tels him
the newes, who was glad of so happie fortune, but so feeble
he was that he could not go; wherupon Rosader got him up
on his backe, and brought him to the place. Which when
Gerismond and his men saw, they greatly applauded their
league of friendship; and Rosader, having Gerismonds place
assigned him, would not sit there himselfe, but set downe
;


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 53
Adam Spencer. Well, to be short, those hungry squires fell
to their victuals, and feasted themselves with good delicates,
and great store of wine. Assoone as they had taken their
repast, Gerismond (desirous to heare what hard fortune drave
them into those bitter extreames) requested Rosader to dis-
course, (as it were not any way prejudicall unto him) the cause
of his travell. Rosader (desirous any way to satisfie the
curtesie of his favourable host, first beginning his exordium
with a volley of sighes, and a fewe luke warme teares) pro-
secuted his discourse, and told him from point to point all his
fortunes: how he was the yongest sonne of Sir John of Bour-
deaux, his name Rosader, how his brother sundry times had
wronged him, and lastly, how for beating the sheriffe, and
hurting his men, hee fled. And this old man (quoth he) whom
I so much love and honour, is surnamed Adam Spencer, an
old servant of my fathers, and one (that for his love) never
fayled me in all my misfortunes.
When Gerismond heard this, he fell on the neck of Rosader,
and next discoursing unto him, how he was Gerismond their
lawfull king, exiled by Torismond, what familiaritie had ever
been betwixt his father, Sir John of Bourdeaux, and him, how
faithfull a subject hee lived, and how honourably he dyed;
promising (for his sake) to give both him and his friend such
curteous entertainment as his present estate could minister;
and upon this made him one of his forresters. Rosader seeing
it was the king, cravde pardon for his boldnesse, in that hee
did not doo him due reverence, and humbly gave him thankes
for his favourable curtesie. Gerismond, not satisfied yet with
newes, beganne to enquire if he had been lately in the court
of Torismond, and whether he had seene his daughter Rosa-
lynd, or no! At this, Rosader fetcht a deep sigh, and shedding
many teares, could not answere: yet at last, gathering his
spirits togither, he revealed unto the king, how Rosalynde
was banished, and how there was such a simpathie of affec-
tions betwixt Alinda and her, that shee chose rather to be
partaker of her exile, then to part fellowship: whereupone the


54 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
unnaturall king banished them both; and now they are wan-
dred none knowes whither, neither could any learne since
their departure, the place of their abode. This newes drive
the king into a great melancholy, that presently hee arose
from all the company, and went into his privie chamber, so
secrete as the harbour of the woods would allow him. The
company was all dasht at these tydings, and Rosader and
Adam Spencer, having such opportunitie, went to take their
rest. Where we leave them, and returne againe to Torismond.
The flight of Rosader came to the eares of Torismond, who
hearing that Saladyne was sole heire of the landes of Sir
John of Bourdeaux, desirous to possesse such faire revenewes,
found just occasion to quarrell with Saladyne about the
wrongs he proffered to his brother; and therefore, dispatching
a herehault, he sent for Saladyne in all poast haste. Who
marveiling what the matter should be, began to examine his
owne conscience, wherein hee had offended his highnesse;
but imboldened with his innocence, he boldly went with the
herehault unto the court; where, assoone as hee came, hee
was not admitted into the presence of the king, but presently
sent to prison. This greatly amazed Saladyne, chiefly in that
the jayler had a straight charge over him, to see that he
should be close prisoner. Many passionate thoughts came
in his head, till at last he began to fall into consideration of
his former follies, and to meditate with himselfe. Leaning
his head on his hand, and his elbow on his knee, full of sor-
row, grief and disquieted passions, he resolved into these
tearmes.
SALADYNES COMPLAINT.
Unhappie Saladyne! whome folly hath led to these misfor-
tunes, and wanton desires wrapt within the laborinth of these
calamities. Are not the heavens doomers of mens deedes'
And holdes not God a ballance in his fist, to reward with
favour, and revenge with justice " Oh, Saladyne, the faults


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 55
of thy youth, as they were fond, so were they foule, and
not onely discovering little nourture, but blemishing the
excellence of nature. Whelpes of one litter are ever most
loving, and brothers that are sonnes of one father should live
in friendship without jarre. Oh, Saladyne, so it should
bee; but thou hast with the deere fedde against the winde,
with the crabbe strove against the streame, and sought to
pervert nature by unkindnesse. Rosaders wrongs, the wrongs
of Rosader (Saladyne) cryes for revenge: his youth pleads
to God to inflict some penaunce upon thee, his vertues are
pleas that inforce writtes of displeasure to crosse thee: thou
hast highly abused thy kynde and naturall brother, and the
heavens cannot spare to quite thee with punishment. There
is no sting to the worme of conscience, no hell to a minde
toucht with guilt. Every wrong I offred him (called now to
remembrance) wringeth a drop of blood from my heart, every
bad looke, every frowne pincheth me at the quicke, and saies,
Saladyne thou hast sinned against Rosader. Be penitent,
and assigne thyselfe some pennance to discover thy sorrow,
and pacifie his wrath.
In the depth of his passion, hee was sent for to the king,
who with a looke that threatened death entertained him, and
demaunded of him where his brother was Saladyne made
answer, that upon some ryot made against the sheriffe of the
shire, he was fled from Bourdeaux, but he knew not whither.
Nay, villaine (quoth he) I have heard of the wronges thou hast
proffered thy brother, since the death of thy father, and by
thy means have I lost a most brave and resolute chevalier.
Therefore, in justice to punish thee, I spare thy life for thy
fathers sake, but banish thee for ever from the court and
countrey of France; and see thy departure be within tenne
dayes, els trust me thou shalt loose thy head. And with that
the king flew away in a rage, and left poore Saladyne greatly
perplexed; who grieving at his exile, yet determined to
bear it with patience, and in penaunce of his former folies


56 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
to travaile abroade in every coast till he had found out his
brother Rosader. With whom now I beginne.
Rosader, beeing thus preferred to the place of a forrester by
Gerismond, rooted out the remembrance of his brothers un-
kindnes by continuall exercise, traversing the groves and
wilde forrests, partly to heare the melody of the sweete
birds which recorded, and partly to shew his diligent indea-
vour in his masters behalfe. Yet whatsoever he did, or how-
soever he walked, the lively image of Rosalynde remained
in memorie: on her sweete perfections he fed his thoughts,
proving himselfe like the eagle a true borne bird, since that
the one is knowne by beholding the sunne, so was he by re-
garding excellent beautie. One day among the rest, finding a
fit opportunity and place convenient, desirous to discover his
woes to the woodes, hee engraved with his knife on the bark
of a mir tre, this pretye estimate of his mistres perfection.
SONNETTO.
Of all chast birdes the phoenix doth excell,
Of all strong beastes the lyon beares the bell,
Of all sweet flowers the rose doth sweetest smel,
Of all faire maydes my Rosalynd is fairest.
Of all pure mettals gold is onely purest,
Of all high trees the pine hath highest crest,
Of all soft sweets I like my mistris brest,
Of all chast thoughts my mistris thoughts are rarest.
Of all proud birds the eagle pleaseth Jove,
Of pretie fowles kind Venus likes the dove,
Of trees Minerva doth the olive love,
Of all sweet nimphs I honour Rosalynd.
Of all her gifts her wisedome pleaseth most,
Of all her graces vertue she doth boast:
For all these gifts my life and joy is lost,
If Rosalynde prove cruell and unkind.


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 57
In these and such like passions Rosader did every day
eternize the name of his Rosalynd; and this day especially
when Aliena and Ganimede (inforced by the heat of the sun
to seeke for shelter) by good fortune arrived in that place,
where this amorous forrester registred his melancholy pas-
sions. They saw the sodaine change of his looks, his folded
armes, his passionate sighes: they heard him often abruptly
cal on Rosalynd, who (poore soule) was as hotly burned as
himselfe, but that shee shrouded her paines in the cinders of
honorable modesty. Whereupon (gessing him to be in
love, and according to the nature of their sexe being pittifull
in that behalfe) they sodainly brake off his melancholy by
theyr approach, and Ganimede shooke him out of his dumps
thus.
What newes, forrester 1 hast thou wounded some deere,
and lost him in the fall ! Care not man for so small a losse:
thy fees was but the skinne, the shoulder, and the horns: tis
hunters lucke to ayme faire and misse; and a woodmans
fortune to strike and yet go without the game.
Thou art beyond the marke Ganimede (quoth Aliena): his
passions are greater, and his sighs discovers more losse :
perhaps in traversing these thickets, he hath seene some
beautifull nimph, and is growne amorous. It may be so
(quoth Ganimede) for here he hath newly ingraven some
sonnet: come, and see the discourse of the forresters poems.
Reading the sonnet over, and hearing him name Rosalynde,
Aliena lookt on Ganimede and laught, and Ganimede looking
backe on the forrester, and seeing it was Rosader, blusht;
yet thinking to shrowd all under her pages apparell, she boldly
returned to Rosader, and began thus.
I pray thee tell me, forrester, what is this Rosalynd for
whom thou pinest away in such passions ! Is shee some
nymph that wayts upon Dianaestraine, whose chastitie thou
hast deciphred in such epethites? Or is she some shep-
herdesse that hants these playnes whose beautie hath so be-
witched thy fancie, whose name thou shaddowest in covert


58 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
under the figure of Rosalynd, as Ovid did Julia under the
name of Corinna! or say mee forsooth, is it that Rosalynde,
of whome wee shepheards have heard talke, shee, forrester,
that is the daughter of Gerismond, that once was king, and
now an outlawe in the forrest of Arden? At this Rosader
fecht a deepe sigh, and sayde, It is she, O gentle swayne, it is
she: that saint it is whom I serve, that goddesse at whose shrine
I doe bend all my devotions: the most fayrest of all faires,
the phenix of all the sexe, and the puritie of all earthly per-
fection. And why (gentle forrester) if shee be so beautifull,
and thou so amorous, is there such a disagreement in thy
thoughts? Happily she resembleth the rose, that is sweete,
but full of prickles' or the serpent regius that hath scales as
glorious as the sunne, and a breath as infectious as the aconi-
tum is deadly So thy Rosalynd may be most amiable, and
yet unkind; full of favour and yet froward, coy without wit,
and disdainfull without reason.
Oh, Shepheard (quoth Rosader) knewest thou her person-
age, graced with the excellence of all perfection, beeing a
harbour wherein the graces shrowd their vertues, thou
wouldest not breath out such blasphemy against the beaute-
ous Rosalind. She is a diamond, bright, but not hard, yet
of most chast operation: a pearle so orient, that it can be
stained with no blemish: a rose without prickles, and a
princesse absolute, as well in beauty as in vertue. But I,
unhappy I, have let mine eye soare with the eagle against
so bright a sun, that I am quite blind: I have with Apollo
enamoured myselfe of a Daphne, not (as she) disdainful, but
farre more chast than Daphne: I have with Ixion laide my
love on Juno, and shall (I feare) embrace nought but a clowde.
Ah, Shepheard, I have reacht at a starre: my desires have
mounted above my degree, and my thoughts above my for-
tunes. I being a peasant, have ventured to gaze on a princesse,
whose honors are too high to vouchsafe such base loves.
Why, forrester, quoth Ganimede, comfort thy selfe: be
blyth and frolike man. Love sowseth as low as she soar-


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 59
eth high: Cupid shootes at a ragge assoon as at a roabe;
and Venus eye that was so curious, sparkled favour on pole-
footed Vulcan. Feare not, man, womens lookes are not tied
to dignities feathers, nor make they curious esteeme where
the stone is found, but what is the vertue. Feare not, for-
rester: faint heart never woone faire ladye. But where lives
Rosalynde now! at the court!
Oh no, quoth Rosader, she lives I knowe not where, and
that is my sorrow, banished by Toresmond, and that is my hell:
for might I but finde her sacred personage, and plead before
the bar of her pitie the plaint of my passions, hope telles me
shee would grace me with some favour, and that would suffice
as a recompence of all my former miseries.
Much have I heard of thy mistres excellence, and I know,
forrester, thou canst describe her at the full, as one that hast
survaid all her parts with a curious eye; then doo that favour,
to tell me what her perfections be. That I wil, quoth Rosa-
der, for I glorie to make all eares wonder at my mistres ex-
cellence. And with that he pulde a paper foorth his bosome,
wherein he read this.
ROSALYNDES DESCRIPTION.
Like to the cleere in highest spheare,
Where all imperiall glorie shines,
Of selfe same colour is her haire,
Whether unfolded, or in twines:
Heigh ho, faire Rosalynde.
Her eyes are saphires set in snow,
Refining heaven by every wincke:
The gods do feare when as they glow,
And I doo tremble when I thinke :
Heigh ho, would she were mine.
Her chekes are lyke the blushing clowde
That bewtifies Auroraes face,
Or lyke the silver crimsin shrowde,
That Phoebus smiling lookes doth grace:
Heigh ho, faire Rosalynd.


60 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACI E.
Her lippes are like two budded roses,
Whome ranckes of lillies neighbour nie,
Within which bounds she balme incloses,
Apt to intice a Deitie:
Heigh ho, would she were mine.
Her necke, like to a stately tower,
When love himselfe imprisoned lies,
To watch for glaunces every houre,
From her devine and sacred eyes:
Heigh ho, faire Rosalynde.
Her pappes are centers of delight,
Her pappes are orbes of heavenly frame,
Where nature molds the deaw of light,
To feed perfection with the same:
Heigh ho, would she were mine.
With orient pearle, with rubie red,
With marble white, with saphire blew,
Her body every way is fed,
Yet soft in touch, and sweet in view:
Heigh ho, faire Rosalynde.
Nature her selfe her shape admires,
The Gods are wounded in her sight,
And Love forsakes his heavenly fires,
And at her eyes his brand doth light:
Heigh ho, would she were mine.
Then muse not, nymphes, though I bemone
The absence of faire Rosalynde,
Since for her faire there is fairer none,
Nor for her vertues so devine:
Heigh ho, faire Rosalynde.
Heigh ho, my heart, would God that she were mine !
Periit, quia deperibat.
Beleeve me (quoth Ganimede) eyther the forrester is an
exquisite painter, or Rosalynde farre above wonder; so it
makes me blush to heare how women should be so excellent,
and pages so unperfect.
Rosader beholding her earnestly, answered thus. Truly,
gentle page, thou hast cause to complaine thee, wert thou the


EU PHUES GOLDTN LEGACIE. 61
substance, but resembling the shadow, content thyselfe; for it
is excellence inough to be like the excellence of nature. He
hath aunswered you, Ganimede, quoth Aliena, it is enough for
pages to wait on beautiful ladies, and not to be beautiful them-
selves. Oh, mistres, quoth Ganimede, hold you your peace,
for you are partiall: who knowes not, but that all women
have desire to tye soveraintie to their petticotes, and ascribe
beauty to themselves, wher, if boies might put on their gar-
ments, perhaps they would prove as comely, if not as comely,
as courteous. But tel me, forrester (and with that she turned
to Rosader) under whom maintainest thou thy walke Gentle
swaine, under the king of outlawes, said he ; the unfortunate
Gerismond, who having lost his kingdome, crowneth his
thoughtes with content, accounting it better to governe among
poore men in peace, then great men in danger. But hast
thou not, said she, (having so melancholy opportunities as this
forrest affoordeth thee) written more sonets in commendations
of thy mistris I have, gentle swaine, quoth he, but they be
not about me: to morrow by dawn of day, if your flocks feed
in these pastures, I will bring them you; wherein you shall
read my passions, whiles I feele them, judge my patience
when you read it: til when I bid farewel. So giving both
Ganimede and Aliena a gentle good night, he resorted to his
lodge, leaving them to their prittle prattle. So Ganimede
(said Aliena, the forrester being gone) you are mightily be-
loved: men make ditties in your praise, spend sighs for your
sake, make an idoll of your beauty: believe mee, it greeves
mee not a little to see the poore man so pensive, and you so
Ah, Aliena (quoth she) be not peremptory in your judg-
ments. I heare Rosalynde praisd as I am Ganimede, but
were I Rosalynde, I could answere the forrester: if he
mourne for love, there are medicines for love : Rosalynde
cannot be faire and unkind. And so, madame, you see it is
time to fold our flocks, or else Coridon will frown and say,
you will never prove good huswife. With that they put


(52 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
their sheepe into the coates, and went home to her friend
Coridons cottage, Aliena as merry as might bee that she was
thus in the company of her Rosalynde; but shee, poore soule,
that had love her loadstarre, and her thoughtes set on fire with
the flame of fancie, could take no rest, but being alone began
to consider what passionate pennance poore Rosader was en-
joyned to by love and fortune, that at last shee fell into this
humour with her selfe.
ROSALYNDE PASSIONATE ALONE.
Ah, Rosalynd, how the Fates have set down in theyr Sinode
to make thee unhappy: for when Fortune hath done hir worst,
then Love comes in to begin a new tragedie : she seeks to
lodge her sonne in thyne eyes, and to kindle her fires in thy
bosome. Beware, fond girle, he is an unruly guest to harbour:
for entring in by intreats, he will not be thrust out by force,
and her fires are fed with such fuell, as no water is able to
quench. Seest thou not how Venus seekes to wrap thee in
her laborynth, wherein is pleasure at the entrance, but within,
sorrowes, cares, and discontent! she is a syren, stop thine
eares to her melodie; she is a basiliscke, shutte thy eyes, and
gaze not at her least thou perish. Thou art now placed in
the countrey content, where are heavenly thoughtes and
meane desires: in those lawnes where thy flocks feed Diana
haunts: be as her nymphes chast, and enemie to love, for
there is no greater honour to a mayd, than to account of fancie
as a mortal foe to their sexe. Daphne, that bonny wench, was
not turned into a bay tree, as the poets fain, but for her chas-
titie: her fame was immortall, resembling the lawrell that is
ever greene. Follow thou her steps, Rosalynd, and the ra-
ther, for that thou art an exile, and banished from the court;
whose distresse, and it is appeased with patience, so it would
be renewed with amorous passions. Have minde on thy
forepassed fortunes; feare the worst, and intangle not thy selfe
with present fancies, least loving in hast, thou repent thee at
.


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. (33
leisure. Ah, but yet, Rosalynd, it is Rosader that courts thee:
one who as he is beutifull, so hee is vertuous, and harboureth
in his minde as manie good qualities as his face is shadowed
with gratious favours; and therefore Rosalynde stoope to love,
least, beeing eyther too coy or too cruell, Venus waxe wroth,
and plague thee with the reward of disdaine.
Rosalynde thus passionate, was wakened from her dumpes
by Aliena, who sayd it was time to goe to bed. Coridon
swore that was true, for Charls Waine was risen in the north;
wheruppon each taking leave of other, went to their rest, all
but the poore Rosalynde, who was so full of passions, that
she could not possesse any content. Well, leaving her to her
broken slumbers, expect what was performed by them the next
morning.
The sunne was no sooner stept from the bed of Aurora,
but Aliena was wakened by Ganimede, who, restlesse all night,
had tossed in her passions, saying it was then time to go to
the field to unfold their sheepe. Aliena (that spied where the
hare was by the hounds, and could see day at a little hole)
thought to be pleasaunt with her Ganimede, and therefore
replied thus: What, wanton; the sun is but new up, and as
yet Iris riches lies folded in the bosome of Flora: Phoebus
hath not dried up the pearled dew, and so long Coridon hath
taught me it is not fitte to lead the sheepe abroad, least the
deaw being unwholesome, they get the rot: but now see I
the old proverbe true, he is in hast whom the devill drives,
and where love prickes forward, there is no worse death then
delay. Ah, my good page, is there fancie in thine eye, and
passions in thy heart? What, hast thou wrapt love in thy
looks, and sette all thy thoughts on fire by affection 1 I tell
thee, it is a flame as harde to be quencht as that of Aetna.
But nature must have her course: womens eies have faculty
attractive like the jeat, and retentive like the diamond : they
dally in the delight of faire objects, til gazing on the panthers
beautiful skin, repenting experience tel them he hath a de-
vouring paunch. Come on (quoth Ganimede) this sermon of


64 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
yours is but a subtiltie to lie stil a bed, because either you
think the morning cold, or els I being gone, you would steale
a nappe: this shift carries no paulme, and therefore up and
away. And for Love, let me alone: Ile whip him away with
nettles, and set disdaine as a charme to withstand his forces;
and therefore looke you to your selfe: be not too bold, for Venus
can make you bend, nor. to coy, for Cupid hath a piercing
dart, that will make you crie peccavi. And that is it (quoth
Aliena) that hath raised you so earlie this morning. And
with that she slipt on her peticoat, and start up; and assoone
as she had made her ready, and taken her breakfast, away
goe these two with their bagge and bottles to the field, in
more pleasant content of mynd then ever they were in the
court of Torismond. They came no sooner nigh the foldes,
but they might see where their discontented forrester was
walking in his melancholy. Assoone as Aliena saw him, she
smiled, and sayd to Ganymede, Wipe your eyes, sweeting,
for yonder is your sweet heart this morning in deep prayers, no
doubt, to Venus, that she may make you as pitifull as hee is
passionate. Come on, Ganimede, I pray thee, lets have a
litle sport with him. Content (quoth Ganimede) and with
that, to waken him out of his deep memento, he began thus:
Forrester, good fortune to thy thoughts, and ease to thy pas-
sions. What makes you so early abroad this morne! in con-
templation, no doubt, of your Rosalynd. Take heede, for-
rester; step not too farre, the foord may be deep, and you slip
over your shooes. I tell thee, flyes have their spleen, the antes
choller, the least haires shadows, and the smallest loves great
desires. Tis good (forrester) to love, but not to overlove,
least in loving her that likes not thee, thou fold thy selfe in
an endlesse laborinth. Rosader, seeing the faire shep-
heardesse and her prettie swayne in whose company he felt
the greatest ease of his care, hee returned them a salute on
this maner.
Gentle shepheards, all haile, and as heathfull be your flocks
as you happie in content. Love is restlesse, and my bedde is


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 65
but the cell of my bane, in that there I finde busie thoughtes
and broken slumbers: heere (although every where passionate)
yet I brooke love with more patience, in that everie object
feedes mine eye with varietie of fancies. When I looke on
Floraes beauteous tapestrie, checkered with the pride of all
her treasure, I call to minde the faire face of Rosalynd, whose
heavenly hue exceeds the rose and the lilly in their highest
excellence: the brightnesse of Phoebus shine puts mee in
minde to think of the sparkeling flames that flew from her
eyes, and set my heart first on fire: the sweet harmony of the
birds, puts me in remembrance of the rare melody of her
voyce, which lyke the syren enchaunteth the eares of the
hearer. Thus in contemplation I salve my sorrowes, which
applying the perfection of every object to the excellencie of her
qualities.
She is much beholding unto you (quoth Aliena) and so
much, that I have oft wisht with my selfe, that if I should
ever prove as amorous as OEnone, I might finde as faithfull a
Paris as your selfe.
How say you by this item, forrester! (quoth Ganimede) the
faire shepheardesse favours you, who is mistresse of so manye
flockes. Leave of, man, the supposition of Rosalynds love,
when as watching at her, you rove beyond the moone, and
cast your lookes upon my mistresse, who no doubt is as faire
though not so royall, one bird in the hand is worth two in the
wood: better possesse the love of Aliena, then catch furiously
at the shadowe of Rosalynd.
Ile tel thee boy (quoth Rosader) so is my fancy fixed on
my Rosalynde, that were thy mistresse as faire as Laeda or
Danae, whom Jove courted in transformed shapes, mine eyes
would not vouch to entertaine their beauties: and so hath love
lockt me in her perfections, that I had rather onely contem-
plate in her beauties, then absolutely possesse the excellence
of any other. Venus is too blame (forrester) if having so
true a servant of you, shee reward you not with Rosalynd, if
Rosalynd were more fairer than her self.
F


66 EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
But leaving this prattle, now Ile put you in mynd of your
promise about those sonnets, which you sayd were at home
in your lodge.
I have them about mee (quoth Rosader) let us sit downe,
and then you shall heare what a poeticall fury love will infuse
into a man. With that they sate downe upon a greene banke,
shadowed with figge trees, and Rosader, fetching a deep sigh,
read them this sonnet.
ROSADERS SONNET.
In sorowes cell I layd me downe to sleepe,
But waking woes were jealous of mine eyes,
They made them watch, and bend themselves to weepe,
But weeping teares their want could not suffice:
Yet since for her they wept who guides my hart,
They weeping smile, and triumph in their smart.
Of these my teares a fountaine fiercely springs,
Where Venus baynes her selfe incenst with love,
Where Cupid bowseth his faire feathred wings,
But I behold what paines I must approve.
Care drinkes it drie ; but when on her I thinke,
Love makes me weepe it full unto the brinke.
Meane while my sighes yeeld truce unto my teares,
By them the windes increast and fiercely blow:
Yet when I sigh the flame more plaine appeares,
And by their force with greater power doth glow:
Amids these paines, all Phoenix like I thrive
Since love, that yeelds me death, may life revive.
Rosader en esperance.
Now, surely, forrester (quoth Aliena), when thou madest
this sonnet, thou wert in some amorous quandarie, neither too
fearfull, as dispairing of thy mistresse favours, nor too glee-
some, as hoping in thy fortunes. I can smile (quoth Gany-
mede) at the Sonettoes, canzones, madrigales, roundes and
roundelaies, that these pensive patients powre out when their
eyes are more full of wantonnesse, then their hearts of pas-
s


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 67
sions. Then, as the fishers put the sweetest bayt to the
fairest fish, so these Ovidians (holding amo in their tongues,
when their thoughtes come at hap hazard) write that they
bee wrapt in an endlesse laborinth of sorrow, when walking
in the large leas of libertie, they only have their humours
in their inckpot. If they find women so fond, that they will
with such painted lures come to their lust, then they triumph
till they be full gorgde with pleasures; and then flye they
away (like ramage kytes) to their own content, leaving
the tame foole, their mistresse, full of fancie, yet without
ever a feather. If they misse (as dealing with some wary
wanton, that wants not such a one as themselves, but spies
their subtiltie), they ende their amors with a few fained
sighes; and so theyr excuse is, their mistresse is cruell, and
they smoother passions with patience. Such, gentle forrester,
we may deeme you to be, that rather passe away the time
heere in these woods with wryting amorets, then to be deeply
enamoured (as you say) of your Rosalynde. If you bee such
a one, then I pray God, when you thinke your fortunes at the
highest, and your desires to bee most excellent, then that you
may with Ixion embrace Juno in a cloude, and have nothing
but a marble mistresse to release your martyrdome; but if
you be true and trustie, eye-paynd and heart sick, then ac-
cursed be Rosalynd if she proove cruel: for, forrester (I
flatter not), thou art worthie of as faire as shee. Aliena,
spying the storme by the winde, smiled to see how Gany-
mede flew to the fist without any call; but Rosader, who
tooke him flat for a shepheards swayne, made him this an-
SWere.
Trust me, swayne (quoth Rosader), but my canzon was
written in no such humor; for mine eye and my heart are re-
latives, the one drawing fancy by sight, the other entertein-
ing her by sorrow. If thou sawest my Rosalynd, with what
beauties Nature hath favoured her—with what perfection the
heavens hath graced her—with what qualities the gods have
endued her, then woulst thou say, there is none so fickle that
F 2


68 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
could be fleeting unto her. If she had been AFneas, Dido, had
Venus and Juno both scolded him from Carthage, yet her ex-
cellence, despight of them, would have detained him at Tyre.
If Phillis had been as beautious, or Ariadne as vertuous,
or both as honourable and excellent as she, neither had the
philbert tree sorrowed in the death of dispairing Phillis, nor
the starres been graced with Ariadne, but Demophoon and
Theseus had been trustie to their paragons. I wil tel thee,
swayne, if with a deep insight thou couldst pierce into the
secrets of my loves, and see what deep impressions of her
idea affection hath made in my heart, then wouldst thou con-
fesse I were passing passionate, and no lesse indued with ad-
mirable patience. Why (quoth Aliena) needs there pa-
tience in love Or else in nothing (quoth Rosader); for it is
a restlesse sore, that hath no ease; a cankar that still frets;
a disease that taketh away all hope of sleepe. If then so
many sorrowes, sodaine joyes, momentary pleasures, con-
tinuall feares, daily griefes, and nightly woes be founde in
love, then is not hee to bee accounted patient that smothers
all these passions with silence Thou speakest by expe-
rience (quoth Ganimede) and therefore we hold al thy
wordes for axiomes. But is love such a lingring maladie'
It is (quoth he) either extreame or meane, according to the
minde of the partie that entertaines it; for, as the weedes
grow longer untoucht then the prettie floures, and the flint
lyes safe in the quarry, when the emerauld is suffering the
lapidaries toole, so meane men are freed from Venus injuries,
when kings are environed with a laborinth of her cares. The
whiter the lawne is, the deeper is the moale; the more purer
the chrysolite, the sooner stained; and such as have their
hearts ful of honour, have their loves ful of the greatest
sorowes. But in whomsoever (quoth Rosader) hee fixeth
his dart, hee never leaveth to assault him, till either hee
hath wonne him to folly or fancy; for as the moone never
goes without the starre lunisequa, so a lover never goeth
without the unrest of his thoughts. For proofe you shall
!
-:
i


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 69
heare another fancy of my making. Now doo, gentle for-
rester (quoth Ganimede); and with that he read over this
Sonetto.
ROSADERS SECOND SONETTO.
Turne I my lookes unto the skies,
Love with his arrows wounds mine eies;
If so I gaze upon the ground,
Love then [in] every floure is found.
Search I the shade to flie my paine,
He meets me in the shade againe:
Wend I to walke in secret grove,
Even there I meet with sacred love.
If so I bayne me in the spring,
Even on the brinke I heare him sing:
If so I meditate alone,
He will be partner of my mone.
If so I mourn, he weeps with me,
And where I am, there will he be.
When, as I talke of Rosalynd,
The god from coynesse waxeth kind,
And seems in self same flames to fry,
Because he loves as well as I.
Sweet Rosalynd, for pitty rue;
For why, then Love I am more true:
He, if he speed, will quickly flie,
But in thy love I live and die.
How like you this sonnet (quoth Rosader)? Marry (quoth
Ganimede), for the pen well, for the passion ill; for as I
praise the one, I pitie the other, in that thou shouldest hunt
after a cloude, and love either without reward or regard.
Tis neither frowardnesse (quoth Rosader), but my hard for-
tunes, whose destenies have crost me with her absence; for
did shee feele my loves, she would not let me linger in these
sorrowes. Women, as they are faire, so they respect faith,
and estimate more (if they be honourable) the wil than the
wealth, having loyaltie the object wherat they ayme their


70 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
fancies. But leaving off these interparleyes, you shall heare
my last sonnetto, and then you have heard all my poetry; and
with that he sight out this:–
ROSADERS THIRD SONNET.
Of vertuous love myself may boast alone,
Since no suspect my service may attaint :
For perfect faire she is the only one
Whom I esteem for my beloved saint.
Thus, for my faith I only beare the bell,
And for her faire she only doth excell.
Then let fond Petrarch shrowd his Lawraes praise,
And Tasso cease to publish his affect,
Since mine the faith confirmd at all assaies,
And hers the faire, which all men do respect.
My lines hir faire, hir faire my faith assures;
Thus I by love, and love by me indures.
Thus (quoth Rosader), here is an ende of my poems, but
for all this no release of my passions; so that I resemble him
that, in the deapth of his distresse, hath none but the eccho
to answere him. Ganimede, pittying her Rosader, thinking
to drive him out of his amorous melancholy, said, that now
the sunne was in his meridionall heat, and that it was high
noone, therefore wee shepheards say, tis time to go to dinner;
for the sunne and our stomackes are shepheards dials. There-
fore, forrester, if thou wilt take such fare as comes out of our
homely scrips, welcome shall answere whatsoever thou wantest
in delicates. Aliena tooke the entertainment by the ende, and
tolde Rosader hee should bee her guest. He thankt them
heartily, and sat with them downe to dinner, where they had
such cates as countrey state did allow them, sawst with such
content, and such sweete prattle, as it seemed farre more
sweet than all their courtly junkets.
Assoone as they had taken their repast, Rosader, giving
them thankes for his good cheare, would have been gone;
but Ganimede, that was loath to let him passe out of her
|
|
l


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 71
presence, began thus: Nay, forrester, quoth she, if thy busi-
nes be not the greater, seeing thou saist thou art so deeply
in love, let me see how thou canst wooe: I will represent
Rosalynde, and thou shalt bee as thou art, Rosader. See in
some amorous eglogue, how if Rosalynd were present, how
thou couldst court her; and while we sing of love, Aliena
shall tune her pipe and plaie us melodie. Content (quoth
Rosader), and Aliena, shee, to shew her willingnesse, drew
forth a recorder, and began to winde it. Then the lovyng
Forrester began thus.
THE WOOING EGLOGUE BETWIXT ROSALYNDE
AND ROSADER.
ROSADER.
I pray thee, nymph, by all the working words,
By all the teares and sighs that lovers know,
Or what our thoughts or faltring tongue affords,
I crave for mine in ripping up my woe.
Sweet Rosalynd, my love (would God, my love)
My life (would God, my life), aye, pitie me!
Thy lips are kind, and humble like the dove,
And but with beautie pitie wil not be.
Looke on mine eyes, made red with rufull teares,
From whence the raine of true remorse descendeth,
All pale in lookes, and I though yoong in yeares,
And nought but love or death my dayes befriendeth.
Oh let no stormy rigour knit thy browes,
Which love appointed for his mercy seat:
The tallest tree by Boreas breath it bowes;
The yron yeels with hammer, and to heat.
Oh, Rosalynd, then be thou pittifull,
For Rosalynd is only beautifull.
ROSALYNDE.
Loves wantons arme their traitrous sutes with teares,
With vows, with oaths, with lookes, with showers of gold;
But when the fruit of their affects appeares,
The simple heart by subtil sleights are sold.


72
EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
Thus sucks the yeelding eare the poysoned bait,
Thus feeds the hart upon his endles harmes,
Thus glut the thoughts themselves on self deceit,
Thus blind the eyes their sight by subtil charmes.
The lovely lookes, the sighs that storme so sore,
The deaw of deep dissembled doublenesse,
These may attempt, but are of power no more
Where beauty leanes to wit and soothfastnesse.
Oh, Rosader, then be thou wittifull,
For Rosalynd scorns foolish pitifull.
ROSADER.
I pray thee, Rosalynd, by those sweet eyes
That stain the sun in shine, the morne in cleare,
By those sweet cheeks where Love incamped lyes
To kisse the roses of the springing yeare.
I tempt thee, Rosalynd, by ruthfull plaints,
Not seasoned with deceipt or fraudfull guile,
But firm in payn, far more than toong depaints,
Sweet Nymph, be kind, and grace me with a smile.
So may the heavens preserve from hurtfull food
Thy harmless flockes; so may the summer yeeld
The pride of all her riches and her good,
To fat thy sheepe (the cittizens of field.)
Oh, leave to arme thy lovely browes with scorne:
The birds their beake, the lyon hath his taile,
And lovers nought but sighs and bitter mourne,
The spotlesse fort of fancie to assaile.
Oh, Rosalynde, then be thou pittifull,
For Rosalynde is onely beautifull.
ROSALYNDE.
The hardned steele by fire is brought in frame.
ROSADER.
And Rosalynde, my love, that any wooll more softer;
And shall not sighes her tender hart inflame?
ROSALYNDE,
Were lovers true, maydes would beleeve them ofter.
:


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 73
ROSADER.
Truth, and regard, and honour, guid my love.
ROSALYNDE.
Faine would I trust, but yet I dare not trie.
ROSADER.
Oh pittie me, sweet nymph, and do but prove.
ROSALYNDE.
I would resist, but yet I know not why.
ROSADER.
Oh, Rosalynde, be kinde, for times will change,
Thy lookes ay will be faire as now they be:
Thine age from beautie may thy lookes estrange :
Ah, yeeld in time, sweet nymph, and pittie me.
ROSALYNDE.
Oh, Rosalynde, thou must be pittifull,
For Rosader is yong and beautifull.
ROSADER.
Oh gaine, more great than kingdomes or a crowne !
ROSALYNDE.
Oh trust betraid if Rosader abuse me.
ROSADER.
First let the heavens conspire to pull me downe
And heaven and earth as abject quite refuse me
Let sorrowes streame about my hatefull bower,
And retchless horror hatch within my brest:
Let beauties eye afflict me with a lower,
Let deepe despair pursue me without rest,
Ere Rosalynde my loyaltie disprove,
Ere Rosalynde accuse me for unkind.


74 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
ROSALYNDE.
Then Rosalynde will grace thee with her love,
Then Rosalynde will have thee still in mind.
ROSADER.
Then let me triumph more than Tithons deere,
Since Rosalynde will Rosader respect:
Then let my face exile his sorry cheere,
And frolike in the comfort of affect;
And say that Rosalynde is onely pittifull,
Since Rosalynde is onely beautifull.
When thus they had finished their courting eglogue in such
a familiar clause, Ganimede, as augure of some good fortunes
to light upon their affections, began to be thus pleasant.
How now, forrester, have I not fitted your turne? have I not
playde the woman handsomely, and shewed myselfe as coy
in graunts as courteous in desires, and beene as full of sus-
pition, as men of flattery! and yet to salve all, jumpe I not
all up with the sweet union of love 1 Did not Rosalynde
content her Rosader? The forrester at this smiling, shooke
his head, and folding his armes made this merrie reply.
Truth, gentle swaine, Rosader hath his Rosalynde; but as
Ixion had Juno, who, thinking to possesse a goddesse, only
imbraced a clowd: in these imaginary fruitions of fancie I
resemble the birds that fed themselves with Zeuxis painted
grapes; but they grew so leane with pecking at shadows,
that they were glad, with AEsops cocke, to scrape for a barley
cornell. So fareth it with me, who to feed my self with the
hope of my mistres favors, sooth my selfe in thy sutes, and
onely in conceipt reape a wished for content; but if my foode
bee no better than such amorous dreames, Venus at the
yeares end, shal find me but a leane lover. Yet do I take
these follyes for high fortunes, and hope these fained affec-
tions do devine some unfained ende of ensuing fancies. And
thereupon (quoth Aliena) Ile play the priest: from this daye
forth Ganimede shall call thee husband, and thou shalt cal
Ganimede wife, and so weele have a marriage. Content


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 75
(quoth Rosader) and laught. Content (quoth Ganimede) and
chaunged as red as a rose: and so with a smile and a blush,
they made up this jesting match, that after proved to a mar-
riage in earnest, Rosader full little thinking hee had wooed
and woonne his Rosalynde.
But all was well; hope is a sweet string to harpe on, and
therfore let the forrester a while shape himselfe to his shadow,
and tarrie fortunes leysure, till she may make a metamor-
phosis fit for his purpose. I digresse; and therefore to Aliena,
who saide, the wedding was not worth a pinne, unless there
were some cheare, nor that bargaine well made that was not
striken up with a cuppe of wine: and therefore she wild Gani-
mede to set out such cates as they had, and to draw out her
bottle, charging the Forrester, as he had imagined his loves,
so to conceipt these cates to be a most sumptuous banquet,
and to take a mazer of wine and to drinke to his Rosalynde;
which Rosader did, and so they passed awaye the day in
many pleasant devices. Till at last Aliena perceyved time
would tarry no man, and that the sun waxed very low, readie
to set, which made her shorten their amorous prattle, and end
the banquet with a fresh carrowse: which done, they all
three arose, and Aliena brake off thus.
Now, forrester, Phoebus that all this while hath beene par-
taker of our sports, seeing every woodman more fortunate in
his loves than he in his fancies, seeing thou hast woon Rosa-
lynde, when he could not woo Daphne, hides his head for
shame, and bids us adiew in a clowd. Our sheepe, they poore
wantons, wander towards their foldes, as taught by nature
their due times of rest, which tels us, forrester, we must de-
part. Marry, though there were a mariage, yet I must carry
this night the bride with mee, and tomorrow morning if you
meete us heere, Ile promise to deliver you her as good a mayd
as I find her. Content (quoth Rosader) tis enough for me in
the night to dreame on love, that in the day am so fond to
doate on love; and so till to morrowe you to your folds, and
I will to my lodge. And thus the Forrester and they parted.


76 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
He was no sooner gone, but Aliena and Ganimede went and
folded their flocks, and taking up their hookes, their bags, and
their bottles, hyed homeward. By the way Aliena (to make
the time seeme short) began to prattle with Ganimede thus.
I have heard them say, that what the Fates forepoint, that
Fortune pricketh downe with a period; that the starres are
slicklers in Venus court, and Desire hangs at the heele of Des-
tenie: if it be so, then by all probable conjectures, this match
will be a marriage: for if augurisme be authenticall, or the
devines doomes principles, it cannot bee but such a shadow
portends the issue of a substance, for to that ende did the gods
force the conceit of this eglogue, that they might discover the
ensuing consent of your affections: so that ere it bee long, I
hope (in earnest) to daunce at your wedding.
Tush (quoth Ganimede) all is not malte that is cast on the kill:
there goes more wordes to a bargaine than one. Love feeles
no footing in the aire, and Fancie holdes it slippery harbour to
nestle in the tongue: the match is not yet so surely made,
but hee may misse of his market; but if fortune be his friend,
I will not be his foe: and so I pray you (gentle mistresse
Aliena) take it. I take all things well (quoth she) that is
your content, and am glad Rosader is yours; for now I hope
your thoughts will bee at quiet: your eye that ever looked at
love, will now lende a glaunce on your lambes, and then they
will prove more buxsome, and you more blyth, for the eyes of
the maister feedes the cattle. As thus they were in chat,
they spyed olde Coridon where he came plodding to meet
them, who told them supper was ready, which news made
them speed them home. Where we will leave them to the
next morrow, and returne to Saladyne.
All this while did poore Saladyne (banished from Bourdeux
and the court of France by Torismond) wander up and downe
in the forrest of Arden, thinking to get to Lyons, and so travail
through Germany into Italie; but the forrest beeing full of by
pathes, and he unskilfull of the country coast, slipt out of the
way, and chaunced up into the desart, not farre from the place


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 77
where Gerismond was, and his brother Rosader. Saladyne,
wearie with wandring up and downe, and hungry with long
fasting, finding a little cave by the side of a thicket, eating
such fruite as the forest did affoord, and contenting himselfe
with such drinke as nature had provided and thirst made de-
licate, after his repast he fell in a dead sleepe. As thus he
lay, a hungry lyon came hunting downe the edge of the grove
for pray, and espying Saladyne began to ceaze upon him: but
seeing he lay still without any motion, he left to touch him,
for that lyons hate to pray on dead carkasses; and yet de-
sirous to have some foode, the lyon lay downe and watcht to
see if he would stirre. While thus Saladyne slept secure,
fortune that was careful of her champion began to smile, and
brought it so to passe, that Rosader (having stricken a deere
that but slightly hurt fled through the thicket) came pacing
downe by the grove with a boare-speare in his hande in great
haste. He spyed where a man lay a sleepe, and a lyon fast by
him: amazed at this sight, as he stoode gazing, his nose on
the sodaine bledde, which made him conjecture it was some
friend of his. Whereuppon drawing more nigh, he might
easily discerne his visage, perceived by his phishomie that it
was his brother Saladyne, which drave Rosader into a deepe
passion, as a man perplexed at the sight of so unexpected a
chance, marvelling what should drive his brother to traverse
those secrete desarts, without any companie, in such distresse
and forlorne sorte. But the present time craved no such
doubting ambages, for he must eyther resolve to hazard his
life for his reliefe, or else steale away, and leave him to the
crueltie of the lyon. In which doubt hee thus briefly debated
with himselfe.
ROSADERS MEDITATION.
Now, Rosader, Fortune that long hath whipt thee with net-
tles, meanes to salve thee with roses, and having crost thee
with many frownes, now she presents thee with the bright-


78 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
nesse of her favors. Thou that didst count thyselfe the most
distressed of all men, maiest account thy selfe the most fortu-
nate amongst men, if fortune can make men happy, or sweet
revenge be wrapt in a pleasing content. Thou seest Saladyne
thine enemie, the worker of thy misfortunes, and the efficient
cause of thine exile, subject to the crueltie of a mercilesse
lyon, brought into this miserie by the gods, that they might
seeme just in revenging his rigour, and thy injuries. Seest
thou not how the starres are in a favourable aspect, the planets
in some pleasing conjunction, the fates agreeable to thy
thoughts, and the destinies performers of thy desires, in that
Saladyne shall die, and thou bee free of his bloud: he receive
meed for his amisse, and thou erect his tombe with innocent
handes. Now, Rosader, shalt thou retourne unto Bourdeaux
and enjoy thy possessions by birth, and his revenews by inhe-
ritaunce: now mayest thou triumph in love, and hang fortunes
altars with garlands. For when Rosalynde heares of thy
wealth, it will make her love thee the more willingly: for
womens eyes are made of chrisecoll, that is ever unperfect un-
lesse tempred with gold, and Jupiter soonest enjoyed Danae,
because hee came to her in so rich a shower. Thus shall this
lyon (Rosader) ende the life of a miserable man, and from
distresse raise thee to be most fortunate. And with that, cast-
ing his boare speare on his necke, away he began to trudge.
But hee had not stept backe two or three paces, but a new
motion stroke him to the very hart, that resting his boare
speare against his brest, he fell into this passionate humour.
Ah, Rosader, wert thou the sonne of Sir John of Bourdeux,
whose vertues exceeded his valour, and the most hardiest
knight in all Europe! Should the honour of the father shine
in the actions of the sonne ! and wilt thou dishonour thy
parentage, in forgetting the nature of a gentleman? Did
not thy father at his last gaspe breath out this golden prin-
ciple ! Brothers amitie is like the drops of Balsamum, that
salveth the most daungerous sores. Did he make a large ex-
hort unto concord, and wilt thou shew thy selfe carelesse!


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 79
Oh Rosader, what though Saladyne hath wronged thee, and
made the live an exile in the forrest, shall thy nature bee so
cruell, or thy nurture so crooked, or thy thoughts so savage,
as to suffer so dismall a revenge What, to let him be de-
voured by wilde beastes? Non sapit, qui non sibi sapit is
fondly spoken in such bitter extreames. Loose not his life
Rosader, to win a worlde of treasure; for in having him thou
hast a brother, and by hazarding for his life, thou gettest a
friend, and reconcilest an enemie: and more honour shalt thou
purchase by pleasuring a foe, than revenging a thousand in-
juries.
With that his brother began to stirre, and the lyon to rowse
himselfe, whereupon Rosader sodainly charged him with
the boare speare, and wounded the lion very sore at the first
stroke. The beast feeling himselfe to have a mortall hurt,
leapt at Rosader, and with his pawes gave him a sore pinch on
the brest, that he had almost faln; yet as a man most valiant,
in whom the sparks of Sir John Bourdeaux remained, he re-
covered himselfe, and in short combat slew the lion, who at
his death roared so lowd that Saladyne awaked, and starting
up, was amazed at the sudden sight of so monstrous a beast
lying slaine by him, and so sweet a gentleman wounded.
He presently (as he was of a ripe conceipt) began to conjecture
that the gentleman had slaine him in his defence. Where-
upon (as a man in a traunce) he stood staring on them both a
good while, not knowing his brother, being in that disguise:
at last he burst into these tearmes.
Sir, whatsoever thou be (as full of honour thou must needes
be, by the view of thy present valour) I perceive thou hast
redressed my fortunes by thy courage, and saved my life with
thine own losse, which tyes me to be thine in all humble
service. Thankes thou shalt have as thy due, and more thou
canst not have, for my abilitie denies me to performe a deeper
debt. But if any wayes it please thee to commaund me, use
mee as farre as the power of a poore gentleman may stretch.
Rosader seeing hee was unknowne to his brother, woondered


S0 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
to heare such courteous wordes come from his crabbed nature;
but glad of such reformed nurture, he made this answere. I
am, sir (whatsoever thou art) a forrester and ranger of these
walkes, who, following my deere to the fall, was conducted
hither by some assenting fate, that I might save thee, and
disparage myselfe. For comming into this place, I saw thee
a sleepe, and the lyon watching thy awake, that at thy rising
hee might pray uppon thy carkasse. At the first sight I
conjectured thee a gentleman (for all mens thoughts ought to
bee favorable in imagination) and I counted it the part of a
resolute man to purchase a strangers reliefe, though with the
losse of his owne blood, which I have performed (thou seest)
to mine owne prejudice. If therefore thou be a man of such
worth as I value thee by thy exteriour liniaments, make dis-
course unto me what is the cause of thy present misfortunes;
for by the furrowes in thy face thou seemest to be crost with
her frownes: but whatsoever, or howsoever, lett emee crave
that favour, to heare the tragicke cause of thy estate. Sala-
dyne sitting downe, and fetching a deepe sigh, began thus.
SALADYNES DISCOURSE TO ROSADER UNKNOWNE.
Although the discourse of my fortunes be the renewing of
of my sorrowes, and the rubbing of the scarre will open a
fresh wound, yet that I may not proove ingratefull to so cour-
teous a gentleman, I wil rather sitte downe and sigh out my
estate, then give any offence by smothering my griefe with
silence. Knowe therefore (sir) that I am of Bourdeaux, and
the sonne and heyre of Sir John of Bourdeaux, a man for his
vertues and valour so famous, that I cannot thinke but the
fame of his honours hath reacht further than the knowledge
of his personage. The infortunate sonne of so fortunate a
knight am I, my name, Saladine; who succeeding my father
in possessions, but not in qualities, having two brethren com-
mitted by my father at his death to my charge, with such
golden principles of brotherly concorde, as might have pierst
like the syrens melodie into any humane eare. But I (with


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 81
Ulisses became deafe against his philosophicall harmony, and
made more value of profit than of vertue, esteeming gold suf-
ficient honour, and wealth the fittest title for a gentlemans
dignitie. I sette my middle brother to the universitie to bee
a scholler, counting it enough if he might pore on a booke
while I fed on his revenewes; and for the yoongest (which was
my fathers joye) yoong Rosader—And with that, naming of
Rosader, Saladyne sate him downe and wept.
Nay, forward man (quoth the forrester) teares are the un-
fittest salve that any man can apply for to cure sorrows, and
therefore cease from such feminine follies, as should drop out
of a womans eye to deceive, not out of a gentlemans looke to
discover his thoughts, and forward with thy discourse.
Ah, sir (quoth Saladyne) this Rosader that wrings tears
from my eyes, and blood from my heart, was like my father
in exteriour personage and in inward qualities; for in the
prime of his yeres he aymed all his acts at honor, and co-
veted rather to die than to brooke any injury unworthy a
gentlemans credite. I, whom envy had made blinde, and
covetousnesse masked with the vayle of selfe-love, seeing the
palme tree grow straight, thought to suppresse it, being a twig;
but nature wil have her course, the cedar will be tall, the
diamond bright, the carbuncle glistering, and vertue wil shine
though it be never so much obscured. For I kept Rosader
as a slave, and used him as one of my servile hindes, until
age grew on, and a secret insight of my abuse entred into
his minde: insomuch, that he could not brooke it, but coveted
to have what his father left him, and to live of himselfe.
To be short, sir, I repined at his fortunes, and he counter-
checkt me, not with abilitie but valour, until at last, by my
friends, and ayde of such as folowed gold more than right or
vertue, I banisht him from Bourdeaux, and hee, poore gentle-
man, lives no man knowes where, in some distressed discon-
tent. The gods, not able to suffer such impietie unrevenged,
so wrought, that the king pickt a causelesse quarrel against
me, in hope to have my lands, and so hath exiled me out of
G


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. S3
And so Gerismond fell to question Torismonds life. Saladyne
briefly discourst unto him his injustice and tyrannies with
such modestie (although hee had wronged him) that Geris-
mond greatly praised the sparing speech of the yoong gentle-
Illan.
Many questions past, but at last Gerismond began with a
deepe sigh to inquire if there were any newes of the welfare
of Alinda, or his daughter Rosalynd! None, sir, quoth Sala-
dyne, for since their departure they were never heard of.
Injurious fortune (quoth the king) that to double the fathers
miserie, wrongst the daughter with misfortunes! And with
that (surcharged with sorrowes) he went into his cell, and
left Saladyne and Rosader, whome Rosader straight conducted
to the sight of Adam Spencer. Who, seeing Saladyne in that
estate, was in a browne study; but when he heard the whole
matter, although hee grieved for the exile of his maister, yet
he joyed that banishment had so reformed him, that from a
lascivious youth he was proved a vertuous gentleman. Look-
ing alonger while, and seeing what familiaritie past betweene
them, and what favours were interchanged with brotherly af-
fection, he sayd thus. I marry, thus it should be: this was
the concord that old Sir John of Bourdeaux wisht betwyxt
you. Now fulfil you those precepts hee breathed out at his
death, and in observing them, looke to live fortunate and die
honorable. Well sayd, Adam Spencer (quoth Rosader), but
hast any victuals in store for us? A piece of a red deer
(quoth he) and a bottle of wine. Tis forresters fare, brother,
quoth Rosader: and so they sat downe and fel to their cates.
Assoone as they had taken their repast, and had wel dined,
Rosader tooke his brother Saladyne by the hand, and shewed
him the pleasures of the forrest, and what content they en-
joyed in that mean estate. Thus for two or three dayes he
walked up and downe with his brother to shew him all the
commodities that belonged to his walke. In which time hee
was mist of his Ganymede, who mused greatly (with Aliena)
what should become of their forester. Some while they
G 2


84 EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
thought he had taken some word unkindly, and had taken the
pet: then they imagined some new love had withdrawne his
fancie, or happely that he was sicke, or detained by some great
businesse of Gerismonds; or that hee had made a reconcile-
ment with his brother, and so returned to Bourdeaux.
These conjectures did they cast in their heades, but specially
Ganimede, who, havyng love in heart, prooved restlesse, and
halfe without patience, that Rosader wronged her with so
long absence; for Love measures every minute, and thinkes
houres to bee dayes, and dayes to bee moneths, till they feede
theyr eyes with the sight of theyr desired object. Thus per-
plexed lived poore Ganimede, while on a day, sitting with
Aliena in a great dumpe, she cast up her eye, and saw where
Rosader came pacing towardes them with his forrest bill on
his necke. At that sight her colour changde, and shee said to
Aliena, See, mistresse, where our jolly forrester comes. And
you are not a little glad thereof (quoth Aliena), your nose
bewrayes what porredge you love: the winde cannot be tyed
within his quarter, the sun shadowed with a vayle, oyle
hidden in water, nor love kept out of a womans lookes: but
no more of that, Lupus est in fabula. Assoone as Rosader
was come within the reach of her tongues ende, Aliena began
thus. Why, how now, gentle forrester, what winde hath kept
thee from hence! that being so newly marryed, you have no
more care of your Rosalynd, but to absent yourself so many
dayes! are these the passions you painted out so in your
sonnets and roundelaies! I see well hote love is soone cold,
and that the fancy of men is like to a loose feather that wan-
dreth in the ayre with the blast of every wynd. You are
deceived, mistres, quoth Rosader; 'twas a coppy of unkindnes
that kept me hence, in that, I being married, you caried away
the bride: but if I have given any occasion of offence by ab-
senting my selfe these three daies, I humbly sue for pardon,
which you must grant of course, in that the fault is so friendly
confest with penance. But to telyou the truth (faire mistresse,
and my good Rosalynd) my eldest brother by the injury of


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 85
Torismond is banished from Bourdeaux, and by chance hee
and I met in the forrest. And heere Rosader discourst unto
them what had happened betwixt them, which reconcile-
ment made them glad, especially Ganimede. But Aliena,
hearing of the tyrannie of her father, grieved inwardly, and
yet smothered all things with such secrecy, that the conceal-
ing was more sorrow then the conceipt: yet that her estate
might bee hyd stil, she made faire weather of it, and solet all
passse.
Fortune that sawe how these parties valued not her deitie,
but helde her power in scorne, thought to have about with
them, and brought the matter to passe thus. Certaine rascals
that lived by prowling in the forest, who for feare of the provost
marshall had caves in the groaves and thickets to shrowde
themselves from his traines, hearing of the beautie of this
faire shepheardesse, Aliena, thought to steale her away, and
to give her to the king for a present; hoping, because the king
was a great leacher, by such a gift to purchase all their par-
dons, and therefore came to take her and her page away.
Thus resolved, while Aliena and Ganimede were in sad talke,
they came rushing in, and layd violent hands upon Aliena
and her page, which made them crye out to Rosader; who
having the valour of his father stamped in his hart, thought
rather to die in defence of his friends, than any way bee
toucht with the least blemish of dishonour, and therefore
dealt such blowes amongst them with his weapon, as he did
witnesse well upon their carkasses that hee was no coward.
But as Ne Hercules quidem contra duos, so Rosader could
not resist a multitude, having none to backe him; so that hee
was not onely rebatted, but sore wounded, and Aliena and
Ganimede had been quite carryed away by these rascalles,
had not fortune (that meant to turne her frowne into a favour)
brought Saladyne that way by chance, who wandring to find
out his brothers walk, encountred this crue: and seeing not
onely a shepheardesse and her boy forced, but his brother
wounded, he heaved up a forrest bill he had on his neck, and


86 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
the first he stroke had never after more need of the phisition;
redoubling his blowes with such courage that the slaves were
amazed at his valour. Rosader, espying his brother so fortu-
nately arrived, and seeing how valiantly he behaved himselfe,
though sore wounded rushed amongst them, and layd on such
loade, that some of the crue were slaine, and the rest fled,
leaving Aliena and Ganimede in the possession of Rosader
and Saladyne.
Aliena after shee had breathed awhile and was come to her
selfe from this feare, lookt about her, and saw where Gani-
mede was busie dressyng up the woundes of the forrester:
but shee cast her eye upon this curteous champion that had
made so hotte a rescue, and that with such affection, that
shee began to measure every part of him with favour, and in
her selfe to commende his personage and his vertue, holding
him for a resolute man, that durst assaile such a troupe of
unbrydeled villaines. At last, gathering her spirits together,
she returned him these thankes.
Gentle sir, whatsoever you bee that have adventured your
flesh to relieve our fortunes, and to have as many hidden ver-
tues as you have manifest resolutions. Wee poore shep-
heardes have no wealth but our flocks, and therefore can wee
not make requitall with any great treasures; but our recom-
pence is thankes, and our rewards to our friends without fain-
ing. For rannsome therefore of this our rescue, you must
content your selfe to take such a kinde gramercy as a poore
shepheardesse and her page may give, with promise (in what
wee may) never to proove ingratefull. For this gentleman that
is hurt, yoong Rosader, hee is our good neighbour and familiar
acquaintance: weele pay him with smiles, and feed him with
love-lookes; and though he be never the fatter at the yeares
ende, yet weele so hamper him that he shall hold himselfe
satisfied.
Saladyne, hearing this shepheardesse speake so wisely,
began more narrowly to pry into her perfection, and to survey
all her liniaments with a curious insight; so long dallying in


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 87
the flame of her beautie, that to his cost he found her to be
most excellent. For love that lurked in all these broyles to
have a blow or two, seeing the parties at the gaze, encoun-
tered them both with such a veny, that the stroke pierst to
the heart so deep as it could never after be raced out. At
last, after hee had looked so long, till Aliena waxtred, he re-
turned her this answere.
Faire shepheardesse, if Fortune graced me with such good
hap as to doo you any favour, I hold my selfe as contented
as if I had gotten a great conquest; for the reliefe of distress-
ed women is the speciall point that gentlemen are tyed unto
by honor: seeing then my hazard to rescue your harmes was
rather duty than curtesie, thankes is more than belongs to
the requitall of such a favour. But least I might seeme
either too coy or too carelesse of a gentlewomans proffer, I
will take your kinde gramercie for a recompence. All this
while that he spake, Ganimede lookt earnestly upon him, and
sayd, Truly, Rosader, this gentleman favours you much in the
feature of your face. No marvell (quoth he, gentle swayne)
for tis my eldest brother Saladyne. Your brother, quoth
Aliena' (and with that she blusht) he is the more welcome,
and I hold myselfe the more his debter: and for that he hath
in my behalf done such a piece of service, if it please him to
do me that honor, I will cal him servant, and he shall cal me
mistresse. Content, sweet mistresse, quoth Saladyne, and
when I forget to call you so, I will be unmindfull of mine
owne selfe. Away with these quirkes and quiddities of love,
quoth Rosader, and give me some drinke, for I am passyng
thirstie, and then will I home, for my woundes bleed sore,
and I will have them drest. Ganimede had teares in her
eyes, and passions in her heart to see her Rosader so payned,
and therefore stept hastily to the bottle, and filling out some
wine in a mazer, she spiced it with such comfortable drugges
as she had about her, and gave it him, which did comfort
Rosader, that rysing (with the helpe of his brother) hee tooke
his leave of them, and went to his lodge. Ganimede, assoone


88 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
as they were out of sight, led his flocks downe to a vale, and
there under the shadow of a beech tree sat downe, and began
to mourne the misfortunes of her sweet heart.
And Aliena (as a woman passyng discontent) severing her-
selfe from her Ganimede, sitting under a lymon tree, began to
sigh out the passions of her new love, and to meditate with
hir selfe in this maner.
ALIENAES MEDITATION.
Aye me! now I see, and sorrowing sigh to see, that Dianaes
lawrels are harbours for Venus doves; that there trace as well
through the lawnes wantons as chast ones; that Calisto, be
she never so charie, wil cast one amorous eye at courting
Jove; that Diana her selfe will chaunge her shape, but shee
will honour Love in a shaddow; that maydens eyes bee they
as hard as diamonds, yet Cupide hath drugs to make them
more pliable than waxe. See, Alinda, how Fortune and Love
have interleagued themselves to be thy foes, and to make
thee theyr subject, or els an abject, have inveigled thy sight
with a most beautiful object. Alate thou didst hold Venus
for a giglot, not a goddesse, and now thou shalt bee forst to
sue suppliant to her deitie. Cupide was a boy and blinde;
but, alas, his eye had ayme inough to pierce thee to the hart.
While I lived in the court I held love in contempt, and in
high seats I had small desires. I knew not affection while I
lived in dignitie, nor could Venus counterchecke me, as long
as my fortune was majestie, and my thoughtes honour: and
shall I now bee high in desires, when I am made lowe by des-
tinie! I have heard them say, that Love lookes not at low
cottages, that Venus jettes in roabes not in ragges, that
Cupide flyes so high, that hee scornes to touch povertie with
his heele. Tush, Alinda, these are but olde wives tales, and
neither authenticall precepts, nor infallible principles; for
experience tels thee, that peasauntes have theyr passions as
well as princes, that swaynes as they have theyr labours, so


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 89
they have theyr amoures, and Love lurkes assoone about a
sheepcoate as a pallaice.
Ah, Alinda, this day in avoyding a prejudice thou art
fallen into a deeper mischiefe; being rescued from the robbers,
thou art become captive to Saladyne: and what then?
Women must love, or they must cease to live; and therefore
did nature frame them faire, that they might be subject to
fancy. But perhaps Saladines eye is levelde upon a more
seemlier saint. If it be so, beare thy passions with patience;
say Love hath wrongd thee, that hath not wroong him; and if
he be proud in contempt, be thou rich in content, and rather
dye than discover any desire: for there is nothing more pre-
tious in a woman than to conceale love, and to die modest.
He is the sonne and heire of Sir John of Bourdeaux, a youth
comely enough. Oh, Alinda, too comely, elshadst not thou
been thus discontent: valiant, and that fettered thine eye: wise,
else hadst thou not been now wonne; and for all these vertues
banished by thy father, and therefore if he know thy parent-
age, he wil hate the fruit for the tree, and condemne the yoong
sien for the old stock. Well, howsoever, I must love, and,
whomsoever I will; and, whatsoever betide, Aliena will
thinke wel of Saladyne, suppose he of me as he please.
And with that fetching a deep sigh, she rise up, and went to
Ganimede, who all this while sat in a great dumpe, fearing
the imminent danger of her friend Rosader: but now Aliena
began to comfort her, her selfe being over growne with sor-
rowes, and to recall her from her melancholy with many
pleasaunt perswasions. Ganimede tooke all in the best part,
and so they went home togither after they had folded their
flocks, supping with old Coridon, who had provided there
cates. Hee, after supper, to passe away the night while bed
time, began a long discourse, how Montanus the yoong shep-
heard, that was in love with Phoebe, could by no meanes ob-
taine any favour at her hands, but still pained in restlesse
passions remained a hopelesse and perplexed lover. I would
I might (quoth Aliena) once see that Phoebe. Is she so faire


90 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
that she thinks no shepheard worthy of her beauty' or so
froward that no love nor loyaltie will content her 1 or so coy,
that she requires a long time to be wooed 1 or so foolish that
she forgets, that like a fop she must have a large harvest for
a little corne!
I cannot distinguish (quoth Coridon) of these nice qualities;
but one of these dayes Ile bring Montanus and her downe,
that you may both see their persons, and note their passions;
and then where the blame is, there let it rest. But this I am
sure, quoth Coridon, if al maidens were of her mind, the world
would grow to a mad passe; for there would be great store
of wooing and litle wedding, many words and little worship,
much folly and no faith. At this sad sentence of Coridon, so
solempnly brought forth, Aliena smiled, and because it waxt
late, she and her page went to bed, both of them having fleas
in their eares to keep them awake, Ganimede for the hurt of
her Rosader, and Aliena for the affection she bore to Saladyne.
In this discontented humour they past away the time, till
falling on sleepe, their sences at rest, Love left them to their
quiet slumbers, which were not long. For as soon as Phoebus
rose from his Aurora, and began to mount him in the skie,
summoning plough-swaines to their handy labour, Aliena
arose, and going to the couch where Ganimede lay, awakened
her page, and said the morning was farre spent, the deaw
small, and time called them away to their foldes. Ah, ah!
quoth Ganimede, is the wind in that doore then in fayth
I perceive that there is no diamond so hard but will yeeld
to the file, no cedar so strong but the wind will shake, nor
any mind so chast but love will change. Well, Aliena, must
Saladyne be the man, and will it be a match! Trust me, he
is faire and valiant, the sonne of a worthy knight, whome if he
imitate in perfection, as he represents him in proportion, he
is worthy of no lesse than Aliena. But he is an exile. What
then? I hope my mistresse respectes the vertues not the
wealth, and measures the qualities not the substance. Those
dames that are like Danae, that like Jove in no shape but in
:
f
º
ſ
!


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 91
a shower of gold, I wish them husbands with much wealth
and little witte, that the want of the one may blemish the
abundance of the other. It should (my Aliena) stayne the
honour of a shepheards life to set the end of passions upon
pelfe. Loves eyes looks not so low as golde: there is no fees
to be payd in Cupids courtes, and in elder time (as Coridon
hath told me) the shepheardes love-gifts were apples and chest-
nuts, and then their desires were loyall, and their thoughts
constant. But now,
Quaerenda pecunia primum, post nummos virtus.
And the time is grown to that which Horace in his satyres
WTOte. On :
Omnis enim res
Virtus fama decus divina humanaque pulchris
Divitiis parent: quas qui constrinxerit ille
Clarus crit, fortis, justus, sapiens, etiam et rex
Et quicquid volet–
But, Aliena, lette it not be so with thee in thy fancies, but
respect his faith and there an ende. Aliena, hearing Gani-
mede thus forward to further Saladyne in his affections,
thought shee kist the child for the nurses sake, and woed for
him that she might please Rosader, made this reply. Why,
Ganimede, whereof growes this perswasion! Hast thou seene
love in my lookes, or are mine eyes growne so amorous, that
they discover some newe entertayned fancies! If thou mea-
sured my thoughts by my countenance, thou maiest prove
as ill a phisiognomer, as the lapidarie that aymes at the
secret vertues of the topaze by the exterior shadow of the
stone. The operation of the agate is not known by the
strakes, nor the diamond prized by his brightnesse, but by
his hardnesse. The carbuncle that shineth most is not ever
the most pretious; and the apothecaries choose not flowers
for their colours, but for their vertues. Womens faces are
not alwayes calenders of fancie, nor do their thoughts and their
lookes ever agree; for when their eyes are fullest of favors,


92 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
then are they oft most emptie of desire; and when they seeme
to frowne at disdain, then are they most forward to affection.
If I bee melancholie, then, Ganimede, tis not a consequence
that I am intangled with the perfection of Saladyne. But
seeing fire cannot be hid in the straw, nor love kept so covert
but it will be spyed, what shoulde friends conceale fancies 1
knowe, my Ganimede, the heautie and valour, the wit and
prowesse of Saladyne hath fettered Aliena so farre, as there
is no object pleasing to her eyes but the sight of Saladyne;
and if Love have done me justice to wrap his thoughts in the
foldes of my face, and that he be as deeply enamoured as I
am passionate, I tell thee, Ganimede, there shall not be much
wooing, for she is already wonne, and what needes a longer
battery. I am glad, quoth Ganimede, that it shall be thus
proportioned, you to match with Saladyne, and I with Rosader:
thus have the destenies favoured us with some pleasing aspect,
that have made us as private in our loves, as familiar in our
fortunes.
With this Ganimede start up, made her ready, and went
into the fields with Aliena, where unfolding their flockes, they
sate them downe under an olive tree, both of them amorous,
and yet diversly affected, Aliena joying in the excellence of
Saladyne, and Ganimede sorowing for the wounds of her
Rosader; not quiet in thought till shee might heare of his
health. As thus both of them sate in their dumpes, they might
espie where Coridon came running towards them (almost
out of breath with his hast). What newes with you (quoth
Aliena) that you come in such post! Oh, mistres (quoth Co-
ridon) you have a long time desired to see Phoebe, the faire
shepheardesse whom Montanus loves; so now if you please,
you and Ganimede, to walke with mee to yonder thicket, there
shall you see Montanus aud her sitting by a fountaine, he
courting her with her countrey ditties, and she as coy as if
she held love in disdaine.
The newes were so welcome to the two lovers, that up they
rose, and went with Coridon. Assoone as they drew nigh


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 9:3
the thicket, they might espie where Phoebe sate (the fairest
shepherdesse in all Arden, and he the frolickst swaine in the
whole forrest) she in a petticote of scarlet, covered with a
green mantle, and to shrowd her from the sunne, a chaplet of
roses, from under which appeared a face full of natures excel-
lence, and two such eyes as might have amated a greater man
than Montanus. At gaze uppon this gorgeous nymph sate the
shepheard, feeding his eyes with her favours, wooing with
such piteous lookes, and courting with such deepe strained
sighs, as would have made Diana her selfe to have beene com-
passionate: at last, fixing his lookes on the riches of her face,
his head on his hande, and his elbow on his knee, hee sung
this mournefull dittie.
Montanus Sonnet.
A turtle sate upon a leavelesse tree,
Mourning her absent pheare,
With sad and sorry cheare:
About her wondring stood
The citizens of wood,
And whilest her plumes she rents,
And for her love laments,
The stately trees complaine them,
The birds with sorrow paine them.
Each one that doth her view,
IIer paine and sorrowes rue;
But were the sorrowes knowne
That me hath overthrowne,
Oh how would Phoebe sigh, if shee did looke on me?
The love sicke Polypheme, that could not see,
Who on the barraine shore,
His fortunes doth deplore,
And melteth all in mone
For Galatea gone ;
And with his piteous cries,
Afflicts both earth and skies,
And to his woe betooke,
Doth breake both pipe and hooke;


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 95
When Love was first begot,
And by the movers will
Did fall to humane lot
His solace to fulfill,
Devoid of all deceipt,
A chast and holy fire
Did quicken mans conceipt,
And womens brest inspire.
The Gods that saw the good
That mortalls did approve,
With kind and holy mood,
Began to talke of Love.
Downe a downe,
Thus Phyllis sung
By fancie once distressed, &c.
But during this accord,
A wonder strange to heare,
Whilest Love in deed and word
Most faithfull did appeare,
False semblance came in place,
By jealousie attended,
And with a double face
Both love and fancie blended;
Which make the Gods forsake,
And men from fancie flie,
And maidens scorne a make,
For sooth, and so will I.
Downe a downe,
Thus Phyllis sung,
By fancie once distressed:
Who so by foolish love are stung
Are worthily oppressed.
And so sing I, with downe, a downe, a downe a.
Montanus, hearing the cruell resolution of Phoebe, was so
overgrowne with passions, that from amorous ditties he fel
flat into these tearmes: Ah, Phoebe, quoth he, wherof art thou
made, that thou regardest not thy maladie? Am I so hatefull
an object that thine eyes condemne mee for an object 1 or
so base, that thy desires cannot stoope so low as to lend me a


96 EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
gratious looke 1 My passions are many, my loves more, my
thoughts loyaltie, and my fancie faith: al devoted in humble
devoire to the service of Phoebe; and shall I reape no reward
for such fealties? The swaines dayly labours is quit with the
evenings hire, the ploughmans toyle is eased with the hope of
corne, what the oxe sweates out at the plough, he fatneth at
the cribbe; but infortunate Montanus hath no salve for his
sorrowes, nor any hope of recompence for the hazard of his
perplexed passions. If, Phoebe, time maye plead the proofe
of my truth, twise seaven winters have I loved faire Phoebe:
if constancie be a cause to further my sute, Montanus thoughts
have beene sealed in the sweete of Phoebes excellence, as far
from change as she from love: if outward passions may dis-
cover inward affections, the furrows in my face may discover
the sorrows of my heart, and the mappe of my looks the griefs
of my mind. Thou seest (Phoebe) the teares of despayre have
made my cheeks full of wrinckes, and my scalding sighes have
made the ayre eccho her pittie conceived in my plaintes:
Philomele hearing my passions, hath left her mournfull tunes
-to listen to the discourse of my miseries. I have pourtrayed
in every tree the beauty of my mistres, and the despaire of
my loves. What is it in the woods cannot witnes my woes!
and who is it would not pittie my plaints! only Phoebe. And
why? Because I am Montanus, and she Phoebe; I a worth-
les swaine, and she the most excellent of all faires. Beautifull
Phoebe! oh, might I say pittifull, then happy were I, though I
tasted but one minute of that good hap. Measure Montanus,
not by his fortunes, but by his loves, and ballance not his
wealth, but his desires, and lende but one gratious looke to cure
a heape of disquieted cares. If not, ah! if Phoebe cannot love,
let a storme of frownes end the discontent of my thoughts,
and so let me perish in my desires, because they are above
my deserts: onely at my death this favour cannot be denied
me, that al shal say Montanus died for love of hard hearted
Phoebe. At these wordes she fild her face full of frowns, and
made him this short and sharpe reply.


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 97
Importunate shepheard, whose loves are lawlesse, because
restlesse, are thy passions so extreame that thou canst not
conceale them with patience? or art thou so folly-sicke, that
thou must needes be fancie-sicke, and in thy affection tyed
to such an exigent, as none serves but Phoebe | Well, sir,
if your market can be made no where els, home againe, for
your mart is at the fayrest. Phoebe is no lettice for your
lips, and her grapes hang so high, that gaze at them you may,
but touch them you cannot. Yet, Montanus, I speake not this
in pride, but in disdaine: not that I scorne thee, but that I
hate love; for I count it as great honor to triumph over fancie
as over fortune. Rest thee content therfore, Montanus:
cease from thy loves, and bridle thy lookes, quench the sparkles
before they grow to a further flame; for in loving mee thou
shalt but live by losse, and what thou utterest in wordes are
all written in the wind. Wert thou (Montanus) as faire as
Paris, as hardy as Hector, as constant as Troylus, as loving
as Leander, Phoebe could not love, because she cannot love
at all: and therefore if thou pursue me with Phoebus, I must
flie with Daphne.
Ganimede, overhearing all these passions of Montanus,
could not brooke the crueltie of Phoebe, but starting from be-
hind the bush said: And if, damzell, you fled from mee, I would
transforme you as Daphne to a bay, and then in contempt
trample your branches under my feet. Phoebe at this so-
daine replye was amazed, especially when shee saw so faire
a swaine as Ganimede; blushing therefore, she would have
bene gone, but that he held her by the hand, and prosecuted
his reply thus: What, shepheardesse, so faire and so cruell?
Disdaine beseemes not cottages, nor coynesse maids; for
either they be condemned to be too proud, or too froward.
Take heed, faire nymph, that in despising love, you be not
over-reacht with love, and in shaking off all, shape yourselfe
to your owne shadow, and so with Narcissus prove passionat
and yet unpitied. Oft have I heard, and sometime have I
seene, high disdaine turnd to hot desires. Because thou art
H


98 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
beautifull be not so coy: as there is nothing more fair, so
there is nothing more fading; as momentary as the shad-
dowes which growes from a clowdy sunne. Such (my faire
shepheardesse) as disdaine in youth desire in age, and then
are they hated in the winter, that might have been loved in
the prime. A wringled mayd is like to a parched rose, that
is cast up in coffers to please the smell, not worne in the hand
to content the eye. There is no folly in love to had I wist,
and therefore be rulde by mee. Love while thou art yoong,
least thou be disdained when thou art olde. Beautie nor
time cannot be recalde, and if thou love, like of Montanus; for
if his desires are many, so his deserts are great.
Phoebe all this while gazed on the perfection of Ganimede,
as deeply enamored on his perfection as Montanus inveigled
with hers; for her eye made survey of his excellent feature,
which she found so rare, that she thought the ghost of Adonis
had leapt from Elizium in the shape of a swaine. When she
blusht at her owne folly to looke so long on a stranger, she
mildely made answere to Ganimede thus. I cannot deny, sir,
but I have heard of love, though I never felt love; and have
read of such a goddesse as Venus, though I never sawe any
but her picture; and, perhaps, and with that shee waxed red
and bashfull, and with all silent: which Ganimede perceiv-
ing, commended in her selfe the bashfulnesse of the mayd,
and desired her to go forward. And perhaps, sir (quoth she),
mine eye hath been more prodigal to day than ever before:
and with that she stayd againe, as one greatly passionate and
perplexed. Aliena seeing the hare through the maze, bade
her forward with her prattle, but in vaine; for at this abrupt
period she broke off, and with her eyes full of teares, and her
face covered with a vermillion die, she sat downe and sighed.
Whereupon Aliena and Ganimede, seeing the shepheardesse
in such a straunge plight, left Phoebe with her Montanus,
wishing hir friendly that she would be more pliant to Love,
least in penance Venus joyned her to some sharpe repentance.
Phoebe made no reply, but fetcht such a sigh, that Eccho made


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 99
relation of hir plaint, giving Ganimede such an adieu with a
piercing glance, that the amorous girle-boy perceived Phoebe
was pincht by the heele.
But leaving Phoebe to the follies of her new fancie, and
Montanus to attend uppon her, to Saladyne, who all this last
night could not rest for the remembrance of Aliena; inso-
much that he framed a sweet conceited sonnet to content his
humor, which hee put in his bosome, being requested by his
brother Rosader to go to Aliena and Ganimede, to signify
unto them that his woundes were not dangerous. A more
happy message could not happen to Saladyne, that taking his
forrest bill on his neck, he trudgeth in all haste towardes the
plaines where Alienaes flockes did feede, comming just to
the place when they returned from Montanus and Phoebe.
Fortune so conducted this jolly forrester, that he encountred
them and Coridon, whom hee presently saluted in this maner.
Faire shepheardesse, and too faire, unless your beautie be
tempred with curtesie, and the liniaments of the face graced
with the lowlinesse of mynd, as many good fortunes to you
and your page, as your selves can desire or imagine. My
brother Rosader (in the grief of his green wounds stil mynd-
ful of his friends) hath sent me to you with a kynd salute, to
shew that he brooks his paines with the more patience, in
that he holds the parties precious in whose defence hee re-
ceived the prejudice. The report of your welfare will be a
great comfort to his distempered body and distressed thoughts,
and therefore he sent me with a strickt charge to visite you.
And you (quoth Aliena) are the more welcome in that you
are messenger from so kynd a gentleman, whose paines we
compassionate with as great sorrow as he brookes them with
griefe; and his wounds breeds in us as many passions as in
him extremities, so that what disquiet he feeles in bodie, we
partake in heart, wishing (if wee might) that your mishap
might salve his malady. But seeing our wils yeelds him
litle ease, our orizons are never idle to the gods for his re-
covery. I pray, youth, (quoth Ganimede with teares in his
H 2


100 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
eyes) when the surgion searcht him, held hee his woundes
dangerous? Dangerous (quoth Saladyne) but, not mortall,
and the sooner to be cured, in that his patient is not impa-
tient of any paines: whereupon my brother hopes within
these ten dayes to walke abroad and visite you himselfe. In
the meane time (quoth Ganimede) say his Rosalynde com-
mends her to him, and bids him be of good cheare. I know
not (quoth Saladyne) who that Rosalynde is, but whatsoever
shee is, her name is never out of his mouth, but amidst the
deepest of his passions hee useth Rosalynde as a charme to
appease all sorrowes with patience; insomuch that I conjec-
ture my brother is in love, and shee some paragon that holdes
his heart perplexed, whose name he oft records with sighes,
sometimes with teares, straight with joye, then with smiles;
as if in one person Love had lodged a chaos of confused pas-
sions. Wherin I have noted the variable disposition of
fancy, that lyke the polype in colours, so it changeth into
sundry humors, being as it should seeme, a combat myxt
with disquiet, and a bitter pleasure wrapt in a sweet preju-
dice, lyke to the sinople tree, whose blossomes delight the
smell, and whose fruit infects the taste.
By my fayth (quoth Aliena) sir, you are deep read in love,
or growes your insight into affection by experience 1 howso-
ever, you are a great philosopher in Venus principles, els
could you not discover our secret aphorismes. But, sir, our
countrey amours are not lyke your courtly fancies, nor is our
wooing lyke your suing; for pore shepheards never plaine
them till love paine them, where the courtiers eyes is full of
passions, when his heart is most free from affection: they
court to discover their eloquence, wee wooe to ease our sor-
rowes; every faire face with them must have a new fancy
sealed with a fore-finger kisse, and a farre fetcht sigh: we
heere love one, and live to that one, so long as life can main-
taine love, using few ceremonies, because we know fewe
subtilties, and litle eloquence, for that we lightly accompt
of flattery: onely faith and troth, thats shepheards wooing;
4


102 EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE,
counted for precious unlesse it be hard, so men are not men
unless they be in love; and their honors are measured by
their amours, not their labors, counting it more commendable
for a gentleman to be ful of fancy, than full of vertue. I had
thought
Otia si tollas periere Cupidinis arcus,
Contemptaeque jacent, & sine luce faces:
But I see Ovids axiome is not authenticall, for even labour
hath her loves, and extremitie is no pumice stone to race out
fancy. Yourselfe exiled from your wealth, friendes, and
country by Torismond, (sorrowes inough to suppresse affec-
tions) yet amidst the depth of these extremities, Love will be
lord, and shew his power to bee more predominant than for-
tune. But I pray you, sir, (if without offence I may crave it)
are they some new thoughts, or some olde desires? Saladyne
(that now saw opportunitie pleasant) thought to strike while
the yron was hotte, and therefore taking Aliena by the hand,
sate downe by her; and Ganimede, to give them leave to
their loves, found her selfe busie about the foldes, whilest
Saladyne fell into this prattle with Aliena.
Faire mistresse, if I be blunt in discovering my affections,
and use little eloquence in levelling out my loves, I appeale
for pardon to your owne principles, that say, shepheards use
few ceremonies, for that they acquaint themselves with few
subtilties. To frame my selfe therefore to your country fashion
with much faith and little flattery, know, bewtifull shepheard-
esse, that whylest I lived in the court I knew not loves comber,
but I helde affection as a toy, not as a malady; using fancy
as the Hiperborei doo their flowers, which they weare in
their bosome all day, and cast them in the fire for fuell at
night. I lyked all, because I loved none, and who was most
faire, on her I fed mine eye; but as charily as the bee, that
assoone as shee hath suckthonny from the rose, flies straight to
the next marigold. Living thus at mine owne list, I wondred
at such as were in love, and when I read their passions, I
tooke them onely for poemes that flowed from the quicknesse


EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 103
of the wyt, not the sorrowes of the heart. But now (faire
nymph) since I became a forrester, Love hath taught me such
a lesson that I must confesse his deitie and dignitie, and saie
as there is nothing so pretious as beuty, so there is nothing
more piercing than fancy. For since first I arrived at this
place, and mine eye tooke a curious survey of your excellence,
I have been so fettered with your beautie and vertue, as (sweet
Aliena) Saladyne without further circumstance loves Aliena.
I could paynt out my desires with long ambages; but seeing
in many words lyes mistrust, and that truth is ever naked,
let this suffice for a country wooing, Saladyne loves Aliena,
and none but Aliena.
Although these wordes were most heavenly harmony in the
eares of the shepheardesse, yet to seeme coye at the first
courting, and to disdaine love howsoever she desired love,
she made this reply.
Ah, Saladyne, though I seeme simple, yet I am more subtile
than to swallow the hooke because it hath a painted bayt:
as men are wily so women are wary, especially if they have
that wyt by others harmes to beware. Do we not know, Sala-
dyne, mens toongs are like Mercuries pipe, that can inchant
Argus with an hundreth eyes! and their words are prejudiciall
as the charmes of Circes, that transforme men into monsters.
If such syrens sing, we poore women had need stoppe our
eares, least in hearing wee prove so foolish hardy as to believe
them, and so perish in trusting much, and suspecting litle.
Saladyne, piscatorictus sapit, hee that hath been once poisoned,
and afterwards fears not to bowse of every potion, is worthy
to suffer double pennance. Give mee leave then to mistrust,
though I doo not condemne. Saladyne is now in love with
Aliena, hee a gentleman of great parentage, shee a shep-
hardesse of meane parents; he honorable, and shee poore:
Can love consist of contrarieties! Wyll the fawlcon pearch
with the kistresse, the lyon harbor with the woolfe? Will
Venus joyne roabes and rags togither, or can there be a sym-
pathie betweene a king and a begger ? Then, Saladyne, how


104 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
can I believe thee that love should unite our thoughts, when
fortune hath set such a difference betweene our degrees! but
suppose thou likest Alienaes bewtie: men in their fancy re-
semble the waspe, which scornes that flower from which she
hath fetcht her waxe; playing lyke the inhabitants of the iland
Tenerifa, who, when they have gathered the sweet spices,
use the trees for fuell: so men, when they have glutted them-
selves with the faire of women faces, holde them for neces-
sary evils, and wearied with that which they seemed so much
to love, cast away fancy as children doo their rattles, and
loathing that which so deeply before they liked; especially
such as take love in a minute, and have their eyes attrac-
tive, lyke jeate apt to entertaine any object, are as redie to
let it slip againe. Saladyne, hearing how Aliena harpt still
upon one string, which was the doubt of mens constancy, he
broke off her sharpe invective thus.
I grant, Aliena (quoth hee), many men have done amisse, in
proving soone ripe and soone rotten; but particular instances
inferre no generall conclusions, and therefore I hope what
others have faulted in, shall not prejudice my favours. I
wil not use sophistry to confirme my love, for that is subtiltie;
nor long discourses, least my wordes might be thought more
than my fayth: but if this will suffice, that by the honor of
a gentleman I love Aliena, and wooe Aliena, not to crop the
blossomes and reject the tree, but to consumate my faithfull
desires in the honorable ende of marriage.
At the word marriage Aliena stood in a maze what to
answere, fearing that if shee were too coy, to drive him away
with her disdaine, and if she were too curteous, to discover
the heate of her desires. In a dilemma thus what to doo, at
last this she sayd. Saladyne, ever since I saw thee, I fa-
voured thee; I cannot dissemble my desires, because I see
thou doest faithfully manifest thy thoughtes, and in liking
thee I love thee so farre as mine honor holdes fancy still in
suspence; but if I knew thee as verteous as thy father, or as
well qualified as thy brother Rosader, the doubt should be


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 105
quickly decided: but for this time to give thee an answere,
assure thy selfe this, I will either marry with Saladyne, or
still live a virgine. And with this they strained one anothers
hand; which Ganimede espying, thinking hee had had his
mistresse long inough at shrift, sayd : What, a match or no?
A match (quoth Aliena) or els it were an ill market. I am
glad (quoth Ganimede): I wold Rosader were wel here to
make up a messe. Well remembred (quoth Saladyne); I
forgot I left my brother Rosader alone, and therefore least,
being solitary hee should encrease his sorrowes, I wil hast
me to him. May it please you, then, to command mee any
service to him, I am readie to bee a dutifull messenger.
Onely at this time commend me to him (quoth Aliena) and
tell him, though wee cannot pleasure him we pray for him.
And forget not (quoth Ganimede) my commendations; but
say to him that Rosalynd sheds as many teares from her
heart as he drops of blood from his wounds, for the sorrow of
his misfortunes, feathering all her thoughts with disquiet, till
his welfare procure her content. Say thus (good Saladyne), ,
and so farwel. He having his message, gave a courteous
adieu to them both, especially to Aliena, and so playing loath
to depart, went to his brother. But Aliena, she perplexed
and yet joyfull, past away the day pleasantly, still praising
the perfection of Saladyne, not ceasing to chat of her new love
till evening drew on; and then they folding their sheep, went
home to bed. Where we leave them and return to Phoebe.
Phoebe, fiered with the uncouth flame of love, returned to
her fathers house, so gauled with restlesse passions, as now
shee began to acknowledge, that as there was no flower so
fresh but might be parched with the sunne, no tree so strong
but might be shaken with a storme, so there was no thought
so chast, but time armed with love could make amorous; for
shee that held Diana for the goddesse of her devotion, was
now fain to flie to the aulter of Venus, as suppliant now with
praiers, as she was froward afore with disdaine. As shee
lay in her bed, shee called to mynd the several bewties of


106 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
yoong Ganimede: first his locks, which being amber hued,
passeth the wreath that Phoebus puts on to make his front
glorious: his browe of yorie was like the seate where love
and majestie sits inthronde to enchaine fancy: his eyes as
bright as the burnishing of the heaven, darting forth frowns
with disdaine, and smiles with favour, lightning such lookes
as would enflame desire, were she wrapt in the circle of the
frozen zoane: in his cheekes the vermillion teinture of the
rose florished upon naturall alabaster, the blushe of the morne
and Lunaes silver showe were so lively pourtrayed, that the
Troyan that filles out wine to Jupiter was not halfe so bewti-
full: his face was full of pleasance, and al the rest of his lini-
aments proportioned with such excellence, as Phoebe was
fettred in the sweetnes of his feature. The idea of these per-
fections tumbling in her mynde made the poore shepheardesse
so perplexed, as feeling a pleasure tempred with intollerable
paines, and yet a disquiet mixed with a content, shee rather
wished to die than to live in this amorous anguish. But
wishing is litle worth in such extreames, and therefore was
she forst to pine in her malady, without any salve for her sor-
rows. Reveale it she durst not, as daring in such matters to
make none her secretarie; and to conceale it, why, it doubled
her griefe for as fire supprest growes to the greater flame,
and the current stopt to the more violent streame, so love
smothered wrings the hart with the deeper passions.
Perplexed thus with sundry agonies, her food began to
faile, and the disquiet of her mind began to worke a distem-
perature of her body, that, to be short, Phoebe fell extreme
sicke, and so sicke as there was almost left no recovery of
health. Her father, seeing his faire Phoebe thus distrest, sent
for his friends, who sought by medecine to cure, and by coun-
saile to pacifie, but all in vaine; for although her body was
feeble through long fasting, yet did shee magis agrotare
animo quâm corpore. Which her friends perceyved and
sorrowed at, but salve it they could not.
The newes of her sicknesse was bruted abroad though all


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 107
the forrest, which no sooner came to Montanus eare, but hee,
like a mad man, came to visit Phoebe. Where sitting by her
bed side he began his exordium with so many teares and
sighes, that she, perceiving the extremitie of his sorrows, be-
gan now as a lover to pittie them, although Ganimede helde
her from redressing them. Montanus craved to know the
cause of her sicknesse, tempred with secret plaints, but she
answered him (as the rest) with silence, having still the
forme of Ganimede in her mind, and conjecturing how she
might reveale her loves. To utter it in wordes she found her
Selfe too bashfull; to discourse by any friend shee would not
trust any in her amours; to remain thus perplexed still, and
conceale all, it was a double death. Whereupon, for her last
refuge, she resolved to write unto Ganimede, and therfore
desired Montanus to absent himselfe a while, but not to de-
part, for she would see if she could steale a nappe. Hee
was no sooner gone out of the chamber, but reaching to her
standish, shee tooke penne and paper, and wrote a letter to
this effect.
PHOEBE TO GANIMEDE, WISHETH WHAT SHE WANTs
HER SELFE.
Faire shepheard (and therefore is Phoebe infortunate, be-
cause thou art so faire), although hitherto mine eyes were
adamants to resist love, yet I no sooner saw thy face, but
they became amorous to intertaine love; more devoted to fancie,
than before they were repugnant to affection, addicted to the
one by nature, and drawn to the other by beauty: which being
rare, and made the more excellent by many vertues, hath so
snared the freedome of Phoebe, as shee restes at thy mercie,
either to bee made the most fortunate of all maydens, or the
most miserable of all women. Measure not, Ganimede, my
loves by my wealth, nor my desires by my degrees; but thinke
my thoughts as full of faith, as thy face of amiable favors.
Then, as thou knowest thy selfe most beautifull, suppose me


108 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
most constant. If thou deemest mee hard harted because I
hated Montanus, think I was forst to it by fate: if thou saist
I am kind hearted, because so lightly I loved thee at the first
looke, think I was driven to it by desteny, whose influence, as
it is mighty, so is it not to be resisted. If my fortunes were
any thing but infortunate love, I would strive with fortune:
but he that wrests against the will of Venus, seekes to quench
fire with oyle, and to thrust out one thorn by putting in ano-
ther. If then, Ganimede, love enters at the eye, harbours in
the heart, and wil neither be driven out with phisicke nor
reason, pittie mee, as one whose malady hath no salve but
from thy sweet self, whose griefe hath no ease but through
thy grant; and think I am a virgin who is deeply wrongd
when I am forst to woo, and conjecture love to be strong, that
is more forceable then nature. Thus distressed unless by thee
eased, I expect either to lyve fortunate by thy favour, or die
miserable by thy denyall. Living in hope. Farewell.
She that must be thine,
or not be at all,
PHOEBE.
To this letter she annexed this sonnet.
SONNETTO.
My boate doth passe the straights
Of seas incenst with fire,
Filde with forgetfulnesse:
Amidst the winters night,
A blind and carelesse boy
(Brought up by fond desire)
Doth guide me in the sea
Of sorrow and despight.
For every oare he sets
A ranke of foolish thoughts,
And cuts (instead of wave)
A hope without distresse:


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 109
The winds of my deepe sighes
(That thunder still for noughts)
Have split my sayles with feare,
With care and heavinesse.
A mightie storme of teares,
A blacke and hideous cloude,
A thousand fierce disdaines
Doe slacke the haleyards oft:
Till ignorance doe pull,
And errour hale the shrowds,
No starre for safetie shines,
No Phoebe from aloft.
Time hath subdued art, and joy is slave to woe:
Alas (Loves guid) be kindl what, shall I perish so?
This letter and the sonnet being ended, she could find no fit
messenger to send it by, and therefore she called in Montanus,
and intreated him to carry it to Ganimede. Although poore
Montanus saw day at a little hole, and did perceive what
passion pinched her, yet (that he might seeme dutifull to his
mistresse in all service) he dissembled the matter, and became
a willing messenger of his owne martyrdome. And so (taking
the letter) went the next morne very earlie to the plaines
where Aliena fedde hir flocks, and there he found Ganimede,
sitting under a pomegranade tree, sorrowing for the hard for-
tunes of her Rosader. Montanus saluted him, and according
to his charge delivered Ganimede the letters, which (he said)
came from Phoebe. At this the wanton blusht, as being
abasht to thinke what news should come from an unknowne
shepheardesse; but taking the letters, unript the seales, and
read over the discourse of Phoebes fancies. When she had
read and over-read them Ganimede beganne to smile, and
looking on Montanus, fell into a great laughter, and with
that called Aliena, to whome shee shewed the writinges.
Who, having perused them, conceipted them very pleasantly,
and smiled to see how love had yokt her, who before would


110 EUPHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
not stoop to the lure. Aliena whispering Ganimede in the
eare, and saying, Knew Phoebe what want there were in thee
to performe her will, and how unfit thy kind is to be kind to
her, she would be more wise, and lesse enamoured; but leav-
ing that, I pray thee let us sport with this swaine. At that
word Ganimede, turning to Montanus, began to glaunce at
him thus.
I pray thee, tell me, shepheard, by those sweet thoughts
and pleasing sighes that grow from my mistresse favours, art
thou in love with Phoebe | Oh, my youth, quoth Montanus,
were Phoebe so farre in love with me, my flocks would be more
fatte, and their maister more quiet; for through the sorrows
of my discontent growes the leannesse of my sheepe. Alas,
poore swaine, quoth Ganimede, are thy passions so extreame,
or thy fancie so resolute, that no reason wil blemish the pride
of thy affection, and race out that which thou strivest for with-
out hope 1 Nothing can make me forget Phoebe, while Mon-
tanus forget himselfe; for those characters which true love
hath stamped, neither the envie of time nor fortune can wipe
away. Why but, Montanus, quoth Ganimede, enter with a
deep insight into the despaire of thy fancies, and thou shalt
see the depth of thine owne follies; for (poore man) thy pro-
gresse in love is a regresse to losse, swimming again the
streame with the crab, and flying with Apis Indica against
wind and weather. Thou seekest with Phoebus to win
Daphne, and shee flies faster than thou canst follow: thy
desires soare with the hobbie, but her disdain reacheth higher
than thou canst make wing. I tell thee, Montanus, in court-
ing Phoebe, thou barkest with the wolves of Syria against
the moone, and roavest at such a marke with thy thoughts,
as is beyond the pitch of thy bow, praying to love, when love
is pittilesse, and thy malady remedilesse. For proofe, Mon-
tanus, read these letters, wherein thou shalt see thy great
follyes and little hope.
With that Montanus tooke them and perused them, but


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 111
with such sorrow in his lookes, as they bewrayed a sourse of
confused passions in his heart: at every line his colour changed,
and every sentence was ended with a period of sighes.
At last, noting Phoebes extreame desire toward Ganimede,
and her disdaine towards him, giving Ganimede the letter,
the shepheard stood as though he had neyther won nor lost.
Which Ganimede perceiving wakened him out of his dreame
thus: Now, Montanus, doest thou see thou vowest great ser-
vice and obtainest but little reward: but in lieu of thy loy-
altie, she maketh thee, as Bellephoron, carry thine owne bane.
Then drinke not willingly of that potion wherein thou know-
est is poyson: creepe not to her that cares not for thee. What,
Montanus, there are many as faire as Phoebe, but most of all
more courteous than Phoebe. I tell thee, shepheard, favour is
loves fuell: then since thou canst not get that, lette the flame
vanish into smoake, and rather sorrowe for a while then re-
pent thee for ever.
I tell thee, Ganimede, (quoth Montanus) as they which are
stung with the scorpion, cannot be recovered but by the scor-
pion, nor he that was wounded with Achilles lance bee cured
but with the same truncheon, so Apollo was faine to cry out
that love was onely eased with love, and fancy healed by no
medicine but favour. Phoebus had hearbs to heale all hurts
but this passion: Cyrces had charms for all chances but for
affection, and Mercurie subtill reasons to refell all griefs but
love. Perswasions are bootles, reason lends no remedy, coun-
sell no comfort, to such whome fancie hath made resolute; and
therefore though Phoebe loves Ganimede, yet Montanus must
honor none but Phoebe.
Then, quoth Ganimede, may I rightly tearme thee a de-
spairing lover, that livest without joy, and lovest without hope.
But what shal I do, Montanus, to pleasure thee! Shall I despise
Phoebe, as she disdaines thee! Ah (quoth Montanus), that
were to renew my griefs, and double my sorrows: for the
sight of her discontent were the censure of my death. Alas,
Ganimede! though I perish in my thoughts, let not her die in


112 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
her desires. Of all passions, love is most impatient: then
lette not so faire a creature as Phoebe sinke under the burden
of so deepe distresse. Being love sicke, she is proved hart
sicke, and all for the beautie of Ganimede. Thy proportion
hath intangled her affections, and she is snared in the beauty
of thy excellence. Then, sith she loves thee so deare, mislike
not her deadly. Be thou paramour to such a paragon: she
hath beauty to please thine eye, and flockes to enrich thy
store. Thou canst not wish for more than thou shalt win by
her; for she is beautifull, vertuous and wealthy, three deepe
perswasions to make love frolicke. Aliena seeing Montanus
cut it against the haire, and pleade that Ganimede ought to
love Phoebe, when his onely life was the love of Phoebe, an-
swered him thus. Why, Montanus, dost thou further this
motion, seeing if Ganimede marry Phoebe thy market is
cleane mard Ah, mistres (q. he) so hath love taught me to
honour Phoebe, that I would prejudice my life to pleasure her,
and die in despaire rather than shee should perish for want.
It shall suffice me to see her contented, and to feed mine eye
on her favour. If she marry, though it bee my martyrdome,
yet if she be pleased I wil brooke it with patience, and tri-
umph in mine owne stars to see her desires satisfied. There-
fore, if Ganimede be as courteous as he is beautifull, let him
shew his vertues in redressing Phoebes miseries. And this
Montanus pronounst with such an assured countenance, that
it amazed both Aliena and Ganimede to see the resolution of
his loves; so that they pitied his passions and commended
his patience, devising how they might by any subtiltie get
Montanus the favour of Phoebe. Straight (as womens heads
are full of wiles) Ganimede had a fetch to force Phoebe to
fancie the shepheard, malgrado the resolution of her minde: he
prosecuted his policie thus. Montanus, quoth he, seeing
Phoebe is so forlorne, least I might be counted unkind in not
saluting so faire a creature, I will goe with thee to Phoebe,
and there heare her selfe in word utter that which shee hath
discourst with her pen; and then, as love wils mee, I will set


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 115
frowardnesse towards the shepheard, that could I cease to
love Ganimede, I would resolve to like Montanus. What if
I can with reason perswade Phoebe to mislike of Ganimede,
wil she then favour Montanus! When reason (quoth she)
doth quench that love I owe to thee, then will I fancie him;
conditionally, that if my love can bee supprest with no reason,
as being without reason, Ganimede will onely wed himselfe
to Phoebe. I graunt it, faire shepheardesse, quoth he ; and
to feed thee with the sweetnesse of hope, this resolve on:
I wil never marry my selfe to woman but unto thy selfe.
And with that Ganimede gave Phoebe a fruitlesse kisse, and
such wordes of comfort, that before Ganimede departed shee
arose out of her bed, and made him and Montanus such
cheare, as could bee founde in such a country cottage, Gani-
mede in the midst of their banket rehearsing the promises of
either in Montanus favour, which highly pleased the shep-
heard. Thus all three content, and soothed up in hope, Gani-
mede tooke his leave of Phoebe and departed, leaving her a
contented woman, and Montanus highly pleased. But poore
Ganimede, who had her thoughtes on her Rosader, when she
cald to remembrance his wounds, fild her eies full of teares,
and her heart full of sorrowes, plodded to finde Aliena at the
folds, thinking with her presence to drive away her passions.
As she came on the plaines shee might espy where Rosader
and Saladyne sat with Aliena under the shade; which sight
was a salve to her griefe, and such a cordiall unto her heart,
that shee tript alongst the lawnes full of joy.
At last Coridon, who was with them, spied Ganimede, and
with that the clown rose, and, running to meet him, cried, Oh
sirha, a match, a match! our mistres shal be maried on Sun-
day. Thus the poore peasant frolict it before Ganimede, who
comming to the crue saluted them all, and especially Rosader,
saying that he was glad to see him so wel recovered of his
wounds. I had not gone abroad so soone, quoth Rosader,
but that I am bidden to a marriage, which, on Sunday next,
must bee solempnized betweene my brother and Aliena. I
I 2


116 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
see well where love leads delay is loathsome, and that small
wooing serves where both the parties are willing. Truth,
quoth Ganimede; but a happy day should it be, if Rosader
that day might be married to Rosalynd. Ah, good Ganimede
(quoth he), by naming Rosalynd, renue not my sorrowes; for
the thought of her perfections is the thrall of my miseries.
Tush; bee of good cheare, man, quoth Ganimede: I have a
friend that is deeply experienst in negromancy and magicke;
what art can do shall be acted for thine advantage. I wil
cause him to bring in Rosalynde, if either France or any bord-
ring nation harbour her; and upon that take the faith of a
yoong shepheard. Aliena smilde to see how Rosader frownd,
thinking that Ganimede had jested with him. But, breaking
off from those matters, the page (somewhat pleasant) began to
discourse unto them what had past between him and Phoebe;
which as they laught, so they wondered at, all confessyng
that there is none so chast but love will change. Thus they
past away the day in chat, and when the sun began to set
they tooke their leaves and departed; Aliena providing for
their marriage day such solemne cheare and handsome roabes
as fitted their country estate, and yet somewhat the better, in
that Rosader had promised to bring Gerismond thither as a
guest. Ganimede (who then ment to discover herselfe before
her father) had made her a gowne of green, and a kirtle of
the finest sendal, in such sort that she seemed some hea-
venly nymph harboured in country attire.
Saladyne was not behind in care to set out the nuptials,
nor Rosader unmindfull to bid guests, who invited Gerismond
and all his folowers to the feast, who willingly granted, so
that there was nothing but the day wanting to his marriage.
In the mean while, Phoebe being a bidden guest made her
self as gorgious as might be to please the eye of Ganimede;
and Montanus suted himself with the cost of many of his
flocks to be gallant against the day, for then was Ganimede
to give Phoebe an answer of her loves, and Montanus either
to heare the doome of his miserie, or the censure of his hap-
s


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 117
pinesse. But while this geare was a brewing, Phoebe past
not one day without visiting her Ganimede, so far was she
wrapt in the beauties of this lovely swaine. Much prattle
they had, and the discourse of many passions, Phoebe wish-
ing for the day (as she thought) of her welfare, and Gani-
mede smiling to thinke what unexpected events would fall
out at the wedding. In these humors the weeke went away,
that at last Sunday came. -
No sooner did Phoebus hench-man appeare in the skie, to
give warning that his maisters horses should be trapt in his
glorious coach, but Coridon, in his holiday sute marvellous
seemely, in a russet jacket, welted with the same and faced
with red worsted, having a paire of blew chamblet sleeves,
bound at the wrests with foure yeolow laces, closed afore very
richly with a dozen of pewter buttons; his hose was of gray
karsie, with a large sloppe bard over thwart the pocket holes
with three faire gards, stitcht of either side with red threed;
his stock was of the owne, sewed close to his breech, and for
to bewtifie his hose, he had trust himselfe round with a dozen
of new thredden points in medley colour: his bonnet was
greene, wheron stood a copper brooch with the picture of St.
Denis; and to want nothing that might make him amorous
in his old dayes, hee had a faire shyrt band of fine lockeram,
whipt over with Coventry blew of no small cost. Thus at-
tired, Coridon bestird himselfe as chiefe stickler in these ac-
tions, and had strowed al the house with flowers, that it
seemed rather some of Floraes choyce bowers than any coun-
try cottage.
Thether repaired Phoebe with all the maides of the forrest,
to set out the bride in the most seemliest sort that might bee;
but howsoever shee helpt to prancke out Aliena, yet her eye
was still on Ganimede, who was so neat in a sute of gray,
that he seemed Endymion when he won Luna with his lookes,
or Paris when he playd the swain to get the bewtie of the
nymph OEnone. Ganimede, like a prettie page, waited on
his mistresse Aliena, and overlookt that all was in a readines


116 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
against the bridegroom shuld come, who, attired in a forres-
ters sute, came accompanied with Gerismond and his brother
Rosader early in the morning, where arrived, they were so-
lemnly entertained by Aliena and the rest of the country
swains; Gerismond very highly commending the fortunate
choice of Saladyne, in that he had chosen a shepheardesse,
whose vertues appeared in her outward bewties, being no
lesse faire than seeming modest. Ganimede comming in, and
seeing her father, began to blush, Nature woorking affects by
her secret effects. Scarce could she abstain from teares to see
her father in so low fortunes: he that was wont to sit in his
royall pallaice, attended on by twelve noble peeres, now to be
contented with a simple cottage, and a troupe of revelling
woodmen for his traine. The consideration of his fall made
Ganimede full of sorrowes; yet, that she might triumph over
fortune with patience, and not any way dash that merry day
with her dumps, she smothered her melancholy with a sha-
dow of mirth, and verie reverently welcommed the king, not
according to his former degree, but to his present estate, with
such dilligence as Gerismond began to commend the page for
his exquisit person and excellent qualities.
As thus the king with his forresters frolickt it among the
shepheards, Coridon came in with a faire mazer full of sidar,
and presented it to Gerismond with such a clownish salute
that he began to smile, and tooke it of the old shepheard very
kindly, drinking to Aliena and the rest of her faire maydes,
amongst whom Phoebe was the formost. Aliena pledged
the king, and drunk to Rosader: so the carowse went rounde
from him to Phoebe, &c. As they were thus drinking and
ready to goe to church, came in Montanus, apparalled all in
tawny, to signifie that he was forsaken: on his head hee
wore a garland of willow, his bottle hanged by his side,
whereon was painted dispaire, and on his sheephooke hung
two sonnets, as lables of his loves and fortunes.
Thus attired came Montanus in, with his face as full of
griefe as his heart was of sorowes, shewing in his counte-
s
:


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 119
nance the map of extremities. As soon as the shepheards
saw him, they did him all the honor they could, as being the
flower of all the swaines in Arden; for a bonnier boy was
there not seen since that wanton wag of Troy that kept sheep
in Ida. He seeing the king, and gessyng it to be Gerismond,
did him all the reverence his country curtesie could afford;
insomuch that the king wondring at his attire, began to
question what he was. Montanus overhearing him, made this
reply:—I am, sir (quoth he), loves swaine, as ful of inward
discontents as I seeme fraught with outward follies. Mine
eyes like bees delight in sweet flowers, but sucking their fill
on the faire of beauty, they carry home to the hive of my
heart farre more gaul than hony, and for one drop of pure
deaw, a tun full of deadly Aconiton. I hunt with the fly to
pursue the eagle, that flying too nigh the sun, I perish with
the sun : my thoughts are above my reach, and my desires
more than my fortunes, yet neither greater than my loves.
But daring with Phaeton, I fal with Icarus; and seeking to
passe the mean, I die for being so mean: my night sleeps are
waking slombers, as full of sorrowes as they be far from rest;
and my dayes labors are fruitlesse amors, staring at a star and
stombling at a straw, leaving reason to follow after repent-
ance: yet every passion is a pleasure thogh it pinch, because
love hides his wormeseed in figs, his poysons in sweet po-
tions, and shadows prejudize with the maske of pleasure.
The wisest counsellers are my deep discontents, and I hate
that which should salve my harm, like the patient which
stung with the tarantula loaths musick, and yet the disease
incurable but by melody. Thus (sir) restlesse I hold myselfe
remediles, as loving without either reward or regard, and yet
loving bicause there is none worthy to be loved but the mis-
tresse of my thoughts. And that I am as full of passions as
I have discourst in my plaintes, sir, if you please, see my
sonnets, and by them censure of my sorrowes.
These wordes of Montanus brought the king into a great
wonder, amazed as much at his wit as at his attire, insomuch


120 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
that he tooke the papers off his hooke, and read them to this
effect.
MONTANUS FIRST SONNET.
Alas! how wander I amidst these woods,
Whereas no day bright shine doth finde accesse;
But where the melancholy fleeting floods
(Dark as the night) my night of woes expresse.
Disarmde of reason, spoilde of Natures goods,
Without redresse to salve my heavinesse
I walke, whilest thought (too cruell to my harmes),
With endles grief my heedles judgement charmes.
My silent tongue assailde by secret feare,
My traitrous eyes imprisºned in their joy,
My fatall peace devourd in fained cheare,
My heart inforst to harbour in annoy,
My reason robde of power by yeelding eare,
My fond opinions slave to every toy.
Oh, Love! thou guide in my uncertaine way,
Woe to thy bow, thy fire, the cause of my decay.
Et florida pungunt.
When the king had read this sonnet he highly commended
the device of the shepheard, that could so wittily wrap his
passions in a shaddow, and so covertly conceale that which
bred his chiefest discontent; affirming, that as the least shrubs
have their tops, the smallest haires their shaddowes, so the
meanest swaines had their fancies, and in their kynde were
as charie of love as a king. Whetted on with this device,
he tooke the second, and read it: the effects were these—
MONTANUS SECOND SONNET.
When a dog
Full of rage,
With his irefull eyes |
Frownes amidst the skies,
The shepheard to asswage


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 121
The fury of the heat,
Himselfe doth fafely seat
By a fount
Full of faire,
Where a gentle breath
(Mounting from beneath)
Tempreth the aire.
There his flocks
Drinke their fill,
And with ease repose,
Whilest sweet sleepe doth close
Eyes from toylsome ill;
But I burne
Without rest,
No defensive power
Shields from Phoebes lower:
Sorrow is my best.
Gentle Love,
Lowre no more:
If thou wilt invade
In the secret shade,
Labour not so sore.
I my selfe
And my flocks,
They their love to please,
I my selfe to ease,
Both leave the shadie oakes:
Content to burne in fire,
Sith Love doth so desire.
Et florida pungunt.
Gerismond, seeing the pithy vaine of those sonets, began
to make further enquiry what he was 1 whereupon Rosader
discourst unto him the love of Montanus to Phoebe, his great
loyaltie and her deep crueltie, and how in revenge the gods
had made the curious nymph amorous of yoong Ganimede.
Upon this discourse the king was desirous to see Phoebe, who
being broght before Gerismond by Rosader, shadowed the
beauty of her face with such a vermilion teinture, that the
kings eyes began to dazle at the puritie of her excellence.
After Gerismond had fed his lookes a while upon her faire,


122 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
he questioned with her why she rewarded Montanus love
with so little regard, seeing his desertes were many, and his
passions extreame? Phoebe, to make reply to the kings de-
maund, answered thus:—Love (sir) is charitie in his lawes,
and whatsoever hee sets downe for justice (bee it never so
unjust), the sentence cannot be reverst: womens fancies lende
favours not ever by desert, but as they are inforst by their
desires; for fancy is tied to the wings of fate, and what the
starres decree, stands for an infallible doome. I know Mon-
tanus is wise, and womens ears are greatly delighted with
wit, as hardly escaping the charme of a pleasant toong, as
Ulisses the melody of the Syrens. Montanus is bewtifull,
and womens eyes are snared in the excellence of objects, as
desirous to feede their lookes with a faire face, as the bee to
suck on a sweet floure. Montanus is welthy, and an ounce of
give me perswades a woman more than a pound of heare me.
Danae was won with a golden shower, when she could not be
gotten with all the intreaties of Jupiter. I tell you, sir, the
string of a woman's heart reacheth to the pulse of her hand;
and let a man rub that with gold, and tis hard but she wil
proove his hearts gold. Montanus is yoong, a great clause
in fancies court: Montanus is vertuous, the richest argument
that Love yeelds; and yet knowing all these perfections, I
praise them, and wonder at them, loving the qualities, but
not affecting the person, because the destenies have set downe
a contrary censure. Yet Venus, to ad revenge, hath given
me wine of the same grape, a sip of the same sauce, and
firing me with the like passion, hath crost me with as ill a
penance; for I am in love with a shepheards swaine, as coy
to mee as I am cruel to Montanus, as peremptory in disdain
as I was perverse in desire; and that is (quoth she) Alienaes
page, yong Ganimede.
Gerismond, desirous to prosecute the ende of these pas-
sions, called in Ganimede, who, knowing the case, came in
graced with such a blush, as beautified the christall of his
face with a ruddie brightnesse. The king noting well the
phismomy of Ganimede, began by his favours to cal to mind


124 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACI E.
such a grace that she looked like Flora pearkt in the pride of
all her floures. Thus attired came Rosalind in, and presented
hir self at hir fathers feete, with her eyes full of teares, crav-
ing his blessing, and discoursing unto him all her fortunes,
how shee was banished by Torismond, and how ever since
she lived in that country disguised.
Gerismond, seeing his daughter, rose from his seat and fel
upon her necke, uttering the passions of his joy in watry
plaints, driven into such an extasie of content, that he could
not utter one word. At this sight, if Rosader was both
amazed and joyfull, I refer my selfe to the judgement of such
as have experience in love, seeing his Rosalynd before his
face whom so long and deeply he had affected. At last
Gerismond recovered his spirites, and in most fatherly tearmes
entertained his daughter Rosalynd, after many questions de-
manding of her what had past betweene her and Rosader?
So much, sir (quoth she) as there wants nothing but your grace
to make up the mariage. Why, then (quoth Gerismond)
Rosader take her: shee is thine, and let this day solemnize
both thy brothers and thy nuptials. Rosader beyond measure
content, humbly thankt the king, and imbraced his Rosalynde,
who turning to Phoebe, demanded if she had shewen sufficient
reason to suppresse the force of her loves. Yea, quoth Phoebe,
and so great a perswasive, that if it please you Madame and
Aliena to give us leave, Montanus and I will make this day
the thirde couple in marriage. She had no sooner spake this
word, but Montanus threw away his garland of willow, his
bottle, where was painted dispaire, and cast his sonnets in
the fire, shewing himselfe as frolicke as Paris when he han-
seled his love with Helena. At this Gerismond and the rest
smiled, and concluded that Montanus and Phoebe should
keepe their wedding with the two brethren. Aliena seeing
Saladyne stand in a dumpe, to wake him from his dreame
began thus. Why how now, my Saladyne, all a mort! what
melancholy, man, at the day of marriage! perchaunce thou art
sorrowfull to thinke on thy brothers high fortunes, and thyne
owne base desires to chuse so meane a shepheardize. Cheare


FU PHUFS GOLDEN LEGACIE. 125
up thy hart, man; for this day thou shalt bee married to the
daughter of a king; for know, Saladyne, I am not Aliena, but
Alinda, the daughter of thy mortal enemie Torismond. At
this all the company was amazed, especially Gerismond, who
rising up, tooke Alinda in his armes, and said to Rosalynd,
Is this that faire Alinda famous for so many vertues, that
forsake her fathers court to live with thee exilde in the
country! The same, q. Rosalynde. Then, quoth Gerismond,
turning to Saladyne, jolly forrester be frolick, for thy fortunes
are great, and thy desires excellent: thou hast got a princesse
as famous for her perfection, as exceeding in proportion. And
she hath with her beauty won (quoth Saladyne) an humble
servant, as full of faith as she of amiable favour. While
every one was amazed with these comicall eventes, Coridon
came skipping in, and told them that the priest was at church,
and tarried for their comming. With that Gerismond led the
way, and the rest followed; where to the admiration of all the
countrey swains in Arden their mariages were solemnly so-
lemnized. As soone as the priest had finished, home they
went with Alinda, where Coridon had made all things in
readines. Dinner was provided, and the tables being spread,
and the brides set downe by Gerismond, Rosader, Saladyne,
and Montanus that day were servitors: homely cheare they
had, such as their country could affoord, but to mend their
fare they had mickle good chat, and many discourses of their
loves and fortunes. About mid dinner, to make them mery,
Coridon came in with an old crowd, and plaid them a fit of
mirth, to which he sung this pleasant song.
CORIDONS SONG.
A blyth and bonny country lasse,
Heigh ho, the bonny lasse!
Sate sighing on the tender grasse
And weeping said, Will none come woo me?
A smicker boy, a lyther swaine,
Heigh ho, a smicker swaine! .
That in his love was wanton faine,
With smiling looks straight came unto her.


EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE. 127
as one that knew as many maners, as he could points of so-
phistry, and was as wel brought up as well lettered, saluted
them all. But when he espied Gerismond, kneeling on his
knee, he did him what reverence belonged to his estate, and
with that burst forth into these speaches. Although (right
mighty prince) this day of my brothers marriage be a daye
of mirth, yet time craves another course; and therefore from
dantie cates rise to sharpe weapons. And you, the sonnes of
Sir John of Bourdeaux, leave off your amors and fal to
arms: change your loves into lances, and now this day shew
your selves valiant, as hitherto you have been passionate.
For know, Gerismond, that harde by at the edge of this
forrest the twelve peeres of France are up in arms to recover
thy right; and Torismond, troupt with a crue of desperate
runnagates, is ready to bid them battaile. The armies are
ready to joyne: therefore shewe thy selfe in the field to in-
courage thy subjects. And you, Saladyne and Rosader, mount
you, and shew your selves as hardy soldiers as you have been
harty lovers: so shal you for the benefit of your country, dis-
cover the idea of your fathers vertues to be stamped in your
thoughts, and prove children worthy of so honorable a parent.
At this alarum, given him by Fernandine, Gerismond leapt
from the boord, and Saladyne and Rosader betooke them-
selves to their weapons. Nay (q. Gerismond) go with me:
I have horse and armor for us all, and then, being well
mounted, let us shew that we carry revenge and honor at our
fauchons points. Thus they leave the brides full of sorrow,
and especially Alinda, who desired Gerismond to be good to
her father: hee, not returning a word because his hast was
great, hied him home to his lodge, wher he delivered Saladyne
and Rosader horse and armour, and himselfe armed royally
led the way, not having ridden two leagues before they dis-
covered where in a valley both the battailes were joyned.
Gerismond seeing the wing wherein the peeres fought, thrust
in there, and cryed S. Denis' laying on such load upon his
enemies, that he shewed how highly he did estimate of a
crowne. When the peeres perceived that their lawful king


128 EU PHUES GOLDEN LEGACIE.
was there, they grew more eager; and Saladyne and Rosader
so behaved themselves, that none durst stand in their way,
nor abide the furie of their weapons. To be short, the peeres
were conquerors, Torismonds army put to flight, and himself
slain in battaile. The peers then gathered themselves to-
gether, and saluted their king, conducted him royally into
Paris, where he was received with great joy of all the citti-
zens. Assoone as all was quiet, and he had received againe
the crowne, he sent for Alinda and Rosalynd to the court,
Alinda being very passionat for the death of her father, yet
brooking it with the more patience, in that she was contented
with the welfare of her Saladyne. Wel, assoone as they
were come to Paris, Gerismond made a royal feast for the
peeres and lords of his land, which continued thirtie dayes,
in which time summoning a parliament, by the consent of his
nobles, he created Rosader heire apparant to the kingdome:
hee restored Saladyne to all his fathers land, and gave him
the dukedome of Nameurs: he made Fernandine principall
secretarie to himselfe; and that fortune might every way
seeme frolicke, he made Montanus lord over all the Forrest of
Arden, Adam Spencer Captaine of the Kings Gard, and
Coridon maister of Alindas flocks.
Heere, gentlemen, may you seein Euphues Golden Legacie,
that such as neglect their fathers precepts, incur much preju-
dice; that division in nature, as it is a blemish in nurture, so
tis a breach of good fortunes; that vertue is not measured by
birth but by action; that yonger brethren, though inferiour
in yeares, yet may bee superiour to honors; that concord is
the sweetest conclusion, and amity betwixt brothers more
forceable than fortune. If you gather any fruits by this le-
gacie, speake wel of Euphues for writing it, and me for fetch-
ing it. If you grace me with that favor, you incorage me to
be more froward: and assoone as I have overlookt my labors,
expect the Sailers Kalender.
TH. LODGE.
FINIS.


THE
H IS TO R Y
of
H A M L E T,
PRINCE OF DENMARK;
UPON WHICH SHAKESPEARE IS SUPPOSED TO HAVE
FOUNDED HIS TRAGEDY.
REPRINTED FROM THE ONLY KNOWN COPY, PUBLISHED
IN 1608.
LONDON :
THOMAS RODD, 2, GREAT NEWPORT STREET,
MidCCCxli.





INTRODUCTION.
THE only known copy of the following novel is preserved
among Capell's books, at Cambridge, and bears date in 1608:
it was printed by Richard Bradocke, for Thomas Pavier, a
well-known stationer of that time. There can be little doubt
that it had originally come from the press considerably before
the commencement of the seventeenth century, although the
multiplicity of readers of productions of the kind, and the
carelessness with which such books were regarded after peru-
sal, has led to the destruction, as far as can now be ascer-
tained, of every earlier copy. That which we have used for
our re-impression, of a considerably later date, has alone
escaped. Should any accident unluckily befall that interest-
ing and valuable relic, the misfortune could never be repaired;
and it seems almost a matter of duty, therefore, accurately
to reprint such productions, that they may not at any future
time be utterly lost.
That a play upon the story of Hamlet had been written
some years before 1590, we have every reason to believe.
Robert Greene (according to Mr. Dyce, whom it is generally
safe to follow, especially on questions of date) published his


iv INTRODUCTION.
“Menaphon” in 1587, prefixing to it an Epistle by Thomas
Nash, in which he alludes to a tragedy of that name; and on
the 9th June 1594, Henslowe registers in his MS. Diary,
preserved at Dulwich College, that “Hamlet” was performed
by his company, while acting at Newington Butts, apparently,
in conjunction with the association to which Shakespeare
belonged: it was then an old play, and produced him only
eight shillings as his share of the receipts; though, when new
pieces were represented, his proportion at the same period
was usually more than three pounds. Malone, who erred as
to the date of Greene's “Menaphon" (Shakesp. by Boswell,
ii, 370) confidently, though conjecturally, assigned the
“Hamlet,” spoken of by Nash and mentioned by Henslowe,
to Thomas Kyd : it is often alluded to by contemporaries, and
there is not a moment's doubt that it was written and acted
many years before Shakespeare's tragedy of the same name
was produced. It is most probable that Kyd's play (sup-
posing it to be his) was founded upon the novel under con-
sideration, which, therefore, must have been originally
printed before 1587, and that, to a certain extent, our great
Dramatist availed himself both of the old drama and of the
still older “History.”
An earlier copy of Shakespeare's “Hamlet” than that with
which Malone was acquainted has turned up comparatively
recently, and is now in the library of the Duke of Devon-
shire; but it was not deposited among the extraordinary
rarities of that now matchless dramatic collection, until, by
permission of his Grace, a reprint had been made of it, we
believe under the superintendence of Messrs. Payne and Foss,


INTRODUCTION. V
of Pall Mall. It is one of the most faithful and accurate re-
impressions ever completed, and a minute collation of it
with the original only detected two or three trifling literal
variations. This quarto bears date in 1603, and it was
printed by N. L. (Nicholas Ling), who was interested in the
known quarto of 1604, which, until this discovery was made,
was looked upon as the first edition of Shakespeare's “Ham-
let.” From a careful comparison of the two, it seems nearly
certain that the copy of 1603 was printed from MS. taken
down in short-hand from the players' mouths, as the dialogue
was delivered on the stage; and the additional lines there
found were, for some reason, omitted in the more authentic
edition published in the succeeding year. We are well sa-
tisfied that the “Hamlet” of 1603 was not Shakespeare's first
draught of the tragedy, which he enlarged and improved as
it appeared in 1604.
It will be found that the Tragedy varies in many important
particulars from the Novel, especially towards the conclusion;
that nearly the whole conduct of the story is different; that
the catastrophe is totally dissimilar, and that the character
of the hero in the prose narrative is utterly degraded below
the rank he is entitled to take in the commencement. The
murder of Hamlet's father, the marriage of his mother with
the murderer, Hamlet's pretended madness, his interview
with his mother, and his voyage to England, are nearly the
only points in common. We thus are able to see how far
Shakespeare followed the “History;” but we shall probably
never be able to ascertain to what extent he made use of the
antecedent play.


vi INTRODUCTION.
The prose narrative of 1608 is a bald, literal, and, in many
respects, uncouth translation from the Histoires Tragiques of
Belleforest, who was himself by no means an elegant writer
for the time in which he lived: he began publishing his series
of novels in 1564, and his story of “Amleth" was professedly
copied from an earlier author, whom he does not name, but
who was either Saxo Grammaticus, or some writer, who had
intermediately borrowed the incidents, and converted them to
his own purposes. Belleforest gives it the following title:–
Avec quelle ruse Amleth, qui depuis fut Roy de Danne-
march, vengea la mort de son pere Horvuendile, occis par
Fengon, son frere, et autre occurrence de son histoire. The
English translator, especially in the descriptive portion of his
work, has multiplied all the faults of Belleforest, including
his lengthened and involved periods, and his frequent con-
fusion of persons. It may be suspected that one or two of
the longer speeches, and particularly the Oration of Hamlet,
occupying nearly the whole of Chapter VI, was by another
and a better hand, who had a more complete knowledge of
French, and a happier use of his own language.
We need not have much hesitation in believing that the
oldest copy (perhaps printed about the year 1585) was suf-
ficiently corrupt in its readings; but the corruptions increased
with the re-impressions, and a few portions of the edition of
1608 seem almost to defy correction. Some passages might
be rendered more intelligible, such as “distill a field of tears"
(p. 169), instead of “distill a flood of tears”—“deface his
desire of revenge” (p. 172), instead of “deferre his desire of
revenge"—“she thought fit for no men but herself” (p. 173),


INTRODUCTION. vii
instead of “she thought fit for no one but herself”—“desired
she to see" (p. 173), instead of “desired her to see"—“with-
out and any faithfull assurance” (p. 180), instead of “ with-
out any faithfull assurance,” &c.; but it was thought best to
present the curious relic, as nearly as it could be done, in the
shape and state in which it issued from the press not quite
two centuries and a half ago. For this reason it has not been
considered right to make the orthography of the name of the
hero uniform: sometimes he is called Hamblet (as, no doubt,
it stood in the first impression), and at other times Hamlet,
as we have every reason to suppose it was altered in the old
play, and as we find it in Shakespeare.
All the introductory matter to the ensuing pages is by
Belleforest, the translator having deemed it necessary to pre-
serve the French “Argument,” and to convert some prelimi-
nary observations into what he terms a “Preface.”





THE
HY S TO RIE
() F H A M B L E T.
LONDON :
Imprinted by Richard Bradocke, for Thomas Parier, and
are to be sold at his shop in Corne-hill, neere to the Royall
Exchange.
1608.





THE
ARGUMENT.
IT is not at this present, neither yet a small time since, The dou.
of rule caus-
that envy raigning in the worlde hath in such sort blinded ºn"...".
men, that without respect of consanguinitie, friendship, or ; º:
favour whatsoever, they forget themselves so much as that
they spared not to defile their hands with the blood of those
men, who by all law and right they ought chiefly to defend
and cherish. For what other impression was it that entered
into Romulus heart, when, under pretence of I know not what
lawe, he defiled his hands with the blood of his owne brother,
but the abhominable vice of desire to raigne? which, if in all
the accurrences, prosperities, and circumstances thereof, it
were well wayed and considered, I know not any man that
had not rather live at his ease, and privately without charge,
then, being feared and honored of all men, to beare all the
charge and burden upon his shoulders; to serve and please n ...
the fantasies of the common people; to live continually in . .".
feare, and to see himself exposed to a thousand occasions of hi. "
danger, and most commonly assailed and spoiled when hee
thinkes verily to hold Fortune as slave to his fantasies and
will, and yet buyes such and so great misery for the vaine
and fraile pleasures of this world, with the losse of his owne
soule; making so large a measure of his conscience, that it is
not once mooved at any murther, treason, deceit, nor wicked-
nes whatsoever he committed, so the way may be opened and
made plaine unto him, whereby hee may attaine to that miser- a.m.
able felicitie, to command and governe a multitude of men ... "...
no cause,
(as I said of Romulus), who, by a most abhominable action, |... ."
prepared himselfe a way to heaven (but not by vertue).
The ambitious and seditious Orator of Rome supposed the


xii ARGUMENT.
degrees and steps to heaven, and the wayes to vertue, to
consist in the treasons, ravishments, and massacres committed
by him that first layd the foundations of that citty. And
not to leave the hystories of Rome, what, I pray you, incited
Ancius Martinus to massacre Tarquin the Elder, but the desire
of raigning as a king, who before had bin the onely man to
move and solicite the saide Tarquinius to bereave the right
heires and inheriters thereof." What caused Tarquinius the
Proud traiterously to imbrue his hands in the blood of Servius
Tullius, his father in law, but onely that fumish and un-
bridled desire to be commander over the cittie of Rome!
which practise never ceased nor discontinued in the said prin-
cipall cittie of the empire, as long as it was governed by the
greatest and wisest personages chosen and elected by the
people; for therein have been seen infinite numbers of sedi-
tions, troubles, pledges, ransommings, confiscations and mas-
sacres, onely proceeding from this ground and principle,
which entereth into mens hearts, and maketh them covet and
desirous to be heads and rulers of a whole common wealth.
And after the people were deprived of that libertie of election,
and that the empire became subject to the pleasure and fantasie
of one man, commanding al the rest, I pray you peruse their
bookes, and read diligently their hystories, and do but looke
into the meanes used by the most part of their kings and em-
perours to attaine to such power and authoritie, and you shall
see how poysons, massacres, and secret murthers, were the
meanes to push them forwards that durst not openly attempt
it, or else could not compasse to make open warres. And
for that the Hystory (which I pretend to shew unto you) is
chiefly grounded upon treason, committed by one brother
against the other, I will not erre far out of the matter;
thereby desiring to shew you, that it is and hath been a thing
long since practised and put in use by men, to spill the blood
of their neerest kinsmen and friends to attaine to the honour
of being great and in authoritie; and that there hath bin some,
that being impatient of staying till their just time of succes-


xiv ARGUMENT.
God; who being slow to anger, yet in the ende doth not faile to
shew some signes and evident tokens of his fearefull judge-
ment upon such as, forgetting their duties, shed innocent
blood, and betray their rulers, whom they ought chiefly to
honour, serve, and reverence.


THE
P. R. E. F. A. C. E.
ALTHOUGH in the beginning of this Hystorie I had de-
termined not to have troubled you with any other matter
than a hystorie of our owne time, having sufficient tragicall
matter to satisfie the minds of men; but because I cannot
wel discourse thereof without touching many personages
whom I would not willingly displease, and partly because
the argument that I have in hand, seemed unto me a thing
worthy to bee offered to our French nobilitie, for the great
and gallant accurrences therein set downe, I have some-
what strayed from my course, as touching the tragedies of
this our age, and, starting out of France and over Neither-
landers countries, I have ventured to visit the hystories of
Denmarke, that it may serve for an example of vertue and
contentment to our nation (whom I specially seeke to please),
and for whose satisfaction I have not left any flower what-
soever untasted, from whence I have not drawne the most
perfect and delicate hony, thereby to bind them to my dili-
gence herein; not caring for the ingratitude of the time pre-
sent, that leaveth (as it were rejecteth) without recompence
such as serve the common wealth, and by their travell and
diligence honour their countrey, and illustrate the realme of
France: so that oftentimes the fault proceedeth rather from


THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,
PRINCE OF DENMARKE.
C H A P. I.
How Horvendile and Fengon were made Governours
of the Province of Ditmarse, and how Horvendile
marryed Geruth, the daughter to Roderick, chief
K. of Denmark, by whom he had Hamblet: and
how after his marriage his brother Fengon slewe
him trayterously, and marryed his brothers wife,
and what followed.
YoU must understand, that long time before the kingdome
of Denmark received the faith of Jesus Christ, and imbraced The Danes
the doctrin of the Christians, that the common people in those ºut
dayes were barbarous and uncivill, and their princes cruell, ""
without faith or loyaltie, seeking nothing but murther, and de-
posing (or at the least) offending each other, either in honours, "...".
goods, or lives; not caring to ransome such as they tooke "*".
prisoners, but rather sacrificing them to the cruell vengeance
naturally imprinted in their hearts: in such sort, that if ther
were sometime a good prince or king among them, who
beeing adorned with the most perfect gifts of nature, would
adict himselfe to vertue, and use courtesie, although the peo-
ple held him in admiration (as vertue is admirable to the most
wicked) yet the envie of his neighbors was so great, that they
never ceased untill that vertuous man were dispatched out of
the world. King Rodericke, as then raigning in Denmarke, º:
after hee had appeased the troubles in the countrey, and driven marke.
L


134 THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,
Feng on kill-
eth his
brother.
wholly without respect of lawes, or majestie devine; for it is
not possible that hee which invadeth the countrey and taketh
away the riches of an other man without cause or reason,
should know or feare God. Was not this a craftie and sub-
tile counsellor 1 but he might have thought that the mother,
knowing her husbands case, would not cast her sonne into the
danger of death. But Fengon, having secretly assembled
certain men, and perceiving himself strong enough to execute
his interprise, Horvendile his brother being at a banquet with
his friends, sodainely set upon him, where he slewe him as
traiterously, as cunningly he purged himselfe of so detestable
a murther to his subjects; for that before he had any violent
or bloody handes, or once committed parricide upon his brother,
hee had incestuously abused his wife, whose honour hee ought
as well to have sought and procured as traiterously he pur-
sued and effected his destruction. And it is most certaine,
that the man that abandoneth himselfe to any notorious and
wicked action, whereby he becommeth a great sinner, he
careth not to commit much more haynous and abhominable
offences, and covered his boldnesse and wicked practise with
so great subtiltie and policie, and under a vaile of meere sim-
plicitie, that beeing favoured for the honest love that he bare
to his sister in lawe, for whose sake, hee affirmed, he had in
that sort murthered his brother, that his sinne found excuse
among the common people, and of the nobilitie was esteemed
for justice: for that Geruth, being as courteous a princesse as
any then living in the north parts, and one that had never
once so much as offended any of her subjects, either commons
or courtyers, this adulterer and infamous murtherer, slaun-
dered his dead brother, that hee would have slaine his wife,
and that hee by chance finding him upon the point ready to
do it, in defence of the lady had slaine him, bearing off the
blows, which as then he strooke at the innocent princesse,
without any other cause of malice whatsoever. Wherein hee
wanted no false witnesses to approove his act, which deposed
in like sort, as the wicked calumniator himselfe protested,


PRINCE OF DENMARKE. 135
being the same persons that had born him company, and
were participants of his treason; so that insteed of pursuing slanderer,
him as a parricide and an incestuous person, al the courtyers ...".
admired and flattered him in his good fortune, making more ..."
account of false witnesses and detestable wicked reporters, persons.
and more honouring the calumniators, then they esteemed
of those that seeking to call the matter in question, and ad-
miring the vertues of the murthered prince, would have
punished the massacrers and bereavers of his life. Which ...
ous marriage
- F
was the cause that Fengon, boldned and incouraged by such ºu º'.
impunitie, durst venture to couple himselfe in marriage with thers wife.
her whom hee used as his concubine during good Horven-
diles life, in that sort spotting his name with a double vice,
and charging his conscience with abhominable guilt, and
two-fold impietie, as incestuous adulterie and parricide mur-
ther: and that the unfortunate and wicked woman, that had
receaved the honour to bee the wife of one of the valiantest
and wiseth princes in the north, imbased her selfe in such
vile sort, as to falsifie her faith unto him, and which is worse,
to marrie him, that had bin the tyranous murtherer of her
lawfull husband; which made divers men thinke that she
had beene the causer of the murther, thereby to live in her
adultery without controle. But where shall a man finde a
more wicked and bold woman, then a great parsonage once
having loosed the bands of honor and honestie 1 This prin-
cesse, who at the first, for her rare vertues and courtesses
was honored of al men and beloved of her husband, as soone
as she once gave eare to the tyrant Fengon, forgot both the
ranke she helde among the greatest names, and the dutie of
an honest wife on her behalfe. But I will not stand to gaze
and mervaile at women, for that there are many which
seeke to blase and set them foorth, in which their writings
they spare not to blame them all for the faults of some one,
or few women. But I say, that either nature ought to have
bereaved man of that opinion to accompany with women,
or els to endow them with such spirits, as that they may


136 THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,
If a man be
deceived by
a woman, it
is lis owne
beastlinesse.
easily support the crosses they endure, without complaining
so often and so strangely, seeing it is their owne beastlinesse
that overthrowes them. For if it be so, that a woman is
so imperfect a creature as they make her to be, and that they
know this beast to bee so hard to bee tamed as they affirme,
why then are they so foolish to preserve them, and so dull
and brutish as to trust their deceitfull and wanton imbrace-
ings. But let us leave her in this extreamitie of lacivious-
nesse, and proceed to shewe you in what sort the yong
prince Hamblet behaved himselfe, to escape the tyranny of
his uncle.
CHAP. II.
How Hamblet counterfeited the mad man, to escape
the tyrannie of his uncle, and how he was tempted
by a woman (through his uncles procurement)
who thereby thought to undermine the Prince,
and by that meanes to finde out whether he
counterfeited madnesse or not : and how Hamblet
would by no meanes bee brought to consent unto
her, and what followed.
GERUTH having (as I sayd before) so much forgotten her-
self, the prince Hamblet perceiving himself to bee in dan-
ger of his life, as beeing abandoned of his owne mother,
and forsaken of all men, and assuring himselfe that Fengon
would not detract the time to send him the same way his
father Horvendile was gone, to beguile the tyrant in his sub-
tilties (that esteemed him to bee of such a minde that if he once
attained to mans estate he wold not long delay the time to
revenge the death of his father) counterfeiting the mad man


PRINCE OF DENMARKE. 137
with such craft and subtill practises, that hee made shewe as
if hee had utterly lost his wittes: and under that vayle hee
covered his pretence, and defended his life from the treasons
and practises of the tyrant his uncle. And all though hee
had beene at the schoole of the Romane Prince, who, because
hee counterfeited himselfe to bee a foole, was called Brutus,
yet hee imitated his fashions, and his wisedom. For every
day beeing in the queenes palace, (who as then was more
carefull to please her whoremaster, then ready to revenge
the cruell death of her husband, or to restore her sonne to his
inheritance), hee rent and tore his clothes, wallowing and
lying in the durt and mire, his face all filthy and blacke,
running through the streets like a man distraught, not speak-
ing one worde, but such as seemed to proceede of madnesse
and meere frenzie; all his actions and jestures beeng no
other than the right countenances of a man wholly deprived
of all reason and understanding, in such sort, that as then
hee seemed fitte for nothing but to make sport to the pages
and ruffling courtiers that attended in the court of his uncle
and father-in-law. But the yong prince noted them well
enough, minding one day to bee revenged in such manner,
that the memorie thereof should remaine perpetually to the
world.
Beholde, I pray you, a great point of a wise and brave
spirite in a yong prince, by so great a shewe of imperfection
in his person for advancement, and his owne imbasing and
despising, to worke the meanes and to prepare the way for
himselfe to bee one of the happiest kings in his age. In
like sort, never any man was reputed by any of his actions
more wise and prudent then Brutus, dissembling a great
alteration in his minde, for that the occasion of such his de-
vise of foolishnesse proceeded onely of a good and mature
counsell and deliberation, not onely to preserve his goods,
and shunne the rage of the proude tyrant, but also to open a
large way to procure the banishment and utter ruine of wicked
Tarquinius, and to infranchise the people (which were before
Brutus es-
teemed wise,
for counter-
feiting the
foole. Read
Titus Livius
and Halicar-
tlassius.


138 THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,
oppressed) from the yoake of a great and miserable servitude.
David coun- And so, not onely Brutus, but this man and worthy prince,
... . to whom wee may also adde king David, that counterfeited
'...," the madde man among the petie kings of Palestina to pre-
serve his life from the subtill practises of those kings. I
shew this example unto such, as beeing offended with any
great personage, have not sufficient meanes to prevaile in
their intents, or revenge the injurie by them receaved. But
when I speake of revenging any injury received upon a
great personage or superior, it must be understood by snch
Rom, viii.21. an one as is not our soveraigne, againste whome wee maie by
no meanes resiste, nor once practise anie treason nor con-
spiracie against his life: and hee that will followe this
course must speake and do all things whatsoever that are
pleasing and acceptable to him whom hee meaneth to deceive,
practise his actions, and esteeme him above all men, cleane
contrarye to his owne intent and meaning; for that is rightly
to playe and counterfeite the foole, when a man is constrained
to dissemble and kisse his hand, whome in hearte hee could
wishe an hundred foote depth under the earth, so hee mighte
never see him more, if it were not a thing wholly to bee
disliked in a christian, who by no meanes ought to have a
bitter gall, or desires infected with revenge. Hamblet, in this
sorte counterfeiting the madde man, many times did divers
actions of great and deepe consideration, and often made such
and so fitte answeres, that a wise man would soone have
judged from what spirite so fine an invention mighte proceede;
for that standing by the fire and sharpning sticks like poy-
nards and prickes, one in smiling manner asked him where-
Alºil.” fore he made those little staves so sharpe at the points? I
ºne in prepare (saith he) piersing dartes and sharpe arrowes to
revenge my fathers death. Fooles, as I said before, esteemed
those his words as nothing; but men of quicke spirits, and
such as hadde a deeper reache began to suspect somewhat,
esteeming that under that kinde of folly there lay hidden a
greate and rare subtilty, such as one day might bee prejudi-


PRINCE OF DEN MARKE. 139
ciall to their prince, saying, that under colour of such rudenes
he shadowed a crafty pollicy, and by his devised simplicitye,
he concealed a sharp and pregnant spirit: for which cause they
counselled the king to try and know, if it were possible, how
to discover the intent and meaning of the yong prince; and
they could find no better nor more fit invention to intrap him,
then to set some faire and beawtifull woman in a secret place,
that with flattering speeches and all the craftiest meanes she
could use, should purposely seek to allure his mind to have
his pleasure of her: for the nature of all young men, (especi-
ally such as are brought up wantonlie) is so transported with º:
the desires of the flesh, and entreth so greedily into the plea-
sures therof, that it is almost impossible to cover the foul af-
fection, neither yet to dissemble or hyde the same by art or
industry, much lesse to shunne it. What cunning or sub-
tilty so ever they use to cloak theire pretence, seeing occa-
sion offered, and that in secret, especially in the most inticing
sinne that rayneth in man, they cannot chuse (being con-
strayned by voluptuousnesse) but fall to naturall effect and Subtilties
working. To this end certaine courtiers were appointed to "...º.º.
leade Hamblet into a solitary place within the woods, whether “”
they brought the woman, inciting him to take their pleasures
together, and to imbrace one another, but the subtill practises
used in these our daies, not to try if men of great account bee
extract out of their wits, but rather to deprive them of strength, otº
vertue and wisedome, by meanes of such devilish practi- º,"
tioners, and inteſernall spirits, their domestical servants, and º.
ministers of corruption. And surely the poore prince at this
assault had him in great danger, if a gentleman (that in
Horvendiles time had been nourished with him) had not
showne himselfe more affectioned to the bringing up he had
received with Hamblet, then desirous to please the tirant,
who by all meanes sought to intangle the sonne in the same
nets wherein the father had ended his dayes. This gentle-
man bare the courtyers (appointed as aforesaide of this
treason) company, more desiring to give the prince instruc-


PRINCE OF DENMARKE. 141
CHAP. III.
How Fengon, uncle to Hamblet, a second time to
intrap him in his politick madnes, caused one of
his counsellors to be secretly hidden in the queenes
chamber, behind the arras, to heare what speeches
passed between Hamblet and the Queen; and how
Hamblet killed him, and escaped that danger,
and what followed.
AMONG the friends of Fengon, there was one that above al
the rest doubted of Hamblets practises in counterfeiting the
madman, who for that cause said, that it was impossible that
so craftie a gallant as Hamblet, that counterfeited the foole, Another
- - - subtilty used
should be discovered with so common and unskilfull practises, ..."
which might easily bee perceived, and that to finde out his po- Hamblet.
litique pretence it were necessary to invent some subtill and
crafty meanes, more attractive, whereby the gallant might
not have the leysure to use his accustomed dissimulation;
which to effect he said he knewe a fit waie, and a most con-
venient meane to effect the kings desire, and thereby to intrap
Hamblet in his subtilties, and cause him of his owne accord
to fall into the net prepared for him, and thereby evidently
shewe his secret meaning. His devise was thus, that King
Fengon should make as though he were to goe some long
voyage concerning affaires of great importance, and that in
the meane time Hamblet should be shut up alone in a chamber
with his mother, wherein some other should secretly be hidden
behind the hangings, unknowne either to him or his mother,
there to stand and heere their speeches, and the complots by
them to bee taken concerning the accomplishment of the dis-
sembling fooles pretence; assuring the king that if there were
any point of wisedome and perfect sence in the gallants spirit,
that without all doubte he would easily discover it to his
mother, as being devoid of all feare that she would utter or


142, THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,
Hamblets
subtilty.
A cruell re-
venge taken
by Hamblet
upon him that
would have
betraid him.
make knowne his secret intent, beeing the woman that had
borne him in her bodie, and nourished him so carefully; and
withall offered himselfe to be the man that should stand to
harken and beare witnesse of Hamblets speeches with his
mother, that hee might not be esteemed a counsellor in such a
case wherein he refused to be the executioner for the behooſe
and service of his prince. This invention pleased the king
exceeding well, esteeming it as the onelie and soveraigne
remedie to heale the prince of his lunacie; and to that ende
making a long voyage, issued out of his pallace, and road to
hunt in the forrest. Meane time the counsellor entred secretly
into the queenes chamber, and there hid himselfe behind the
arras, not long before the queene and Hamblet came thither,
who beeng craftie and pollitique, as soone as hee was within
the chamber, doubting some treason, and fearing if he should
speake severely and wisely to his mother touching his secret
practises he should be understood, and by that meanes inter-
cepted, used his ordinary manner of dissimulation, and began
to come like a cocke beating with his armes, (in such man-
ner as cockes use to strike with their wings) upon the hang-
ings of the chamber: whereby, feeling something stirring
under them, he cried, A rat, a rat! and presently drawing his
sworde thrust it into the hangings, which done, pulled the
counsellour (halfe dead) out by the heeles, made an end of
killing him, and beeing slaine, cut his bodie in pieces, which
he caused to be boyled, and then cast it into an open vaulte
or privie, that so it mighte serve for foode to the hogges. By
which meanes having discovered the ambushe, and given the
inventer thereof his just rewarde, hee came againe to his
mother, who in the meane time wepte and tormented her selfe
to see all her hopes frustrate, for that what fault soever she
had committed, yet was shee sore grieved to see her onely
child made a meere mockery, every man reproaching her with
his folly, one point whereof she had as then seene before her
eyes, which was no small pricke to her conscience, esteeming
that the gods sent her that punishment for joyning incestu-


PRINCE OE DENMARKE. 143
ously in marriage with the tyrrannous murtherer of her hus-
band, who like wise ceased not to invent all the means he
could to bring his nephew to his ende, accusing his owne Queene
naturall indiscretion, as beeing the ordinary guide of those º: “.
that so much desire the pleasures of the bodie, who shutting
up the waie to all reason, respect not what maie ensue of
of their lightnes and great inconstancy, and how a pleasure
of small moment is sufficient to give them cause of repent-
ance during their lives, and make them curse the daye and
time that ever any such apprehensions entred into theire
mindes, or that they closed their eies to reject the honestie
requisite in ladies of her qualitie, and to despise the holy
institution of those dames that had gone before her, both in
nobilitie and vertue, calling to mind the great prayses and
commendations given by the danes to Rinde, daughter to
king Rothere, the chastest lady in her time, and withall so Rinde a
- - princes of an
shameſast that she would never consent to marriage with any ...his
prince or knight whatsoever; surpassing in vertue all the chastitie.
ladyes of her time, as shee herselfe surmounted them in
beawtie, good behaviour, and comelines. And while in this sort
she sate tormenting herselfe, Hamlet entred into the chamber,
who having once againe searched every corner of the same,
distrusting his mother as well as the rest, and perceiving him-
selfe to bee alone, began in sober and discreet manner to
speak unto her, saying,
What treason is this, O most infamous woman! of all that
ever prostrated themselves to the will of an abhominable
whore monger, who, under the vail of a dissembling creature,
covereth the most wicked and detestable crime that man could
ever imagine, or was committed. Now may I be assured to
trust you, that like a vile wanton adultresse, altogether im-
pudent and given over to her pleasure, runnes spreading forth
her armes joyfully to imbrace the trayterous villanous tyrant
that murthered my father, and most incestuously receivest the
villain into the lawfull bed of your loyall spouse, imprudently
entertaining him in steede of the deare father of your miser-


144 THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,
able and discomforted soone, if the gods grant him not the
grace speedilie to escape from a captivity so unworthie the
degree he holdeth, and the race and noble familie of his an-
céstors. Is this the part of a queene, and daughter to a king!
to live like a brute beast (and like a mare that yieldeth her
bodie to the horse that hath beaten hir companion awaye), to
followe the pleasure of an abhominable king that hath mur-
thered a farre more honester and better man then himself in
massacring Horvendile, the honor and glory of the Danes,
who are now esteemed of no force nor valour at all, since the
shining splendure of knighthood was brought to an end by
the most wickedest and cruellest villaine living upon earth.
I, for my part, will never account him for my kinsman, nor
once knowe him for mine uncle, nor you my deer mother, for
not having respect to the blud that ought to have united us so
straightly together, and who neither with your honor nor with-
out suspicion of consent to the death of your husband could
ever have agreed to have marryed with his cruell enemie. O,
queene Geruthe, it is the part of a bitch to couple with many,
and desire acquaintance of divers mastiffes : it is licentious-
nes only that hath made you deface out of your minde the
memory of the valor and vertues of the good king your hus-
band and my father : it was an unbrideled desire that guided
the daughter of Roderick to imbrace the tyrant Fengon, and
not to remember Horvendile (unworthy of so strange inter-
tainment), neither that he killed his brother traiterously, and
that shee being his fathers wife betrayed him, although he so
well favoured and loved her, that for her sake he uttterly be-
reaved Norway of her riches and valiant souldiers to aug-
ment the treasures of Roderick, and make Geruthe wife to
the hardyest prince in Europe: it is not the parte of a woman,
uuch lesse of a princesse, in whome all modesty, curtesse,
compassion, and love ought to abound, thus to leave her deare
child to fortune in the bloody and mnrtherous hands of a vil-
lain and traytor. Bruite beasts do not so, for lyons, tygers,
ounces and leopards fight for the safety and defence of their


PRINCE OF DENMARKE. 145
whelpes; and birds that have beakes, claws, and wings, re-
sist such as would ravish them of their yong ones; but you, to
the contrary, expose and deliver mee to death, whereas ye
should defend me. Is not this as much as if you should be-
tray me, when you knowing the perversenes of the tyrant
and his intents, ful of deadly counsell as touching the race
and image of his brother, have not once sought, nor desired to
finde the meanes to save your child (and only son) by sending
him into Swethland, Norway, or England, rather than to leave
him as a pray to youre infamous adulterer? bee not offended,
I praye you, Madame, if transported with dolour and griefe, I
speake so boldely unto you, and that I respect you lesse then
duetie requireth: for you, having forgotten mee, and wholy
rejected the memorye of the deceased K. my father, must not
bee abashed if I also surpasse the bounds and limits of due
consideration. Beholde into what distresse I am now fallen,
and to what mischiefe my fortune, and your over great light-
nesse, and want of wisdome have induced mee, that I am con-
strained to playe the madde man to save my life, in steed of
using and practising armes, following adventures, and seeking
all meanes to make my selfe knowne to bee the true and un-
doubted heire of the valiant and vertuous king Horvendile.
It was not without cause, and juste occasion, that my ges-
tures, countenances, and words, seeme all to proceed from a
madman, and that I desire to have all men esteeme mee
wholly deprived of sence and reasonable understanding, by-
cause I am well assured, that he that hath made no conscience
to kill his owne brother, (accustomed to murthers, and allured
with desire of governement without controll in his treasons),
will not spare, to save himselfe with the like crueltie, in the
blood and flesh of the loyns of his brother by him massacred:
and, therefore, it is better for me to ſayne madnesse, then to
use my right sences as nature hath bestowed them upon me;
the bright shining clearnes therof I am forced to hide under
this shadow of dissimulation, as the sun doth hir beams under
some great cloud, when the wether in sommer time overcast-
eth. The face of a mad man serveth to cover my gallant


146 THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,
countenance, and the gestures of a fool are fit for me, to the
end that guiding my self wisely therein, I may preserve my
life for the Danes, and the memory of my late deceased fa-
ther; for the desire of revenging his death is so engraven in
my heart, that if I dye not shortly, I hope to take such and so
great vengeance, that these countryes shall for ever speake
thereof. Neverthelesse, I must stay the time, meanes, and oc-
casion, lest by making over great hast, I be now the cause of
We must mine owne sodaine ruine and overthrow, and by that meanes
..",". end before Ibeginne to effect my hearts desire. Hee that hath to
person. doe with a wicked, disloyall, cruell, and discourteous man
must use craft and politike inventions, such as a fine witte
can best imagine, not to discover his interprise; for seeing
that by force I cannot effect my desire, reason alloweth me by
dissimulation, subtiltie, and secret practises to proceed therein.
To conclude, weepe not (madame) to see my folly, but rather
sigh and lament your owne offence, tormenting your conscience
in regard of the infamie that hath so defiled the ancient re-
...ſº nowne and glorie that (in times past) honoured queene Geruth;
º", "... for wee are not to sorrowe and grieve at other mens vices, but
"" for our owne misdeedes, and great folloyes. Desiring you, for
the surplus of my proceedings, above all things (as you love
your owne life and welfare) that neither the king nor any other
may by any meanes know mine intent; and let me alone with
the rest, for I hope in the ende to bring my purpose to effect.
Although the queene perceived herselfe neerly touched,
and that Hamlet mooved her to the quicke, where she felt
herselfe interested, neverthelesse shee forgot all dis-
daine and wrath, which thereby she might as then have had,
hearing her selfe so sharply chiden and reprooved, for the joy
she then conceaved, to behold the gallant spirit of her sonne,
and to thinke what she might hope, and the easier expect of
his so great policie and wisdome. But on the one side she
durst not lift up her eyes to beholde him, remembering her of
fence, and on the other side she would gladly have imbraced
her son, in regard of the wise admonitions by him given unto
her, which as then quenched the flames of unbridled desire


PRINCE OF DENMARKE. 149
counsellors in the action of killing my father, and his com-
panions in his treason, massacre and cruell enterprise. And
reason requireth that, even as trayterously they then caused
their prince to bee put to death, that with the like (nay well,
much more) justice they should pay the interest of their
fellonious actions.
You know (Madame) how Hother your grandfather, and home.
father to the good king Roderick, having vanquished Guimon, ºi.
turn
caused him to be burnt, for that the cruell vilain had done º'o":
the like to his lord Gevare, whom he betrayed in the night we must
observe nei-
time. And who knoweth not that traytors and perjured ...:”."
persons deserve no faith nor loyaltie to be observed towardes . .
them, and that conditions made with murtherers ought to parricides.
bee esteemed as cobwebs, and accounted as if they were
things never promised nor agreed upon : but if I lay handes
upon Fengon, it will neither be fellonie nor treason, hee being
neither my king nor my lord, but I shall justly punish him
as my subject, that hath disloyaly behaved himselfe against
his lord and soveraigne prince. And seeing that glory is the
rewarde of the vertuous, and the honour and praise of those
that do service to their naturall prince, why should not
blame and dishonour accompany traytors, and ignominious
death althose that dare be so bold as to lay violent hands
upon sacred kings, that are friends and companions of the
gods, as representing their majestie and persons. To con-
clude, glorie is the crown of vertue, and the price of con-
stancie; and seeing that it never accompanieth with infelicitie,
but shunneth cowardize and spirits of base and trayterous
conditions, it must necessarily followe, that either a glorious
death will be mine ende, or with my sword in hand, (laden
with tryumph and victorie) I shall bereave them of their
lives that made mine unfortunate, and darkened the beames
of that vertue which I possessed from the blood and famous
memory of my predecessors. For why should men desire to
live, when shame and infamie are the executioners that tor-
ment their consciences, and villany is the cause that with-
M 2


150 THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,
holdeth the heart from valiant interprises, and diverteth the
minde from honest desire of glorie and commendation, which
indureth for ever ! I know it is foolishly done to gather
fruit before it is ripe, and to seeke to enjoy a benefit, not
knowing whither it belong to us of right; but I hope to
effect it so well, and have so great confidence in my fortune
(that hitherto hath guided the action of my life) that I shall
not dye without revenging my selfe upon mine enemie, and
that himselfe shall be the instrument of his owne decay, and
to execute that which of my selfe I durst not have enter-
prised.
After this, Fengon (as if hee had beene out some long
journey) came to the court againe, and asked for him that had
received the charge to play the intilligencer, to entrap Ham-
let in his dissembled wisedome, was abashed to heare neither
newes nor tydings of him, and for that cause asked Hamlet
what was become of him, naming the man. The prince
that never used lying, and who in all the answers that ever
he made (during his counterfeit madnesse) never strayed
from the trueth (as a generous minde is a mortal enemie to
untruth) answered and sayd, that the counsellor he sought
for was gone downe through the privie, where being choaked
by the filthynesse of the place, the hogs meeting him had
filled their bellyes.


PRINCE OF DENMARKE. 151
CHAP. IIII.
How Fengon the third time devised to send Hamblet
to the king of England, with secret letters to have
him put to death: and how Hamblet, when his
companions slept, read the letters, and instead of
them counterfeited others, willing the king of
England to put the two messengers to death, and
to marry his daughter to Hamblet, which was ef-
fected; and how Hamblet escaped out of England.
A MAN would have judged any thing, rather then that
Hamblet had committed that murther, nevertheless Fengon
could not content himselfe, but still his minde gave him that
the foole would play him some tricke of liegerdemaine, and
willingly would have killed him, but he feared king Rodericke,
his grandfather, and further durst not offend the queene,
mother to the foole, whom she loved and much cherished,
shewing great griefe and heavinesse to see him so transported
out of his wits. And in that conceit, seeking to bee rid of
him, determined to finde the meanes to doe it by the ayde of a
stranger, making the king of England minister of his massa-
creing resolution, choosing rather that his friende should de-
file his renowne with so great a wickednesse, then himselfe
to fall into perpetuall infamie by an exploit of so great cruel-
tie, to whom hee purposed to send him, and by letters desire
him to put him to death.
Hamblet, understanding that he should be sent into England,
presently doubted the occasion of his voyage, and for that cause
speaking to the queene, desired her not to make any shew of
sorrow or griefe for his departure, but rather counterfeit a glad-
nesse, as being rid of his presence; whom, although she loved,
yet she dayly grieved to see him in so pittifull estate, deprived
of all sence and reason: desiring her further, that she should


152 THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,
Hamblets
craft to save
his life.
hang the hall with tapestrie, and make it fast with nayles
upon the walles, and keepe the brands for him which hee had
sharpened at the points, then, when as he said he made
arrowes to revenge the death of his father: lastly, he coun-
selled her, that the yeere after his departure being accom-
plished, she should celebrate his funerals; assuring her that
at the same instant she should see him returne with great
contentment and pleasure unto her for that his voyage. Now,
to beare him company were assigned two of Fengons faithfull
ministers, bearing letters ingraved in wood, that contained
Hamlets death, in such sort as he had advertised the king of
England. But the subtile Danish prince (beeing at sea)
whilst his companions slept, having read the letters, and
knowne his uncles great treason, with the wicked and villain-
ous mindes of the two courtyers that led him to the slaughter,
raced out the letters that concerned his death, and in stead
thereof graved others, with commission to the king of England
to hang his two companions; and not content to turne the
death they had devised against him upon their owne neckes,
wrote further, that king Fengon willed him to give his
daughter to Hamlet in marriage. And so arriving in England,
the messengers presented themselves to the king, giving him
Fengons letters; who having read the contents, sayd nothing
as then, but stayed convenient time to effect Fengons desire,
meane time using the Danes familiarly, doing them that honour
to sit at his table (for that kings as then were not so curiously,
nor solemnely served as in these our dayes) for in these dayes
meane kings, and lords of small revenewe are as difficult and
hard to bee seene, as in times past the monarches of Persia
used to bee: or as it is reported of the great king of Aethy-
opia, who will not permit any man to see his face, which or-
dinarily hee covereth with a vaile. And as the messengers
sate at the table with the king, subtile Hamlet was so far
from being merry with them, that he would not taste one bit
of meate, bread, nor cup of beare whatsoever, as then set upon
the table, not without great wondering of the company, abash-


154 THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,
in those dayes in Gothland and Biarmy, there are many that
knew not what the Christian religion permitteth, as by read-
ing the histories of Norway and Gothland, you maie easilie
perceive: and so Hamlet, while his father lived, had bin in-
structed in that devilish art, whereby the wicked spirite
abuseth mankind, and advertiseth him (as he can) of things
past.
It toucheth not the matter herein to discover the parts
of devination in man, and whether this prince, by reason of
his over greatmelancholy, had received those impressions, de-
vining that, which never any but himselfe had before de-
clared, like the philosophers, who discoursing of divers deep
points of philosophie, attribute the force of those divinations
to such as are saturnists by complection, who oftentimes
speake of things which, their fury ceasing, they then alreadye
can hardly understand who are the pronouncers; and for that
cause Plato saith, many deviners and many poets, after the
force and vigour of their fier beginneth to lessen, do hardly
understand what they have written, although intreating of
such things, while the spirite of devination continueth upon
them, they doe in such sorte discourse thereof that the
authors and inventers of the arts themselves by them alledged,
commend their discourses and subtill disputations. Likewise
I mean not to relate that which divers men beleeve, that a
reasonable soul becometh the habitation of a meaner sort of
devels, by whom men learn the secrets of things natural; and
much lesse do I account of the supposed governors of the world
fained by magitians, by whose means they brag to effect mer-
vailous things. It would seeme miraculous that Hamlet shold
divine in that sort, which after prooved so true (if as I said
before) the devel had not knowledg of things past, but to
grant it he knoweth things to come I hope you shall never
finde me in so grose an error. You will compare and make
equall derivation, and conjecture with those that are made by
the spirit of God, and pronounced by the holy prophets, that
tasted of that marvelous science, to whome onely was de-


PRINCE OF DENMARKE. 155
clared the secrets and wondrous workes of the Almighty.
Yet there are some imposturious companions that impute so
much devinitie to the devell, the father of lyes, that they at-
tribute unto him the truth of the knowledge of thinges that
shall happen unto men, alledging the conference of Saul with
the witch, although one example out of the Holy Scriptures,
specially set downe for the condemnation of wicked man, is
not of force to give a sufficient law to all the world; for they
themselves confesse that they can devine, not according to
the universal cause of things, but by signes borrowed from
such like causes, which are all waies alike, and by those con-
jectures they can give judgement of thinges to come, but all
this beeing grounded upon a weake support, (which is a
simple conjecture) and having so slender a foundation, as
some foolish or late experience the fictions being voluntarie,
It should be a great folly in a man of good judgment, specially
one that imbraceth the preaching of the gospell, and seeketh
after no other but the trueth thereof, to repose upon any of
these likelihoods or writings full of deceipt.
As touching magical operations, I will grant them somewhat
therein, finding divers histories that write thereof, and that the
Bible maketh mention, and forbiddeth the use thereof: yea,
the lawes of the gentiles and ordinances of emperors have
bin made against it in such sort, that Mahomet, the great
hereticke and friend of the devell, by whose subtiltyes hee
abused most part of the east countries, hath ordained great
punishments for such as use and practise those unlawfull and
damnable arts, which, for this time leaving of, let us returne
to Hamblet, brought up in these abuses, according to the man-
ner of his country, whose companions hearing his answere
reproached him of folly, saying that hee could by no meanes
show a greater point of indiscretion, then in despising that
which is lawfull, and rejecting that which all men receaved
as a necessary thing, and that hee had not grossely so for-
gotten himselfe as in that sort to accuse such and so excellent
a man as the king of England, and to slander the queene,


156 THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,
being then as famous and wise a princes as any at that day
raigning in theilands thereabouts, to cause him to be punished
according to his deserts; but he, continuing in his dissimula-
tion, mocked him, saying that hee had not done any thing
that was not good and most true. On the other side, the king
being advertised thereof by him that stood to heare the dis-
course, judged presently that Hamlet, speaking so ambigu-
ously, was either a perfect foole, or else one of the wisest
princes in his time, answering so sodainly, and so much to
the purpose upon the demaund by his companions made
touching his behaviour; and the better to find the trueth,
caused the babler to be sent for, of whome inquiring in what
place the corne grew whereof he made bread for his table,
and whether in that ground there were not some signes or
newes of a battaile fought, whereby humaine blood had
therein been shed? the babler answered that not far from
thence there lay a field ful of dead mens bones, in times past
slaine in a battaile, as by the greate heapes of wounded
sculles mighte well appeare, and for that the ground in that
parte was become fertiler then other grounds, by reason of
the fatte and humours of the dead bodies, that every yeer the
farmers used there to have in the best wheat they could
finde to serve his majesties house. The king perceiving it
to be true, according to the yong princes wordes, asked where
the hogs had bin fed that were killed to be served at his table?
and answere was made him, that those hogs getting out of
the said fielde wherein they were kepte, had found the bodie
of a thiefe that had beene hanged for his demerits, and had
eaten thereof: whereat the king of England beeing abashed,
would needs know with what water the beer he used to
drinke of had beene brued! which having knowne, he caused
the river to bee digged somewhat deeper, and therin found
great store of swords and rustie armours, that gave an ill
savour to the drinke. It were good I should heere dilate
somewhat of Merlins prophesies, which are said to be spoken
of him before he was fully one yeere old; but if you consider


158 THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,
spirit of the yong prince, and for that causerwent unto him to
aske him, why he had reproved three things in his queene
convenient for a slave, and savouring more of basenes then
of royaltie, and far unfit for the majesty of a great prince
The king, not content to have receaved a great displeasure
by knowing him selfe to be a bastard, and to have heard
with what injuries he charged her whom hee loved best in all
the world, would not content himself untill he also under-
stood that which displeased him, as much as his owne proper
disgrace, which was that his queen was the daughter of a
chambermaid, and with all noted certaine foolish counte-
nances she made, which not onely shewed of what parentage
she came, but also that hir humors savored of the basenes and
low degree of hir parents, whose mother, he assured the king,
was as then yet holden in servitude. The king admiring the
young prince, and behoulding in him some matter of greater
respect then in the common sort of men, gave him his daughter
in marriage, according to the counterfet letters by him de-
vised, and the next day caused the two servants of Fengon
to be executed, to satisfie, as he thought, the king's desire.
But Hamlet, although the sport plesed him wel, and that the
king of England could not have done him a greater favour,
made as though he had been much offended, threatning the
king to be revenged, but the king, to appease him, gave him
a great sum of gold, which Hamlet caused to be molten, and
put into two staves, made hollow for the same purpose, to
serve his tourne there with as neede should require; for of
all other the kings treasures he took nothing with him into
Denmark but onely those two staves, and as soone as the
yeere began to bee at an end, having somewhat before ob-
tained licence of the king his father in law to depart, went
for Denmarke; then, with all the speed hee could to returne
againe into England to marry his daughter, and so set sayle
for Denmarke.


PRINCE OF DENMARKE. 150
CHAP. V.
How Hamblet, having escaped out of England, ar-
rived in Denmarke the same day that the Danes
were celebrating his funerals, supposing him to be
dead in England; and how he revenged his
fathers death upon his uncle and the rest of the
courtiers; and what followed.
HAMBLET in that sort sayling into Denmark, being arrived
in the contry, entered into the pallace of his uncle the same
day that they were celebrating his funeralls, and going into
the hall, procured no small astonishment and wonder to them
all, no man thinking other but that hee had beene deade: among
the which many of them rejoyced not a little for the pleasure
which they knew Fengon would conceave for so pleasant a
losse, and some were sadde, as remembering the honourable
king Horvendile, whose victories they could by no meanes
forget, much lesse deface out of theire memories that which
apperteined unto him, who as then greatly rejoyced to see a
false report spread of Hamlets death, and that the tyrant had
not as yet obtained his will of the heire of Jutie, but rather
hoped God would restore him to his sences againe for the
good and welfare of that province. Their amazement at the
last beeing tourned into laughter, all that as then were assistant
at the funerall banquet of him whome they esteemed dead,
mocked each at other, for having beene so simply deceived,
and wondering at the prince, that in his so long a voyage he
had not recovered any of his sences, asked what was become
of them that had borne him company into Greate Brittain? to
whome he made answere (shewing them the two hollow staves,
wherein he had put his molten golde, that the King of Eng-
land had given him to appease his fury, concerning the mur-


160 THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,
ther of his two companions), and said, Here they are both.
Whereat many that already knew his humours, presently
conjectured that hee had plaide some tricke of legerdemane,
( and to deliver himselfe out of danger, had throwne them into
the pitte prepared for him; so that fearing to follow after them
and light upon some evil adventure, they went presently out
of the court. And it was well for them that they didde so, con-
sidering the tragedy acted by him the same daie, beeing ac-
counted his funerall, but in trueth theire last daies, that as
then rejoyced for their overthrow; for when every man busied
himselfe to make good cheare, and Hamlets arivall provoked
them more to drinke and carouse, the prince himselfe at that
time played the butler and a gentleman attending on the ta-
bles, not suffering the pots nor goblets to bee empty, whereby
hee gave the noble men such store of liquor, that all of them
, Rºº. being ful laden with wine and gorged with meate, were con-
common in - -
the north, strained to lay themselves downe in the same place where
tº of the they had supt, so much their sences were dulled, and over-
come with the fire of over great drinking (a vice common and
familiar among the Almaines, and other nations inhabiting
the north parts of the world) which when Hamlet perceiving,
and finding so good opportunitie to effect his purpose and bee
revenged of his enemies, and by the means to abandon the
actions, gestures, and apparel of a mad man, occasion so fitly
finding his turn, and as it were effecting it selfe, failed not to
take hold therof, and seeing those drunken bodies, filled with
wine, lying like hogs upon the ground, some sleeping, others
vomiting the over great abundance of wine which without
measure they had swallowed up, made the hangings about the
hall to fall downe and cover them all over; which he nailed
to the ground, being boorded, and at the ends thereof he
stuck the brands, whereof I spake before, by him sharpned,
which served for prickes, binding and tying the hangings in
such sort, that what force soever they used to loose them-
selves, it was unpossible to get from under them : and pre-
sently he set fire in the foure corners of the hal, in such sort,


PRINCE OF DENMARKE. 161
that all that were as then therein not one escaped away, but
were forced to purge their sins by fire, and dry up the great
aboundance of liquor by them received into their bodies, all of
them dying in the inevitable and mercilesse flames of the
whot and burning fire: which the prince perceiving, became
wise, and knowing that his uncle, before the end of the ban-
quet, had withdrawn himselfe into his chamber, which stood
apart from the place where the fire burnt, went thither, and
A strange re-
venge taken
entring into the chamber, layd hand upon the sword of his by Hamlet.
fathers murtherer, leaving his own in the place, which while
he was at the banket some of the courtiers had nailed fast
into the scaberd, and going to Fengon said: I wonder, disloyal
king, how thou canst sleep heer at thine ease, and al thy
pallace is burnt, the fire thereof having burnt the greatest part
of thy courtiers and ministers of thy cruelty, and detestable
tirannies; and which is more, I cannot imagin how thousholdst
wel assure thy'self and thy estate, as now to take thy ease,
seeing Hamlet so neer thee armed with the shafts by him
prepared long since, and at this present is redy to revenge the
traiterous injury by thee done to his lord and father.
Fengon, as then knowing the truth of his nephews subtile
practise, and hering him speak with stayed mind, and which is
more, perceived a sword naked in his hand, which he already
lifted up to deprive him of his life, leaped quickly out of the
bed, taking holde of Hamlets sworde, that was nayled into the
scaberd, which as hee sought to pull out. Hamlet gave him such
a blowe upon the chine of the necke, that hee cut his head
cleane from his shoulders, and as he fell to the ground sayd,
This just and violent death is a just reward for such as thou
art: now go thy wayes, and when thou commest in hell, see
thou forget not to tell thy brother (whom thou trayterously
slewest), that it was his sonne that sent thee thither with the
message, to the ende that beeing comforted thereby, his soule
may rest among the blessed spirits, and quit mee of the ob-
ligation that bound me to pursue his vengeance upon mine
owne blood, that seeing it was by thee that I lost the chiefe
thing that tyed me to this aliance and consanguinitie. A
A mockebut
yet sharp and
stinging,
given
Hamlet to his
uncle.


162 THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,
man (to say the trueth) hardie, couragious, and worthy of
eternall comendation, who arming himself with a crafty, dis-
sembling, and strange shew of beeng distract out of his wits,
under that pretence deceived the wise, pollitike, and craftie,
thereby not onely preserving his life from the treasons and
wicked practises of the tyrant, but (which is more) by an new
commenda and unexpected kinde of punishment, revenged his fathers,
'''", death, many yeeres after the act committed: in no such sort
** that directing his courses with such prudence, and effecting
his purposes with so great boldnes and constancie, he left a
judgement to be decyded among men of wisdom, which was
more commendable in him, his constancy or magnanimitie,
or his wisdom in ordring his affaires, according to the preme-
ditable determination he had conceaved.
now just If vengeance ever seemed to have any shew of justice, it is
. be then, when pietie and affection constraineth us to remember
our fathers unjustly murdered, as the things wherby we are
dispensed withal, and which seeke the means not to leave
treason and murther unpunished: seeing David a holy and
just king, and of nature simple, courteous, and debonaire, yet
tº "... when he dyed he charged his soone Salomon (that succeeded
"tº him in his throane) not to suffer certaine men that had done
venge him of , . - - - - - -
* his him injurie to escape unpunished. Not that this holy king
(as then ready to dye, and to give account before God of all
his actions) was carefull or desirous of revenge, but to leave
this example unto us, that where the prince or countrey is in-
teressed, the desire of revenge cannot by any meanes (how
small soever) beare the title of condemnation, but is rather
commendable and worthy of praise: for otherwise the good
kings of Juda, nor others had not pursued them to death,
that had offended their predecessors, if God himself had not
inspired and ingraven that desire within their hearts. Hereof
the Athenian lawes beare witnesse, whose custome was to
erect images in remembrance of those men that, revenging
the injuries of the commonwealth, boldly massacred tyrants
and such as troubled the peace and welfare of the citizens.
Hamblet, having in this manner revenged himselfe, durst


PRINCE OF DENMARKE. 163
not presently declare his action to the people, but to the con-
trary determined to worke by policie, so to give them intel-
ligence, what he had done, and the reason that drewe him
thereunto: so that beeing accompanied with such of his fathers
friends that then were rising, he stayed to see what the peo-
ple would doe when they shoulde heare of that sodaine and
fearefull action. The next morning the townes bordering
there aboutes, desiring to know from whence the flames of
fire proceeded the night before they had seene, came thither,
and perceiving the kings pallace burnt to ashes, and many
bodyes (most part consumed) lying among the ruines of the
house, all of them were much abashed, nothing being left of
the palace but the foundation. But they were much more
amased to beholde the body of the king all bloody, and his
head cut off lying hard by him; whereat some began to
threaten revenge, yet not knowing against whom ; others be-
holding so lamentable a spectacle, armed themselves, the rest
rejoycing, yet not daring to make any shewe thereof; some
detesting the crueltie, others lamenting the death of their
Prince, but the greatest part calling Horvendiles murther to
remembrance, acknowledging a just judgement from above,
that had throwne downe the pride of the tyrant. And in this
sort, the diversities of opinions among that multitude of people
being many, yet every man ignorant what would be the issue
of that tragedie, none stirred from thence, neither yet attempt-
ed to move any tumult, every man fearing his owne skinne,
and distrusting his neighbour, esteeming each other to bee
consenting to the massacre.
N


164 THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,
C H A P. VI.
How Hamlet, having slaine his Uncle, and burnt his
Palace, made an Oration to the Danes to shew
them what he done; and how they made him King
of Denmark; and what followed.
HAMLET then seeing the people to be so quiet, and most
part of them not using any words, all searching onely and
simply the cause of this ruine and destruction, not minding
to loose any time, but ayding himself with the commodotie
thereof, entred among the multitude of people, and standing
in the middle spake unto them as followeth.
If there be any among you (good people of Denmark) that
as yet have fresh within your memories the wrong done to
the valiant king Horvendile, let him not be mooved, nor thinke
it strange to behold the confused, hydeous, and fearfull spec-
tacle of this present calamitie: if there be any man that af-
fecteth fidelitie, and alloweth of the love and dutie that man
is bound to shewe his parents, and find it a just cause to call
to remembrance the injuryes and wrongs that have been done
to our progenitors, let him not be ashamed beholding this
massacre, much lesse offended to see so fearfull a ruine both
of men and of the bravest house in all this countrey : for the
hand that hath done this justice could not effect it by any
other meanes, neither yet was it lawfull for him to doe it
otherwise, then by ruinating both sensible and unsensible
things, thereby to preserve the memorie of sojust a vengeance.
I see well (my good friends) and am very glad to know
so good attention and devotion in you, that you are sorrie
(before your eyes) to see Fengon so murthered, and without a
head, which heeretofore you acknowledged for your command-
er; but I pray you remember this body is not the body of a


PRINCE OF DENMARKE. 165
king, but of an execrable tyrant, and a parricide most detesta-
ble. Oh Danes! the spectacle was much more hydeous when
Horvendile your king was murthered by his brother. What
should I say a brother 1 nay, rather by the most abhominable
executioner that ever beheld the same. It was you that saw
Horvendiles members massacred, and that with teares and
lamentations accompanied him to the grave ; his body disfi-
gured, hurt in a thousand places, and misused in ten times as
many fashions. And who doubteth (seeing experience hath
taught you) that the tyrant (in massacring your lawfull king)
sought onely to infringe the ancient liberties of the common
people ! and it was one hand onely, that murthering Horven-
dile, cruelly dispoyled him of life, and by the same meanes
unjustly bereaved you of your ancient liberties, and delighted
more in oppression then to embrace the plesant countenance
of prosperous libertie without adventuring for the same.
And what mad man is he that delighteth more in the tyrany
of Fengon then in the clemencie and renewed courtesie of
Horvendile? If it bee so, that by clemencie and affabilitie the
hardest and stoutest hearts are molified and made tractable,
and that evill and hard usage causeth subjects to be outragi-
ous and unruly, why behold you not the debonair cariage of
the first, to compare it with the cruelties and insolencies of the
second, in every respect as cruell and barbarous as his bro-
ther was gentle, meeke, and courteous! Remember, O you
Danes, remember what love and amitie Horvendile shewed
unto you; with what equitie and justice he swayed the great
affaires of this kingdome, and with what humanitie and cour-
tisie he defended and cherished you, and then I am assured
that the simplest man among you will both remember and
acknowledge that he had a most peaceable, just, and righteous
king taken from him, to place in his throane a tyrant and
murtherer of his brother: one that hath perverted all right,
abolished the auncient lawes of our fathers, contaminated the
memories of our ancestors, and by his wickednesse polluted
the integritie of this kingdome, upon the necke thereof having
N 2


166 THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLFT,
placed the troublesome yoak of heavie servitude, abolishing
that libertie wherein Horvendile used to maintaine you, and
suffered you to live at your ease. And should you now bee
sorrie to see the ende of your mischiefes, and that this miser-
able wretch, pressed downe with the burthen of his offences,
at this present payeth the usury of the particide committed
upon the body of his brother, and would not himselfe be the
revenger of the outrage done to me, whom he sought to de-
prive of mine inheritance, taking from Denmark a lawfull
successor, to plant a wicked stranger, and bring into capti-
vitie those that my father had infranchised and delivered out
of misery and bondage? And what man is he, that having
any sparke of wisdom, would esteem a good deed to be an
injury, and account pleasures equal with wrongs and evident
outrages It were then great folly and temerity in princes
and valiant commanders in the wars to expose themselves to
perils and hazards of their lives for the welfare of the com-
mon people, if that for a recompence they should reape hatred
and indignation of the multitude. To what end should Hother
have punished Balder, if, in steed of recompence, the Danes
and Swethlanders had banished him to receive and accept
the successors of him that desired nought but his ruine and
overthrowe ? What is hee that hath so small feeling of reason
and equitie, that would be grieved to see treason rewarded
with the like, and that an evill act is punished with just de-
merit in the partie himselfe that was the occasion 1 who was
ever sorowfull to behold the murtherer of innocents brought to
his end, or what man weepeth to see a just massacre done
upon a tyrant, usurper, villaine, and bloody personage?
I perceive you are attentive, and abashed for not knowing
the author of your deliverance, and sorry that you cannot tell
to whom you should bee thankefull for such and so great a
benefit as the destruction of a tyrant, and the overthrow of
the place that was the storehouse of his villanies, and the true
receptacle of all the theeves and traytors in this kingdome:
but beholde (here in your presence) him that brought so good


PRINCE OF DENMARKE. 167
an enterprise to effect. It is I (my good friends), it is I, that
confesse I have taken vengeance for the violence done unto
my lord and father, and for the subjection and servitude that
I perceived in this countrey, whereof I am the just and law-
full successor. It is I alone, that have done this piece of
worke, whereunto you ought to have lent me your handes,
and therein have ayded and assisted me. I have only ac-
complished that which all of you might justly have effected,
by good reason, without falling into any point of treason or
fellonie. It is true that I hope so much of your good willes
towards the deceased king Horvendile, and that the remem-
brances of his vertues is yet so fresh within your memories,
that if I had required your aide herein, you would not have
denied it, specially to your naturall prince. But it liked mee
best to doe it my selfe alone, thinking it a good thing to
punish the wicked without hazarding the lives of my friends
and loyall subjects, not desiring to burthen other mens shoul-
ders with this weight; for that I made account to effect it
well inough without exposing any man into danger, and by
publishing the same should cleane have overthrowne the de-
vice, which at this present I have so happily brought to
passe. I have burnt the bodyes of the courtiers to ashes,
being companions in the mischiefs and treasons of the tyrant;
but I have left Fengon whole, that you might punish his dead
carkasse (seeing that when hee lived you durst not lay hands
upon him), to accomplish the full punishment and vengeance
due unto him, and so satisfie your choller upon the bones of
him that filled his greedy hands and coffers with your riches,
and shed the blood of your brethren and friends. Bee joy-
full, then (my good friends); make ready the nosegay for
this usurping king: burne his abhominable body, boyle his
lascivious members, and cast the ashes of him that hath beene
hurtfull to all the world into the ayre : drive from you the
sparkes of pitie, to the end that neither silver, nor christall
cup, nor sacred tombe may be the restfull habitation of the
reliques and bones of so detestable a man: let not one trace


168 THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,
of a parricide be seene, nor your countrey defiled with the
presence of the least member of this tyrant without pity, that
your neighbors may not smell the contagion, nor our land the
polluted infection of a body condemned for his wickednes. I
have done my part to present him to you in this sort; now it
belongs to you to make an end of the worke, and put to the
last hand of dutie whereunto your severall functions call you;
for in this sort you must honor abhominable princes, and
such ought to be the funerall of a tyrant, parricide, and
usurper, both of the bed and patrimony that no way belonged
unto him, who having bereaved his countrey of liberty, it is
fit that the land refuse to give him a place for the eternal rest
of his bones.
O my good friends, seeing you know the wrong that hath
bin done unto mee, what my griefs are, and in what misery
I have lived since the death of the king, my lord and father,
and seeing that you have both known and tasted these things
then, when as I could not conceive the outrage that I felt,
what neede I recite it unto you? what benefit would it be
to discover it before them that knowing it would burst (as
it were with despight) to heare of my hard chance, and curse
Fortune for so much imbasing a royall prince, as to deprive
him of his majesty, although not any of you durst so much
as shew one sight of sorrow or sadnes? You know how my
father in law conspired my death, and sought by divers
meanes to take away my life; how I was forsaken of the
queen my mother, mocked of my friends, and dispised of
mine own subjects: hetherto I have lived laden with griefe,
and wholy confounded in teares, my life still accompanied
with fear and suspition, expecting the houre when the sharp
sword would make an ende of my life and miserable an-
guishes. How many times, counterfeiting the mad man, have
I heard you pitty my distresse, and secretly lament to see me
disinherited 1 and yet no man sought to revenge the death of
my father, nor to punish the treason of my incestuous uncle,
full of murthers and massacres. This charitie ministred


PRINCE OF DENMARKE. 169
comfort, and your affectionate complaints made me evidently
see your good wills, that you had in memorie the calamity of
your prince, and within your harts ingraven the desire of
vengeance for the death of him that deserved a long life. And
what heart can bee so hard and untractable, or spirit so se-
vere, cruel, and rigorous, that would not relent at the remem-
brance of my extremities, and take pitty of an orphan child,
so abandoned of the world? What eyes were so voyd of
moysture but would distill a field of tears, to see a poore
prince assaulted by his owne subjects, betrayed by his
mother, pursued by his uncle, and so much oppressed that
his friends durst not shew the effects of their charitie and
good affection 1 O(my good friends) shew pity to him whom
you have nourished, and let your harts take some compassion
upon the memory of my misfortunes! I speak to you that are
innocent of al treason, and never defiled your hands, spirits,
nor desires with the blud of the greate and vertuous king
Horvendile. Take pity upon the queen, sometime your sove-
raign lady, and my right honorable mother, forced by the
tyrant, and rejoyce to see the end and extinguishing of the
object of her dishonor, which constrained her to be lesse
pitiful to her own blood, so far as to imbrace the murtherer of
her own dear spouse, charging her selfe with a double
burthen of infamy and incest, together wtth injuring and dis-
annulling of her house, and the ruine of her race. This hath
bin the occasion that made me counterfet folly, and cover my
intents under availe of meer madnes, which hath wisdom and
pollicy therby to inclose the fruit of this vengeance, which, that
it hath attained to the ful point of efficacy and perfect ac-
complishment, you yourselves shall bee judges; for touching
this and other things concerning my profit, and the managing
of great affairs, I refer my self to your counsels, and ther-
unto am fully determined to yeeld, as being those that tram-
ple under your feet the murtherers of my father, and despise
the ashes of him that hath polluted and violated the spouse of
his brother, by him massacred; that hath committed felony


170 THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,
against his lord, traiterously assailed the majesty of his king,
and odiously thralled his contry under servitude and bondage,
and you his loyall subjects, from whom he, bereaving your
liberty, feared not to ad incest to particide, detestable to al
the world. To you also it belongeth by dewty and reason
commonly to defend and protect Hamlet, the minister and ex-
ecutor of just vengeance, who being jealous of your honour and
your reputation, hath hazarded himself, hoping you will serve
him for fathers, defenders, and tutors, and regarding him in
pity, restore him to his goods and inheritances. It is I that
have taken away the infamy of my contry, and extinguished
the fire that imbraced your fortunes. I have washed the spots
that defiled the reputation of the queen, overthrowing both the
tirant and the tiranny, and beguiling the subtilties of the craf-
tiest deceiver in the world, and by that meanes brought his
wickednes and impostures to an end. I was grieved at the
injurie committed both to my father and my native country,
and have slaine him that used more rigorus commandements
over you, then was either just or convenient to be used unto
men that have commaunded the valiantest nations in the
world. Seeing, then, he was such a one to you, it is reason
that you acknowledge the benefit, and thinke wel of for the
good I had done your posterity, and admiring my spirit and
wisdome, chuse me your king, if you think me worthy of the
place. You see I am the author of your preservation, heire
of my fathers kingdome, not straying in any point from his
vertuous action, no murtherer, violent particide, nor man that
ever offended any of you, but only the vitious. I am lawfull
successor in the kingdom, and just revenger of a crime above
al others most grievous and punishable: it is to me that you
owe the benefit of your liberty receaved, and of the subver-
sion of that tyranny that so much afflicted you, that hath
troden under feete the yoke of the tirant, and overwhelmed
his throne, and taken the scepter out of the hands of him
that abused a holy and just authoritie; but it is you that are
to recompence those that have well deserved, you know


PRINCE OF DENMARKE. 171
what is the reward of so greate desert, and being in your
hands to distribute the same, it is of you that I demand the
price of my vertue, and the recompence of my victory.
This oration of the yong prince so mooved the harts of the
Danes, and wan the affections of the nobility, that some wept
for pity, other for joy, to see the wisedome and gallant spirit
of Hamlet; and having made an end of their sorrow, al with nº
one consent proclaimed him king of Jutie and Chersonnese, ºf ºp.
at this present the proper country of Denmarke. And having"
celebrated his coronation, and received the homages and
fidelities of his subjects, he went into England to fetch his
wife, and rejoyced with his father in law touching his good
fortune; but it wanted little that the king of England had
not accomplished that which Fengon with all his subtilties
could never attaine.
CHAP. VII.
How Hamlet, after his coronation, went into Eng-
land; and how the king of England secretly would
have put him to death; and how he slew the
king of England, and returned againe into Den-
marke with two wives ; and what followed.
HAMLET, being in England, shewed the king what
meanes hee had wrought to recover his kingdom; but when
the king of England understood of Fengons death, he was
both abashed and confused in his minde, at that instant feel-
ing himselfe assailed with two great passions, for that in
times past he and Fengon having bin companions together in
armes, had given each other their faith and promises, by oath,
that if either of them chanced to bee slaine by any man what-
soever, hee that survived (taking the quarrel upon him as
his owne) shonld never cease till he were revenged, or at the


172 THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,
leaste do his endeavour. This promise incited the barbarous
king to massacre Hamlet, but the alliance presenting it selfe
before his eies, and beholding the one deade, although his
friend, and the other alive, and husband to his daughter,
made him deface his desire of revenge. But in the end, the
conscience of his oath and promise obtained the upper hand,
and secretly made him conclude the death of his sonne in
law, which enterprise after that was cause of his own death,
and overrunning of the whole country of England by the cruelty
and despight conceived by the king of Denmarke. I have
purposely omitted the discourse of that battaile, as not much
pertinent to our matter, as also, not to trouble you with too
tedious a discourse, being content to shew you the end of
this wise and valiant king Hamlet, who revenging himselfe
upon so many enemies, and discovering all the treasons prac-
tised against his life, in the end served for a sport to fortune,
and an example to all great personages that trust overmuch
to the felicities of this world, that are of small moment, and
lesse continuance.
The king of England perceiving that hee could not easilie
effect his desire upon the king, his son in lawe, as also not
being willing to break the laws and rights of hospitality,
determined to make a stranger the revenger of his injury,
and so accomplish his oath made to Fengon without defiling
his handes with the blood of the husband of his daughter,
and polluting his house by the traiterous massacring of his
friend. In reading of this history, it seemeth, Hamlet should
resemble another Hercules, sent into divers places of the
world by Euristheus (solicited by Juno) where he knew
any dangerous adventure, thereby to overthrow and destroy
him; or else Bellerophon sent to Ariobatus to put him to
death; or (leaving prophane histories) an other Urias, by
king David appointed to bee placed in the fore front of the
battaile, and the man that should bee first slain by the bar-
barians. For the king of Englands wife being dead not
long before (although he cared not for marrying an other


PRINCE OF DENMARKE. 173
woman) desired his sonne in lawe to make a voyage for him
into Scotland, flattering him in such sort, that he made him
beleeve that his singular wisdome caused him to preferre him
to that ambassage, assuring himselfe that it were impossible
that Hamlet, the subtillest and wisest prince in the worlde,
should take any thing in the world in hand without effecting
the same.
Now the queen of Scots beeing a maid, and of a haughty
courage, despised marriage with al men, as not esteeming
any worthy to be her companion, in such manner that by
reason of this arrogant opinion there never came any man
to desire her love but she caused him to loose his life: but
the Danish kings fortune was so good, that Hermetrude (for
so was the queens name) hearing that Hamlet was come
thither to intreat a marriage between her and the king of
England, forgot all her pride, and dispoiling herselfe of her
sterne nature, being as then determined to make him (being
the greatest prince as then living) her husband, and deprive
the English princesse of her spouse, whome shee thought fit
for no men but herself; and so this Amazon without love, dis-
daining Cupid, by her free wil submitted her haughtie mind
to her concupiscence. The Dane arriving in her court, de-
sired she to see the old king of Englands letters, and mocking
at his fond appetites, whose blood as then was half congealed,
cast her eies upon the yong and plesant Adonis of the North,
esteeming her selfe happy to have such a pray fallen into her
hands, wherof she made her ful account to have the posses-
sion: and to conclude, she that never had been overcome by
the grace, courtesie, valor, or riches of anie prince nor lord
whatsoever, was as then vanquished with the onelie report of
the subtilties of the Dane; who knowing that he was already
fianced to the daughter of the king of England, spake unto him
and said: I never looked for so great a blisse, neither from the
gods nor yet from fortune, as to behold in my countries the
most compleate prince in the North, and he that hath made
himselfe famous and renowned through all the nations of the


PRINCE OF DENMARKE. 175
tie of blood, nobilitie of parents, nor abundance of riches; and
I am not only a queene, but such a one as that, receiving
whom I will for my companion in bed, can make him beare
the title of a king, and with my body give him possession
of a great kingdome, and goodly-province. Think then, my
Lord, how much I account of your alliance, who being accus-
tomed with the sword to pursue such as durst imbolden them-
selves to win my love, it is to you only to whom I make a
present both of my kisses, imbracings, scepter, and crown:
what man is he, if he be not made of stone, that would refuse
so precious a pawn as Hermetrude, with the kingdome of
Scotland 1 accept, sweete king, accepte this queene, who
with so great love and amitie, desireth your so great profit,
and can give you more contentment in one day then the
princesse of England wold yeeld you pleasure during her
life: although shee surpass me in beauty, her bloud beeing
base it is fitter for such a king as you are to chuse Her-
metrude, lesse beautiful but noble and famous, rather then
the English lady with great beawtie, but issuing from an un-
known race, without any title of honor.
Now think if the Dane, hearing such forcible resons and un-
derstanding that by her which he half doubted, as also moved
with choller for the treason of his father in law, that purposely
sent him thether to loose his life, and being welcomed, kist, and
playd withal by this queen, yong and reasonable fair, if he were
not easie enough to be converted, and like to forget the affection
of his first wife, with this to enjoy the realme of Scotland, and
so open the waie to become king of all Greate Britain: that,
to conclude, he marryed her, and led her with him to the king
of Englands court, which moved the king from that time for-
ward much more to seek the meanes to bereave him of his
life; and had surely done it, if his daughter, Hamlets other
wife, more careful of him that had rejected her then of her
fathers welfare, had not discovered the enterprise to Hamlet,
saying: I know well, my Lord, that the allurements and per-
swasions of a bold and altogether shameles woman, being


PRINCE OF DENMARKE. 177
friend (as heeretofore by counterfetting the madman, you pre-
vented the practises and treasons of your uncle Fengon), the
complot being determined to be executed upon you and yours.
Without this advertisement, the Dane had surely been slain,
and the Scots that came with him; for the king of England,
inviting his son in law to a banquet, with greatest curtesies
that a friend can use to him whom he loved as himself, had
the means to intrap him, and cause him dance a pittiful gal-
liard, in that sort to celebrate the marriage betweene him
and his new lady. But Hamlet went thither with armour
under his clothes, and his men in like sort; by which means
he and his escaped with little hurt, and so after that hapned
the battaile before spoken of, wherein the king of England
losing his life, his countrie was the third time sacked by the
barbarians of the ilands and countrie of Denmark.
CHAP. VIII.
How Hamblet, being in Denmarke, was assailed by
Wiglerus his Uncle, and after betrayed by his last
wife, called Hermetrude, and was slaine: after
whose death she marryed his enemie, Wiglerus.
HAMLET having obtained the victory against the king of
England, and slaine him, laden with great treasures and ac-
companied with his two wives, set forward to saile into Den-
marke, but by the way hee had intelligence that Wiglere, his
uncle, and sonne to Rodericke, having taken the royall trea-
sure from his sister Geruth (mother to Hamblet) had also
seazed upon the kingdome, saying, that neither Horvendile
nor any of his helde it but by permission, and that it was in
him (to whom the property belonged) to give the charge
therof to whom he would. But Hamblet, not desirous to


PRINCE OF DENMARKE. 179
him admirable in all the countries in the ocean seas, and
through all Germany. Now, the greatest grief that this king
(besotted on his wife) had, was the separation of her whom
he adored, and, assuring himselfe of his overthrowe, was de-
sirous either that she might beare him company at his death,
or els to find her a husband that should love her (he beeing
dead) as well as ever hee did. But the disloyall queene had
already provided herself of a marriage to put her husband out
of trouble and care for that, who perceiving him to be sad for
her sake, when shee should have absented her selfe from
him, she, to blind him the more and to incourage him to set
forward to his owne destruction, promised to follow him whe-
ther soever he went, and to take the like fortune that befell
to him, were it good or evil, and that so she would give him
cause to know how much shee surpassed the English woman
in her affection towardes him, saying, that woman is accursed
that feareth to follow and accompany her husband to the
death: so that, to heare her speake, men would have sayd
that shee had been the wife of Mithridates, or Zenobia queene
of Palmira, shee made so greate a show of love and constancy.
But by the effect it was after easily perceived howe vaine
the promise of this unconstant and wavering princesse was;
and howe uncomparable the life of this Scottish queene was
to the vigor of her chastitie, being a mayd before she was
marryed. For that Hamlet had no sooner entred into the
field, but she found meanes to see Wiglere, and the battel
begun, wherein the miserable Danish prince was slaine; but
Hermetrude presently yeelded her self, with all her dead hus-
bands treasons, into the hand of the tyrant, who, more then
content with that metamorphosis so much desired, gave order
that presently the marriage (bought with the blood and trea-
son of the sonne of Horvendile) should bee celebrated.
Thus you see that there is no promise or determination of
a woman, but that a very small discommoditie of fortune
mollifieth and altereth the same, and which time doeth not
pervert; so that the misfortunes subject to a constant man
O
Hainlet
slaine.


180 THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET,
shake and overthrowe the naturall slipperie loyaltie of the
variable steppes of women, wholy without and any faithfull
assurance of love, or true unfained constancy: for as a
woman is ready to promise, so is shee heavy and slowe to
performe and effect that which she hath promised, as she
that is without end or limit in her desires, flattring her selfe
in the diversitie of her wanton delights, and taking pleasure
in diversitie and change of newe things, which as soone shee
doth forget and growe weary off: and, to conclude, such shee
is in all her actions, she is rash, covetous, and unthankefull,
whatsoever good or service can bee done unto her. But
nowe I perceive I erre in my discourse, vomitting such things
unworthy of this sects; but the vices of Hermetrude have
made mee say more then I meant to speake, as also the
authour, from whence I take this Hystorie, hath almost made
mee hold this course, I find so great a sweetnesse and live-
linesse in this kinde of argument; and the rather because it
seemeth so much the truer, considering the miserable successe
of poore king Hamlet.
Such was the ende of Hamlet, sonne to Horvendile, prince
of Jutie; to whom, if his fortune had been equall with his
inward and naturall giftes, I know not which of the auncient
Grecians and Romans had been able to have compared with
him for vertue and excellencie: but hard fortune following
him in all his actions, and yet hee vanquishing the malice of
his time with the vigour of constancy, hath left us a notable
example of haughtie courage, worthy of a great prince, arm-
ing himselfe with hope in things that were wholy without
any colour or shewe thereof, and in all his honorable actions
made himselfe worthy of perpetuall memorie, if one onely
spotte had not blemished and darkened a good part of his
prayses. For that the greatest victorie that a man can ob-
taine is to make himselfe victorious and lord over his owne
affections, and that restraineth the unbridled desires of his
concupiscence; for if a man be never so princely, valiant,
and wise, if the desires and inticements of his flesh prevaile,


PRINCE OF DEN MARKE. lSl
and have the upper hand, hee will imbase his credite, and,
gasing after strange beauties, become a foole, and (as it were)
incensed, dote on the presence of women. This fault was in
the great Hercules, Sampson; and the wisest man that ever
lived upon the earth, following this traine, therein impaired
his wit; and the most noble, wise, valiant, and discreet per-
sonages of our time, following the same course, have left us
many notable examples of their worthy and notable ver-
tues.
But I beseech you that shall reade this Hystorie not to
resemble the spider, that feedeth of the corruption that shee
findeth in the flowers and fruites that are in the gardens,
whereas the bee gathereth her hony out of the best and
fayrest flower shee can finde : for a man that is well brought
up should reade the lives of whoremongers, drunkards, inces-
tuous, violent, and bloody persons, not to follow their steps,
and so to defile himselfe with such uncleannesse, but to
shunne paliardize, abstain the superfluities and drunkennesse
in banquets, and follow the modestie, courtesie, and conti-
nencie that recommendeth Hamlet in this discourse, who,
while other made good cheare, continued sober; and where
all men sought as much as they could to gather together
riches and treasure, hee, simply accounting riches nothing
comparable to honor, sought to gather a multitude of vertues,
that might make him equall to those that by them were es-
teemed as gods; having not as then received the lighte of the
gospell, that men might see among the barbarians, and them
that were farre from the knowledge of one onelye God, that
nature was provoked to follow that which is good, and those
forward to imbrace vertue, for that there was never any na-
tion, how rude or barbarous soever, that tooke not some plea-
sure to do that which seemed good, therby to win praise and
commendations, which wee have said to be the reward of
vertue and good life. I delight to speak of these strange
histories, and of people that were unchristned, that the vertue
of the rude people maie give more splendor to our nation,


182 THE HYSTORIE OF HAMBLET.
who seeing them so compleat, wise, prudent, and well ad-
vised in their actions, might strive not only to follow (imita-
tion being a small matter), but to surmount them, as our
religion surpasseth their superstition, and our age more
purged, subtill, and gallant, then the season wherin they
lived and made their vertues knowne.
Fl NIS.


of
gTheRatterne
painefull Ad-
uentureS :
§
§
3.
Containing the moſt excel-
;
ślent, pleaſant and variable Hi-
ſtorie of the ſtrange accidents that be- p
fell vnto Prince Apollonius, the
Lady Lucina his wife, and
Tharſia his daughter.
//herein the vncertaintie of
this world,and the fickle ſtate
of mans life are liue-
ly deſcribed.
Gathered into Engliſh by
LAvR E N C E Tvvi NE
Gentleman.
Imprinted at London by Va-
lentine Simmes for the
Widow Newman.





To the worshipfull
Master John Donning, Custo-
mer and Jurate of the towne
of Rie, in Sussex.
BEING diversly mooved in mind to signifie my good will
and hartie love towardes you, gentle M. Donning, I could not
devise any meanes more effectual, then by presenting the
same to you, which had cost me some small labor and travel.
Not seeming therby to acquite your manifold curtesies, to-
wards me diversly extended, but rather to discharge me of
the note of ingratitude, which otherwise I might seeme to
incurre. Wherefore in steede of a greater present to counter-
vaile your friendlines, I am bold, in the setting foorth of
this simple pamflet under your name, to make a proffer of
my thankeful heart to you againe. Wherin, though want of
farther abilitie appeare, yet is there no let, but that a wel-wil-
ling heart may be exprest, yea, in the smallest gift. Now if
haply the argument hereof appeare unto you other than you
could much wish, or I well afford, yet have I no feare of any
great misliking, considering your natural disposition, which
is to be delighted with honest pleasure, and commendable re-
creation, and not to lie evermore weltering, as it were, in dole-
full dumpishnesse. Which thing did put me in the greater
hope, that this worke would be the welcommer unto you,
especially considering the detectable varietie, and the often
changes and chances contained in this present historie, which
cannot but much stirre up the mind and sences unto sundry
affections. What ever it be, take it, I beseech you, in good
part, in stead of some better thing which I might well affoord,
promising the same when occasion shall serve, not being at
this present so well furnished as I could wish of God: to
whose good grace I recommend you and yours, both nowe and
evermore.
Your worships to use,
LAURENCE TWINE.





T H E TAB L E.
How Antiochus committed incest with his owne daugh-
ter, and beheaded such as sued unto her for marriage,
if they coulde not resolve his questions ...............
How Apollonius, arriving at Antiochia, resolved the
kings question; and howe Taliarchus was sent to slay
him......... .....................................................
How Taliarchus, not finding Apollonius at Tyrus, de-
parteth joyfully; and Apollonius arriving at Tharsus,
relieveth the citie with victuall............................
How Apollonius, departing from Tharsus by the per-
swasion of Stranguilio and Dionisiades his wife, com-
mitted shipwracke, and was relieved by Altistrates,
king of Pentapolis ..........................................
How Lucina, king Altistrates daughter, desirous to
heare Apollonius adventures, fell in love with him. ..
How Apollonius is made schoolemaster to Lucina; and
how shee preferreth the love of him above all the
nobilitie of Pentapolis .....................................
How Apollonius was married to the lady Lucina, and
hearing of king Antiochus death, departeth with his
wife towards his own country of Tyrus .................
How faire Lucina died in travell of childe upon the
sea, and being throwen into the water, was cast on
land at Ephesus, and taken home by Cerimon, a
physicion .......................................................
How Lucina was restored to life by one of Cerimon the
physicions schollers; and how Cerimon adopted hir
to his daughter, and placed her in the temple of Diana
How Apollonius, arriving at Tharsus, delivereth his
yong daughter Tharsia unto Stranguilio and Dioni-
siades to be brought up; and how the nurce, lying in
her death bed, declareth unto Tharsia who were hir
parents ... .................... ... .............................
How, after the death of Ligozides, the nurce, Dioni-
siades, envying at the beautie of Tharsia, conspired
her death, which should have been accomplished by
a villaine of the countrey .................................
How certain pirats rescued Tharsia when she shuld
have been slaine, and carried her unto the citie Ma-
chilenta, to be sold among other bondslaves .........
CHAP. I.
CHAP. II.
CHAP. III.
CHAP. IV.
CHAP. W.
CHAP. VI.
CHAP. VII.
CHAP. VIII.
CHAP. IX.
CHAP. X.
CHAP. XI.
CHAP. XII.


vi THE TABLE.
How pirats which stole away Tharsia brought her to
the citie Machilenta, and sold her to a common bawd;
and how she preserved her virginitie .................... CHAP. XIII.
How Tharsia withstood a second assault of her vir-
ginitie, and by what meanes shee was preserved ..... CHAP. XIV.
How Apollonius, comming to Tharsus, and not finding
his daughter, lamented her supposed death, and
taking ship againe, was driven by a tempest to Ma-
chilenta, where Tharsia was .............................. CHAP. XV.
How Athanagoras, prince of Machilenta, seeing the
beautie of Apollonius ship, went aboord of it, and
did the best he could to comfort him .................... CHAP. XVI.
How Athanagoras sent for Tharsia, to make her father
Apollonius merrie; and how, after long circumstance,
they came into knowledge one of another .............. CHAP. XVII.
How Apollonius, leaving off mourning, came into the
citie Machilenta, where he commanded the bawd to
be burned, and how Tharsia was married unto prince
Athanagoras .................................................. CHAP. XVIII.
How Apollonius, meaning to saile into his owne
countrey by Tharsus, was commanded by an angell
in the night to goe to Ephesus, and there to declare
all his adventures in the church with a loud voice ... CHAP. XIX.
How Apollonius came to the knowledge of his wife the
ladie Lucina; and how they rejoyced at the meeting
of ech other .................................... .............. CHAP. XX.
How Apollonius departed from Ephesus, and sailed,
himselfe, and his wife, his sonne and daughter, unto
Antiochia, and then to Tyrus, and from thence to Thar-
sus, where he revenged himselfe upon Stranguilio
and Dionisiades ........................................... .. CHAP. XXI.
How Apollonius sayled from Tharsus to visite his
father in law, Altistrates, king of Pentapolis, who died
not long after Apollonius comming thither........ .... CHAP. XXII.
How Apollonius rewarded the fisherman that relieved
him after he had suffered shipwracke; how he dealt
also with old Calamitus, and likewise with the pirates
that stole away Tharsia.................................... Chap. XXIII.
How Apollonius had a yong sonne and heire by his wife
Lucina, likewise of Apollonius age, and how hee
died; with some other accidents thereunto incident Chap. XXIV.
Finis.


THE
PATTERNE OF PAINFULL ADVENTURES.
CHAP. I.
Howe Antiochus committed incest with his owne
daughter, and beheaded such as sued unto her
for marriage, if they coulde not resolve his ques-
tions.
THE most famous and mightie king Antiochus, which
builded the goodly citie of Antiochia in Syria, and called it
after his own name, as the chiefest seat of all his dominions,
and most principal place of his abode, begat upon his wife one
daughter, a most excellent and beautifull yoong ladie; who
in processe of yeeres growing up, as wel in ripenesse of
age, as perfection of beautie, many princes and noblemen
resorted unto her for intreaty of marriage, offering inestimable
riches in jointure. Howbeit the king, her father, evermore
requiring deliberation upon whom rather than other to be-
stow his daughter, perceived eftsoones an unlawfull concu-
piscence to boyle within his breast, which he augmented with
an outragious flame of crueltie sparkling in his heart, so that
he began to burne with the love of his owne childe more
then it was beseeming for a father. Thus being wrapped in
the toyle of blind desire, hee sustained within himselfe a
fierce conflict, wherein madnesse put modestie to flight, and
he wholly yeelded himselfe unto love. Wherefore, not long
after, on a certaine day hee came into his daughters chamber,
P


PERICLES.] PAINFULL ADVENTURES. 185
rejoyceth that he hath played the part of an husband with
his daughter: which false resemblance of hateful marriage
to the intent he might alwaies enjoy, he invented a strange
devise of wickednesse, to drive away all suters that should
resort unto her, by propounding certaine questions, the effect
and law whereof was thus published in writing: Who so
findeth out the solution of my question, shall have my daugh-
ter to wife, but who so faileth shal lose his head.
Now, when fame had blowen abroade the possibilitie to
obtaine this ladie, such was the singular report of her sur-
passing beautie, that many kings and men of great nobility
repaired thither. And if haply any, through skill or learning,.
had found out the solution of the kings question, notwith-
standing hee was beheaded as though hee had answered
nothing to the purpose; and his head was set up at the gate’
to terrifie others that should come, who beholding there the
present image of death, might advise them from assaying
anie such danger. These outrages practised Antiochus, to
the ende he might continue in filthie incest with his
daughter.
CHAP. II.
How Apollonius, arriving at Antiochia, resolved the
Kings question, and how Taliarchus was sent to
slay him.
WHILEST Antiochus thus continued in exercising tyrannie
at Antiochia, a certaine yong gentleman of Tyrus, prince of
the country, abounding in wealth and very well learned, .
called Apollonius, arrived in the coast, and comming unto
the citie of Antiochia, was brought into the kings presence.
And when he had saluted him, the king demanded of him the
P 2


186 THE PATTERNE OF [PERICLEs.
cause of his comming thither. Then saide the yoong prince,
Sir, I require to have your daughter in marriage. The king
hearing that which he was unwilling to heare, looking fiercely
upon him, saide unto him, Doest thou knowe the conditions
of the marriage! Yea, sir king, said Apollonius, and I see
it standing upon the gate. Then the king, being sharply
moved, and disdaining at him, said, Heare then the question
which thou must resolve, or else die: I am carried with mis-
chiefe : I eate my mothers fleshe, I seeke my brother my
mothers husband, and I cannot finde him. Apollonius having
received the question, withdrew himselfe a while out of the
kinges presence, and being desirous to understand what it
meant, he found out the solution thereof in short space
‘through the help of God, and returned againe to the king,
saying; Your grace proposed a question unto me: I pray
you heare the solution thereof. And wheras you said in
your probleme, I am carried with mischiefe, you have not
lied, for looke unto your owne selfe. But whereas you say
further, I eate my mothers flesh, looke upon your daughter.
Now the king, as soone as he perceived that Apollonius
had resolved his problems, fearing lest his wickednesse should
be discovered, he looked upon him with a wrathfull counte-
nance, saying; Thou art farre wide from the solution of my
demand, and hast hit no part of the meaning thereof: where-
fore thou hast deserved to be beheaded. Howbeit, I will
shew thee this courtesie, as to give thee thirtie daies respite
to bethinke thyselfe of this matter. Wherefore returne home
into thine owne countrey, and if thou canst find out the solu-
tion of my probleme, thou shalt have my daughter to wife : if
not, thou shalt be beheaded. Then Apollonius, being much
troubled and molested in mind, accompanying himself with a
sufficient train, tooke shipping, and returned into his owne
countrey. But so soone as he was departed, Antiochus called
unto him his steward, named Thaliarchus, to whom he spake
in maner following.
Thaliarchus, the only faithfull and trustie minister of my


PERICLES.] PAINFULL ADVENTURES. 187
secrets, understand that Apollonius, prince of Tirus, hath
found out the solution of my question. Wherefore, take
shipping and followe him immediately, and if thou canst not
overtake him upon the sea, seeke him out when thou commest
to Tirus, and slay him either with sword or poyson; and when
thou returnest I will bountifully reward thee. Taliarchus
promised to accomplish his commandement with all diligence,
and taking to him his shield, with monie sufficient for the
journey, departed on his way, and shortly after arrived at the
coast of Tirus. But Apollonius was come home unto his .
owne pallace long time before, and withdrawing himselfe into
his studie, perused all his bookes concerning the kings pro-
bleame, finding none other solution than that which he had
alreadie told the king. And thus he said within himselfe:
Surely, unlesse I be much deceived, Antiochus burneth with
disordinate love of his daughter: and discoursing further with
himselfe upon that point, What sayest thou now, or what
intendest thou to doe, Appollonius ! said he to himselfe.
Thou hast resolved his probleme, and yet not received his
daughter, and God hath therefore brought thee away that thou
shouldest not die. Then brake hee off in the midst of these
cogitations, and immediately commanded his ships to be pre-
pared, and to be laden with an hundred thousand bushels of
wheate, and with great plentie of gold, silver, and rich ap-
parell, and taking unto him a few of his most trustiest ser-
vants, about midnight imbarked himself, and hoysing up his
sails, committed himselfe to the wide sea.
The day following his subjects, the citizens, came unto the
pallace to have seene their prince; but when they found him
not there, the whole citie was forthwith surprised with won-
derfull sorrowe, everie man lamenting that so worthy a prince
[was] so sodainly gone out of sight and knowledge, no man
knew whether. Great was the griefe, and wofull was the
wayling which they made, every man lamenting his owne pri-
vate estate and the common-wealths in generall, as it alwaies
hapneth at the death or losse of a good prince; which the in-


188 THE PATTERNE OF [PERICLEs.
... habitants of Tirus tooke then so heavily, in respect of their
great affection, that a long time after no barbers shops were
opened, the common shews and plaies surceased, baines and
hoat houses were shut up, taverns were not frequented, and
no man repaired unto the churches: al thing was full of sor-
row and heavinesse. What shall I say!—there was nothing
but heavinesse.
CHAP. III.
How Taliarchus, not finding Apollonius at Tirus,
departeth joyfully; and Apollonius, arriving at
Tharsus, relieveth the citie with vittell.
IN the middes of this sorrowfull season Taliarchus commeth
to Tirus to execute the cruell commandement of Antiochus;
where, finding al-thing shut up, and a generall shew of mourn-
ing, meeting with a boy in the streete, Tell me, said he, or I
will slay thee, for what cause is al this citie thus drowned in
heavines To whom the child answered: My friend, doest
thou not know the cause, that thou askest it of me? This
citie mourneth because the prince therof, Apollonius, return-
ing back from king Antiochus, can no where be found or
heard of. Now, as soone as Taliarchus heard these tidings,
he returned joyfully unto his ships, and tooke his journey
backe to Antiochia, and, being landed, he hastened unto the
king, and fell downe on his knees before him, saying: All
haile, most mightie prince, rejoice and be glad; for Apollonius,
being in feare of your grace, is departed no man knoweth
whether. Then answered the king: He may well flie away
from mee, but he shall never escape my handes. And im-
mediately he made proclamation, that whosoever could take
that contemner of the king, Apollonius prince of Tirus, and
bring him alive unto the kinges presence, should have an


PERICLES.] PAINFULL ADVENTURES. 189
hundred talents of golde for his labour; and whosoever coulde
bring his head, should have fiftie talentes. Which procla-
mation beeing published, not onely Apollonius ennemies, but
also his friendes, made all haste possible to seeke him out, al-
lured thereto with covetousnesse of the money. Thus was
that poore prince sought for about by sea and by land, through
woodes and wilde deserts, but could not be found. Then the
king commanded a great navie of ships to be prepared to
scoure the seas abroad, if haply they might meet with him;
but for that every thing requireth a time ere it can be done,
in the meane season Apollonius arriveth at Tharsus, where,
walking along by the sea side, he was espied by one of his owne
servauntes, named Elinatus, who landed there not long before,
and overtooke him as he was going; and coming neere unto
him, with dutifull obeisance said unto him: God save you,
prince Apollonius. But he, being saluted, did even so as noble
men and princes use to doe, set light by him. But Elinatus
taking that behaviour unkindly, saluted him againe, saying:
God save you, prince Apollonius; salute me againe, and despise
not povertie beautified with honestie : and if you knewe that
which I know, you would take good heed to your self. Then
answered Apollonius: If you thinke good, I pray you tell me.
Elinatus answered, you are by proclamation commanded to
be slaine. And who, said Apollonius, dares commaund by pro-
clamation the prince of a countrey to be slaine! Antiochus,
said, Elinatus. Antiochus! For what cause ! demanded
Apollonius. For that, said Elinatus, thou wouldst be unto
his daughter which he himselfe is. Then demanded Apollo-
nius, For what summe of mony is my life sold by that pro-
clamation! Elinatus answered, whosoever can bring you alive
unto the king shall have an hundred talents of gold in re-
compence; but whoso bringeth your head shall have fiftie
talents of gold for his labour: and therefore I advise you, my
lord, to flie unto some place for your defence. And when
he had so said, he tooke his leave and departed. But Apol-
lonius called him againe, and said that hee would give him an


PERICLES ] PAINFULL ADVENTURES. 191
we shall all perish by extreme famine: and now certes there
resteth nothing but the fearefull image of gastly death before
our eies. When Apollonius heard these wordes, he said
unto him: Then give thankes into God, who in my flight
hath brought me a land into your costes; for I have brought
great store of provision with me, and I will presently give
unto your citie an hundreth thousand bushels of wheate, if
you will onely conceale my comming hither. At these
wordes Stranguilio being strooken, as it were, into a sodaine
amazednesse, as it happeneth when a man is overjoyed with
some glad tidinges, fell downe prostrate before prince Apol-
lonius feete, and saide : My lord Apollonius, if you coulde,
and also if it might please of your great goodnesse, in such
sort as you say, to succour this afflicted and famished citie,
we wil not onely receive you gladly, and conceale your abode,
but also, if neede so require, willingly spend our lives in your
quarrell. Which promise of mine, to the intent you may
heare to be confirmed by the full consent of all the citizens,
might it please your grace to enter into the citie, and I most
willingly will attend upon you.
Apollonius agreed thereto, and when they came into the
citie, he mounted up into the place of judgment, to the intent
he might the better be heard, and, gathering al the people to-
gither, thus hee spake unto the whole multitude : Ye citizens
of Tharsus, whom penurie of vittell pincheth at this present,
understand ye, that I, Apollonius prince of Tirus, am deter-
mined presently to relieve you: in respect of which benefite,
I trust ye will be so thankfull as to conceale mine arriving
hither. And know ye, moreover, that not as being driven
away through the malice of king Antiochus, but sayling along
by the seas, I am happily fallen into your haven. Wherefore,
I meane to utter unto you an hundred thousand bushels of
wheate, paying no more than I bought it for in mine owne
countrey, that is to say, eight peeces of brasse for everie
bushell. When the citizens heard this, they gave a shout for
joy, crying, God save my Lord Apollonius' promising to live


192 THE PATTERNE OF [PERICLEs.
and die in his quarrell; and they gave him wonderfull thankes,
and the whole citie was replenished with joy, and they went
forthwith unto the ships, and bought the corne. But Apollo-
nius, doubting lest by this deede he should seeme to put off the
dignitie of a prince, and put on the countenance of a merchant
rather than a giver, when he had received the price of the
wheate, he restored it backe againe to the use and commo-
ditie of the same citie. And when the citizens perceived the
great benefites which he had bestowed upon their citie, they
erected in the marked place a monument in the memoriall of
him, his stature, made of brasse, standing in a charret, holding
corne in his right hand, and spurning it with his left foot :
and on the baser foot of the pillar whereon it stoode was
ingraven in great letters this superscription,-Apollonius,
prince of Tirus, gave a gift unto the city of Tharsus, whereby
hee delivered it from a cruell death.
CHAP. IIII.
How Apollonius, departing from Tharsus by the per-
swasion of Stranguilio and Dionisiades his wife,
committed shipwracke, and was relieved by Alti-
strates, king of Pentapolis.
THUS had not Apollonius aboden many daies in the citie
of Tharsus, but Stranguilio, and Dionisiades his wife, ear-
nestly exhorted him, as seeming very carefull and tender of
his welfare, rather to addresse himselfe unto Pentapolis, or
among the Tirenians, as a place most fit for his securitie,
where he might lie, and hide himselfe in greatest assurance
and tranquilitie. Wherefore hereunto he resolved himselfe,
and with convenient expedition prepared al things necessarie
for the journey. And when the day of his departure was
come, he was brought with great honour by the citizens unto
---


PERICLES.] PAINFULL ADVENTURES. 193
his ships, where, with a courteous farewell on ech side given,
the marriners weighed anker, hoysed sailes, and away they
goe, committing themselves to the wind and water.
Thus sailed they forth along in their course three days and
three nights, with prosperous winde and weather, untill so-
dainly the whole face of heaven and sea began to change; for
the skie looked blacke, and the northerne wind arose, and the
tempestincreased more and more, insomuch that prince Apollo-
nius and the Tyrians that were with him were much apalled,
and began to doubt of their lives. But, loe, immediatly the
winde blew fiercely from the south-west, and the north came
singing on the other side; the rain poured down over their
heads, and the sea yeelded forth waves as it had beene
mountanes of water, that the ships could no longer wrestle
with the tempest, and especially the admirall, wherein the
good prince himselfe fared, but needs must they yeeld unto
the present calamitie. There might you have heard the
winds whistling, the raine dashing, the sea roaring, the
cables cracking, the tacklings breaking, the shippe tearing,
the men miserable, shouting out for their lives. There might
you have seene the sea searching the shippe, the bordes
fleeting, the goods swimming, the treasure sincking, the men
shifting to save themselves, where, partly through violence of
the tempest, and partly through darcknes of the night which
then was come upon them, they were all drowned, onely
Apollonius excepted, who by the grace of God, and the helpe
of a simple boord, was driven upon the shoare of the Penta-
politanes.
And when he had recovered to land, wearie as he was,
he stoode upon the shoare, and looked upon the calme
sea, saying: O most false and untrustie sea! I will choose .
rather to fall into the handes of the most cruell king Anti-
ochus, than venture to returne againe by thee into mine
owne countrey: thou hast shewed thy spite upon me, and
devoured my trustie friendes and companions, by meanes
whereof I am nowe left alone, and it is the providence of


PERICLES.] PAINFULL ADVENTURES. 195
And when hee had saide so, he departed on the way which
was taught him, and came unto the citie gates, whereinto
he entred. And while he was thinking with himselfe which
waie to seeke succor to sustaine his life, he saw a boy run-
ning naked through the streete, girded only with a tuell
about his middle, and his head annointed with oyle, crying
aloude and saying: Hearken all, as well citizens as stran-
gers and servants, hearken: whosoever will be washed, let
him come to the place of exercise.
When Apollonius heard this, he followed the boy, and
comming unto the place cast off his cloake, and stripped him-
selfe, and entred into the baine, and bathed himselfe with
the liquour. And looking about for some companion with
whome he might exercise himselfe, according unto the manner
of the place and countrey, and finding none, sodainelie un-
looked for entred in Altistrates, king of the whole land, ac-
companied with a great troupe of servitours. Anone he .
beganne to exercise himselfe at tennis with his men, which .
when Apollonius espied, he intruded himselfe amongst them
into the kings presence, and stroke back the ball to the king,
and served him in play with great swiftnes. But when the
king perceived the great nimblenesse and cunning which was
in him, surpassing the residue, Stand aside (quoth he unto
his men) for me thinkes this yong man is more cunning than
I. When Apollonius heard himselfe commended, hee stept
foorth boldly into the middes of the tennis court, and, taking
up a racket in his hand, he tossed the ball skilfully, and with
wonderful agilitie. After play, he also washed the king very
reverently in the baine, and when all was done, hee tooke
his leave duetifully, and so departed.
When Apollonius was gone, the king said unto them that
were about him, I sweare unto you of truth, as I am a prince,
I was never exercised nor washed better then this day, and
that by the diligence of a yong man I know not what he
is. And, turning back, Go, said he unto one of his servants,
and know what that yong man is that hath with such duty


196 THE PATTERNE OF [PERICLEs.
and diligence taken pains with me. The servant going after
Apollonius, and seeing him clad in a filthy fishers cloke, re-
turned againe to the king, saying, If it like your grace, the
'yongman is a sea-wracked man. How knowest thou that!
said the king. The servant answered: Though he told me
not so himselfe, yet his apparel bewraieth his state. Then
said the king to his servant: Go apace after him, & say unto
him, that the king desireth him to sup with him this night.
Then the servant made haste after Apollonius, & did the kings
message to him, which so soone as he heard, he granted
thereto, much thanking the kings majestie, & came back
with the servant.
When they were come to the gate, the servant went in
first unto the king, saying: The sea-wracked man, for whom
your grace sent me, is come, but is ashamed to come into
your presence, by reason of his base aray: whome the king
commanded immediatly to be clothed in seemely apparell,
and to be brought in to supper, and placed him at the table
with him, right over against himselfe. Immediately the
boorde was furnished with all kinde of princelie fare, the
guests fed apace, every man on that which he liked; onelie
Apollonius sate still and eate nothing, but earnestlie behold-
ing the golde, silver, and other kingly furniture, whereof
there was great plentie, hee could not refraine from sheading
teares. Then saide one of the guests that sate at the table
unto the king : This yoong man, I suppose, envieth at your
graces prosperitie. No, not so, answered the king : you sup-
pose amisse; but he is sorie to remember that he hath lost
more wealth then this is: and looking upon Apollonius with
a smiling countenance, Be mery, yong man, quoth he, and
eate thy meate with us, and trust in God, who doubtlesse
will send thee better fortune.


PERICLES.] TAINFULL ADVENTURES. 197
CHAP. W.
How Lucina, King Altistrates daughter, desirous to
heare Apollonius adventures, fel in love with him.
Now, while they sate at meate, discoursing of this and such
like matters at the boord, suddenlie came in the king's daugh-
ter and onlie child, named Lucina, a singular beautifull ladie,
and a maiden now of ripe yeeres for marriage: and she ap-
proached nigh, and kissed the king her father, and al the
guests that sate with him at the table. And when she had
so done, she returned unto her father, and saide : Good father,
I pray you, what yongman is this which sitteth in so honour-
able a place over against you, so sorrowfull and heavie ' O,
sweete daughter, answered the king, this yong man is a sea-
wracked man, and hath done me great honour to day at the
baines and place of exercise, for which cause I sent for him
to sup with me; but I knowe not neither what, neither whence
he is. If you be desirous to know these things, demaund of
him, for you may understand all things; and peradventure
when you shall knowe, you will be mooved with compassion
towardes him. Nowe, when the lady perceived hir fathers
mind, she turned about unto Apollonius, and saide, Gentleman,
whose grace and comlinesse sufficiently bewraieth the nobi-
litie of your birth, if it be not grievous unto you, shew me
your name, I beseech you, and your adventures. Then an-
swered Apollonius: Madam, if you aske my name, I have
lost it in the sea: if you enquire of my nobilitie, I have
left that at Tyrus. Sir, I beseech you, then said the lady
Lucina, tel me this more plainly, that I may understand.
Then Apolonius, craving licence to speake, declared his name,
his birth and nobilitie, and unripped the whole tragedie of his
adventures, in order as is before rehearsed; and when he had
made an end of speaking, he burst forth into most plentifull
teares. Which when the king beheld, he saide unto Lucina:


198 THE PATTERNE OF [PERICLEs.
Deere daughter, you have done evill in requiring to know the
yong mans name, and his adventures, wherein you have renued
his forepassed griefes. But since nowe you have understoode
all the trueth of him, it is meete, as it becommeth the daughter
of a king, you likewise extend your liberalitie towards him,
and whatsoever you give him, I will see it be perfourmed.
Then Lucina, having already in hir heart professed to doe him
good, and nowe perceiving very luckily her fathers mind to be
inclined to the desired purpose, she cast a friendly looke upon
him, saying: Apollonius, nowe lay sorrowe aside, for my
father is determined to inrich you: and Apollonius, according
to the curtesie that was in him, with sighes and sobbes at
remembrance of that whereof he had so lately spoken, yeeld-
ed great thankes unto the faire ladie Lucina.
Then saide the king unto his daughter: Madame, I pray
you take your harpe into your handes, and play us some
musike to refresh our guests withall, for we have all too long
hearkened unto sorrowful matters. And when she had called
for her harpe, she beganne to play so sweetely, that all that
were in companie highly commended her, saying that in all
their lives they never heard pleasanter harmonie. Thus
whilst the guests, every man for his part, commended the
ladies cunning, onely Apollonius spake nothing. Then saide
the king unto him : You are too blame, Apollonius, since all
praise my daughter for her excellencie in musike, and you
commend not her, or rather dispraise her by holding your
peace. Apollonius answered: My soveraigne and good lord,
might it please you to pardon me, and I will say what I think:
The lady Lucina your daughter is pretily entred; but she is
not yet come to perfection in musike. For proofe whereof,
if it please your grace to command the harp to be delivered
unto me, she shall well perceive, that she shal heare that
which she doth not yet know. The king answered: I see well,
Apollonius, you have skill in all things, and is nothing to be
wished in a gentleman, but you have perfectly learned it:
wherefore, hold; I pray you take the harpe, and let us heare


200 THE PATTERNE OF [PERICLEs.
lover, before she had ever reaped anie fruit of his companie,
and therefore, turning to her father, said: I beseech you, good
father and gratious king, forasmuch as it has pleased you this
day to inrich Apolonius with many great gifts, you would
not suffer him now to depart so late, lest he be by some
naughtie persons spoiled of the things which you have given
him. The king willingly granted the ladies request, and com-
manded forthwith that there should be a faire lodging pre-
pared for him and his, where he might lie honourably; and
when he sawe convenient time he went to bed, and tooke his
rest.
C H A P. V. I.
How Apollonius is made Schoolemaster to Lucina,
and how she preferreth the love of him above all
the nobilitie of Pentapolis.
WHEN night was come, and every one was at rest, Lucina
laie unquietly tumbling in her bed, alwaies thinking upon
Apollonius, and could not sleep; wherefore in the morn-
ing she rose very early, and came into the king her fathers
chamber; whom when her father saw, What is the matter,
daughter Lucina (quoth he) that contrary to custome you be
stirring so earelie this morning ! Deere father, quoth Lucina,
I could take no rest al this night, for the desire I have to
learn musicke of Apollonius; and therefore I pray you, good
father, to put me unto him to be instructed in the art of
musicke, and other good qualities wherein hee is skilfull.
When Altistrates heard his daughters talke, he smiled
within himselfe, when hee perceived the warmed affection
kindled within her breast, which with so seemely a pretence
she had covered, as the desire to learne, and determined in
part presently to satisfie her request: and when time served,


PERICLES.] PA INFULL ADVENTURES. 201
he sent a messenger for Apollonius, and when he was come,
he said unto him : Apollonius, my daughter much desireth
to be your scholler, and therefore I pray you take her to
your governement, and instruct her the best you can, and
I will reward you to your contentation. Apollonius answered,
Gracious prince, I am moste willing to obey your commaunde-
ment. So hee tooke the ladie, and instructed her in the
best maner he coulde, even as himselfe had learned ; wherein
she profited so well, that in short time she matched, or rather
surpassed her maister.
Thus increased shee not onely in learning, but grew also
daily in more fervent love of Apollonius, as, whether stand-
ing in doubt of her fathers resolute good wil if he were
moved concerning marriage, or fearing the time woulde be
deferred in respect whereof she was presently ready, in so
much that she fell sicke and became weaker everie day than
other. When the king perceived his daughters infirmitie to
increase, hee sent immediatlie throughout all the dominions
for the learnedst phisitions to search out her griefe and to
cure it, who examining her urine, and feeling her pulse,
coulde finde out no manifest cause or substance of her dis-
ease. After a few dayes that this happened, three noble
yong men of the same countrey, which had been suters a
long time unto Lucina for marriage, came unto the court,
and being brought into the kinges presence saluted him duti-
fully. To whom the king said, Gentlemen, what is the cause
of your comming! They answered, Your Grace hath often-
times promised to bestow your daughter in marriage upon
one of us, and this is the cause of our comming at this time.
Wee are your subjectes, wealthie, and descended of noble
families; might it therefore please your Grace to choose one
among us three, to be your sonne in law. Then answered
the king: You are come unto me at an unseasonable time, for
my daughter now applieth her studie, and lieth sicke for the
desire of learning, and the time is much unmeet for marriage.
But to the intent you shall not altogither loose your labour,
Q 2


202 THE PATTERNE OF [PERiCLEs.
nor that I will not seeme to deferre you too long, write your
names every one severally in a peece of paper, and what
joynter you will make, and I will send the writinges to my
daughter, that she may choose him whom she best liketh of.
They did forthwith as the king had counselled them, and
delivered the writings unto the king, which he read, and
signed them, and delivered them unto Apollonius, saying:
Take here these billes, and deliver them to your scholler;
which Apollonius received, and tooke them immediatly into
the ladie Lucina. Now when she sawe her schoolemaister,
whom she loved so entirely, she saide unto him: Maister,
what is the cause that you come alone into my chamber 1
Apollonius answered: Madame, I have brought writings from
the king your father, which he willeth you to reade. Lucina
then received the writinges, and brake them open, and when
she had reade the names of the three noblemen, her suters,
shee threw away the billes, and looking upon Apollonius,
said unto him: My welbeloved schoolemaister Apollonius,
doth it not greeve you that I shall be married unto another
Apollonius answered, No Madame, it greeveth not me, for
whatsoever shall be for your honour, shall be unto me profit-
able. Then said Lucina, Maister, if you loved me you woulde
be sorie; and therewithall she called for inke and paper,
and wrote an answere unto her father in forme following.
Gracious king and deare father, forasmuch as of your
goodnesse you have given me free choice, and libertie to
write my minde, these are to let you understand, that I
would marry with the sea-wrecked man, and with none
other: your humble daughter, Lucina.
And when she had sealed it, she delivered it unto Apol-
lonius, to be carried unto the king. When the king had
received the letters, he perused them, wherein he perceived
his daughters minde, not knowing whom she meant by the
sea-wrecked man; and therefore, turning himselfe towardes
the three noblemen, hee demanded of them which of them
had suffered shipwracke! Then one of them, named Ardo-


PERICLES.] PAINFULL ADVENTURES. 203
nius, answered, If it like your Grace, I have suffred ship-
wrack The other twaine, named Munditius and Carnillus,
when they heard him say so, waxed wroth, and fel into
termes of outrage against him, saying: Sicknesse, and the
fiends of hell consume thee, for thy foule and impudent lie.
Do not we, who are thy equals both of birth and age, know
right well that thou never wentest almost out of this citie
gates, and how couldest thou then suffer shipwracke? Now
when the king Altistrates could not finde out which of them
had suffered shipwrack, he looked towards Apollonius, say-
ing: Take these letters and read them, for it may be that
I doe not knowe him whom thou knowest, who was present.
Apollonius receiving the letters, perused them quickly, and
perceiving himselfe to be loved, blushed wonderfully. Then
said the king to Apollonius, Hast thou found the sea-wrecked
man? But Apollonius answered little or nothing, wherein
his wisedome the rather appeared according to the saying
of the wise man, in many words there wanteth discretion;
whereas contrariwise, many an indiscreet person might be
accounted wise if hee had but this one point of wisdom, to
hold his tongue. Wherin indeed consisteth the whole triall,
or rather insight of a man, as signified the most wise philo-
sopher Socrates.
CHAP. VII.
How Apollonius was married to the ladie Lucina,
and hearing of king Antiochus death, departeth
with his wife towards his owne countrey of Tyrus.
BUT to returne againe to my storie, from which I have
digressed. When king Altistrates perceived that Apollonius
was the man whom his daughter Lucina disposed in her
heart to preferre in love, before anie of the other three noble


204 THE PATTERNE OF [PERICLEs.
men, hee found meanes to put them off for that present, say-
ing that hee would talke farther concerning that matter
another time: who taking their leave, immediately departed,
but the king withdrew himself into the chamber where his
daughter lay sicke, and sayd unto her: Whom have you
chosen to be your husband To whom Lucina humbling
her selfe, and with trickling teares, answered: Gratious Prince
and deare father, I have chosen in my heart the seawrecked
man, my schoolemaister Apollonius, for whom I most due-
tifully desire your fatherly good wil. When the king saw
her teares, his heart bled inwardly with compassion toward
his childe whom hee loved tenderly, and he kissed her, and
saide unto her: My sweete Lucina be of good cheere, and
take not thought for anie thing, and assure thy selfe thou
hast chosen the man that I liked of assoone as I first sawe
him; whom I love no lesse than thee, that is to say, than
if hee were my naturall childe: and therefore, since the
matter is nowe thus fallen out, I meane forthwith to appoint
a day for your marriage, after that I have broken the matter
unto Apollonius. And when he had said that, Lucina with
blushing cheekes thanked her father much, and he departed.
Nowe would I demand of lovers, whether Lucina rejoyced
or not or whether there were anie better tidings in the
worlde coulde chance to a man or woman I am sure they
would answer, no. For such is the nature of this affection,
that it preferreth the beloved person above all earthly thinges,
yea and heavenly too, unlesse it be brideled with reason:
as the same likewise though moderately, and within the
boundes of modest womanhood, working the woonted effect
in the ladie Lucina, revived her so presently, that shee for-
sooke her bed, and cast away her mourning apparrell, and
appeared as it had been a newe woman restored from death
to life, and that almost in a moment. The king, being alone
in the parlour, called for Apollonius, and when he was come,
he said thus unto him : Apollonius, the vertue which I have
seene in thee, I have testified by my liberalitie towards thee,
and thy trustinesse is proved by committing mine onelie


PERICLES.] PAINFULL ADVENTURES. 205
childe and daughter to thine instruction. As these have
caused mee to preferre thee, so have they made my daughter
to love thee, so that I am as well contented with one, as I am
well pleased with the other. And for thy part likewise, I
hope, Apollonius, that as thou hast been glad to be my
client, thou wilt rejoyce as much to be my sonne in law.
Tell me thy minde out of hand, for I attend thine answere.
Then Apollonius, much abashed at the kinges talke, falling
downe upon his knees, answered: Most gratious soveraigne,
your wordes sound so strangely in mine eares, that I scarcely
know how to give answer, and your goodnesse hath been so
great towardes me, that I can wish for no more. But since
it is your Graces pleasure that I should not be indebted to
many, but owe all thing unto you, as life, and wife, honour,
and goods, and all, you shall not find me unthankful, how-
soever God or fickle fortune deale with me, to remaine loyall
and constant to you and your daughter, whom above all
creatures, both for birth and beauty and good qualities, I love
and honour most intirely. Altistrates rejoiced much to heare
so wise and conformable an answere, and embracing Apol-
lonius, called him by the name of deare beloved sonne. The
next day morning the king addressed his messengers and
pursevants, to assemble the nobliest of his subjects and frends
out of the confederat cities and countries, and to shew them
that he had certaine affaires to communicat unto them : and
when they were come altogither unto Pentapolis, after due
greeting, and accustomable intertainments shewed as in the
maner of great estates, he said thus unto them : My loving
friends, and faithfull subjects, my meaning was to let you
understand, that my daughter is desirous to marrie with her
schoolemaster Apollonius, and I am wel pleased therwith.
Wherfore, I beseech you all to rejoyce thereat, and be glad,
for my daughter shal be matched to a wise man. And know
you, moreover, that I appoint this day six weekes for the
solemnization day of the marriage, at what time I desire you
all to be here present, that like friends we may rejoyce, and


206 THE PATTERNE OF [PERICLEs.
make merry togither: and when he had all said, he dismissed
the assembly.
Now as the time wore away, so the wedding day drue
neere, and there was great preparation made as well for the
feast, as for jewels, and rich clothes to furnish the bride-
groome and bride withall, as althing els that appertaine
to the beautifying of so great a wedding. And when the
day was come, the king, apparreled in his princely robes,
with a diadem of great price upon his head, accompanied
his daughter Lucina and Apollonius "unto the church,
whom thousands of lordes and ladies followed after, all
cloathed in rich attire, and marshalled in comely order. The
bride woare on a gowne of cloth of gold, cut and drawen
out with cloth of silver, and a kirtle of crimsin velvet im-
brodered with pure golde, and thickly beset with orientall
pearles. Her haire hung downe in tresses fairely broided
with a lace of gold, and a coronet upon her head, set with
pretious stones of inestimable value. Her necke was bare,
whereby her naked skinne appeared whiter than the driven
snowe, curiously bedecked with chaines of golde, and every
other lincke enameled with black amell. Great baudrickes
of perfect goldsmithes worke uppon eche arme, to fasten the
sleeves of her garment from sliding up at the wreast. Lastly,
a massie collar of fine golde, made esse wise, uppon her
shoulders, hanging down behinde and before, with a diamond
reaching downe unto her middle, esteemed in value at three-
score thousand pound, which the king her father had sent
unto her for a present that morning, while she was apparrell-
ing. The bridegrome wore on a dublet and hosen of costly
cloth of silver, garded with goldsmithes worke of the same
colour, and a gowne of purple satten, embroidred with golde,
and beset with rich stones. His cap was of fine blacke vel-
vet, all over bespangled with rubies, set in gold and fastned
on by loopes: the hand of massie golde, beset with courses of
stones in order, first a rubie, then a turkeis, then a diamond,
and so beginning againe with a rubie. This was their rai-


210 THE PATTERNE OF [PERICLEs.
for her, bewailing the death of so noble and beautifull a ladie,
and so curteous a gentlewoman. Howbeit, in the hotest of
the sorrowe the governour of the ship came unto Apollonius,
saying, My lord, plucke up your heart, and be of good
cheere, and consider, I pray you, that the ship may not abide
to carrie the dead carkas, and therefore command it to be
cast into the sea, that we may the better escape. Then
answered Apollonius: What saiest thou, varlet? wouldest
thou have me cast this bodie into the sea, which received me
into house and favour, when I was in miserie, and drenched
in the water, wherein I lost ship, goods, and all ! But
taking further consultation, and advising himselfe what
were best to do, he called certaine of his men unto him, and
thus he devised with them. My trusty servants, whome
this common mischance grieveth as wel as me, since sorow-
ing wil not help that which is chanced, assist me, good sirs, to
provide for the present necessity. Let us make forthwith
a large chest, and bore the lid full of small holes, and we
will seare it all over within with pitch and rosen molten
together, whereinto we will put cunningly a sheete of lead,
and in the same we will inclose the tender corps of the wife
of me, of all other a most unfortunate husband.
This was no sooner said, but it was almost likewise done
with semblable celeritie. Then tooke they the body of the
faire lady Lucina, and arraied her in princely apparel, and
layd her into the chest, and Apollonius placed a great summe
of golde at her head, and a great treasure of silver at her feet,
and he kissed her, letting fall a flood of salt teares on her face,
and he wrote a bill, and put it in also, the tenor whereof was
in forme as foloweth:—Whosoever shal find this chest, I pray
him to take ten pieces of gold for his paines, and to bestowe
tenne pieces more upon the buriall of the corpes; for it hath
left many teares to the parents and friends, with dolefull heaps
of sorow and heavines. But whosoever shall doe otherwise
than the present griefe requireth, let him die a shamefull
death, and let there be none to bury his body.—And then


PERICLES.] PAINFULL ADVENTURES. 211
closing all up verie safe, commaunded the chest to be lifted
overboorde into the sea, and willed the childe to be nursed with
all diligence, that if ever fortune should so fall, he might pre-
sent unto good king Altistrates a neece in steede of a daughter.
Now fleeted away the ship fast with the wind, and the coffin
tumbled backeward with the tide, and Apollonius could not
keep his eie from the bodie whereon his heart rested, untill
kenning failed, and the sea rose up with a banke between.
There were two days passed, and the night was now at hand,
when the next day morning the waves rolled foorth this chest
to the land, and cast it ashore on the coast of Ephesus. Not
farre from that place there dwelt a physition, whose name was
Cerimon, who by chaunce walking abroad upon the shore that
day with his schollers, found the chest which the sea had cast
up, and willed his servants to take it up, and diligently to
cary it to the next towne, where hee dwelt; and they did so.
When Cerimon came home he opened the chest, marveling
what should be therein, and found a lady arayed in princely
apparell and ornaments, very faire and beautifull to beholde,
whose excellencie in that respect as many as beheld were
strangely affectioned thereat, perceiving such an incomparable
gleame of beautie to be resident in her face, wherein nature
had not committed the least errour that might be devised,
saving that shee made her not immortall. The haire of her
head was naturally as white as snowe, under which appear-
ed her goodly forehead, faire and large, wherein was neither
blemish nor wrinkle. Her eies were like two starres turning
about in their naturall course, not wantonly roving here and
there, but modestly mooving as governed by reason, repre-
senting the stabilitie of a setled mind. Her eie brows decently
commending the residue of her countenance. Her nose
straight, as in were drawen with a line, comely dividing her
cherry cheeks asunder, not reaching foorth too long, nor cut
off too short, but of a commendable proportion. Hir necke was
like the white alablaster, shining like the bright sunne beames,
wonderfully delighting the mindes of the beholders. Her


212 THE PATTERNE OF [PERICLEs.
bodie of comely stature, neither too high nor too lowe, not
scregged with leanenesse, nor undecently corpulent, but in
such equality consisting that no man woulde wish it otherwise.
From her shoulders sprang foorth her armes, representing two
branches growing out of a tree, beautified with a white hand,
and fingers long and slender, surpassing to behold. To be
short, such was the excellencie of her beutie in each respect,
that it could suffer no deformitie to accompany it, whereby
also may be discerned a singular perfection of her minde,
created by God and infused into her bodie, whereby it was
mooved, and those good qualities of hers expressed in opera-
tion; so that all outward beautie of the bodie proceedeth from
the inward beuty of the mind, from whence sprang up the
olde and true saying of the wisest philosophers, that the sun-
dry nature of the forme or soule, diversely disposeth the
matter according unto its owne qualitie; as it expresly ap-
peared in the beutiful countenaunce and stature of this ladies
bodie, whereof Cerimon stoode amazedly taking the view.
CHAP. IX.
How Lucina was restored to life by one of Cerimon
the phisitions schollers; and howe Cerimon adopted
her to his daughter, and placed her in the temple
of Diana.
THE surpassing beauty of faire Lucina being such as is
before recited, no woonder it was though Cerimon were mar-
vellously ravished at the sight, whereby his affection in-
forced him to breake out into these words. Alas, good, beau-
tiful gentlewoman, what unhappy and cruell chance hath thus
made thee away, and caused thee to be so wofully forsaken'
And as he spake those wordes, hee perceived the golde that


PERICLES.] PAINFULL ADVENTURES. 213
lay at her head, and the silver that lay at her feet, with a
scroll of paper written, the which hee tooke up and read, the
tenor whereof was this:—Whosoever shal finde this chest, I
pray him for to take tenne pieces of golde for his paines, and
to bestowe tenne peeces more on the buriall of the corps; for
it hath left many teares to the parents and friends, with dole-
full heapes of sorrowe and heavinesse. But whosoever shall
doe otherwise than the present griefe requireth, let him die a
shamefull death, and let there be none to burie his bodie.—
And as soone as he had read over the writing, he said unto
his servants, Now let us perfourme unto the bodie that which
the sorrowe requireth; and I sweare to you, by the hope
which I have to live, that I wil bestow more money upon the
accomplishing of the same, than the sorrowful scedul requireth.
Wherfore, according to the maner of the buriall which was
at that time to burn to bodies of the dead, and to burie the
ashes, gathered up and put into pottes, he commaunded a pile
of wood to be erected, and upon the top thereof he caused the
body to be layed.
Now, Cerimon had a scholler in physicke, whose name was .
Machaon, very towardly in his profession, of yeres but yong, .
but antient in wit and experience, who, comming in while
these things were doing, and beholding so beautifull a corps
layd upon the pile, he stoode still and wondered at it: which
thing Cerimon perceiving, Thou art come in good time, said he
to Machaon, and I looked for thee about this time: take this
flagon of pretious ointment, and powre it uppon the corps,
being the last ceremonie of the sepulture. Then came
Machaon unto the corps, and pulled the clothes from the ladies
bosome, and poured foorth the ointment, and bestowing it
abroad with his hand, perceived some warmth in her breast,
and that there was life in the body. Machaon stoode aston-
ished, and hee felt her pulses, and layde his cheeke to her
mouth, and examined all other tokens that he could devise,
and he perceived how death strived with life within her, and
that the conflict was dangerous and doubtfull, who should


214 THE PATTERNE OF [PERICLEs.
prevaile. Then saide he unto the servants: Set fire unto
the wood at the foure corners of the pile, and cause it to burne
moderatly, and bring me hither a bed, that I may take the
body out of the chest, and lay it thereon.
This being done, he chafed the body against the fire, untill
the blood, which was congealed with colde, was wholly re-
solved. Then went Machaon unto his master Cerimon and
saide: The woman whome thou thinkest to be dead is alive,
and that you may the better beleeve my saying, I will
plainely proove it to be so. And when he had so saide, he
tooke the body reverently in his armes, and bare it into his
owne chamber, and layed it upon his bed groveling upon the
breast. Then tooke he certaine hote and comfortable oyles,
and warming them uppon the coales, he dipped faire wooll
therein, and fomented all the bodie over therewith, until such
time as the congealed blood and humours were throughly
resolved, and the spirits eſtsoones recovered their wonted
course, the veines waxed warme, the arteries beganne to beate,
and the lungs drew in the fresh ayre againe, and she opened
her eies and looked about, and being perfectly come to her—
selfe, What art thou! said shee unto Machaon: see thou touch
me not otherwise than thou oughtest to do, for I am a kings
daughter, and the wife of a king. When Machaon heard her
speak these words, he was exceeding glad, and he ran unto
his master and saide: Sir, the woman liveth, and speaketh
perfectly. Then answered Cerimon: My welbeloved scholler
Machaon, I am glad of this fortunate chaunce, and I much
commend thy wisedome, and praise thy learning, and cannot
but extoll thy diligence. Wherefore be not unthankfull to
thy knowledge, but receive heere the reward which is due
unto thee, namely, that which by the writing was appointed
to be bestowed uppon her buriall; for thou hast restored her
unto life, and shee hath brought with her great summes of
mony. When he had so saide, they came unto her and
saluted her, and caused her to be apparelled with wholsome
and comfortable clothes, and to be refreshed with good meats.


PERICLES.] PAINFULL ADVENTURES. 215
A few daies after, when she had fully recovered strength,
and Cerimon by communication knew that she came of the
stocke of a king, he sent for many of his friends to come unto
him, and he adopted her for his owne daughter: and she, with
many teares, requiring that she might not be touched by any
man, for that intent he placed her in the Temple of Diana,
which was there at Ephesus, to be preserved there inviolably
among the religious women.
CHAP. X.
How Apollonius, arriving at Tharsus, delivereth his
yong daughter Tharsia unto Stranguilio and Dio-
nisiades to be brought up; and how the Nurce, ,
lying in her death-bed, declareth unto Tharsia
who were her parents.
LET us leave now a while the lady Lucina among the
holy nunnes in the Temple of Diana, at Ephesus, and let us
looke backe unto sorrowful Apollonius, whose ship with for-
tunate winde, and the good providence of God directing the
same, arrived at the shoare of Tharsus, where hee immedi-
ately came forth of the ship, and entred into the house of
Stranguilio and Dionisiades, whom he saluted, and told them
the heavy chances that had befallen him, both of the great
stormes and tempests on the sea which hee had endured, as
also of the death of the good lady Lucina, his wife : Howbeit,
said he, God be thanked, my daughter remaineth alive, for
the which I am very glad; wherfore, deare friends Stran-
guilio and Dionisiades, according to the trust which I have in
you, I mean in some things to use your friendship, while I go
about to recover the kingdome which is reserved for me. For
I will not returne backe againe unto king Altistrates, my
R


PERICLES.] PAINFULL ADVENTURES. 217
mayst know how to guide thy selfe after my death. Apollo-
nius, the prince of Tyrus, is thy father, and Lucina, king
Altistrates daughter, was thy mother; who, being in travell
with thee, died after thou wast borne, and thy father, Apollo-
nius, inclosed her bodie in a chest, with princely ornaments,
laying twenty talents of gold at her head, and as much at her
feete in silver, with a scedule written, and threw the chest
overboord into the sea, that whether soever it were driven, it
might suffice to burie her, according to her estate. Thus
wast thou born upon the sea; and thy fathers ship, with much
wrestling of contrarie windes, and with his unspeakeable
griefe of minde, arrived at this shoare, and brought thee in
thy swading clothes unto this citie, where hee with great care
delivered thee unto this thine hoste Stranguilio, and Dioni-
siades his wife, to be fostered up diligently, and left me heere
also to attend upon thee. Moreover, he sware an othe, that
he woulde not poule his head, clip his beard, nor pare his
nayles, untill he had married thee unto some man at ripe
yeares. Wherefore, now, I admonishe thee, that if after my .
death thine hoste or thine hostesse, whom thou callest thy .
parents, shall haply offer thee any injurie, then runne thou
into the market place, where thou shalt finde the stature of .
thy father standing; and take hold of it, and cry aloud, saying,
O citizens of Tharsus, I am his daughter whose image this
is: and the citizens being mindfull of thy fathers benefites,
will doubtlesse revenge thine injurie. Then answered
Tharsia: Deare nurce, Ligozides, I take God to witnesse, if
you had not told me thus much, I should utterly have been
ignorant from whence I had come. And therefore now, good
nurce, I thank thee with all my heart, and if ever need so
require, thy counsel shall be followed.
And while they were debating these matters betweene
them, Ligozides, being verie sicke and weake, gave up the
ghost, and, by the death of this present bodie, passed into
the state of life everlasting.
R 2


218 THE PATTERNE OF [PERICLEs.
CHAP. XI.
How, after the death of Ligozides, the murce, Dioni-
siades, envying at the beautie of Tharsia, conspired
her death, which should have been accomplished
by a villaine of the countrey.
THARSIA much lamented the death of Ligozides, her murce,
and caused her bodie to be solemnly buried not farre of in a
field without the walles of the citie, and mourned for her an
whole yeere following. But when the yeare was expired,
she put off her mourning atire, and put on other apparel, and
frequented the schooles and the studie of liberall sciences, as
before. And whensoever she returned from schoole, she
would receive no meate before she had visited her nurces
sepulchre, which she did daily, entring thereinto, and carrying
a flagon of wine with her, where she used to abide a space,
and to call uppon her father and mother. Now, on a day it
fortuned, that as she passed through the street with Dioni-
siades, and her companion Philomacia, the people, beholding
the beautie and comlinesse of Tharsia, said, Happy is that
father that hath Tharsia to his daughter, but her companion
that goeth with her is foule and evill favoured. When Dio-
nisiades heard Tharsia commended, and her owne daughter
Philomacia so dispraised, shee returned home wonderfull
wroth, and, withdrawing herselfe into a solitary place, began
thus secretly to discourse of the matter. It is now fourteen
yeares since Apollonius, this foolish girles father, departed
from hence, and he never sendeth letters for her, nor any re-
membrance unto her, whereby I conjecture that he is dead.
Ligozides, her nurce, is departed, and there is no bodie now of
whom I should stand in feare, and therefore I will now slay
her, and dresse up mine owne daughter in her apparell and
jewels. When shee had thus resolved her selfe uppon this
wicked purpose, in the meane while there came home one of


RICLEs.] PAINFULL ADVENTURES. 219
their countrey villaines, called Theophilus, whom shee called,
and said thus unto him: Theophilus, my trustie friend, if
ever thou looke for libertie, or that I shoulde doe thee pleasure,
doe so much for me as to slay Tharsia. Then said Theo-
philus: Alas! mistresse, wherein hath that innocent maiden
offended, that she should be slaine? Dionisiades answered,
Shee innocent! nay she is a wicked wretch, and therefore thou
shalt not denie to fulfill my request, but doe as I commaund
thee, or els I sweare by God thou shalt dearely repent it.
But how shall I best doe it, mistres! said the villaine. Shee
aunswered: Shee hath a custome, as soone as shee returneth
home from schoole, not to eate meat before that she have gone
into her nurces sepulchre, where I would have thee stand
readie, with a dagger drawn in thine hand; and when she is
come in, gripe her by the haire of the head, and so slay her:
then take her bodie, and cast it into the sea, and when thou
hast so done, I will make thee free, and besides reward thee
liberally.
Then tooke the villaine a dagger, and girded himselfe
therewith, and with an heavy heart and weeping eies went
forth towards the grave, saying within himselfe: Alas, poore.
wretch that I am! alas, poore Theophilus, that canst not de-
serve thy libertie but by shedding of innocent bloud! And
with that hee went into the grave, and drue his dagger, and
made him readie for the deede. Tharsia was nowe come
from schoole, and made haste unto the grave with a flagon of
wine, as shee was wont to doe, and entred within the vault.
Then the villaine rushed violently upon her, and caught her
by the haire of the head, and threw her to the ground. And
while he was now readie to stab her with the dagger, poore
silly Tharsia, all amazed, casting up her eies upon him, knew
the villaine, and, holding up her handes, said thus unto him :
O, Theophilus! against whom have I so greevously offended,
that I must die therefore ? The villaine answered, Thou hast
not offended, but thy father hath, which left thee behind him
in Stranguilios house, with so great a treasure in money and


222 THE PATTERNE OF [PERICLEs.
CHAP. XIII.
How the Pirats which stole away Tharsia brought
her to the citie Machilenta, and solde her to a com-
mon bawd; and how she preserved her virginitie.
THE meane time, while these troubles were at Tharsus, the
pirats being in their course upon the sea by benefite of happie
winde arrived at Machilenta, and came into the citie. Nowe,
had they taken manie mo men and women besides Tharsia,
whom all they brought a shoare, and set them to sell as slaves
for money. Then came there sundrie to buy such as they
lacked for their purposes, amongst whom a moste vile man-
bawd, beholding the beautie and tender yeeres of Tharsia,
offered money largely for her. Howbeit, Athanagoras, who
was prince of the same citie, beholding likewise the noble
countenance, and regarding the great discretion of the may-
den in communication, out-bid the bawd, and offered for her
ten sestercies of gold. But the bawd, being loth to loose so
commodious a prey, offered twenty. And I wil give thirty,
said Athanagoras. Nay, I wil give forty, said the bawd; and
I fiftie, quoth Athanagoras: and so they continued in outbid-
ding one an other untill the bawd offered an hundred sester-
cies of gold to be payed ready downe: and whosoever wil
give more, saide he, I will yet give ten sestercies more than
he. Then prince Athanagoras thus bethought him secretly in
his minde: if I should contend with the bawd to buy her at
so hie a price, I must needes sell other slaves to pay for her,
which were both losse and shame unto me. Wherefore I will
suffer him to buy her; and when he setteth her to hire, I will
be the first man that shall come unto her, and I will gather the
floure of her virginitie, which shall stand mee in as great
'steade as if I had bought her.
Then the bawd payed the money, and tooke the maiden
and departed home; and when he came into his house, he


PERICLES.] PAINFULL ADVENTURES. 223
brought her into a certaine chappel, where stoode the idoll
of Priapus made of gold, and garnished with pearls and
pretious stones. This idoll was made after the shape of a .
man, with a mighty member unproportionable to the body,
alwayes erected, whome bawds and leachers doe adore, mak-
ing him their god, and worshipping him. Before this filthy
idoll he commaunded Tharsia with reverence to fall downe.
But she answered, God forbid, master, that I should wor-
ship such an idoll. But (sir), said she, are you a Lapsa-
tenian Why askeest thou ! said the bawd. I aske, quoth
she, because the Lapsatenians doe worship Priapus: this
spake she of simplicitie, not knowing what he was. Ah,
wretch! answered he, knowest thou not that thou arte come
into the house of a covetous bawd ' When Tharsia heard
that, she fell downe at his feet and wept, saying: O master,
take compassion upon my virginity, and do not hire out my
body for so vile againe. The bawd answered: Knowest thou
not that neither bawd nor hangman do regard teares or
prayers? Then called he unto him a certaine villaine which
was governour over his maids, and said unto him: Let this
maiden be decked in virgins apparell, pretious and costly, and
write this title upon her, Whosoever defloureth Tharsia
shal pay ten peeces of golde, and afterward she shall be com-
mon unto the people for one peece at a time.
The villaine fulfilled his masters commaundement, and the
third day after that she was bought, shee was with great so-
lemnitie conducted through the streete with musicke, the bawd
himselfe with a great multitude going before, and so conveyed
unto the brothell house. When shee was come thither, Atha-
anagoras, the prince, disguising his head and face because hee
woulde not be knowen, came first in unto her; whome when
Tharsia sawe, she threw her selfe downe at his feete, and saide
unto him : For the love of God, gentleman, take pitty on me!
and by the name of God I adjure and charge you, that you
do no violence unto me, but bridle your lust, and hearken
unto my unhappye state, and consider diligently from whence


224 THE PATTERNE OF [PERICLEs.
I am sprung. My father was poore Apollonius, prince of
Tyrus, whome force constrained to forsake his owne countrey.
My mother was daughter to Altistrates, king of Pentapolis,
who died in birth of me, poore wretch! upon the sea. My
father also is dead, as was supposed, which caused Dioni-
siades, wife to Stranguilio of Tharsus, to whom my father
committed me of special trust to be brought up, being but an
infant, envying mine estate, and thirsting after my wealth, to
seeke my death by the handes of a villaine; which had beene
accomplished, and I would to God it had before I had seen
this day, but that I was suddenly taken away by the pyrates
which solde me unto this filthie bawd. With these or such
like wordes declared shee her heavie fortune, eſtsoones
sobbing and bursting out into streames of tears, that for ex-
treme griefe she could scarsly speake. When she had in
this manner uttered her sorow, the good prince, being astonied,
and mooved with compassion, said unto her: Be of good cheere,
Tharsia, for surely I rue thy case; and I myselfe have also a
daughter at home, to whome I doubt that the like chances
may befall.
And when he had so said, he gave her twenty peeces of
gold, saying: Holde heere a greater price or reward for thy
virginitie than thy master appointed; and say as much unto
others that come unto thee as thou hast done to me, and thou
shalt withstand them. Then Tharsia fell on her knees, and
weeping saide unto him: Sir, I give you most hartie thankes
for your great compassion and curtesie, and most hartily I
beseech you upon my knees, not to descry unto any that which
I have saide unto you. No, surely, answered Athanagoras,
unlesse I tell it unto my daughter, that she may take heede
when she commeth unto the like yeares, that she fall not into
the like mishappe: and when he had so saide, he let fall a
fewe teares, and departed. Now, as he was going he met
with another pilgrime that with like devotion came for to
seeke the same saint, who demaunded of him howe hee liked
of the maidens company. Truly, answered Athanagoras,


PERICLES.] PAINFULL ADVENTURES. 225
never of any better. Then the yong man, whose name was
Aportatus, entred into the chamber; and the maiden after the
manner, shut the doore to, and Athanagoras listened at the
windowe. Then saide Aportatus unto Tharsia, How much
did the prince give unto thee She answered, fortie peeces
of gold. Then said he, receive here of me an whole pound
weight of golde. The prince, which heard this talke, thought
then in his minde, the more that you do give her, the more
she will weepe, as thinking that you woulde looke for recom-
pence, the which shee meaneth not to perfourme.
The maiden received the money, and fell down on her
knees at his feete, and declared unto him all her estate with
teares, as is before shewed. When Aportatus heard that, he
was mooved with compassion, and he tooke her up from the
ground, saying: Arise, ladie Tharsia: we are al men, and sub-
ject to the like chances, and therewithall he departed. And
when he came foorth he found prince Athanagoras before the
doore laughing at him, to whom he said: Is it wel done, my
liege, thus to delude a poore gentleman? Was there none
to whom you might beginne in teares but unto me only 1
Then communed they further of the matter, and sware an
othe betweene themselves, that they woulde not bewray those
words unto any; and they withdrew themselves aside into a
secret place to see the going in and comming foorth of other,
and they sawe many which went in and gave their money,
and came foorth againe weeping. Thus Tharsia, through the
grace of God and faire perswasion, preserved her body un-
defiled.


PERICLES.] PAINFULL ADVENTURES. 227
daily. When the villaine heard this devise, and bewailed
the maidens mishappe, he willingly gave consent thereto, and
brake with the bawd his master touching that matter, who
hearing of her skill, and hoping for the gaine, was easily
perswaded. -
Now, when she was brought into the market place, all the
people came thronging to see and heare so learned a virgin,
before whom shee uttered her cunning in musicke, and her
eloquence in speaking, and answered manifestly unto all
such questions as were propounded unto her with such per-
spicuitie, that all confessed themselves fully satisfied, and
she wonne great fame thereby, and gained great summes of
money. But as for prince Athanagoras, he had evermore
a speciall regard in the preservation of her virginitie, none
otherwise than if she had been his owne daughter, and re-
warded the villaine very liberally for his diligent care over
her.
CHAP. XV.
How Apollonius comming to Tharsus, and not
finding his daughter, lamented her supposed death;
and, taking shippe againe, was driven by a tempest
to Machilenta, where Tharsia was.
RETURNE we now againe unto prince Apollonius, who,
whiles these things were doing at Machilenta, when the foure-
teenth yeere was expired, arrived at Tharsus, and came into
the citie unto the house of Stranguilio and Dionisiades, with
whome he had left his yong daughter Tharsia. Whome
when Stranguilio beheld and knew, hee ranne hastily unto
his wife Dionisiades, and saide : Thou reportedst that prince
Apollonius was dead, and loe now where he is come to re-
quire his daughter. What shall wee now doe, or say unto


228 THE PATTERNE OF [PERICLEs.
him! Then cried she out, Alas, wretched husband and wife
that we are! let us quickly put on our mourning attire, and
shead foorth teares, and hee wil beleeve us that his daughter
died a naturall death. And when they had apparelled them-
selves, they came foorth unto Apollonius, who, seeing them in
mourning attire, said unto them: My trusty friends, Stran-
guilio and Dionisiades, why weep ye thus at my comming
And tell me, I pray you (which I rather beleeve) whether
these teares be not rather mine than yours. Not so (my lord
Apollonius) answered the wicked woman: and I woulde to
God some other body, and not mine husband or I, were in-
forced to tel you these heavie tidings, that your deare
daughter Tharsia is dead.
When Apollonius heard that word, hee was suddenly cut to
the heart, and his flesh trembled, that he coulde scarce stand
on his legges, and long time hee stoode amazed with his eies
intentively fixed on the ground; but at length, recovering
himselfe and taking fresh breath, he cast up his eyes upon
her, and saide : O woman, if my daughter be dead, as thou
sayest she is, is the money also and apparell perished with
her? She answered: Some is, and some yet remaineth.
And as for your daughter, my lorde, we were alwaies in good
hope that, when you came, you should have found her alive
and merry; but to the intent that you may the better be-
leeve us concerning her death, we have a sufficient witnes,
for our citizens, being mindfull of your benefites bestowed
upon them, have erected unto her a monument of brasse by
yours, which you may go see if you please. And when she
had so saide, she brought foorth such money, jewels, and
apparell, which it pleased her to say were remaining of Thar-
sias store. And Apollonius beleeving indeede that she was
dead, saide unto his servants: Take up this stuffe, and beare
it away unto the ships, and I will goe walke unto my daugh-
ters monument. And when he came there, hee read the su-
perscription in manner as is above written, and he fell sud-
denly, as it were, into an outragious affection, and cursed his


PERICLES.] PAINFULL ADVENTURES. 229
owne eies, saying: O most cruell eies! why can you not
yeelde foorth sufficient teares, and woorthily bewaile the
death of my deare daughter? And with that word, with griefe
and extreme sorrowe, he fell into a sowne, from which so
soone as ever he was once revived, immediatelie hee went
unto the shippes unto his servauntes, unto whome hee saide,
Cast mee, I beseech you, unto the very bottome of the sea,
for I have no joy of my life, and my desire is to yeelde up
my ghost in the water. But his servants used great per-
swasions with him to assuage his sorrowe, wherein presently
they some deale prevailed, as they might in so wofull a case;
and partly the time, which is a curer of all cares, continually
mittigated some part of the griefe, and hee espying the winde
to serve well for their departure, hoised up saile, and bid the
land adue.
They had not thus sailed long in their course, but the
winde came about to a contrary quarter, and blew so stifly,
that it troubled both sea and shippes. The raine fell fiercely
over head, the sea wrought wonderously under the ships,
and, to be short, the tempest was terrible for the time. It
was then thought best in that extremitie to strike saile, and
let the helme go, and to suffer the shippe to drive with the
tide, whither it shoulde please God to direct it. But as joy
evermore followeth heavinesse, so was this sharpe storme
occasion of a sweet meeting of the father with the daughter,
as in processe heereafter it shall appeare; for while Apol-
lonius shippe runneth thus at random, it striketh upon the
shoare of the citie Machilenta, where at that present his
daughter Tharsia remained.
Nowe, it fortuned that this verie day of their arrivall was
the birth day of prince Apollonius; and when as the marri-
ners sawe themselves so happily come to the land, both for
the gladnesse of the one and joy of the other, the master of
the shippe, and all the whole company, gave a great shout.
When Apollonius, who lay solitarily under the hatches,
heard such a sodaine voice of mirth, hee called unto the


230 THE PATTERNE OF [PERICLEs.
master, and demaunded what it meant. The master aun-
swered, We rejoyce, and be you glad also with us, my lorde,
for this day we doe solemnize the feast of your birth. Then
Apollonius sighed, and said himselfe: All keepe hollyday
save I onely, and let it suffice unto my servants that I only
remaine in sorrow and heavinesse: howbeit, I give unto them
ten peeces of gold, to buy what they will to keepe holyday
withall. But whosoever shall call me unto the feast, or goe
about to provoke me unto mirth, I commaund that his
thighes shall be broken. So the cater tooke the money, and
went aland, and provided necessaries, and returned againe
unto the ship.
CHAP. XVI.
How Athanagoras, prince of Machilenta, seeing the
beautie of Apollonius ship, went aboord of it, and
did the best he could to comfort him.
As fortune thereto served, and delight to take the fresh aire
moved Athanagoras, prince of the citie, to walk toward the
sea side, he sawe Apollonius ships riding at anker: at the
view wherof he tooke great pleasure, especially at the admi-
rall, which was a great ship, and a beautiful, wherin Apollo-
nius himself was carried, the like whereof haply he had not
seene often before. This was that Athanagoras that loved
Tharsia so tenderly; and he haled unto the marriners, and
asked of whence that faire ship was! The marriners an-
swered, that she came now from Tharsus. Truly, said Atha-
nagoras, it is a faire shippe, and well appointed, and of all
that I have seene I like best of her. Now, when the marri-
ners heard their shippe so highly commended, they desired
him to come aboord, whereunto he willingly graunted. And
when he was come abord, he sate downe with them at meat,


PERICLES.] PA INFULL ADVENTURES. 231
and he drue his purse, and laid downe ten peeces of gold
upon the table, saying, You shall not say that you have bidden
an unthankfull person: take this small summe of money at
my handes for a reward; and they thanked him. But when
he was set downe, and beheld al that sate at the boord, hee
demaunded who was owner of the ship, and where he was 1
The maister answered, our owner is sicke, and weake with ,
sorrowe and taking thought, and needes will die. He lost
his wife uppon the sea, and his daughter in a strange land.
Athanagoras said unto one of the servants called Ardalius,
I will give thee two peeces of gold, to go down and tell thy
master that the prince of this citie desireth him to come up
out of darknesse into light. The servaunt answered : I
cannot buy new thighes for thy golde, and therefore get
some man els to go on the errand, for he hath said that
whosoever troubleth him, his thighes shall be broken.
That law hath he made over you, said Athanagoras, and
not over mee, and therefore I will go downe unto him: but
first tell me, I pray you, what you call his name 1 They
answered, Apollonius: And when he heard that name, hee
remembred in his minde that hee heard Tharsia call her
father so, and he went downe unto him where he lay, whom
when hee beheld, having a long beard, and rough fligged haire,
and long nailes on his fingers, he was somewhat astonied,
and called unto him with a soft voice, saying: Apollonius !
When Apollonius heard himselfe named, thinking it had
been some of his men that had called him, arose up sodainly
with a fierce countenance, and seeing a stranger looking verie
comely and honourably attired, he held his peace. Then
spake Athanagoras: Sir, I thinke you doe marvell, that I,
being a stranger, am so bold as to come to trouble you. You
shall understand that I am prince of this citie, and my name
is Athanagoras. I walked by chance unto the sea-side, where
beholding thy ships, especially commending this wherin thou
art, for beautie and strength, I was by thy men desired to
come aboord, which I did, and have eaten with them. Then
S


PERICLES.] PAINFULL ADVENTURES, 233
and shew now the uttermost of thy cunning and knowledge,
in comforting the owner of the ship, which lieth in darknes
and will receive no comfort, nor come abroad into the light,
for the great sorrow that he taketh for his wife and his
daughter. Goe unto him, good Tharsia, and prove if thou
canst perswade him to come into the light; for it may be
that God hath appointed by thy meanes to bring him from
sorrowe into gladnesse. Which thing if thou canst bring to .
passe, as I am a gentleman, I will give thee thirtie sestercies
of gold, and as many of silver, and I will redeeme thee from .
the bawd for thirtie dayes. When Tharsia heard this, she
went boldly downe into the cabin unto him, and with a milde
voice saluted him, saying, God save you, sir, whosoever
you be, and be of good comfort, for an innocent virgin, whose
life hath been distressed by shipwracke, and her chastitie by
dishoneslie, and yet hath both preserved, saluteth thee.
Then began she to record in verses, and therewithall to sing
so sweetly, that Apollonius, notwithstanding his great sorrow,
wondred at her. And these were the verses which she .
soong so pleasantly unto the instrument:— -
Amongst the harlots foule I walke,
yet harlot none am I:
The rose amongst the thorns grows,
and is not hurt thereby.
The thiefe that stole me, sure I thinke,
is slaine before this time:
A bawd me bought, yet am I not
defilde by fleshly crime.
Were nothing pleasanter to me,
than parents mine to know :
I am the issue of a king,
my bloud from kings doth flow.
I hope that God will mend my state,
and send a better day.
Leave off your teares, plucke up your heart,
and banish care a way.
Shew gladnesse in your countenance,
cast up your cheerfull eyes :
S 2


234 THE PATTERNE OF [PERICLEs.
That God remaines that once of nought
created earth and skies.
He will not let in care and thought
you still to live, and all for nought.
When Apollonius heard her sing these verses, lifting up
his eyes and sighing, he said: Alas, poore wretch as I am!
how long shall I strive with life, and abide this greevous con-
flict? Good maiden, I give hearty thanks both to your wise-
dome and nobilitie, requiting you with this one thing, that
whensoever, if ever such occasion doe chance, I shall have de-
sire to be merrie, I will then thinke on you, or if ever I be
restored unto my kingdome. And perhaps, as you say, you
are descended of the race of kings, and indeed you doe well
represent the nobilitie of your parentage. But nowe, I pray
you, receive this reward at my handes, an hundred peeces of
golde, and depart from me and trouble me no longer; for my
present griefe is renued by your lamentable recitall, and I
consume with continuall sorrowe. When the maid had re-
ceived the reward, she was about to depart. Then spake
Athanagoras: Whither goest thou, Tharsia, quoth heel hast
thou taken paine without profite, and canst thou not worke a
deed of charitie, and relieve the man that wil consume his life
with mourning ! Tharsia answered: I have done all that I
may, and he hath given me an hundred peeces of gold, and
desired me to depart. I wil give thee two hundred, said
Athanagoras, and goe downe unto him againe, and give him
his money, and say unto him, I seeke thy health and not thy
money. Then went Tharsia downe againe, and set her selfe
downe by him, and saide unto him: Sir, if you bee deter-
mined to continue alwaies in this heavinesse, give mee leave,
I pray you, to reason a little with you. And I meane to pro-
pose certaine parables unto you, which if you can resolve, I
will then depart, and restore your money. But Apollonius,
not willing to receive the money againe, but thankefully to
accept whatsoever shee should utter, without discouraging of
her, Albeit in my troubles, quoth he, I have none other feli-
citie but to weepe and lament, yet because I will not want the


PERICLES.] PAINFULL ADVENTURES. 237
and take compassion uppon mee! I was borne among the
waves and troublesome tempests of the sea. My mother
died in pangues and paines of childbed, and buriall was
denied her upon the earth, whom my father adorned with
jewels, and laid twentie sestercies of gold at her head, and
as much in silver at her feete, and inclosed her in a chest,
and committed her to the sea. As for mee, unfortunate
wretch, I was at Tharsus committed to Stranguilio and wicked
Dionisiades his wife, whom my father put in trust with me,
with mony and princely furniture, and their servants were
commanded to slay me. And when I desired time to pray,
which was granted me, there came pyrates in the meane
while, and carried me away, and brought me unto this wofull
city, where I was solde to a most cruell bawd, and with much
adoe have preserved my virginitie; and I see nothing ensu-
ing but continuall sorrowe, whereof I feele both nowe and
every day some part, and shall doe ever more and more,
until it please God to restore me unto my father Apollonius.
Apollonius gave good eare unto her words, and was strange-
ly moved within himselfe, knowing that all these signes and
tokens were most certaine that she was his daughter, and
hee cried out with a mighty voice and saide: O mercifull God,
which beholdest heaven, earth, and hell, and discoverest all
the secretes therein, blessed bee thy most holy name for ever!
and when he had said those words, he fell upon his daughter
Tharsias hecke, and kissed her, and for extreame joy wept bit-
terly, saying: O my most sweete and onely daughter, the halſe
part of my life, for the love of thee Ilust not nowe to die, for
I have found thee for whome I had desire to die onely. And
therewithall he cryed out aloude, saying: Come hither my ser-
vants and frends, come ye al hither, and see now the end of
all my sorrow, for I have found my deare daughter and onelie
childe which I had lost. When the servants heard the noise,
they came hastily togither, and with them prince Athanagoras;
and when they came downe under the hatches, they found Apol-
lonius weeping for joy, and leaning upon his daughters


238 THE PATTERNE OF [PERiCLEs.
shoulders, and he said unto them: Behold here my daughter,
for whom I have mourned; beholde the one halfe of my life,
for whose sake I nowe desire to live. And they al rejoyced
and wept with him for company, and thanked God for that
happy day.
CHAP. XVIII.
Howe Apollonius, leaving off mourning, came into
the citie Machilenta, where he commaunded the
Bawd to be burned; and how Tharsia was mar-
ried unto prince Athanagoras.
THARSIA, hearing her fathers words, fell down at his feet
and kissed him, saying, O father, blessed be God that
hath given me the grace to see you, and that I may die
with you! But Apollonius liſted up his heart, and cast away
his mourning apparell, and put on other sweet and cleane
raiment. And when Athanagoras and the servants looked
earnestly upon him, and upon his daughter, they wondred,
saying, O my lord Apollonius, how like in countenance is
your daughter Tharsia unto you ! that, if you had no other
argument, this were sufficient proofe to shewe that she is
your childe. Apollonius thanked them, saying, that now
he stoode not in any doubt thereof. Then Tharsia beganne
to discourse unto her father, howe she was sold unto the
bawd, and howe hee thrust her into the common brothell,
and by what meanes she alwayes preserved her chastitie,
and howe much she was bounden unto good prince Athana-
goras, there present. Now, Athanagoras was a widower, and
a lusty yoong gentleman, and prince of the citie, as it is
declared; who, fearing lest Tharsia should be bestowed in
marriage upon some other man, and using the benefite of the
time, cast him selfe downe at Apollonius feete, and besought


240 THE PATTERNE OF [PERICLEs.
multitude trembled and was sore afraide, and foorthwith de-
termined that they would all, as well men, women, and
children, goe foorth to see prince Apollonius, and to crave
pardon of him. Not so, said Athanagoras, but we will de-
sire him to come peaceablie into our citie, and what he list
to commaund shall be fulfilled. The people liked well of
that counsel, and committed the matter unto his discretion
wholly to provide for their safetie. Then went he foorth
unto Apollonius, and desired him, in the peoples name, to
come into the citie, where he should be most heartily wel-
come. Apollonius refused not that friendly offer, but imme-
diately prepared himselfe to goe with him; and caused his
head to be polled, and his beard to be trimmed, and his
nailes to be pared, and put on a princely robe upon his backe,
and a crowne of golde upon his head, and so passed foorth
togither upon the way.
And when they were come into the citie, the citizens sa-
luted Apollonius, and hee was placed in the highest seate
whence the prince was wont to give judgement, and his
daughter Tharsia by his side, and he spake unto the people
in this manner following: Good people of the city of Ma-
chilenta, you see the virgine Tharsia, whome I, her father,
have found out this present day: hir hath the most filthie
bawd, as much as in him lay, constrained to dishonest her
body, to her utter destruction. From which his devillish
purpose no intreatie could persuade him, no price could
allure him. Wherfore, my request unto you (good people)
is, that I may have due revenge on him for the injury
done unto my daughter. When the people heard his rea-
sonable demaund, they cried out with one accord, saying:
My lorde Apollonius, we judge that he be burned alive,
and his goods be given unto the maiden Tharsia. The re-
venge pleased Apollonius well, and forthwith they appre-
hended the bawd, and bound him hand and foot; and they
made a great fire, and at Apollonius commaundement cast
him alive into it, and burnt him to ashes. Then called


PERICLES.] PAINFULL ADVENTURES. 241
Tharsia for the villaine, and saide unto him: Because by
thy meanes, and all the citizens, I have hitherto remained a
virgine even untill my fathers comming, my will is that thou
be free; and, moreover, here I give unto thee two hundred
peeces of gold for a reward. Secondly, she called for all
the women that were in the bawdes brothell, and saide unto
them : Good women, whose chances, perhaps, hath beene as
greevous unto you as mine was unto me, I set you al at
liberty; and whereas heretofore you have gained money by
hiring foorth the use of your bodies, receive of mee here
this rewarde, that you may live hereafter more in the feare
of God, and practise some more commendable way to sus-
taine necessitie: and therewithall she gave to everie one of
them a rewarde, and so dismissed them. And when all
these things were ended, Apollonius, minding to depart, spake
unto the people, saying: Noble prince Athanagoras, and
beloved citizens of Machilenta, I acknowledge my selfe
much bounden to you, and I yeeld you hearty thanks for
all your benefites bestowed uppon me and my daughter.
And now, in recompence thereof, I give unto you fifty poundes
weight of golde to be divided amongest you, that, when
I am gone from you, you may be mindefull of me.
The citizens thanked him, and bowed their heads in token
of reverence; and they agreed together, and they erected two
statues of brasse, one unto him, another to his daughter, in
the market place of the citie, with these superscriptions
written in their bases: Unto Apollonius, prince of Tyrus,
the preserver of our houses; and unto his vertuous daughter
Tharsia, a virgin, the mindefull citizens of Machilenta have
erected those monuments. But Apollonius, remembring the
great curtesie of Athanagoras, and his promise made unto
him concerning Tharsia, appointed a short time for their
mariage, against which there was great provision as might be
at so smal warning. The solemnities, riches, braverie, cost,
feasts, revelles, intertainement, and all things else appertain-
ing thereunto, and requisite for so great personages, I shall


244 THE PATTERNE OF [PERICLEs.
attained unto all kinde of knowledge, I resolved the cruel
king Antiochus parable, to the intent to have married with
his daughter, whome he most shamefully defiled, and kept
her from all men to serve his owne filthie lust, and sought
meanes to slay me. Then I fled away, and lost all my
goodes in the sea, hardly escaping my selfe with life, and in
my greatest extremitie I was courteously intertained by Al-
tistrates, king of Pentapolis; and so highly received into
favor, that he left no kindes of favour on me untried, inso-
much that hee bestowed upon mee his faire daughter and
onelie childe, Lucina, to be my wife. But when Antiochus
and his daughter, by the just judgement of God, were
stroken dead with lightning from heaven, I carried my wife
with me to receive my kingdome, and she was delivered of
this my daughter and hers upon the sea, and died in the
travell: whome I enclosed in a chest, and threwe into the
sea, laying twentie sestercies of golde at her head, and as
much in silver at her feete, to the intent that they that
should find her might have wherewithall to bury her honor-
ably, leaving also a superscription that they might perceive
with what griefe of her friends she died, and of what princelie
parentage shee descended. Afterwardes I arrived at the
citie of Tharsus, where I put in trust my yoong daughter to
be brought up unto certain wicked persons; and from thence
I departed unto the higher partes of Egypt. But when from
that time fourteene yeeres were expired, and I returned
thither to fetch my daughter, they told me that shee was
dead, which I beleeving to be true, put on mourning attire,
and desired nothing so much as to die: and while I was in
that extremitie of sorrowe, and determined to have sayled
unto Tyrus, while I was on my way upon the sea, the
winde turned, and there arose a tempest, and drave me unto
the citie Machilenta, where my daughter was restored unto
me. Then went I with my sonne in law, and my daughter
once againe, to have sailed unto Tyrus by Tharsus; and as I
was now in the journey, I was admonished in my sleepe by


PERICLES.] PAINFULL ADVENTURES. 245
an angell to turne my course unto Ephesus; and there in the
temple to declare aloud al my adventures that had befallen
me, since my youth unto this present day, which hath hitherto
guided me in all my troubles, will nowe send an happy end
unto all mine afflictions.
CHAP. XX.
How Apollonius came to the knowledge of his wife,
the ladie Lucina; and how they rejoyced at the
meeting of ech other.
THE ladie Lucina was not so busie in executing her office
in the church, but that she gave also attentive eare unto her
lord Apollonius talke, whom at the first she knew not. But
when shee heard the long discourse, whereby she knewe by
all signes that hee was her husband, and shee was his wife,
her heart burned within her, and she could scarce temper her
affections untill hee had done talking. Yet measuring her
love with modestie, as nowe of long time having learned the
true trade of pacience, shee gave him libertie to make an end,
which done, shee ran hastily unto him, and embraced him
hard in her armes, and woulde have kissed him. Which
thing, when Apollonius sawe, hee was mooved with disdaine,
and thrust her from him, as misliking such lightnesse in her,
whose modestie and good grace hee had so lately before com-
mended in his heart, and nothing at all suspecting that she
had been his wife. Then shee, pouring foorth teares aboun-
dantly, O, my lord Apollonius, said she, the one halfe of
my life, why deale you thus ungently with me ! I am your
wife, daughter unto Altistrates, king of Pentapolis, and my
name is Lucina. And you are Apollonius, prince of Tyrus,
my lord and deare husband, and you are my schoolemaister,
which taught mee musicke: and moreover you are the sea-


246 THE PATTERNE OF [PERICLEs.
wrecked man whom I especially loved above many, not for
concupiscence sake, but for desire of wisedome. When
Apollonius heard these words, he was sodainly astonied; and
as the strangenes of the chance appalled him much, so the
great joy revived his spirites againe, and he cast his eies
earnestly uppon her, and immediatly called her to remem-
brance, and knewe her, and fell uppon her necke, and for
exceeding joy brast out into teares; and then, lifting up his
handes and eyes to heaven, hee saide : Blessed be the moste
mightie God of heaven, which sitteth above and beholdeth
the state of men on earth, and dealeth with them according
to his great mercie; who nowe also of his unspeakeable
goodnesse hath restored unto mee my wife and my daughter.
Then did hee most lovingly embrace and kisse his ladie,
whom he supposed long before to be dead; and shee like-
wise requited him with the like fruites of good will and
courtesie, whom she surely thought she should never have
seene againe. And when they had continued a good space
in intertaining the one another, O, my moste deare lord
Apollonius, saide the lady Lucina, where is my childe
whereof I was delivered 1 Apollonius aunswered: My best
beloved ladie, it was a daughter, and she was named Tharsia,
and this is she and there withal he shewed her Tharsia.
Then kissed and embraced she her daughter, and likewise
her sonne in law Athanagoras, and they greatly rejoyced one
in another. And when report heereof was spread abroad,
there was great joy throughout all the citie of Ephesus; and
the report has blowen about in everie place, how prince
Apollonius had found out his ladie and wife among the
nunnes in the temple. Then Lucina discoursed unto her
lord and husband, Apollonius, of the strange accidents that
happened unto her after his casting her forth into the sea;
namely, howe her chest was cast on land at the coast of
Ephesus, and taken up by a phisition; and how she was
revived and by him adopted, and, for preservation of her
honestie, placed among the nunnes in the temple of Diana,


PERICLEs.] PAINFULL ADVENTURES. 247
where hee then found her, accordingly as it appeareth before
in the historie; wherefore they blessed the name of God, and
yeelded most heartie thankes unto him, that hee had pre-
served them hitherto, and graunted them so joyfull a meeting.
CHAP. XXI.
How Apollonius departed from Ephesus, and sailed
himselfe, his wife, his sonne, and daughter, unto
Antiochia, and then to Tyrus, and from thence to
Tharsus, where he revenged himselfe upon Stran-
guilio and Dionisiades.
APOLLONIUS and Lucina his wife, and the residue of their
traine, having rested themselves and made merrie sufficient
time at Ephesus, when the winde served, tooke leave of their
friendes, and went aboord of their ships, and lanched from
the shore, and departed unto Antiochia; where, according as
Calamitus, the maister of the ship of Tyrus, had tolde him
before, the kingdome was reserved for him since the death
of Antiochus. But when the citizens heard that he was
arrived, they were all exceeding glad, and put on their
bravest apparell, and garlandes of bayes upon their heads,
and went forth in procession to meet him, and brought him
in triumph into the citie, and crowned him king with all joy
and gladnesse. And when all the solemnities of the corona-
tion, the feastes, triumphes, largesses, and pardons, were
finished, hee abode with them certaine daies to dispose
some matters in order that required redresse, and to establish
certaine lawes for the due administration of justice. Which
being all accomplished according to his desire, he tooke his
leave of the citizens, and with his wife, sonne, and daughter,
departed to the sea, and sayled unto Tyrus, his owne native
T


248 THE PATTERNE OF [PERicles.
country, where he was joyfully received of his subjects,
and found his kingdome governed in good order. There
placed he for his lieuetenant his sonne in lawe, Athana-
goras, which had married his daughter Tharsia, to rule
the countrey in his absence; and when he had aboden a
convenient time amongst them to make merrie, and to provide
necessaries for his farther affaires, he levied in shorter space
a mightie armie of the best approoved souldiours, with suffi-
cient store of money and munition, and taking with him,
moreover, his lady, and his daughter Tharsia, tooke shipping
in the haven, and had so prosperous winde, that in few dayes
they landed in the coast of Tharsus. And when they were
come all ashoare, they marched forward in battell aray, and
came into the citie to the great terrour of al the inhabitantes.
When hee was come into the market-place, he commaunded
that Stranguilio and Dionisiades should be brought before
him, which being done, he thus spake unto the people: Ye
citizens of Tharsus, I am come hither in armes, as you see,
not moved by my will, but constrained by injurie. Wherfore,
tell me, was I ever unthankfull unto your citie in generall, or
unto any of you al in particular ! They all answered with
one voice, No, my lord; and therfore wee are ready all to
spend our lives in thy quarrell; and, as thou knowest well,
wee have erected heere, in perpetuall memorie of thee, a sta-
tue of brasse, because thou preservedst us from death, and our
citie from utter destruction. Then said Apollonius, Under-
stand, then, this much, my friends, that, when I departed last
from this citie, I committed my daughter in trust unto Stran-
guilio and his wife Dionisiades; and when I came to require
her they would not deliver her unto me, nor tell me the trueth
what is become of her. Immediately they were both called
forth to aunswere unto these matters before Apollonius, where,
falling downe on their knees before him, Dionisiades an-
swered in this manner. My lord, I beseech you, stand fa-
vourable unto my poore husband and mee, and not to beleeve
any other thing concerning your daughter, then that shee is


PERICLES.] PAINFULL ADVENTURES 249
departed this life. And as for hir grave, you have seene it,
and also the monument of brasse erected by the whole citie
in the memoriall of her, and, moreover, you have read the
superscription. Then Apollonius commaunded his daughter
to stand foorth in the presence of them all; and shee saide unto
Dionisiades: Beholde, thou wicked woman, dead Tharsia is
come to greete thee, who, as thou diddest well hope, shoulde
never have been forth comming to have bewrayed thy wick-
ednesse. But when the miserable woman beheld Tharsia,
her heart quaked for feare, and shee fell to the ground in a
swoond; and when shee recovered againe, shee cried out up-
pon the just judgement of God, and cursed the time that shee
was borne. And all the people ranne thronging about Thar-
sia, and wondered at her, thinking howe greatly they had
been of long time abused by Stranguilio and Dionisiades; and
they rejoyced much in her safetie, and all knewe by her coun-
tenance that it was shee, and none other.
O, now, who were able to declare the bitter griefe and intol-
lerable care which eftsoones assaied the wearisome consciences
of these twaine, the husband and the wife, when they sawe
her living and in good liking before their faces, whose death
they had so traiterously conspired? Even hell it selfe is not
comparable unto so heavie a burden, the unspeakable weight
whereof all men ought to feare, and none can sufficiently de-
scribe unlesse hee have been semblably plunged in the like
gulfe of horrible desperation. Then Tharsia called for Theo-
philus, Stranguilios villaine, and when he was come into her
presence, shee saide unto him: Theophilus, aunswere mee
aloud, that all the people may heare, who sent thee forth to slay
me! Hee aunswered, Dionisiades, my mistresse. What
mooved her thereunto 1 saide Tharsia. None other thing, I
suppose, saide the villaine, but to enjoy the money and orna-
mentes, and also because thy beautie and comelinesse were
commended above Philomacias, her daughters. Nowe, when
the people heard this, they ranne uppon Stranguilio and Dioni-
siades, and tooke them violently, and bound them, and drew


250 THE PATTERNE OF [PERICLEs.
them out of the citie, and stoned them to death; and would
, likewise have slaine Theophilus, the villaine, for that, at his
mistresse commandement, he would have murdered the in-
nocent maiden. But Tharsia intreated for him, saying, Not so,
my deare friends: I pray you let me obtaine pardon for him
at your handes; for unlesse he had given me respite to say
my praiers, I had not been heere now to have spoken for him:
and when she had said so, the furious multitude was appeased.
And Apollonius gave many exceeding rich giftes unto the
citie, and repaired it strongly in many places where it was
decaied, and abode there with them the space of three
monthes in feasting and making merry before he departed.
CHAP. XXII.
How Apollonius sailed from Tharsus to visite his
father-in-law, Altistrates, king of Pentapolis, who
died not long after Apollonius comming thither.
THE terme of three monethes that Apollonius purposed for
his delight to remaine at Tharsus was almost expired, and he
commanded all things to be prepared for the journey; and
when the day was come, hee made generall proclamation, up-
pon paine of death, every man to ship. And when the whole
army was imbarked, he took ship himselfe with his wife and
his daughter, being honourably accompanied by the citizens
unto the water side; and after due courtesie on both sides done
and received, he hoysed sayle, and departed towardes Penta-
polis, king Altistrates citie. And when they had sailed with
prosperous winde ten dayes uppon the sea, they discovered
a farre off the steeples and towres of Pentapolis, and the soul-
diers rejoyced and gave a shout for gladnesse that they were
so neere to their wished land. Then they cast about, and cut
towards the haven, and cast anker, and landed all safe; and


PERICLES.] PAINFULL ADVENTURES. 251
Apollonius, with his wife and daughter, after hee had taken
order for the companie, rode unto the court unto king Altis-
trates, whom they found in good health, and merry. And
when Altistrates saw his sonne-in-lawe, his daughter, and his
neece Tharsia, hee bid them welcome, and rejoyced exceed-
ingly, and sent for the nobles of his land to keepe them com-
panie, and gave them the best entertainement that hee could
devise. And they sojourned with him an whole yeare in plea-
sure and pastime, whereof the king tooke as great comfort
as was possible for a man to doe in any worldly felicitie.
But as there was never yet anything certaine or permanent
in this mortall life, but alwaies we be requited with sowre
sauce to our sweete meate, and when wee thinke ourselves
surest in the top of joy, then tilt wee downe soonest into the
bottome of sorrow, so fared it now unto these personages in
the midst of their jollitie; for the good old king Altis-,
trates fell sodainly sick, which much appalled them all, and .
grew everie day weaker than other. Then were the phisi-
tions sent for in haste, who left nothing untried that apper-
tained unto art and experience to doe; and, above all, Apollo-
nius, and Lucina his wife, plaied the parts of duetifull child-
ren, in tending their aged and weake father with all care and
diligence possible. But, alas! olde age, which of it selfe is
an uncurable sicknesse, and had been growing nowe well
nigh an hundred yeares, lacking seven, upon him, accompa-
nied with the intollerable paine of the gowt, and the stone of
the bladder, had consumed naturall moisture; so that his force
gave over to the disease, and shortely after changed this
transitorie life for a better. When report was spread abroad
of the kings death, there was great sorrowe and lamentation
made in all places, neither was there any that tooke not
grievously the losse of so good a prince. But to describe the
inward affliction of Apollonius, and the teares of the ladie
Lucina, and Tharsia her daughter, woulde make any heart
of flint to bleede, considering the tender affections of women
above men, and howe prone they bee that way; yea, some-


252 THE PATTERNE OF [PERICLEs.
time (God knowes) in smaller causes than at the death of
husband, father, or mother. But as al things have their time,
so have sorrowe and teares also, which are best dried up
with the towell of continuance; which gave nowe just occa-
sion unto Apollonius to cast off drowsie sorrowe, and to pro-
vide for the funeralles of his father-in-lawe, which he accom-
plished with so seasonable expedition, and in so honourable
a sort, as was seemely for so mighty a king and so vertuous
a prince, whome hee buried among the auntient race of kings,
his auncestours, in the Temple within the citie of Pentapolis.
Which beeng all finished, as it is also a worke of charitie to
fulfill the will of the dead, he applied himselfe to execute his
fathers testament, wherin he had given halfe his kingdome
unto Apollonius, and the other halfe to Tharsia his neece, to
have and to holde to them and to their heires for ever.
CHAP. XXIII.
How Apollonius rewarded the fisherman that re-
leeved him after hee had suffered shipwracke:
howe hee dealt also with olde Calamitus, and
likewise with the Pyrates that stole away Tharsia.
BY this time, when all cares were banished, and Apollonius
injoyed his kingdome in quiet possession, he gave himselfe
sometimes to delight, as other princes are wont to do. And
it fortuned that on a day when he had dined, he walked
foorth for recreation unto the sea side, with his wife and a
fewe servants. And when hee came there, he sawe a small
fisher boat fleeting under saile, which hee thought by all
signes he should knowe well; for hee supposed it to be the fish-
ermans boat which succoured him when he had suffered ship-


PERICLES.] PAINFULL ADVENTURES. 253
wracke in sailing from Tharsus towardes Pentapolis. Where-
fore hee commaunded some of his servantes to take another
shippe which rode at anchor there on the shore, to go after
and take him, and to bring the fisherman unto him unto the
court. When the poore man saw himselfe boorded of so
many and so gay a multitude, hee feared they had beene
pyrates, and that they woulde have slaine him; and he fell
downe on his knees, and besought them to have compassion
upon him: he was but a poore fisherman, and had not that
which they sought for: it were others that were more fit for
their purpose to meete withall, such as ventured further in
greater vesselles, carrying foorth great summes of money,
and bringing home plenty of costly merchandize. As for
him, they should not only find miserable povertie in ransack-
ing his boat, but, if they were also determined to take away
his life from him, they should likewise, with the same stroke,
bereave the lives of his poore wife, and many small children,
which were maintained by his hand onely. These or the
like words uttered then the poore fisherman. But they
smiling in their conceits, and mindefull of their princes com-
maundement, bade him not feare that they would robbe him,
but saide that he must goe with them, and brought him away
unto the court. And when he was come into the kings
presence, Apollonius knewe him well, and saide unto the
queene and the nobles that were about him: Behold, this is
the man that received me into his house, and succoured mee
when I suffered shipwracke, and shewed me the way into the
citie, by which meanes I came acquainted with good king
Altistrates. And he rose out of his seate, and embraced
him, and said: I am Apollonius, prince of Tyrus, whome
thou diddest succour, and therefore bee of good cheere, for
thou shalt be rewarded. And the poore fisherman wept ex-
ceedingly for joy. And Apollonius commaunded two hun-
dred sestercies of gold to be given unto him, and thirty ser-
vants, and twenty handmaides, and fortie horses, and fiftie
sutes of apparell, and a faire pallace to dwel in, and made


PERICLES.] PAINFULL ADVENTURES. 255
it good to know your graces pleasure what shall be doone
with them. Apollonius thanked them, and willed the pirats .
to be brought before him, and examined them diligently, and ,
found that they were the same men indeede that had pre-,
served Tharsias life. And hee gave great thankes unto God
and them, and imbraced them, and willingly pardoned them
their lives.
And for that he knew that the sinister means which they
hitherto had insued was caused most by constraint, for want
of other trade or abilitie to live by, he therefore made them
all knights, and gave them plenty of gold and silver, and
indowed them also with great possessions.
CHAP. XXIIII.
How Apollonius had a yoong sonne and heire by his
wife Lucina ; likewise of Apollonius age, and how
he died; with some other accidents thereunto
incident.
WHILE king Apollonius thus passed foorth his time in
rewarding his friends which had doone him pleasure in his
adversitie, the part of a thankeful and good natured man, and
also unto his enemies in ministering justice with mercie,
which is the duetie of a vertuous prince, the queene Lucina
in the meane season conceived childe, and grewe every daie
bigger bellied then other. And when the time came that she
attended for a good houre, she was delivered of a faire sonne,
whome some of the ladies that were present saide hee was
like Apollonius the father; other some, like king Altistrates
the grandfather, and others judged otherwise, according as is
the custome of women to doe, when as (God knoweth) there
is no more likenesse betweene them, saving that the childe
hath the generall shape and proportion of a man, than is be-
U
.





INTRODUCTION.
IT is not our intention to enter at all at large into the anti-
quity of the story upon which “Pericles” is founded. Most
of the learning on the subject may be seen in Douce's “Il-
lustrations,” vol. ii, 135. Our principal object is to speak of it
as a narrative of which Shakespeare made use in the composi-
tion of the play which has been printed in most of the editions
of his works, and in the composition of which few have en-
tertained a doubt that he was importantly concerned.
We have not only internal, but external evidence that there
was an older play upon the same incidents. As to external,
evidence, the “Memoirs of Edward Alleyn,” recently printed .
by the Shakespeare Society, contain (p. 21) an inventory of
apparel belonging to the actor-founder of Dulwich College,
including “spangled hose in Pericles;” and though the docu-
ment is without date, we can have no hesitation in deciding
that it was anterior to the beginning of the year 1608, when,
we apprehend, “Pericles,” as it has come down to us, was
first produced on the stage. The internal evidence is derived
from a perusal of the play itself, which bears strong marks of
two hands in the authorship of it: an older and an inferior
style of composition is observable in the commencement of
the play; and it is upon the three last acts that we suppose
Shakespeare to have been principally engaged. How much
of the play, as written by some anterior author, was allowed
by our great dramatist to remain, it is impossible with any
accuracy to determine. Shakespeare was not the first to give
it the title of “Pericles," for it seems to have borne that name
when Alleyn acted in it, perhaps some years before the com-
mencement of the seventeenth century.


al INTRODUCTION.
The hero, at the oldest date at which we hear of him in Eng-
lish, was called “Kynge Appolyn of Thyre:" in 1510, under
this title, Wynkyn de Worde printed the romance, as it had
been translated from the French by Robert Copland. This was
its first appearance in our printed literature. Who was the
anthor of the French version used by Copland we are without
information; but it is more than probable that the foundation
of it was the narrative in the Gesta Romanorum (printed
late in the 15th century), to which Belleforest was also to a
certain extent indebted in his Histoires, Tragiques, the pub-
lication of which was commenced in 1564. Belleforest, how-
ever, claims to have gone to a distinct source, a manuscript
having fallen in his way, which purported to be tiré du Grec:
in fact, it seems to have had its origin in that language, from
which it was translated into Latin, and subsequently into
French, Spanish, Italian, and English. These different ver-
sions are enumerated by Mr. Douce in the work we have al-
ready referred to, but the Anglo-Saxon translation (not long
since printed under the learned care of Mr. Thorpe) does not
seem to have fallen in his way. Latin MSS. of it, as early
as the tenth century, appear to be in existence.
The prose romance, which occupies the principal part of
the succeeding pages, was first published in 1576, and how
soon afterwards it was adapted to the stage in London can-
not be decided. It professed originally to be “gathered
into English" by Lawrence Twine, and it is singular that
Malone, Steevens, and even Douce, fell into the error of
attributing the translation to Thomas Twine, “the continu-
ator of Phaer's Virgil." Lawrence Twine was brother to
Thomas Twine, and both were sons of John Twine, Lawrence
being the eldest, and, as Anthony Wood says, “a fellow of
All Souls College, Bachelor of Civil Law, and an ingenious
poet of his time” (Ath. Oxon. vol. i., 464, Edit. Bliss). He
left nothing behind him in verse, as far as we now know, but
certain commendatory lines to books by his friends, and the
song and riddles of Tharsia hereafter inserted. How fre-


APPOLLINUS, THE PRINCE OF TYR.
* Hic loduitur adhuc contra incestuosos amantum coitus; et narrat mi-
rabile exemplum de magno rege Antiocho, qui, uxore mortua, pro-
priam filiam violavit, et quia filiae matrimonium penes alios impedire
voluit, tale abeo exiit edictum, quod si quis eam in uxorem peteret,
nisi quoddam problema questionis, quam ipse rex proposuerat,
veraciter solveret, capitali sententia puniretur. Super quo veniens
tandem discretus juvenis, princeps Tyri, Appollinus, questionem
solvit. Nectamen filiam habere potuit, sed rex indignatus ipsum
propter hoc in mortis odium recollegit. Unde Appollinus a facie
regis fugiens quam plura, prout inferius intitulantur, propter
amorem pericula passus est.
* OF a cronique in daies gon,
The wich is cleped Panteon,
In loves cause I rede thus:
Howe that the grete Antiochus,
Of whome that Antioche tooke
His ferst name, as seith the booke,
Was cowpled to a noble quene,
And hadde a douhter hem by twene.
Bot such fortune came to honde,
That deth, wich no kynde may withstonde,
Bot every liff it mote obeye,
This worthi queene tooke aweye.
The kynge wich made mochel moone,
Tho stode, as who seith, alle hym oone
With oute wif: but natheles
His douhter, wich was pereles
Of beaute, dwelte aboute hym stille:
Bot whan a man hath welthe at wille
The flessh is frele, and falleth ofte;
And that this maide, tendre and softe,
Wich in here faders chamber dwelte,
Within a tyme wiste and felte :
For likyng of concupiscence,
With oute insiht of conscience,
X


262 APPOLLINUS, THE
He sholde in certeyn lese his hede.
And thus ther were many dede,
Here hedes stondyng on the gate,
Tille atte laste, longe and late,
For lakke of answere in the wise,
The remenaunt, that weren wise,
Escheweden to make assaie.
* De adventu Appollini in Antiochiam, ubi ipse filiam regis Antiochi
in uxorem postulavit.
Tille it befelle upon a daie,
Appollinus, the prince of Tyr,
Wich hath to love a grete desire,
As he wich in his hihe mode
Was likyng of his hote blode,
A yonge, a fressh, a lusty knyht,
As he laye musynge on a nyht
Of the tidynges wich he herde,
He thouht assaie howe that it ferde.
He was with worthie compaignie
Araide, and with gode navie
To shipp he goth; the wynde him dryveth,
And saileth, tille that he ary veth
Saf in the porte of Antioche.
He londeth, and goth to aproche
The kinges courte of his presence.
Of every naturel science,
Whiche eny clerke couth hym teche,
He couthe inouh; and in his speche
Of wordes he was eloquent.
And whan he sihe the kyng present
He prayeth he moste his douhter have.
The kynge a yen beganne to crave
And tolde hym the condicionn,
Howe ferste unto his question


PRINCE OF TYR. 263
He mote answere, and faile nouht,
Or with his hedde it shal be bouht;
And he him axeth, what it was.
* Questio regis Antiochi: Scelere vehor, materna carne vescor, quero
patrem meum, matris meat virum, uxoris meae filium.
" The kyng declareth hym the cas
With sterne loke, and sturdy chere,
To hym and seide in this manere:
With felonie I am up bore,
I ete, and have it nouht forbore,
My moders flessh, whos husbonde
My fader for to seche I fonde,
Wich is the sone of my wife.
Herof I am inquisitiff,
And who that can my tale save,
Alle quyte he shalle my douhter have
Of his answere ; and if he faile
He shal be dede with oute faile.
For thie, my sone, quod the kyng,
Be welle avised of this thyng
Which hath thy liff in jupartie.
Responsio Appollini.
Appollinus for his partie,
Whan he this questionn hath herde,
Unto the kyng he hath answerde,
And hath rehersed oon and oon
The poyntez, and seide theruppon.
The questionn wich thou hast spoke,
If thou wolt that it be unloke,
It toucheth alle the pryvete
Bytwene thyn owne childe and the,
And stant al hoole upponn yowe two.
Indignatio Regis Antiochi super responsione Appollini.
The kyng was wonder sory tho,


PRINCE OF TYR. 265
This tiraunt, of his felonye,
By some maner of trecherie
To greve his body wolle not leve.
* De fuga Appollini per mare a regno suo.
e - -
/ . . . . . . . . .” - ' ' ' . . . . . . . . .
T Forthi, with outen taken leve, '... .º. t
As privelich as he myht,
He goth hym to the se by nyht,
In shippes that ben whete ladenn:
Here takel redy tho thei madenn,
And haleth seile, and forth they fare.
Bot for to telle of the care
‘That thei of Tyre begonne tho,
Whan that thei wisten he was a go,
It is a pite for to here.
They losten luste, thei losten chere;
They tooke uponn hem such penaunce,
Ther was no songe, there was no daunce,
Bot every myrthe and melodie
To hem was thanne a maladie;
For unto luste of that aventure
There was no man wich toke tonsure.
In dedfull clothes they hem clothe;
The bathes and the stewes bothe
Thei shetten inne by every weye;
There was no liff wich luste pleye,
Ne take of eny joye kepe,
Bot for hire liege lorde to wepe;
And every whith saide, as he couth,
Alas! the lusty floure of yowth,
Oure prince, owre hed, owre governowre,
Thurh whome we stodenn in honoure,
With oute the commonne assent,
Thus sodenly is fro us went.
Such was the clamoure of hem alle.
Bot se we nowe what is by falle


266
APPOLLIN US, THE
* Qualiter Thaliarcus miles, ut Appollinum veneno intoxicaret, ab An-
tiocho in Tyrum missus, ipso ibidem non invento, Antiochiatn
rediit.
Uppon the ſerste tale pleynn,
And torne we therto ayenn.
* Antiochus, the grete sire,
Wich fulle of rancoure and of ire
His herte bereth so, as ye herde,
Of that this prynce of Tyre answerde.
He hadde a felowe bacheler,
Wich was the pryve conceiler,
And Taliart by name he hiht,
The kynge a stronge puysone diht
With inne a boxe, and golde therto,
In all hast and badde hym go
Strauht unto Tyr, and for no coste
Ne spare, til he hadde loste
The prynce, wich he wolde spille.
And whanne the kynge hath seide his wille,
This Taliarte in a galeye
With alle haste he toke his weye
The wynde was gode, and saileth blyve,
Tille he toke londe upone the ryve
Of Tyr, and forth with alle a non
Into the burgh he gan to gon,
And tooke his inne and bode a throwe,
Bot for he wolde not be knowe,
Desguysed thanne he goth hym oute.
He sihe the wepynge alle aboute,
And axeth what the cause was.
And thei hym tolden alle the cas,
Howe sodenly the prynce is go.
And whanne he sihe that it was so,
And that his laboure was in veynn,
A non he torneth home a geynn:
And to the kyng whan he came nyhe,
He tolde of that he herde and sihe,


25° APPOLLIN US, THE
That they for ever in remembraunce
Made a figure in resemblaunce
Of hym, and in comonne place
They sett it upp; so that his face
Miht every maner man by holde,
So that the cite was by holde.
It was of latonn over gilte;
Thus hath he not his yifte spilte.
ºr Qualiter Helycanus, civis Tyri, Tharsim veniens, Appollinum de
insidiis Antiochi praemunivit.
* Uppon a tyme with a route
This lorde to pley goth hym oute,
And in his weye of Tyr he mette
A man, wich on kneys hym grette,
And Helican by name he hihte;
Whiche preide his lorde to have in sihte
Upponn hym self, and saide hym thus:
Howe that the grete Antiochus
A waiteth, if that he myht hym spille.
That othir thouht, and helde him stille,
And thonked hym of his warnyng,
And badde hym telle for no tidyng,
Whan he to Tyr came home ayenn,
That he in Tharse hym had seynn.
* Qualiter Appollinus portum Tharsis relinquens, cum ipse per mare
navigio securiorem requisivit, superveniente tempestate, navis cum
omnibus, praeter ipsum solum, in eadem contentis, juxta Penta-
polim periclitabatur.
"I Fortune hath ever be muable,
And may no while stonde stable;
For nowe hit hiheth, nowe it loweth,
Nowe stante upriht, now overthroweth,


PRINCE OF TYR. 269
Nowe fulle of blis, nowe fulle of bale,
For as in tellyng of my tale
Here aftirwarde a man may lere,
Wich is grete routh for to here.
T This lorde, wich wold don his beste,
Withinn hym self hath litel reste,
And thouhte he wolde his place chaunge,
And seche a contre more strange.
Of Tharsiens his leve anon
He toke, and is to shippe gon.
His cours he name with seile updrawe
Where as fortune doth the lawe,
And sheweth, as I shal reherse,
Howe she was to this lorde dyvers,
The whiche upponn the see she ferketh.
The wynde aros, the weder derketh,
It blewe, and made such tempeste,
Noon anker may the shippe areste,
Wich hath to broken alle his gere.
The shippmen stode in such a fere,
Was noon that myht hym selfe by stere,
Bot ever a wayte uppon the lere
Whan that thei sholde drynche at ones.
There was inouh with inne wones
Of wepyng, and of sorowe tho.
This yonge kyng maketh mochel wo
So for to see the shippe travaile;
Bot alle that myht hym not availe.
The maste to brake, the saile to roff,
The shippe upponn the wawes droff,
Tille that they sihe a londes coste.
Tho made a vowe, the leest and moste,
By so thei myht come to a londe.
Bot he wich hath the see on honde,
Neptunus, wolde nouht acorde,
Bot alle to brake cable and corde


270
APPOLLINUS, THE
Ere thei to londe myht approche.
The shippe to cleef upon a roche,
And alle goth downe in to the depe;
Bot he that alle thynge may kepe,
Unto this lord was merciable,
And brouht hym sauf uppon a table,
Wich to the londe hym hath uppe bore.
* The remenaunt was alle for lore;
"Therof he made mochel moone.
* Qualiter Appolinus nudus super litus jactabatur; ubiquidam pis-
cator ipsum suo collobio vestiens ad urbem Pentapolim direxit.
T Thus was this yonge lorde hym oone
Alle naked in a pouere plite.
His colour, wich was whilome white,
Was thanne of water fade and pale,
And eke he was so sore a cale,
That he wiste of hym self no bote,
It hym no thyng for to mote
To gete ayen that he hath lore;
Bot she which hath his deth for bore,
Fortune, thouh she wolde nouht yelpe,
Alle sodenly hath sente hym helpe.
Whanne hym thouht all grace aweye,
There came a ſyssher in the weye,
And seih a man there naked stonde;
And whan that he hath understonde
The cause, he hath of hym great routh,
And onlyche of his pouere trouthe
Of such clothes as he hadde
With grete pite this lorde he cladde,
And he hym thonketh as he sholde,
And seith hym, that it shal be yolde,
If evere he gete his state ayeynn;
And preide that he wolde hym seynn


PRINCE OF TYR. 271
If nyh were eny towne for hym
He seide, ye, Pentapolym,
Where bothe kynge and qwene dwellenn.
Whan he this tale herde tellen
He gladeth hym, an gan byseche
That he the wey hym wolde teche:
And he hym tauht, and forth he wente,
And preide God with goode entente
To sende hym joye aftir his sorwe.
It was not yit passed myddemorowe.
* Qualiter Appollino Pentapolim adveniente, ludus gymnasii per urbem
publice proclamatus est.
" Than the derwarde his wey he name,
Where soone uponn the none he came.
He ete such as he myht gete,
And forth a non whan he hadde ete
He goth to se the towne a boute;
And came there as he fonde a route
Of yonge lusty men with alle,
And as it shude tho by falle,
That day was sette of such assise,
That theisholde in the londes gyse,
As he herde of the people seye,
The comonne game thanne pleye :
And cryed was, that theisholde come
Unto the game, alle and some
Of hem that ben delyvere and wiht,
To do suche maistrye as thei myht.
Thei made hem naked as thei sholde,
For so that ilke game wolde,
And it was the custume and us,
Amonges hem was no refus.
The floure of alle the towne was there,
And of the courte also ther were,


PRINCE OF TYR. 273
That both kynge and quene hym sihe.
He sate, and caste about his yhe,
And syh the lordes in astate,
And with hym self waxe in debate,
Thenkyng what he hadde lore;
And such a sorowe he toke therfore,
That he sat ever stille, and thouhte,
As he wich of no mete rouhte.
* Qualiter Appollinus in coena recumbens nihil comedit, sed doloroso
vultu, submisso capite, maxime ingemescebat; qui tandem a filia
regis confortatus, citharam plectens cunctis audientibus cithariz-
ando ultra modum complacuit.
' ' The kynge behelde his hevynesse,
And of his grete gentilesse
His douhter, wich was faire and gode,
And att the borde by fore hym stode,
As it was thilke tyme usage,
He bade to go on his message,
And fonde for to make him gladde.
And she dede as here fader bade,
And goth to hym the softe pas,
And axeth whence and what he was
And preyeth he sholde his thouhtes leve.
He seith, madame, by youre leve,
My name is hote Appolinus,
And of my richesse it is thus:
Uppon the see I have it lore.
The contre, where that I was bore,
Where that my londe is and my rente,
I lefte at Tyr, whan that I wente
Worshippe therof whiche I owhte
Unto the god I there betauhte.
And thus togedre as they two speke,
The teres ronne by his cheke.
The kynge, therof wich tooke goode kepe,


274
APPOLLIN US, THE
Hath grete pite to se hym wepe,
And for his douhter sende ayeyn,
And preide hire faire, and gan to seyn
That she no lenger wolde drecche,
Bot that she wolde anon forth fecche
Hire harpe, and don alle that she can
To glade with that sory man.
And she, to don here fader heste
Here harpe sette, and to the feste
Uppon a chaier, wich they fette,
Hire self next to this man she sette.
With harpe bothe, and eke with mouthe,
To hym she dede alle that she couthe
To make hym chere, and ever he siketh,
And she hym axeth howe hym liketh !
Madame, certes welle, he seide,
Bot if ye the mesure pleide,
Wich, if yowe liste I shalle yowlere,
It were a gladde thyng for to here.
Ha, leeve sire, tho quod she,
Now take the harpe, and lete me see
Of what mesure that ye mene.
Tho preyeth the kyng, tho preyth the quene,
Forth with the lordes alle a rewe,
That he some merth wolde shewe.
He taketh the harpe, and in his wise
He tempreth, and of such assise
Syngynge he harpeth forth with alle,
That as a voys celestialle
Hem thouht it sowneth in here eere,
As thouh that it an angel were.
Thei gladen of his melodie,
Bot moste of alle the compaignie
The kinges douhter, which it herde,
And thouht eke of that he answerde,


PRINCE OF TYR. 277
And ever amonge here thouhtes alle
She thouhte, what so may befalle,
Or that she lauh or that she wepe,
She wolde here goode name kepe
For fere of womannysshe shame.
Bot what in ernest and in game
She stant for love in such a plitht,
That she hath loste alle appetite
Of mete, of drynke, of nyhtes reste,
As she note what is the beste.
Bot for to thenken alle hire fille,
She helde hyr ofte tymes stille
Within here chambre, and goth not oute,
The kynge was of hire liff in doute,
Wich wiste no thyng what it mente.
* Qualiter tres filii principum filiam regis sigillatim in uxorem suis
tº
supplicationibus postularunt.
. …”
Bot felle a tyme, as he owt wente
To walke, of prynces sones thre
Ther come, and felle to fore his kne,
And eche of hem in Sondrie wise
By souht, and profreth his service,
So that he myht his douhter have.
The kynge, wich wolde his honour save,
Seith, she is seke; and of that speche
Tho was no tyme to by seche,
Bot eche of hem do make a bille
He bade, and write his owne wille,
His name, his fader, and his gode;
And whanne she wiste howe that it stode,
And hadde here billes overseynn,
They sholden have answere ayenn.
Of this conceile thei weren gladde,
And writen, as the kynge hem badde;
Y 2


PRINCE OF TYR. 279
* Qualiter rex et regina in maritagium filiae suae cum Appollino con-
sentierunt.
And whan that he to chambre is come,
He hath in to his conceile nome
This man of Tyr, and lete hym se
This lettir, and alle the pryvete
The wiche his douhter to hym sente.
And he his knee to grounde bente,
And thonketh hym and here also
And er thei wente than a two,
With gode herte, and with gode corage,
Of fulle love and fulle mariage
The kynge and he been hole accorded
And aftir, whan it was recorded
Unto the douhter howe it stode,
The yifte of all the worldes gode
Ne sholde have made hir half so blithe.
And for with alle the kynge as swyth,
For he wolde have hire gode assent,
Hath for the queene hire moder sent.
The qweene is come, and whanne she herde
Of this matere, how that it ferde,
She sihe debat, she sihe disese,
Bot if she wolde hir douhter please,
And is therto assented fulle:
Wich is a dede wonderfull,
For no man knewe the soth cas
Bot he hym self, what man he was;
And natheles, so as hem thouht,
Hise dedes to the soth wrouht,
That he was come of gentile blode,
Hym lakketh nouht bot worldes gode.
And as therof is no despeier,
For she shal be hir faders heir,


284
APPOLLINUS, THE
A thowsande sithes he here kyste,
Was never man that sihe ne wiste
A sorwe unto his sorwe liche.
Was ever amonge uppon the liche
He felle a swone, as he that souhte
His owne deth, wich he by souhte
Unto the goddes alle above,
With many a petous worde of love.
Bot such wordes as tho were
Yit herde never mannes ere
Bot only thilke wich he seide.
The maister shippman came and preide,
With othir such as be ther inne,
And seyn, that he may no thyng wynne
Ayeyn the deth, bot they hym rede
He be welle ware, and take hede.
The se by wey of his nature
Recey've may no creature,
With inne hym self as for to holde
The wich is dede ; for thi thei wolde,
As thei counsellen alle aboute,
The dede body castyn oute :
For bettir it is, theiseiden alle,
That it of hire so by falle,
Than if theisholden alle spille.
" The kyng wich understode here wille,
And knewe here conceile that was trewe,
Byganne ayen to sorwe newe
With pitous herte, and thus to seye:
It is alle reason that ye pray.


PRINCE OF TYR. 285
* Qualiter suadentibus nautis corpus uxoris suae mortua in quadam cista
plumbo et ferro obtusa : quae circumligata Appollinus cum magno
thesauro, una cum quadam littera sub ejus capita scripta recludi,
in mari projici fecit.
I am quod he bot oon alle one;
So wolde I not for my persone,
There felle such aversite,
Bot whanne it may no bettir be,
Doth thanne thus upponn my worde:
Lete make a cofre stronge of borde,
That it be ferme with ledde and picche.
Anon was made a cofre suche
Alle redy brouht unto his honde;
And whan he seih, and redy fonde
This cofre made, and well enclowed,
The dede body was by sowed
In cloth of golde, and leide ther inne.
And for he wolde unto hire wynne
Upponn some coste a sepulture,
Under hire heed in aventure,
Of golde he leide sommes grete,
And of jewels stronge biyete
Forth with a lettir, and Seide thus.
"I Copia litterae Appollini capiti uxoris suae suppositae.
" I kynge of Tyr, Appollinus,
Do alle maner men to wyte,
That here and se this lettre write,
That helpeles with oute rede
Here lith a kynges douhter ded;
And who that happeth here to fynde,
For charite take in his mynde,
And do so that she be bygrave,
With this tresour wich he shalle have.


286
APPOLLINUS, THE
Thus whanne the lettre was fulle spoke,
They have anoon the cofre stoke,
And boundenn it with iren faste,
That it may with the wawes laste,
And stoppen it by such a weye
That it shall be withinn dreye,
So that no water myht it greve.
And thus in hope, and gode byleve
Of that the corps shalle welle aryve,
Thei caste it over borde as blyve.
* Qualiter Appollinus, uxoris suae corpore in mare projecto, Tyrum
relinquens, cursum suum versus Tharsim navigio dolens arripuit.
* The shippe forth on the wawes wente.
The prince hath chaunged his entente,
And seith, he wolle not come at Tyre
As thanne, bot alle his desire
Is ferst to sailen unto Tharse.
The wyndy storme began to scarse,
The sonne ariste, the weder clereth,
The shippman, wich behynde stereth,
Whan that he seyh the wyndes sauhte,
Towardes Tarse his cours he strauhte.
* Qualiter corpus predictae defunctae super litus apud Ephesim, quidam
medicus, nomine Cerimon, cum aliquibus suis discipulis invenit,
quod in hospitium portans, et extra cistam ponens spiraculo vitae
in ea adhuc invento, ipsam plenae sanitati restituit.
" Bot nowe to my matere ayen,
To telle as olde bokes seynn.
The deed corps, of wich ye knowe,
With wynde and water was for throwe
Nowe heer, now there, tille att the last
At Ephasym the see uppe caste
The cofre, and alle that was ther inne.
Of grete merveyle nowe be gynne
May heere who that sitteth stille:
That God wolle save may nott spille.


PRINCE OF TYR. 287
Riht as the corps was throwe on londe,
There came walkyng upponn the stronde
A worthy clerk, a surgyen,
And eke a grete phisicien,
Of alle that londe the wisest oon,
Wich hiht maister Cerymon:
There were of his disciples somme.
This maister to the cofre is come,
And peyseth ther was sommewhat inne,
And bade hem bere it to his inne,
And goth hym self forth with alle.
All that shall falle, falle shalle.
Thei comen home, and tarye nouht:
This cofre in to chambre brouht,
Wich that thei fynde faste stoke,
Bot thei with crafte it have unloke.
Thei loken inne, where as thei founde
A body ded, wich was i wounde
In cloth of golde, as I seide er:
The tresour eke they founden ther
Forth with the lettir, wich thei rede,
And tho thei token bettir hede.
Unsowed was the body sone:
As he that knewe what was to done,
This noble clerke, with alle haste
Be ganne the veynes for to taste,
And seih hire age was of youthe:
And with the craftes wich he couthe,
He souht and fonde a signe of liff.
With that this worthi kynges wiff
Honestly thei token oute,
And maden fires alle aboute.
Thei leide hire on a couche softe,
And with a shete warmed ofte
Here colde breste be ganne to hete,
Here herte also to flakke and bete.


288
APPOLLINUS, THE
This maister hath here every joynt
With certeyn oyle and bawme enoynt,
And put a liquour in here mouthe,
Wich is to fewe clerkes couthe,
So that she covereth att the laste.
And fyrst hir yhen uppe she caste,
And whan she more of strenth cauht,
Here armes both forth she strauht,
Helde up here honde, and petously
She spake, and seide, Al where am I?
Where is my lorde? What worlde is this
As she that wote nouht how it is.
Bot Ceremon, that worthi leche,
Answerde a non uppon hire speche,
And seith: madame, ye ben here
Where ye be sauf, as ye shall here
Here aftirwarde; for thi nowe
My conceile is conforteth yowe;
For tristeth welle withoute faile,
There is no thinge which shal you fayle,
That owht of reason to be do.
Thus passen they a day or to.
* Qualiter uxor Appollini sanata domum religionis petiit, ubi sacro
velamine munita castam omni tempore se vovit.
They spoke of nouht as for an ende
Tille she began somdele amende,
And wiste here self what she mente.
Tho for to knowe here hole entente
This maister axeth alle the cas,
How she came there, and what she was.
Howe I came here, that wote Inouht,
Quod she, but welle I am by thouht
Of othir thynges alle aboute
Fropoynt to poynt: and tolde hym oute,


292 APPOLLINUS, THE
Ne so wel tauht at mannes yhe ;
Botwo worth ever fals envye.
* Qualiter Thaysis, una cum Philotenna Strangulionis et Dionysiae filia,
omnis scientiae et honestatis doctrina imbuta est, sed et Thaysis
Philotennam praecellens in odium mortale per invidiam a Dionysia
recollecta est.
For it be felle that tyme so,
A douhter hath Strangulio
The wich was cleped Philotenne;
Bot fame, wich wolle ever renne,
Came alday to hire moder ere
And seith, where ever hire douhter were
With Tayse sett in eny place,
The comonne voyse, the comonne grace,
Was alle upponn that othir mayde,
And of hire douhter no man seide.
Who wroth bot Dyonise thanne?
She thouht a thowsande yere til whanne
She myht be of Thayse wreke,
Of that she herde folke so speke.
And felle that ilke same tide
That ded was trewe Lecheride,
Which hadde be servaunt to Thayse,
So that she was the worse at ayse;
For she hath thanne no service
But oonly thurh this Dyonise,
Wich was here dedelich enemye.
Thurh pure treson of envye,
She that of alle sorowe canne
Tho spake unto here bonde manne,
Wich cleped was Teophilus,
And made hym swere in counceile thus,
That he, such tyme as she hym sette,
Shalle come Thayse for to fette,


PRINCE OF TYR. 293
And lede here oute of alle siht
Where that no man hire helpe myht,
Upponn the stronde nyhe the see,
And there he shalle this mayden slee.
This cherles hert is in a trance,
As he wich drad hym of vengeance
Whan tyme comith an othir day,
Bot yit durste he not sey nay;
Bot swore, and seide he shalle fulfille
Here hestes atte hire owne wille.
* Qualiter Dionysia, Thaysimut occideret, Theophilo servo suo tra-
didit, qui cum noctanter longius ab urbe ipsam prope litus maris
interficere proposuerat, piratae ibidem latitantes Thaysim de manu
carnificiseripuerunt, ipsamgue usque civitatem Mitelenam ducen:
tes, cuidam Leonino, scortorum ibidem magistro, vendiderunt.
* The treson and the tyme is shape,
So felle it that this cherlysch knape
Hath ladde this maiden where he wolde
Uppon the stronde, and what she sholde
She was a dradde; and he oute braide
A rusty swerde, and to here seide,
Thow shalt be ded: alas, quod she,
Whi shal I so Lo thus, quod he,
My lady Dyonise hath bede
Thou shalt be mortherde in this stede.
This maide tho for fere shrihte,
And for the love of God alle myht
She preyth, that for a litell stounde
She myht knele upponn the grounde
Towarde the he vene, for to crave
Here wofulle sowle that she may save.
And with this noise and with this crye
Owte of a barge faste by,
Wich hidde was there on scomerſare,
Men sterte owte, and weren ware
Z 2


294 APPOLLINUS, THE
Of this felon : and he to go,
And she began to crye tho,
Ha, mercy, helpe for Goddes sake!
In to the barge they hire take
As theves sholde, and forth they wente.
Uppon the see the wynde hem hente,
And magre where thei wolde or noon,
To fore the weder forth thei gon:
There halpe no saile, there halpe non ore
For stormed, and for blowen sore,
In grete perile so forth thei dryve,
Til atte the laste thei aryve
At Mitelene the cite.
f In havene sauf and whan thei be,
The maister shippman made hym boun
And goth hym oute in to the towne,
And profreth Thayse for to selle.
Oon Leonin it herde telle,
Wich maister of the bordel was, |
And bade hem goon a redy paas
To fecchen hir: and forth he wente
And Tayse oute of his barge he hente,
And to this bordeler he solde.
And that he by hir body wolde
Taake avauntage, lete do crie
That what man wolde his lecherie
Attempte upponne here maydenhede,
Ley down the golde, and he shall spede.
And thus whan he hath cried it oute
In siht of all the people a boute,
*I Qualiter Leoninus Thaysim ad lupanar destinavit, ubi, dei gratia
preventa, ipsius virginitatem nullus violare potuit.
" He lad hire to the bordel tho.
No wonder is thouh she be wo.


PRINCE OF TYR. 297
That she to Leonyn hath wonne.
And thus here name is so bygonne,
Of sondry thinges that she techeth,
Thatt alle the londe unto hire secheth
Of yonge women for to leere.
* Nowe lete we this maiden here,
And speke of Dyonyse ayen,
And of Theophile, the vileyn
Of wich I spake of nowe tofore,
Whan Tayse sholde have be forlore.
* Qualiter Theophilus ad Dionysiam mane rediens affirmavit se Thaysim
occidisse; super quo Dionysia una cum Stranguilione marito suo
dolorem in publico confingentes, exeguias et sepulturam honorifice
quantum ad extra, subdola conjectatione fieri constituerunt.
This fals clerke to this ladye,
Whan she came home alle pryvely,
He seith: Madame slayn I have
This maide Thaise, and is by grave
In pryve place as ye me bede;
For thi madame taketh hede,
And kepe conceile howe so it stonde.
This fende, wich this hath understonde,
Was gladde, and weneth it be soth:
Nowe herkene here aftir howe she doth.
She wepeth, she soroweth, she compleyneth,
And of sykenesse, wich she feigneth,
She seith, that Tayse sodeynly
By myht is dede, as she and I
To gedre leyn nyh my lorde.
She was a woman of recorde,
And alle is leved that she seith;
And for to yeve a more feith
Here husbonde, and eke she, both
In blake clothes they hem cloth.


PRINCE OF TYR. 301
Come in, and hath his seile avaled,
The towne therof hath spoke and taled.
* Qualiter Athenagoras urbis Mitelenae princeps, navem Appollini inves-
tigans, ipsum sic contristatum nihilaue respondentem consolari
satagebat.
* The lorde, wich of that cite was,
Whos name is Athenogoras,
Was there, and seide he wolde see
What shipp it is, and who thei be
That beth ther inne: and after sone,
Whan that he sihe it was to done,
His barge was for him arayd,
And he goth forth, and hath assaid.
He fonde the shippe of grete aray;
Bot what thyng it amounte may,
He seih they maden hevy chere,
Bot welle hym thenketh by the manere
That thei be worthie men of blode,
And axeth of hem how it stode,
And thei hym tellen alle the cas,
Howe that here lorde for dryve was,
And wich a sorowe that he made,
Of wich ther may no man hym glade.
He preyth that he here lorde may see;
Bot thei hym tolde it may not be,
For he lith in so derke a place,
That ther may no wiht se his face.
Bot for alle that thouh hem be loth,
He fonde the laddre, and downn he goth
And to hym spake, bot noon answere
Ayein of hymne myht he here
For ouht that he can don or seynn :
And thus he goth him uppe ayenn.


302 APPOLLINUS, THE
* Qualiter praecepto principis, ut Appollinum consolaretur, Thaysis cum
cithara sua adipsum in obscuro navis, ubijacebat, producta est.
* Thus was there spoke in many wise
Amonges hem that weren wise,
... " Now this, nowe that, bot atte laste
- . The wisdome of the towne this caste,
• That yonge Thayse were assent,
For if ther be amendement,
To glade with this wofulle kynge:
She can so much of every thynge,
That she shal glade hym anon.
A messagere for hire is goonn,
And she cam with hire harpe on honde,
And she seide hem, that she wolde fonde
By alle the weyes that she can
To glade with this sory man.
Bot what he was, she wiste nouht,
Bot alle the shippe hire hath by sought,
That she hire wittes on hym despende,
In aunter yf he myht amende,
And seyn it shal be welle a quytte.
Whan she hath understonden itt
She goth hire down, there as he lay
Where that she harpeth many a lay,
And lich an angele song with alle.
Bot he no more than the walle
Tooke hede of eny thyng he herde.
And whan she seih that he so ferde,
She falleth with hym into wordes,
And telleth hym of sondry bordes,
And axeth hym demandes straunge,
Wherof she made his herte chaunge;
And to hire speche his ere he leyde,
And hath merveile, of that she seide.
For in proverbe and in probleme
She spake, and bade he sholde deme


PRINCE OF TYR. 303
In many a subtile questioun;
Bot he for no suggestioun
Wich towarde hym she couthe stere,
He wolde not o worde answere,
Bot as a madde man atte laste,
His hed wepyng awey he caste,
And half in wrath he bade here go:
• Bot yit she wolde nouht do so,
And in the derke forth she goth
'Til she hym towchith, and he wroth,
And aftir hire with his honde
He smote : and thus whan she hym fonde
Diseasyd, courtesly she seide
Avoy, my lorde, I am a mayde;
And if ye wiste what I am,
And owte of what lynage I cam,
'Ye wolde not be so salvage.
* Qualiter, sicut deus destinavit, pater filiam inventam recognovit.
With that he sobreth his corage,
And put a wey his hevy chere.
Bot of hem two a man may lere
What is to be so sybbe of blode,
Noon wiste of othir howe it stode,
And yit the fader atte laste
His herte upponn this maide caste,
That he hire loveth kyndely;
And yit he wiste never whic,
Bot all was knowe er that thei went;
For God, wich wote here hole entent,
Here hertes both he desclosith.
This kyng unto this maide opposeth,
And axeth ferst, what is hire name,
And where she lerned al this game,
And of what kyn that she was come 1
And she, that hath his wordes nome,


PRINCE OF TYR. 307
To shapyn hym in such a wise,
That he may by the morowe arise
And doon aftir the maundement
Of hym wich hath hym thider sent.
And in the wise that he thouht,
Upponn the morowe he so wrouht:
His douhter, and his sone he nome,
And forth in to the temple he come,
With a grete rowte in compaignie,
His yeſtes for to sacrafie.
The citezeyns tho herden seye
Of such a kyng, that came to preye
Unto Dyane, the goddesse,
And lefte alle othir besynesse:
They comen the der for to se
The kyng and the solempnite.
* Qualiter Appollinus Ephesim in templo Diane sacrificans, uxorem
suam ibidem velatam invenit, qua secum assumpta in navem versus
Tyrum regressus est.
T With worthi knyhtes environed,
The kynge hym self hath abandoned
In to the temple in good entente.
The dore is uppe, and in he wente,
Where as with gret devocioun
Of holy contemplacioun
With inne his herte he made his shrifte,
And aftir that a rich yeſte
He offreth with grete reverence;
And there in open audience
Of hem that stoden alle aboute
He tolde hem, and declareth owte
His happe, suche as hym is byfalle:
Ther was no thyng foryete of alle.
His wifſ, as it was goddes grace,
Wich was professed in the place,
A a


SUS
APPOLLINUS, THE
As she that was abbesse there,
Unto his tale hath leide hir ere.
She knewe the voys, and the visage:
For pure joye, as inne a rage,
She strauht unto hym alle att ones,
And felle a swone upponn the stones
Wherof the temple flore was paved.
She was anon with water laved,
Til she came to here self ayeyn,
And thanne she began to seyn :
A bleased be the hibe soonde,
That I may se myn husbonde,
Wich whilom he and I were oone.
The kynge with that knewe here anoon,
And tooke here in his arme, and kyste.
And alle the towne the soone it wiste.
Tho was there joye many folde,
For every man this tale hath tolde
As for myracle, and weren glade.
Bot never man such joy made
As doth the kynge wich hath his wiff,
And whan men herde howe that hire lyff
Was saved, and by whome it was,
They wondren alle of such a cas.
Thurgh alle the londe a ros the speche
Of maister Ceremon the leche,
And of the cure wich he dede :
The kyng hym self so hath hym bede,
And eke the queene forth with hym,
That he towne of Ephesym
Wolle leve, and go where as theibe,
For nevere man of his degree
Hath do to hem so mochel gode.
And he his profit understode,
And graunteth with hem for to wende:
And thus thei maden there an ende,