L'ENDIMION DE GOMBAULD ENGLISHED MDCXXXIX  
LONDO●    

ENDYMION.  
AN Excellent Fancy first composed in FRENCH by Mounsieur Gombauld.  
And now Elegantly Interpreted, BY RICHARD HURST Gentleman.  
LONDON: Printed by I. Okes, for Samuel Browne, and are to be sold in Paul's Churchyard at the sign of the Fountain. 1639.   

To the truly Noble, and much honoured, S r. ROBERT ANSTRUTHER Knight, and one of the Gentleman of his Majesty's Privy Chamber.  
SIR,  
IT is a position, and main Tenent agreed upon by the most judicious, that to attain unto Honour, Wisdom is the truly Polestar, and to retain it, Virtue the sole Patroness: It being non ad tempus Invitamentum, sed perpetuae virtutis premium. To which, though some have arrived by favour, others by fortune, yet it may be ingeniously confessed of You, that by Your own merit You have won to this meridian: Into which the sacred Majesty of Great Britain having a true inspection, out of many others, he made select choice of you, (for your known abilities) to create his Lord Ambassador to the Majesty of the Empire. And during your abode at Vienna in Austria, where the Emperor's Court was then kept, the Gentleman, Author hereof, Mr. Richard Hurst (now deceased) your (then) servant and Secretary, at his more spare and retired hours, made this his Work his play, and in his most solitude his best solace. And unto whose Patronage may it more properly appertain, than to your Noble self, being writ in your foreign service. This was the main inducement, which not only encouraged, but emboldened me to this presentment, knowing that Honos alit Artes; and the rather presuming on your acceptance hereof, since they who in their life time the Muses most favour, those, after life, the nine Sisters most honour. Thus, with pardon for my boldness craved, I humbly take my leave of You.  
Yours in all Observance, S. B.   

To the Reader.  
Generous Reader,  
HEre is commended to thy judicious view a most ingenious Tractate of Endymion, vulgarly styld, The Man in the Moon: a Discourse intermixed, as well with Philosophical rudiments, as Poetical raptures: The matter sublime, the style succinct; neither ought it to be any way mis-censured for the Title: For all that trade with Luna, are not therefore to be held Lunatic; neither are all things that seem fixious merely fabulous: for rare fruits may grow of rugged trees, and golden truths may be gathered from leaden Fables. But to such as are not throughly Versed in this subject, it shall not be amiss to speak something briefly concerning Endymion and the Moon, (the argument of this present Fancy) the better to perfect them in the perusal thereof. She is called Trivia, for so saith Virgil, Prince of Poets, in these words. Tria virgins, or a Diana And that by reason of her three shapes, Celestial, Terrestrial, and Infernal: when she shineth in Heaven, she is Cynthia, or Luna: when she appeareth on Earth, Latonia virgo, or Diana; being resident in Hell, Hecate, or Proserpina: And for two reasons said to be enamoured on Endymion: The one, in regard he was the first that studied to observe the course of the Moon, and therefore was thought to have slept thirty years, because he spent so much time in solitude, to find out that secret. The second, because the humour of the nightly Dew, dropping from the Stars and Planets, is sucked in, and commixed with the moisture and juice of the Herbs and Plants, to their better animating & cherishing; as also being profitable to flocks of Shepherds, in whose number Endymion was ranked as the most eminent amongst them. It is the Translation of a French Copy, three several times impressed, and in the Original cried up, even by the most supercilious Critics: with many curious Copper Prints decorated, and to one of the greatest Princesses in Europe at first Dedicated: and for Mr. Richard Hurst, the Translator, he was not only known to be a Traveller, but withal an excellent and learned Linguist, of an acute wit, and a mature judgement; who in the Interpreting thereof, hath not only equalled, but transcended it, in the elegancy both of phrase and style: But why should I so much labour to recommend that, which in the Reading can sufficiently approve itself, only let me entreat thee to Read favourably, as it is rendered unto thee faithfully, and with this Caution, I commit it to thy free and friendly Censure.  
Thine, S. B.   


L: Gaultier incidit. 1624.    

ENDYMION.  

The First Book.  
IN the City of Heraclea, when as the Night was much advanced, and drowsy slumber seizing the senses, had charmed all cares, and rendered small difference betwixt the dead, and the greater part of the living: there was on a sudden heard a great noise of Trumpets and Clarions, and without, in the fields multitudes of people, who hastening to the top of Mount Lathmos, made all the adjacent places resound with the Echo of diverse sorts of Instruments, both of Brass and Copper, whereof they were furnished with plentiful store: For the Moon, who but a little before supplied the place of the Sun, and dimmed the lustre of the fairest Stars in the Firmament, was surprised by a sudden defection, and, as if she herself had been by some powerful hand blotted out of the list of the Planets, her whole light was converted into such a horrible obscurity, as added another Night to the Night itself. The infernal shades seemed to extend their limits even to the very Heavens, or else that Nature becoming blind, were to return to her former confusion; every thing was so replenished with horror and astonishment, that even the most profane were touched with a fear of the Gods. Now it was the custom of the Ancients in such Accidents, to make use of Metals of the shrillest sound they could get, as thinking by that means to recover the Moon from some trance, or deliver her from the charms of the Magicians, who boasted that they could at their pleasure bring her down from Heaven, under the favour of Night and Silence: so that they, perceiving her at length by little and little return, as she had gone, and in less than a quarter of an hour, (so soon as the Sun had restored her the light, which the shadow of the Earth had before robbed her of,) appear in all her several shapes, they very easily persuaded themselves that she was much therein obliged to their care and diligence; and, thus pleased, resolved to employ the remainder of the Night, in taking the rest which they conceived they had justly deserved at the hands of the gods, by having travailed themselves in the rescue of a Goddess. But as one of them, named Pyzander, more curious in the contemplation of this fair Star, and slow in his Retreat, had by chance stayed on the Hill a little while behind the rest; he heard not far from him, certain accents of Lamentation, and such as that hour of Night rendered, as more sad, so more plain and shrill. This somewhat affrighted him, but presently inspired him with a greater curiosity of knowing what it might be; so that softly drawing nearer to it without discovering himself, he understood these words: Is not this Mount Lathmos? who is this, that in an instant hath brought me back into mine own Country, from whence of late I was so far distant? And who is it, that together with my Country hath restored me my life? Alas! here is the Sacrifice, but what is become of the Priest, or where is the Altar? And what hand (intending to do me a favour) hath brought me from amidst so great a people? Is it thou Diana, who as thou shinest more fair than ordinary in the Heavens, so thou now beholdest me, if at least thou vouchsafe to look on me, more unfortunate than ever? Whether thou be cruel, or merciful, wherefore permittest thou me not to die? Although thou bereavest me of all other happiness, yet deprive me not at least of this last, as the common comfort of the most miserable: wilt thou force me to live therein, to show the whole choler of Heaven assembled upon one man? dost thou hinder me to dye once, that thou mayst keep me always dying, and that the memory of the favours thou hast heretofore done me, may consume me with sorrow, being determined (having lost them) never hereafter to preserve any thing. That thou hast loved me Diana, is witnessed by thy exposing my life to so many dangers, that I could not have expected worse from thy hatred, than is arrived to me from thine affection: Thou hast loved me, (I think) intending thereby to imprint in me an ill opinion of the gods, and to let me see they are neither constant nor just. I should have judged thy humour and disposition by that of thine Empire, which Fortune hath given thee only over the lightest and most insensible things in the World. O ye Mortals, take mine example, to make you fear the loves of Goddesses, lest they bring you to a trial of all wretchedness: all the honour and glory of their Love, are but vain and silly rewards, since the excess of so many torments wholly annihilates the sense of it.  
O ye gods, says Pyzander to himself, what is this I hear? me thinks I should know this voice, but I understand not this lamentation: can Endymion be in these parts, and I have no advertisement of it? and being returned home, should he live as though he were still absent? and (seeking rather Desert places, than society of men) be more diligent in visiting this Mountain, than his dearest friends? Thus Pyzander, diversely assaulted, sometimes with one imagination, sometimes with another, continued harkening, and Endymion lamenting.  
I endure the punishment, says he, O goddess, and know not the crime I have committed; except it be for having added the contempt of all things in the world to the estimation I made of thy good will. Become now contrary to thyself, and (forgetting what thou owest to my constancy) take up against me the plea both of the gods and men; all whom I have injured in the sole desire of adoring thee: If thou accusest me of no other thing, thine accusation is sufficient to justify me. Mine offence is a great merit, which makes me far more worthy of recompense than punishment. Yet all this while I have not been able to advance any one step, nor erect so much as a Tomb for myself: But peradventure mine affection is presumptuous, and my complaint rash. But now I am compelled (pardon me O goddess) to require it of thine eyes; to whom, as to thy promises, I have been too too credulous. I would also crave it of thy heart and memory, if happily they may be true to thee. Think not that I can forget my duty through the too often remembering thy favours: for although I should reap no other fruit of them, but the loss of time, and myself; yet will I dare counsel thee, to favour thine enemies still in that manner.  
It is either Endymion, says Pyzander, or his Ghost, which perhaps wanting opportunity of passage to the shore of the dead, wanders in these parts. Hath he ended his days by Shipwreck, or some other accident, which hath deprived him of Burial, and granted him none other Tomb but the Heavens? So long as the Sun shall behold his body, his soul shall not be received amongst the Ghosts. But whither doth mine astonishment make me wander? and what doth my fear cause me to utter? Those are not the Discourses of a dead man, but rather of some one weary of his life. In the mean time Endymion, whose complaint, like his passion, seemed infinite, and who, as it were, laboured to convince a goddess of ingratitude, and inconstancy, failed not (in continuing his discourse) presently to name himself, and thereby gave Pyzander a resolution to interrupt him. I must confess Goddess, said he, that I am not worthy of the least favour that ever thou hast done me; and that the consideration of what I am, might justly enjoin me silence. But what! are the gods blind? or have they only an obscure knowledge of humane actions? do they deliberate without judgement? or can they possibly recant their first determinations? As for me, I ever made account to surpass all other men whatsoever in vows, and affection to serve thee; but never thought to exceed a Goddess in resolution and constancy: yet I find thee no less mutable than a mortal; and, as if it were not enough to change, thou proceedest from instability to oblivion. The name of Endymion is no more in thy mouth, than the estimation of him in thy heart: thou talkest no more of him to thy Nymphs; no, not so much as to thy thoughts. At this name of Endymion, Pyzander (transported with his longing) approaching him, finds him laid along under the brow of the Hill with his arms a cross, and his eyes fixed upon the Moon; and thus begins to speak to him. What gods are those, that being at once froward and favourable, do make me hear the voice of a man so dear to me, by a lamentation so grievous, whereof the cause is also unknown to me? Have I so often desired to see Endymion again, to the end that such a sinister accident should now make me afraid of his encounter when it is offered me? Ah! my dear Pyzander, says Endymion, (rising, and giving him his hand) what good fortune begins to approach me, in restoring me the presence of him, whom my sight, but not my thought hath been so long deprived of? Or what sad mishap is this that increaseth my sorrows, by afflicting thee? For I believe, none but the unfortunate, and such as watch when others sleep, do repair to these solitary places, in this time of night. Tell me, I beseech thee, what brings thee hither? Verily, answers Pyzander, I have more cause, and a far greater desire to hear thy news from thyself, since thou findest me in our own Country, where thou leftest us all, to go seek (doubtless) more strange adventures than we. But I wonder extremely, Endymion, that thou seemest ignorant of the cause of my coming hither▪ for if the noise we lately made were heard by the Moon, much more should it be come unto thine ears, to awake thee out of the deepest slumber thou couldst be cast into. So far was I from sleeping as thou imaginest, says Endymion, that I was in a place far remote from hence, where methought, I was cast into an everlasting slumber: From whence I was freed, like one that dreams, finding myself in this place, without perceiving how, or which way I came hither. I confess there was even now a great noise, which did do me a very ill office, and made me wish that all things had been more quiet, and that an universal slumber had rendered all the creatures on earth as dumb as those of the water. Indeed Endymion, says Pyzander, I understand thee not, for thy latter Discourses are more obscure than thy former: I beseech thee therefore keep me no longer ignorant of that which our friendship should make common: Tell me thy good or ill adventures; for thou knowest it is the property of communication to render contentments more full, and increase the power of them, as also on the contrary, to extenuate and ease afflictions and crosses. Alas! replies Endymion, where shall I begin, or how shall I end? Shall I rob thee of thy rest this night, by recounting unto thee my sufferings, wherein my own spirit shuns the remembrance of whatsoever most delights it: so much am I grieved to see fortune, so unworthily insult over my torments and patience. Thus Endymion would have excused himself touching the Discourse; but that Pyzander still adding more entreaties and requests to his former, got him at length to sit down by him, and to begin in this manner.  
Cr Pas inu  

The Star that in the Forest reigns,  
A thousand favourable strains  
Upon thee with her beams shall dart,  
But in the end those shall depart,  
And thou be forced to think and tell  
Inconstancy in the gods doth dwell.   

As the desires are violent,  
Th'attempts are faint, not prevalent,  
'Tis hard the gods to trace:   

A heavy-light enchantment doth  
Stop, and make thee wander both,  
It kills▪ it gives thee grace.   
And so retiring herself, Polydamon told me, he thought she was mad; for said he, what acquaintance is there betwixt you? but ay, instead of answering him, pondered what she had told me; and guessing that there was some extraordinary matter in it, savouring rather of a Goddess than a Woman, and inclining more to inspiration than frenzy, for my more full satisfaction, I instantly demanded of one of her Neighbours what she was? who answered me, Art thou a Grecian, or a Barbarian, that thou knowest not the Virgin Parthenopea, one of the chief of the Race of the jamides, who usually do prophesy at the Olympian Festivals? But another told me, in more courteous terms, that she whom we took for a Woman, was a Maiden, of at least an hundred years old, and who, besides that she was indeed of that race of the Prophets issued of Apollo and Evadne, having constantly vowed her Virginity to Diana, and employed her whole life in her service, had in plentiful measure received from her the gift of foretelling things to come.  
The greatest fear I then had, was, lest I might have forgotten some of the words she had spoken to me, wherein the measure of the Verses stood me in good stead: for by often turning and repeating them with myself, and by the help of the several parts, I had in a short time imprinted the whole in my memory; wherewithal I could not enough entertain me, for my spirit already began to anticipate my good fortune, by hope and a thousand kinds of differently delightful imaginations. The sweet aspects which were promised me in the beginning, did so fully deprive me of the consideration of the cross adventures which threatened me towards the end, that the most rigorous afflictions that could befall me, seemed delightsome & honourable, because they were to be for Diana's sake.  
From thence forward mine eyes found none other object that could content them, except such as put me in mind of her; and shunning all variety or diversion, I was still contemplating either her Portrait in the Temple, or her Star in the Heaven. But chiefly, after my return from Ephesus, I desired to remain on the top of this Mountain, where I slept the greater part of the day, that I might employ the night in this sweet contemplation; which begot an opinion in diverse, that I slept always.  
By this course I saw the Sun less ordinarily than the Moon, whose lustre was to me a thousand times more pleasing, than that of the fairest days: I did so seldom let her go out of my sight, that I was able to give the world account of the ways she held in the Heaven, from the house of Helles even to that of Astrea, or that of Erigone, and thence to Ganymedes and farther: yea, even when in her Chariot drawn by Dragons, she parts from the Celestial Mansions, to go take her walk in the Countries of some of the Daughters of Atlas: whether on the one side she go to visit Cassiope, Andromeda, and the whole family of Cepheus; or on the other, she go to hunt towards Orion's quarter, or by chance, in the hot weather she sometimes for her recreation, retire to the Caves of the Centaur, or in the cool of the Evening she walk upon the shore of the great Celestial River, which is diversely named, by some Nilus, by others Erydanus. And the Goddess took the diligence and affection I had to make her glory known in all parts so well, that she became as willing to show herself, as I was desirous to behold her; in so much that I cannot say, if mine eyes were either more comforted by her favour, and less dazzled by her light, or that by being accustomed to this exercise, they with the more ease pierced the Heaven. But (as if she were descended into the middle Region of the Air) me thought I saw her Chariot roll upon the Clouds; and (to endear and gratify me the oftener) she inclined her look towards me with the same aspect, wherewith she beholds the Sacrifices that most delight her. She darted for my sake the sweetest looks that her heart was able to send forth through the passage of her eyes; wherewith these places were so enlightened, that they seemed not sensible of the absence of the day: O wonder of Fate & Nature! A Goddess forgetteth all the Gods, for the contemplation of one simple man, and finds that thing on earth, which makes her despise the Heavens. There is nothing lowlier than the subject which ordinarily retains her looks and thoughts; and by her affection she seemeth to become (as it were) mortal and humane: And on the contrary, a mortal contemplates only heavenly things, hath nothing but a Deity in his thought, and hath his eye fixed only upon beauty itself, that is, on Diana.  
But what an extraordinary proof did I receive one day of her goodwill, when as the Heavens, all covered with Clouds, which seemed jealous of my good fortune, kept me from seeing her: and how happy was it for me, that there had been some few days so cloudy, as it were on purpose! For in that time I was advertised by the faithful relation of one of her Nymphs, that she was as much troubled therewith, as I, and that she had bemoaned herself of it to the Goddess Iris in this manner. Iris, said she, it would not trouble me much, to be a while deprived of seeing a good part of the Earth, provided that I might at least behold those places which do most delight me. Now I will tell thee freely, that I have lately taken a particular affection to Caria, and yet it is full four days since I last saw it: I had rather be debarred the sight of the Isle Delos, or of my native Mountain, the name whereof I bear. Disperse therefore I pray thee the Clouds a little, & divert them either towards Lycia, or jonia, or any way else, so that any hand thou hide not the City of Heraclea, nor Mount Lathmos from mine eyes. Immediately after this there appeared a great opening in the Clouds, and the dark vapours vanished at the presence of the goddess, who began to appear in her fairest and most perfect lustre, and as if she had assembled all her beams about me; I found myself in an instant wholly environed with light. O happy and fortunate Endymion! says Pyzander, if the sweet looks of the Moon can be able to render a man so. But tell me, what couldst thou be doing? and how couldst thou dispose of thyself, all the times she appeared not in the Heavens? Even that which she herself doth, when she is deprived of the light of the Sun, answered Endymion: She attires herself in a black veil, as if she could not miss the sight of him one hour, without mourning for his absence. Even so, what light soever shone, I seemed to live in darkness, and had no other exercise, but a continual wand'ring up and down the Woods, to try whether I could learn any news of her; or whether my Fate, or her favour would give me leave to find her: Wherein I laboured a while in vain, but at length, as it is the custom of the gods, sometimes to prevent our hopes, and otherwhiles to come when our expectations are tired; so this good hap chanced to me when I least thought of it.  
The night had already begun to furl up her sails, and a gentle cool gale, the forerunner of light, sweetly cherished slumber, and with the force of its wings, drove before it a clear thin Cloud, laden only with a light dew, besprinkling with drops the whole earth, like Pearls, which sparkled even as little eyes in the faces of the flowers and Plants. When as awaking, and finding an air more pleasing than ordinary, and such a one as the gods have in Heaven, or do bring with them when they come down to the earth: I came out of the Cave, being moved thereunto by a certain pleasing violence, which had no less power over me, than if some voice had called me forth. And scarce had I passed the threshold, when as I saw before me, upon the edge of the Hill a woman, for such at first I took her to be; but having a little nearer observed her beauty, her stature, and more than humane Majesty, I knew that it was some of the goddesses. With what terms now shall I possibly express that, which then mine eyes beheld? and from whence shall I draw comparisons to represent unto thee that which (being beyond compare) can admit none? I shall have sooner done, if without attempting to demonstrate light by obscurity, I bid thee fix the eye of thy imagination (so far forth as thou art able) about all the Heavens, and there behold Beauty itself fitting, accompanied with an everlasting youth, and such as can neither suffer alteration, or be impaired by any accident whatsoever. O Pyzander, how far are the Divine beauties different from these here below! & how soon did they beget in my soul a contempt of all that before I had ever seen! But I tasted this felicity in the most absolute degree of all, when perceiving the Bow she held in her hand, and the Crescent which shone upon her head, I found it to be the goddess to whom my heart addressed all its vows: this, I say, made me imagine that the day took his being thence, and not from the rising of the Sun. Endymion, says Pyzander, as I desire not to engage thee in impossibilities; or to busy thee overmuch in a long and vain description of things which cannot be represented: So will I yet entreat thee to give me some figures of this Divine beauty, as much as our humane language can permit thee. Amongst so many perfections, says Endymion, I know not which I should first observe; and the desire I had to behold them all, hindered me from taking particular notice from any one, and was cause I saw them but confusedly. One while I was amazed to see, that in so perfect a stature, (wherein she far surpassed the best form of women) she seemed to be of so tender an age: for her complexion was tenderer and fairer, than that which appears in the first bloom of youth itself, being mixed with certain darting glances, which seemed to participate of both flames and flowers, and accompanied with a virtue so Divine, as that it defended it from the injuries of the Seasons, and freed it for ever from the jurisdiction of Years. Sometimes I admired in her a kind of Majestic demeanour, which as it had force to attract the noblest courages, wanted not also austerity enough to check those whom pusillanimity accused of want of worth, and to prohibit them to approach her. Honour and Majesty seemed to sit in her Countenance, as in a seat of well polished Ivory, keeping a perpetual residence under the rich ornament of her fair Tresses, some whereof were plaited and wreathed; others bound up and curled after the Laconian manner, with far more grace than Art, there being no need of addition either to their lustre or number. Some others carelessly dispersed, and, as it were, escaped from the bands and captivity of the rest, danced on her vermilion cheeks, and fair shoulders; catching, and captivating (in their sporting) both Love and Zephyrus: round about her Coral Lips appeared the sweetest smiles, and the most delicate of all the Graces, both which jointly with their attracts and court, did there manure the Gillyflowers amidst the Lillies and Roses. Which way soever she turned her fair eyes, both brown and clear, the air became in an instant so sweet and pure, that every thing was beautified and refreshed therewithal. Those eyes are really the two Stars, who at their pleasure do beget a new Spring on Earth, and appease the Sea when it rageth and is troubled. But what dost thou embark me in Pyzander? and what is this that I undertake? to speak to thee of those eyes, in whose presence, there is none other able to look up, or contest never so little without being dazelled: which was the cause that I myself was constrained ever and anon to cast down mine eyes, and let them fall on her fair neck, although it were only a diversion of them from flames and lightnings, to lose them in the Snow of her bosom and breasts: where I could see no more on each side (they being by chance half covered) than a small Crescent of those two little (but truly Celestial) Globes, which were in continual motion, and who, as scorning to be restrained of liberty, forced open her garment, as much as possibly they could; so that if they could not fully display their dazelling whiteness and beauty, at least they gave ample testimony of the perfection of their round form; and if they troubled not the eye, yet spared they not to shake the imagination. Herein it is, Pyzander, that the most eloquent would become dumb, and therefore will I speak no more of it, lest the only remembrance thereof should render me speechless, and leave me nothing else but sighs.  
All those places rejoiced in the presence of this Goddess, who seemed to have made another Olympus of Mount Lathmos. As for me, I was so fraught and replenished with contentment, that enjoying whatsoever can in this life be most delightful, me thought I than first began to live: I was wholly ravished with the wonders of so rare an object, when as directing towards me her looks, every motion whereof seemed to be conducted by the Graces themselves: Endymion (says she, with a voice so clear and pleasant, as would with the first word have charmed any breast) thy vows have touched me even in Heaven, and thine affection hath been acceptable to me. I know what care thou takest to imprint my glory and greatness in the knowledge of the Mortals; if I should not be sensible of it, thou wouldst have just reason to complain of me, and to publish over all the World, that Ingratitude is lodged as well in Heaven amongst the gods, as on Earth amongst men. Make use therefore of thy good Judgement, and ask of me whatsoever thou wilt, wherein I may have opportunity to testify mine acknowledgement, and doubt not of the grant: I (remaining wholly mute and confounded, not only by seeing her, and receiving so great honour at her hands, but also, for that admiration and respect equally enjoined me silence) had not the power to desire any thing; esteeming my pains and watchings too fully recompensed with one only look of hers, or the least word she had vouchsafed to speak to me: Insomuch that at first, I was not able to speak at all; and although I could, I knew not what to say unto her: and this forced silence wa● advantageous to me, in that she gave me (by an act of her accustomed goodness) some small time to bethink and recollect me. I was once minded to beg of her the same thing which my Father obtained of Jupiter; which was, to live, and dye according to his good liking. At length finding that I must needs speak, the consideration of my duty surmounting my fear, and furnishing me with subject of discourse, in despite of the distraction wherewith I was possessed, I thus answered her: Great Goddess, the honour thou dost me, doth infinitely exceed my condition; grant me therefore what thou thinkest fitting; for what could I request of thee? I forget all that is past, and can think of nothing for the future, being so throughly possessed with what I at present enjoy. Give me leave rather to offer myself to thee, and if thou gratify me so far as to receive me, I will believe thou hast granted me all things. I would gladly beg of thee, that the happiness I now enjoy, might be made everlasting: but she, well observing the ecstasy wherein so unwonted a felicity had cast me, and which having in the beginning deprived me of speech, went on also to seize upon my understanding, replying asks me, how wouldst thou be able, (said she) to endure that long, which in a moment hath so distempered thee, as thou hadst need of some body to restore thee to thyself? And as for that which thou requirest, thou couldst not obtain it, albeit thou werest in the principal Rank amongst the Immortals: think therefore quickly on some other suit, that I may be no longer detained. Assuredly said I to her, mortal men, who live so short a space, have great reason to think time precious, since the very gods themselves, whose Nature is infinite, are so tender and careful to lose none of it. But whereunto dost thou oblige me o Goddess? for, considering thee as Diana, I do not see what I can ask of thee suitable to my desire, since the honour of attendance, and perpetual serving of thee, belongeth only to thy Nymphs? and for me, I can esteem nothing grateful, that shall enjoin me a long separation from thy presence: I will therefore speak unto thee as to the Moon, beseeching thee, that by the power thou hast in Heaven, thou wilt be pleased to allow me some place amongst the Stars, and that I may be one of those, which go least out of thy sight, and most frequently wait on thy Chariot whither soever thou goest. Or, if the number of the Stars be so complete, that not one more can be added thereunto, and if the Fates resist me herein, grant me at least, the privilege amongst the Mortals, of rendering thee the most acceptable Vows and Sacrifices, and of employing my whole life in thy services. Hereat the Goddess (not content to testify her approbation by a gracious nod of her head only) with a smile, able to ravish both gods and men, added these words: Well says she, be it in Heaven, or on Earth, I will never omit any occasion of gratifying thee; neither would I have thee doubt of mine affection or memory of thee. Scarce had she said those words, when on a sudden I lost the sight of her, and heard only a small noise of the Arrows, and Quiver which shook upon her shoulders, as she turned herself to be gone. In the mean time I forgot not to meditate on that which I had often heard speech of, to wit, that the gods have a form of going, different from that of men, and that without the trouble of putting one foot before another, they have power in the twinkling of an eye, to transport themselves where they please, and that every way on Earth or in Heaven is alike easy to them. But alas! I much over-saw myself, in that I procured her not to swear by the River Styx, an Oath inviolable amongst the gods. Endymion, says Pyzander, either the gods are not, or else they are true, and do infallibly acknowledge the love is borne them; for if they fail us, whom shall we trust? all things must fail us with them: but this Hill will be sooner converted into a Plain or Valley; and sooner shall Meander (shunning the Ionian Sea) run retrograde, and stop in the source, than the words of the gods prove instable; and chiefly those of Diana, that great Ornament of the World, who by ordinance of the Destinies doth in so many Country's supply even the place of Jupiter himself: But good Endymion, proceed, for I am sorry that I should employ the time in any thing, but hearing thee; so much I long to see the success of thine adventures.  
The sense I had of this so high a favour, was for a great while the only support of my life, and raised my contentment to that height, that it admitted no comparison; no, not with the most fortunate amongst men. The greatness and state of the person I adored, and who reciprocally graced me with so much good liking, did place all the honours and dignities in the world beneath my condition and glory: All conversation, yea, even that of my dearest friends, seemed tedious to me; as well for that they only interrupted the sweetest delights of my soul, as for the scruple I made to communicate unto them the least of my thoughts. My memory often represented this goddess to me, as vively as if she had been before mine eyes: Wherein I took more pleasure, than in the very time in which I enjoyed her presence; because, as then, the excess of my rapture depriving me of my senses and judgement, permitted me not to be mine own. I went a hundred, and a hundred times to visit the place where I had seen her, and was never weary of seeking some new footsteps of hers, which I had not before taken notice of. I kissed the grass which her feet (accustomed to walk in Heaven) had bruised; and became as strict a Guardian of the place, as if it had been of a Temple or Altar. But as my thoughts presented her before mine eyes, so also also did my dreams; dreams indeed, more fair, and more resplendent than the day; and such, as truly I never desired to awake from. Sometimes me thought I beheld her speaking to me, only with the language of her eyes, which looked on me with so sweet an aspect; that no tongue is able to express that which they seemed to say unto me. Another while me thought she spoke to me, with a gesture equalling, yea, exceeding speech itself. Sometimes, casting myself at her feet, I endeavoured to stay her, and kissed the hem or skirt of her Veil, and sometimes (O too presumptuous dreams!) me thought I kissed her hand itself. O to what altitude of glory and felicity doth sleep raise even the most wretched! And how much greater favours did it give me taste of, than the mouth which received them dares rehearse, it being so close shut, as if thereby silence had been imposed upon it: and indeed I only discoursed thereof to my thoughts. Oh Heavenly contentments, said I, are you counterfeit or real? But how counterfeit, because so sensible? and how real, being only in a dream? If I would complain of them, or give my vows and thanks for them: to whom should I address myself, to Slumber, or to Diana, or to both at once? The one shutteth mine eyes, the other seals up my lips, and with a pleasing violence contrary to itself, steals my soul from me, and yet permits it not to issue. Oh goddess! if thou art so favourable to me, as that thou assistest, and art really present in this sweet Mystery, wherefore dost thou make use of the opportunity of slumber? Or if thou be not present, or bearest no part herein▪ wherefore then dost thou suffer sleep to abuse thine Image for my sake? Oh, but perchance thou causest the charms thereof to accompany thine, that being thus tempered, and the moderation of the one qualifying the force of the other, my life may be preserved. Is this then the way which the goddesses take, to communicate most familiarly with Mortals? And are their greater favours of such disproportion with our senses, that they must be entranced, before they can participate of them? or in a manner half dead, to prevent a full dying: It is to me indeed a favourable foreseeing, and diverting of what might thence befall me; for I do verily persuade myself, that if thou (when thou daignest to make me thus happy) shouldest not take me in my sleep, thou wouldst inflict more than a thousand deaths upon me by an excess of contentment, and so be as many times troubled to restore me my life, as thou hadst before deprived me of it: Thus, Pyzander, I knew by day that I was a Man, although the night rendered me equal to the gods.  
Pardon me Diana, if by chance I discourse freely that which I am not obliged by any Law to conceal. The wise man, says Pyzander, conceals the greatest part of his thoughts; but what rule of Wisdom ties us to keep secret our Dreams? Every man takes the liberty to speak of them to whom he pleaseth, and forbids not his curiosity to consult with any Interpreters, thereby to discover and obtain (according to their fears or desires) some light from their obscurity, or some certainty from their ambiguity: and beside, no man can be censured for the follies or vanities of Dreams, since to them all manner of liberty and freedom is allowed. There is no man, Pyzander, says Endymion, but in his sleep doth sometimes see certain obscure and cloudy representations of such things as most content and delight the mind being awake: but to have (as I had) every Night continual visions of Diana, to see so clear, mine eyes being closed, and so sensibly to enjoy (my whole senses being charmed) such pleasures as exceed any mention I am able to make of them, is a secret which I cannot comprehend.  
The end of the First Book.   

ENDYMION.  
The Second Book.  
AWhile after, not enduring to feed longer on vain images or representations, how delightful soever, at so great a distance, I impatiently longed, once more to see, on Earth, her, whom I only beheld in Heaven. Wherein, albeit a Goddess, and a very favourable one, yet to me she seemed tedious, and of too slow and small a resolution. I durst promise myself, that she, who in respect to the diligence and care I had taken to keep me in her presence, had been moved to wish so well to me, would be yet more induced thereunto by my words, if I might but speak to her. And that I might lose no opportunity, I frequented for her sake, Hunting and Fishing; in both which pastimes I knew she▪ as Mistress of those Exercises, took especial delight. But all that was in vain; for whilst I went to seek her in the most desert places about Meander, she was perchance on the Bank of Eurotus or Peneus▪ or else coursing some Lion in Getulia, or some Hart in Creta, or Tiger in Armenia: For there are so many Rivers, Forests, and Mountains▪ more delightful than those of Caria, so many byways and turnings, and so many Courriers, and travellers that she takes care of, as indeed it had been a wonder for me to have encountered her.  
At last, not knowing more what to do, or with whom to consult, I called to mind Ismen, with whom I had a very familiar acquaintance. Thou knowest the esteem she deserves above all other women, and the great judgement and insight she hath both in divine and humane things: Apollo himself exceeds her not, in the knowledge of the power and virtue of Herbs, and the Moon will sooner for her sake come down from Heaven, than for any other. Indeed, says Pyzander, it is held that she is able to compass whatsoever she will undertake, and that Thessalia never had her equal. I resolving one day to go see her, says Endymion, and to use my uttermost endeavours to charm the most charming of Women, did thus accost her: Oh blessed Ismena, sole honour of thy Sex, and thou whose manners and virtues are such, as yield no place to the Goddesses themselves: What praises shall I spare to set forth thy glory▪ and what a high obligation of duty shall I be bound to thee in, if thou wilt befriend me so far, as to free me from the torment and affliction wherewith I am at present enveloped; for whosoever, distressed in body or mind, labours for the honour of seeing thee, finds thee presently favourable. Thine encounter is a good presage unto all, and whither so ever thou goest, thou art more desired than present: but as thou hast power of doing that good, which none can ever be able to requite by any equal retribution: so must it necessarily follow, that thou findest the recompense thereof in the glory that thou duly gainest thereby. Besides, what can all mine endeavours add to the felicity of her, who needs not the help of any Mortal, and to whom her own virtue is a sufficient supply of whatsoever she hath use of? who with an equal power disposeth both of gods and men, and can at her own discretion alter the course of Nature and Destiny! If thou wilt in all things exactly imitate the Example of the gods, thou knowest it is the hurt they have power to do, which makes them feared, but it is their clemency and good deeds which chiefly make them adored; and all power is fruitless, that being implored, assists not. My supplication and suit is not of such a difficult nature, as that ever the Night should thereby be made to surprise men at noonday, or the force of Charms hinder the course or brightness of the Stars. The Rivers shall never for my sake, run backwards to their sources, nor their waves swell in a calm. The Husbandman's grain shall not be thereby transported from one field into another, to beguile his hopes at Harvest: and the Hills or Woods shall not change their situation or owners. Neither do I petition thee to disquiet the contentment of the living, or repose of the dead, nor yet that the Ghosts should arise and answer thee: and far less that thou shouldst by any charming or sinister potions, create or extinguish any affection: No, I know thou never dost abuse thy skill, and for that cause it is, that the gods love thee, and give thee a daily increase thereof, rendering thee equal to themselves. But yet I will tell thee freely, that I have been of late moved by a just occasion, to a continual visiting of the most remote and solitary places of the bank of Rivers, Plains, Woods, and Mountains, to find, if it be possible, an opportunity of seeing the Goddess Diana, who hath heretofore obliged me with so great a liberality, both of her presence and promises. Wherein first, I will presume to crave thy advice, and then afterwards some effect of thy power and assistance.  
She having awhile silently considered with herself, lifted up her eyes which were before fixed on the Earth, and answered me thus: I should think myself infinitely happy, Endymion, in finding any occasion, wherein I could be able to serve thee, which as I have devoutly wished for, so I will not spare to seek it even amidst the greatest difficulties. I confess, there is nothing so hard, but may by Art and Discretion be compassed: for not only the Goddess thou desirest to see, whether thou suest unto her as to the Moon, Diana, or Hecatea; but even both the Jupiter's, and all the gods, must at length give place to the power of Charms. The most special and important thing now is, that care be employed in making a right use of it, lest the abuse bring inseparable revenge with it. Hast thou never heard, that Nemesis (the punisher of offences) otherwise called Andrastea, because she is inevitable, hath her Throne placed upon the Moon, (according to the representation the Egyptians have made of her) that she may thence the more perfectly take a view of the actions of men and punish such as are audacious and rash? Knowest thou not also, thot others figure her with a Scourge, in that hand on which side Hope is seated, to the end that none should think to escape with impunity, if they aspire to such things, as are not fit for them to desire? If therefore thou, instead of bringing down the Moon, wouldst not draw on thy head the anger of Heaven, be careful that thou call her not, but on good and just grounds▪ and with the opportunity of a perfect silence, and that when all things, even to the very leaves of the Trees, be at rest: for if the least noise surprise her▪ before she have set foot on the ground, she will presently before thy face return up to the Heavens with greater speed than she came down. The gods, Endymion, with difficulty and much labour are moved to come to men, but do return with great and easy haste; as having always more cause to be averse than favourable to them: and the least inconvenience or hindrance is of force to distemper and give interruption to the greatest miseries. Especially this one requireth so much observance and dexterity, that it must be stolen from the eyes of all the gods and Men: and although a general slumber should seize both the one and the other, yet we are taught, both by necessity and providence, that Jupiter himself (and he only▪) never sleeps.  
If the favour of Heaven towards us, Ismena, said I, be so small; perchance that of the earth may be greater. And since this goddess doth equally divide her care, and presence to the one and the other, if we can encounter her in the Mountains or Forests, what need have▪ we to seek more difficult means? and (with so much danger of losing it) to prevent the opportunity, which of itself may follow us? Indeed, says she, that is the other mean I intended to tell thee of, which also wants not its obstacles or difficulties. For although we may sometimes find her in jonia itself, or some other part of Greece: sometimes in the Woods of Marathon, or Erymanthus, other while on the tops of Hymettus, Cithaeron▪ Othrys, or Pindus; yet we must oftener expect and seek her amongst the Sarmatae, or Garamantes, or in some other the most secret and remote place of the World. Besides, she is most commonly accompanied of her Nymphs, whose profession and exercises have rendered them for the most part so rigorous, and unfit for conversation, that the only sight of men so offends them, that a small provocation would induce them to denounce the same war to them which they have done to the most savage Beasts. But (which is yet more fastidious, and less supportable to those that desire the interview of this goddess) some of them keep their eye so constantly upon her, as if Heaven had made them her Guardians Doris and Laomeda, ambitious, jealous, and curious Nymphs, do so nearly watch, and so strictly besiege her, that she is not only inaccessible, but indeed really captive. Yet, that they should aim, to know, control, and conduct all were more tolerable, if they did not also labour to possess all. It is almost incredible, how the very gods themselves, as well as men, by a secret excess of goodness and indulgence, are insensibly overswaied by the desires of those whom they favour. So that by over-gratifying some one, or two, or three persons, they seem to retrench the greater part of their liberality they owe to many; I will not say unto all. And whilst a small number doth even surfeit on their beneficence; whole multitudes suffering it, accuse Heaven, and hate Government, together with their own lives, and the light. Shall we therefore infer that the gods are not just? far be it, but let us rather acknowledge that they govern all things by the will of Fate, according to its innocence, or the corruption of the times. This I tell thee, Endymion, out of the affection I bear thee, to the end thou mayst remember, and duly consider every point.  
Oh Ismena, said I, let me see Diana and dye: she may perchance be touched herself with a desire to speak with me: for the gaining of this favour I am ready to expose my life to all manner of perils; and if I lose it, that shall not at all grieve me, if she only may know it was for her sake. O ye gods! replied she then, my memory doth me ill offices very often: and I have much abused both the time and thy patience: for my last nights dream foretell me all that thou hast recounted to me; wherein I saw Diana herself, and received directions from her what I should do, and prescription of means, which but just now I was so much troubled to find out. This is the very time, and the most fit, wherein she leaves the Heaven to pass a few days on Earth. I know of a Forest in the World, consecrated to this goddess, whereunto the beauty of the place, and the innocence of the inhabitants, do often invite her to come for her recreation. That is the place where she usually keeps her Chariot and her Arms: besides the great number of wild beasts do there afford her more different and acceptable pastimes than in any other part. Fail not thou on the day of the Sun, towards evening, to be at the top of Mount Lathmos: and the morrow after, which will be the day of the goddess, I will endeavour to make thee happy, if at least thy felicity only consist in the honour of seeing her.  
This first Vision was enough to have amazed me, if what I had heard concerning the Oracle, had not given me more hope, than the first words fear: But if I knew not what this name of Pyza might signify, except it were meant for the name of some City, to be hereafter built by some one of mine offspring: For the rest, I supposed it was the Genius of Olympia that had thus spoken, or at least some Magician of that place, who had assumed the form of some Bird of Night to fly in the dark withal. So making way towards the East, borne by a divine and all Celestial motion, I passed as it were in an instant Licia, a great part of Mount Taurus, Licaonia, Tyanea, the River Melas, Mount Argeus, and all Capadocia, even to Euphrates, which I began to discover in the less Armenia, and immediately after, in Armenia the greater I observed the Sources thereof at the Hill Periardes, so famous for its fertility: then turning a little towards the North, I passed the River Araxes, near unto the mouth of it, where it falls into the Caspian Sea.  
At length having traversed many Hills and Valleys, I found myself in a seeming quiet place, where having remained awhile in my former astonishment and trance, I felt Ismena, who taking me by the hand, raised me up, saying; Now Endymion, now is the time to go, and to take resolution and courage with thee; gird on thy Sword, (for she had a care to bring it along from the Hill) draw it, brandish it in thine hand, and see that thou be not much moved at whatsoever thou encounterest: for here thou hast to do only with a vain and giddy people, who not enduring the light, are constrained to wander in darkness; and who at the only glance of Steel, do tremble with fear. What Monsters soever shall follow, or appear to thee, suppress all affright with this confidence and assurance, that their forms render them far more terrible than their forces. Go strait forward, but above all, when thou comest into the Forest, where thou art to see the Goddess, beware of cutting, breaking, or violating the least branch or leaf, for the place is sacred, and thou mayst peradventure thereby unwittingly offend some Nymph, to whom, by the favour of Diana, a privilege is granted to live a second life, and pass many ages under the bark of some Tree. For me, I will be as careful to know what becomes of thee, as I have been to know where Diana was; that if any danger threaten thee, thou shalt no sooner have thrice pronounced the name of Ismena, but thou shalt see me at hand to succour thee: and if thy hazard be such, that my power alone, without the help of the gods, be not sufficient to deliver thee, I will, rather than fail thee, use force upon the gods themselves, and draw the Moon from Heaven, to free thee from the danger whereinto thou shalt be plunged for her sake.  
By this time I began to discover the Sky clear up a little towards the East, and foretell the rising of Aurora from one end of the Earth to the other, when as all those other objects began to become more rare, less visible, and at length wholly vanished; or at least the Sylla's and Medusa's were converted into Rocks and Trees, and the Serpents into broken Reeds. Immediately I descried a great Forest, which seemed to rejoice at the approach of the day, and in the shade whereof I was well advanced, before the Sun had displayed his beams: Since, says Pyzander, that was the day, wherein thou wert to have the honour of seeing Diana, it would have been too much to behold two such great lights in one day. The hope of this interview, says Endymion, did extraordinarily move me, and the uncertainty of what might befall me, possessed me sometimes with one thought, sometimes with another, because I neither knew the time nor place wherein this good fortune was allotted me. In the mean while I observed the growth & height of the Trees, and the large extent of their branches, which represented so great an antiquity, as that they seemed to have been borne with the World. Oh immortal Nymphs said I to myself, (for the place was so shady and silent, that me thought I was not free to open my mouth, so much as to utter a sigh:) Oh Hamadryades! how many long-lived Hearts and Crows have had leisure to live and die, and how often hath the Phoenix renewed herself since your birth! Thus I continued walking a long time, when instead of finding an increase of light, I seemed to remain wholly betwixt the Night and the Day, and even to follow darkness, yea, move with it, so much did the mists grow thicker and thicker to my sight. Silence and solitude brought with them a secret kind of horror and affright, which no less astonished me, than the Monsters I had seen before: Besides, all this time I had gained so little on my way, that I knew it no more; and the more I went forward, the more was I touched with a certain respect of the places, which made me imagine, that now, having lost the sight of humane footsteps, I was not far from the residence of the gods. And indeed, lifting up my head I perceived a Table, fixed on a Tree, which for bulk and tallness exceeded the rest, wherein was this in Inscription in Capital Letters.  Stay not long in this place, Mortals, except you mean suddenly to suffer the punishment of your temerity. 
I had scarce read these words, when I felt the Earth shake and tremble in such a manner under my feet, that the tops of the Trees were moved therewithal. These accidents indeed had power to stay me, but not so easily to divert my course▪ for, I being already so accustomed to Prodigies and Monsters, would have been loath to fly before the gods themselves. What couldst thou think to do, says Pyzander, since thou knowest there is neither valour, or force in man, but must presently give way to the threatenings of the gods? And whosoever would be so rash, as to make them the least resistance, would only show the excess of his desperate resolution to his own ruin. There was one sole consideration Pyzander, says Endymion, which made me resolve to retire thence, which was an unfortunate custom I have (by some secret Fate) never to enjoy, any more than the appearances, beginnings, promises, and hopes of any great felicity. Insomuch, that I had a kind of fear, that Heaven (already tired with showing grace to me) would in stead of Diana, whom I sought, have exposed me to the encounter of Hecatea, whose presence alone either rendereth men astonished, or, turning them into stones, deprives them wholly of sense. And indeed I presently heard a horrible noise, like unto the howling of Dogs in the dark, mingled with the roaring of Lions, the hissing of Snakes, or some other more strange sound, which cannot be represented by the example of any voice. This increased more and more, advancing like the wind, which rising, murmurs, and ruffles amongst the Trees, and Woods, which oppose the course, or retard the violence of it; or as the rain and tempest, who have always some noise going before them, seeming to advertise us, and give us time to take some shelter, before they dissolve upon our heads. With this, I began more and more to add fear to observation; my face grew pale, my hair stared, and I became wholly seized with horror and affright. I was constrained to leave the place, and even to seek paths where there were none. I knew not which way to turn me, but wand'ring thus up and down the Forest, I began to despair of my fortune, and repent me of mine enterprise. But when as we, poor Mortals, are are reduced to such exigents, that we can do no more, when our wits and counsels fail us, and our best wisdom and judgement becoming blind, remains in confusion; then I say it is, that the gods appear, and witness themselves both powerful, and favourable to those that implore their assistance, and commit them wholly to their protection. And so it fared with me; for that which whilom seemed to me an ominous encounter, proved now a mean to conduct me to that which I desired to find. But it is a common error amongst men, to place the means which brings them to happiness, in the rank of disasters and misfortunes. For I had not gone far, when I perceived before me a certain shining light, whose silver beams made as it were another day, and expelling the Clouldy mists on every side, made, for a good distance, round about the shades less obscure. Immediately hereupon I saw a Crescent appear far clearer than the Stars, and to whom, next the Sun, the greatest honour is due. With which Object mine eyes were presently dazzled, and my heart so moved with a continual panting, that I could hardly settle it. At length, having recollected the powers of my sight, I perceived it was Diana, who, as I thought, had her eyes fixed upon me, before I saw her; because, the fear I had contracted, permitted me not so much to look on what was before me, as to think on what might follow me. I stopping suddenly, found my soul wholly possessed with joy, respect, and fear. But observing her looks, no less mild now, than at other times, I took the boldness, yet with secrecy and silence, to advance some steps, the better to discern the places and persons, because the branches and leaves hid the whole Company from my sight, and in part the goddess herself.  
G pass in  
Oh it is the only desire of seeing thee, Goddess, which hath made me expose my life to all the perils of Heaven and Earth, to come and receive my death at thy hands! and have been spared by so many Monsters, to be reserved only to thy rigours! Who could ever have thought that of all the dangers which threatened me, thine Encounter had been most terrible? What crime have I committed, that can deserve the punishment of so sudden a change, that it seems to me thou consultest hatred and affection, to know which of them thou shouldest practise towards me? How canst thou accord the quality of a Goddess with thine irresolution and inconstancy? howbeit indeed thou be but too too constant in making me feel the smart of the darts which fly from thine eyes and hands, wherewith thou hast so wholly covered me, that my wound is general, no room being left about me to receive one stroke more, except thou wilt make other wounds within these I have already. I request this only comfort of thee, that dying by thy hand, I may at least have the freedom to tell thee so; and that if thou takest pleasure in my torment, thou wilt vouchsafe audience to my lamentation, which will witness unto thee the violence thereof, or at least show that thou art really a Goddess, and that thou readest in my heart that which my mouth might in vain labour to give thee information of.  
In this wavering estate of my good or ill fortune, Pyzander, wherein the Fates themselves seemed to be in doubt how to dispose of me, I esteemed myself infinitely happy by having seen Diana, and suffered none other torment than what her hand had inflicted. And although my felicities were accompanied with my complaints, yet the cause rendered them so delightful and honourable to me, that whosoever could not lament in the same fashion, seemed to me to deserve bewailing or contempt: For as on the one side I experimented the whole force of sorrow, so on the other I enjoyed the contentments of a felicity not communicated to other Mortals, but at such time as some one of the gods intending to ravish them with honour and delight, vouchsafes them his sight and presence. And indeed, as if in the midst of my most violent passion, some Deity had approached me, to drive death away, and defend me against it, or as if the same hand, that had injured me, had also cured me; I felt a delightful Air, a pleasing wind, and a sweet breath, such as seemed to issue from some Divine mouth, with some other pleasures, (which cannot be expressed but by sighing) wherein there was a mixture of sweet and bitter, so excellently tempered, that the sower served only as a necessary ingredient to set the sweet the better off Remaining in this ecstasy, wherein the pleasures I found amidst my sorrows had cast me, I heard a Nymph, who calling aloud for her Dog, cried sundry times, Licanthe, Licanthe; and at length seeking round about, drew near to me; and having awhile beheld me, called to me, saying, Sleepest thou? or what dost thou there? doth any thing ail thee? I could at first, answer her only with a sigh: but she continuing, said, Speak to me I pray thee, and tell me thy grief: Alas I said I, how canst thou ask what I suffer, seeing me wholly stuck full of arrows? how! full of arrows? says she, what dost thou mean? Dost thou rave? Open thine eyes, look on me, or indeed, look rather upon thyself: how can I open mine eyes, answered I, having more wounds there than in any other part? Yes for sooth said she, and so stooping opened mine eyelids with her fingers, saying, See, are they not very sore? Wherewith I, (but not without great astonishment) beheld the light again, whereof I before thought I had been for ever deprived. Then she, taking me by the hand, I endeavoured to rise, and remaining so awhile, I cast mine eyes towards the place where Diana was, but I neither saw her, nor any of her train, saving the Nymph that was with me.  
A little after, beginning to view myself somewhat better, I neither saw the Arrows, nor the wounds whereof before I had so much complained; yet my heart still feeling their violence, kept a continual sighing. Being about to rise, I was going to say, what have I done ohs ye gods! to deserve to be a But unto all Diana's shafts? But the Nymph interrupted me, saying, Dost thou thus acknowledge the grace she hath done thee in saving thy life? for thou hadst been exposed to the mercy of the most rigorous Nymphs, and greatest enemies in the World to men, and such as never suffer any that comes prying about these Deserts and Fountains, to scape without the punishment of their curiosity. Then I entreated her to recount unto me what had passed concerning me, which she performed, according as I have already in part related to thee: but it is no new thing says she, to see the Goddess so ready to gratify thee. What thinkest thou she spoke the other day of thee in the Assembly of the Naiads and Nereids, about the Mouth of Meander, betwixt Milet and Priene? when speaking alone to us, who are about her by particular service, she said, Behold Endymion's Country, it is now a good while since I saw him: inform yourselves to day of the Nymphs of these places, and of himself, if it be possible, where his usual residence is, what study most possesseth him, and what we may do for his contentment. If perchance he present himself where we are in our most solitary walks, and where men do least of all frequent, hinder him not from seeing me, use him favourably, and let not your ordinary austerity deny him admittance. And in truth said the Nymph, there is not any one of the Dryads, Nap●ae, or Oreades, but knows thy Name, though not thy person, and that have not learned it from the great esteem which Diana hath thee in: who talks of thee both to the Silvans and Fawns, and conceals not her respect of thee from the celestial Deities. Fair Nymph said I, by what I now observe, it seems thou knowest that the Goddess hath always graced me with her particular goodwill. O yes, said she, I know it very well: think it not strange then, said I, if from the same subject which so highly delights me, I draw also the cause of all my lamentations. For how can that consist, that she so long wisheth me the good, which she never does me? What know I but that some humour contrary in itself, opposing her intention, uncertain of what she hath to do, and tedious in resolving, may at length wholly deprive me of that which she continually defers; and that time, which like herself attereth every thing, may administer so many diversions unto her, that all this affection vanishing, she at length may herself forget that ever she thought of it, and then in vain will it be for me to accuse the gods of mutability, and breach of promise as well as men. Think not so ill, says the Nymph, but consider that the gods themselves are led by Fate, and must give way to necessity. Know, that she herself takes not the repose and ease she gives to the World. How dost thou think she can give satisfaction, I will not say to so many persons, but to so many different peoples, who desire her favour and presence? One while Scythia requires her, than Greece, and anon Ethiopia. But what do I say? the whole world adores; what Country is visited with the Sun but knows Diana, and her fame? and if thus she must be every where, how can she remain long in one place? And yet notwithstanding all those great cares of the most weighty affairs of the world, thou hast an exceeding great share of her thoughts, and the merit of her words. Besides, she hath this day charged me, by a most special command, to assure thee, that she often thinks particularly on thee, and that the opportunity of witnessing it will be exceeding grateful to her: if this suffice thee not, and if thou hast aught to say to her, be to morrow at high noon in the Valley of Pines, near the next mountain, where so soon as I shall see thee, I will draw her alone from the rest of her Nymphs, assuring myself she will afford thee all the liberty of speech, thou canst in justice desire of a goddess. O fair Nympth, said I, thou dost so much oblige me, that thou rendrest my life eternally subject: But give me leave to tell thee that which thou knowest better than I; that is, that the difference and inequality betwixt us and the gods is so great, that we are so far from being able to look on them, or desire them, without rendering ourselves ridiculous, that we cannot so much as love them, except they first affect us. But again, whensoever they prevent us, then is it our part to follow them with all care and diligence, and thus do I desire the honour of speaking with Diana, having nothing to say to her, but only in pursuit of what she hath been formerly pleased to gratify me withal, having been oftentimes desirous to speak with me, without any other motion or solicitation, save only that of her own inclination and good will. If Mischance could have played me that injurious prank, as to make time able to remove that desire of hers, then with good reason should respect have taken me off from such presumption, and confined me to everlasting silence. O how happy were I, if any such propitious desire possessed her, whereof I will endeavour to give her to morrow the opportunity, according to the advice thou givest me. Well, said she, it is thy part to think on it; time calls me away, farewell: So, showing me the way I was to go, she gave me from her hand a taste of such delightful felicities, as that I asked her whether she intended them to end my sorrows, or to prolong them into a further continuance, and render me immortal with them; whereunto perceiving that she answered me only with a smile; as she withdrew herself, I bade her farewell, saying, Adieu thou the most courteous and discreet of all the Nymphs, I cannot wish thee any greater happiness, than the continuance of that which thou already possessest, of being so near to Diana. Thus went I on, revolving in my thoughts a thousand times all that had befallen me, sometimes praising, and sometimes even daring to accuse Diana, since it being so easy to her to make me happier, she still kept me in doubt and disquiet. In the mean time I being grown weary, and finding the day begin to increase, and the way to hasten towards an end, I began to find the tracing of men's footsteps, which made me imagine, by the appearance, that I was not exposed to any more danger. At last I ended my day's work with the Sun, who was no sooner at the end of his Career, than I was at the end of the Forest; where seeing nothing but Mountains, and seeing no better retreat than the Forest itself, having chosen a convenient place, I laid me down at the foot of a Myrtle, the Moss being there somewhat soften than else where, as if Fortune had conducted me to the place where Nature had long before prepared a Bed for my repose.  
The end of the Second Book.   

ENDYMION.  
The Third Book.  
G. par in  
At these words they presently pressed to stay me, but Fortune at first so favoured my resolution and courage, that the first that approached me, soon repented his diligence; for I struck his Horse so rude a stroke on the head with an Axe that I had gotten from the other, that the Weapon remained so fast behind his ear, that I could not get it out again; and beside, he rising an end, fell backward with the man under him so violently, that he that next followed him, stumbling thereat, cast his Rider at my feet, to the mercy of mine Arms; but turning me with my Sword in my hand, to look to that which more concerned me, and finding myself equally environed with horses and men, I resolved upon a desperate attempt as my last refuge, and so laying about me on all sides with more vehemence▪ and promptitude than these words can deliver it to thee, which way soever I turned myself, I so astonished mine enemies, that I began to find myself in a manner without resistance; and had doubtless made them leave the place, and freed myself at last, from one and other of them, if amidst the violence, wherewith I made their Weapons fly in splinters, if mine own Sword also had not broken at the hilts, which gave the courage to a young man who first perceived it, to spur his Horse so rudely upon me, that mine indignation, seeing myself thus affronted, took from me the consideration of his youth and extreme beauty, which were of force to have moved the most barbarous to use him with more mildness: and so, not being able to contain myself, I threw that piece of my Sword which remained in my hand, the pummel whereof hit him (harder than I myself desired) upon the bottom of the stomach, the pain whereof made him suddenly open his knees, and fall to the ground as if he had been dead. I made haste towards him to get his Weapons, but the others, who lost no time, failed not to seize on me; and yet in such wise, that they durst not offer me any violence: and when they had taken me, they still continued so afraid of me, as if indeed they had been my prisoners, and not I theirs. Some complained of their arms, some of their thighs, and others showed the wounds they had received in other parts. But when they perceived this fair young man trembling and waxing pale, as if he had been about to give up the ghost, they forget all their own pain through their sense of his; and then despair and rage beginning to seize them, I every moment expected that they would have revenged his death on me, before it happened to him. I was inwardly exceeding sorry to have employed my hands towards the destruction of such a Masterpiece of Nature, and was now no less sorry than before I was angry, for the lineaments of his face, had now no other motion, than such as were able to stir pity in the most obdurate minds. The Roses only hid themselves under the Lilies, which a tender modesty, upon the least occasion was wont to cover with the Roses: and his golden Tresses, thick, and naturally curled, had so fair a lustre, that they seemed even to dispute with the Sun itself, insomuch that it might have been said, that Death delayed, and made scruple to seize on him, because so much beauty and clear lustre could not agree with the horrors of her obscurity. At length he began by little and little to come to himself, and open his fair eyes, whereat all the Company, and even those whom I had worst treated, were no less rejoiced, than if he had healed them of their wounds and hurts.  
Their next care was to inform themselves of me, and of mine offence, and to bring me back to the place where they found me, where indeed I could not see the branch I had out, but the place of it was all covered with blood, which issued from the Myrtle in great abundance. Then they cried out to me, O thou sacrilegious wretch, who brought thee into this Country? or what hast thou to do amongst us, thus to draw hither the wrath and vengeance of the gods, and specially that of the Goddess, our Protectress? what Euphrates or Thetis will ever suffice to wash away thy crime? Presently upon this we perceived the boughs begin to tremble, and from the curled top we heard a doleful voice mixed with such sighs and sobs, as moved us to compassion and sorrow, which in a confused and ill-pronounced tone, pronounced this lamentation under the Bark: O wretched man! thou that disturbest the repose of the souls, whose new being should free them for ever from humane passions, or the injuries of Fortune; was there any suffering behind, which I endured not in my life, but was reserved for me to receive at thy hands? Know therefore, that both thy pains and thine errors are vain, and thou dost herein only abuse hope, and resist the decrees of Heaven. Whosoever hath at any time observed a poor Prisoner, pale and confounded with the apprehensions of the fatal Sentence of his Death, may guess the estate whereinto this prodigious Spectacle had reduced me: as well, in regard these words deprived me of all hope, of the contentment I so long, and with so much pain and suffering had sought, as for that I was in the hands and mercy of these Barbarians.  
This puts me in mind of the Dodonean Forest, says Pyzander, the so famous residence of the Oracle of Jupiter Chaonian, where the Trees give answer: Indeed, answers Endymion, it was also in my thought, and I seemed amongst the Soothsaying Oaks, esteeming my Disaster no less assured than if the Doves of Chaonia had uttered it. But this is not all Pyzander; for as they were doubtfully muttering amongst themselves, sometimes saying it was the voice and ghost of the last deceased Priest, another while, that it was one of Diana's Nymphs; Heaven permitted them, for clearing their doubts, and putting them out of trouble, to hear these words: What gods and men have thus wronged Diophania, who under this tough Bark, and the protection of so great a Goddess, is yet thus exposed to their violence and outrage. This was all we could comprehend of her Lamentation, for here voice failing by degrees turned itself into an uncouth mourning, and at length insensibly vanished.  
Le. Gaultier incidit.  
There is not any one of you but knows what was the beauty of Diophania, the only jealousy of Stenobia the Priest's Niece, or what was her birth, her fortune, the cruelty, and brutishness of her Father, or the constant and violent suit of Amphidamas, but for aught I see you knew not of the love of Hermodan; it was the name Pyzander of this poor lover, who, as I have been informed was borne of an Amazon, having been in his infancy adopted by a certain man of inferior quality, whose house was near unto that of Lycaspis, father of Diophania: All these things have produced the strange effects, whereof I am now going to give you account.  
You cannot but know, says he, that Diophania from her tender youth frequented usually the fields, amongst her Father's flocks, and that by a certain privilege of Neighbourhood, Hermodan conducted his to the same Pastures, and so passing their younger years in pastimes and exercises, suitable to that their age of Childhood, they were so accustomed to be together, that the one could not live without the other. But at length they began to grow, and Diophania's beauty took an equal increase with her age and growth: and howbeit it became of force to captivate the rudest courage, and tame the most rebellious opposition, yet she no whit perceived its force, or the power of the Charms of it; and which Hermodan beheld on the other side with so much innocence, that neither, the gods, nor men, no nor his own Conscience, was able to accuse any one of his thoughts of the least crime: And whether the continual seeing her, made her seem to him less rare and wonderful, or whether innocency itself carry with it some kind of insensibleness, he had not so soon known she was beautiful, if he had not so often heard it divulged by a general consent and report. But love, without whose aid our senses would remain in a manner useless, and indeed void of sense, lays before him so many allurements, that howbeit he be blind, he quickly made the other understand what use he was to make of his eyes, but yet not so perfectly as that he knew yet what was the force or manner of a look that pierces the breast, or was skilful enough wittingly to inflict on Diophania the least part of the great torment, he innocently made her suffer: He contents himself with the contemplation of her, and by his eyes, from her looks to receive the flame which secretly and unknown to him, slidingly creeps into his heart: he is so far from labouring to oppose the violence of an enemy he knows not, or from going about to master that, which perchance in the beginning was not untameable, that he not only not resists it, but on the contrary seems to do every thing that conduces to strengthen it: for he immediately suffers himself to be lead captive as a triumph to this secret Conqueror, and as if he took delight in betraying himself; he aspires not so much as to the glory of having made the least defence: In the mean time he takes pleasure in nothing but in his torment, and what before was wont to divert and ease him, becomes now too importune and afflict him. By night he longs for the day, whose light nevertheless affords him no more contentment than darkness, except it by chance show him his beloved, whom when he sees, he is no less distempered than before. He knows not what to resolve on, and becomes so much changed from what he was, that Diophania at length perceiving it, thinks herself engaged by her friendship to demand the cause of this so sudden alteration; which she once tried, but got no satisfaction therein, in regard Hermodan, who felt more than he was able to express, and who beside, was no less troubled to dissemble and mask his grief, than to utter it, would have wished she could have understood it by his eyes, or at least would have contented herself, with the best language her mouth was able to produce on this subject, which were his fighes: At last, she still more and more urging him, the necessity of answering, made him trample both upon fear and shame, which endeavoured to impose everlasting silence upon him: Since, says he, Diophania, it is thy absolute decree, that I declare my grief unto thee; if thou chancest to be troubled with the knowledge of it, remember to lay the blame thereof to the charge of thy curiosity, and not of mine obedience. It is thy beauty, Diophania, which wounds all men, and which assuredly will kill me, since the remembrance and consideration of thy quality and time, so far different, causes on my side a continual despair to accompany my love.  
It is a poor enterprise of his, to think to be able to resist so many attracts and charms; in what estate soever he says her, or beholds her, he is not able to be Master of himself, or subsist; and what action soever she employs herself in, seems to him a continual kill of him. So that one day, being surcharged with his sorrow, he determined to implore her pity, without which he could no longer live; or at least beg leave of her to bewail his condition: but she, not only, not contented herself, to interrupt and refuse audience to his lamentation, but under pretext of sending him to seek in absence the cure of a Disease, which took hourly increase in presence, she absolutely forbade him to come any more near her, which sentence she could not pronounce without some passion, and a kind of choleric motion, which rendered her eyes more fervently darting than usual, and made her thereby seem the more beautiful. At this instant Love seeming not content to use his ordinary shafts, armed himself with a Thunderbolt, not only to threaten Hermodan, but to overturn him, and in one moment reduce him to ashes. Ah woe is me! Diophania, says he, that such an express command requires so prompt an obedience: lest therefore my life may hereafter be offensive to thee, accept not only the farewell of separation thou hast ordained me, but also that of Death, which I am going to suffer. This being uttered, his mouth was not able in a long time to utter any one word, nor his eyes to shed any tears; and yet Diophania had the heart to break company first, and leave him to the mercy of despair and frenzy which seized him. He calls upon Death without intermission, and finding himself deprived of his beloved, grows weary of the company of his life: But his Fate was not conformable to his will, nor any way pliable to his entreaties, to whom then shall he have recourse? It is to no end to sigh amongst the Woods and Wildernesses; for in respect of a Lover's lamentation, the Deserts, the Rocks, and Diophania are all one, and have one and the same ears.  
This poor Shepherd, who thought continually on his Birth and extraction, and in whom the gods had with nobleness and generous courage, supplied the defects of his Fortune, was never negligent in the service of their Altars, as knowing well that upon their conduct and providence depends the good or ill Fortune of men. But as on Earth he bore an extreme love to Diophania, so in Heaven he performed a particular Devotion to the Sun; to him he addresses his vows and supplications, and thus falling cut of one extremity into another, he, who whilom invoked the most dreadful of the Goddesses, now again implores and calleth upon the fairest of the gods. O great Apollo, says he, thou Fountain of life and light, which givest being and increase to all things, if ever the Oblations, which I with an innocent mind and undefiled hand have offered thee, have been acceptable, give ear to my present request; and if there be any error in my thoughts or ways, let the voluntary confession I make thereof, expiate the offence. But first look whether the stroke that wounds me be inevitable, and whether I have not had cause enough to doubt thy sole and absolute authority. O thou great Author of Ages, grant me the grace of being loved, where I love and adore, to wit, of the Sun and Diophania. These prayers sent from a heart surcharged with passion, touched the Sun, but the beauty of Diophania had struck him before; and he, who sees every thing, saw nothing more worthy to be looked upon than she; as indeed there was nothing more like unto him, or more worthy of his love. I have sundry times heard, that which I never yet could believe; that is, that love hath oftentimes moved the gods, yea, Jupiter himself to forsake Heaven, and come down on Earth; the verity whereof is so confirmed by this History, that it must for ever remain indubitable; for though I cannot say, that the Magicians charms are able to draw the Moon from Heaven, yet well I know that those of Diophania have prevailed so far upon the Sun, whose beauty may be truly said to appear as a Sun in the Sun itself. On a certain day, as this fair, but over-cruell Shepherdess, avoiding perchance the love and presence of her Shepherd, had driven her Flock into a place more solitary and quiet than ordinary, not far from that part of this sacred Forest, which is nearest to the City, where she thought she might be most exempt from the encounter of any thing that might disturb or molest her: This god, whose eye pierces the most secret corners, and whose darting beams Hell itself cannot easily shun, presents himself before her with his beauty, which gives him the advantage above all the rest of the gods, and with a good part of that great lustre, which renders him generally known; wherewith she was so surprised, that her fear making her betake herself to flight, she would have been so glad that any one would have lent her wings to increase her speed, that if Love himself had offered her his, she would not have refused them. She runs a great way into the Wood, where albeit she was safe enough at the first entry, yet she forbears not to run continually; every shade to her seems to shine, and on which, side soever she sees any day, she thinks she is pursued.  
At length fear having as it were emboldened her, she thinks there is no safety for her, but in that most horrid darkness and obscurity, which at other times was wont to affright her. Take courage Hermodan, and draw a good Augury from this accident; she thinks if thou hadst not been separated from her, this affright had not surprised her; she reputes her oversight, and begins to wish for thee. And thou Diophania, go boldly out of these shady places, for thy fear is the vainest in the World: Of all the gods, this whom thou last sawest, is least terrible; and I wonder by what chance it happens, that he, who chases away all affrights, hath so distempered thee.  
In the mean time the Sun, howsoever so very swift of foot, that he could easily have stayed her, seeing her fly in such manner, would not follow her: The example of Daphne having tempered him so far, that he then took an Oath, never any more to make any violent pursuit in the like case, and therefore chooseth rather to work by persuasions than constraint: But he finding that his many fair qualities rendered him more dreadful, and less acceptable, and that the mean to obtain favour at her hands, was to abate of his extraordinary great merit, and that his Deity did prejudise him, he resolves to assume the form of a man. Now although the gods do all things divinely, yet their wills govern not so all the authorities of Fates, but that they have some secret reservations, which they know not of. He perceiving Diophania's rigour to be no less than her beauty, and that she either could not be persuaded, or persuaded only to a virtuous end, he so governs his undertake, that he intends with one and the same action, either to satisfy himself, or at least grant the request of him, who incessantly implores his assistance. He therefore puts on the shape of Hermodan, presuming that his absence had by this time wrought some compunction in her breast, imagining that she might dislike his so prompt obedience, or have conceived an opinion, that if he had really loved her, he could never have been so easily commanded to a separation: she beholds him curiously as he approaches her, and is so far from starting aside, or withdrawing herself from him, that, besides her fear, which before m●de her desire his presence, she discerns something in him which renders him more graceful than formerly: O Diophania! how wilt thou be able to oppose the violence that this day thou art assaulted withal, both by the gods and men? all the powers and virtues of the world are assembled in one body to attempt thine all alone, and are so much the more fearful, because in acknowledging thee Conqueror, they will render thee vanquished: They are the same eyes thou wert wont to behold, and yet they have certain beams and sparklings, which render them more clear and penetrating than ordinary. The countenance hath the same lineaments, but some attracts and graces withal, which it had not formerly. It is indeed the same voice and speech, but what doth it not utte? and what Charms doth it forbear to enchant thine ears withal? In a word, it is the same stature, the same body, but inspired with a Deity, of whom (to avoid being persuaded) thou must shun the conference. She should have fled him, as formerly, but poor Diophania knows not that there are two Hermodans at once in the world; and that the counterfeit is far more potent than the real one; whilst she at once receives such powerful and pleasing impressions of him, as cannot be afterwards defaced, and his image equally assisted with Love, and the god he personated, enters so firmly into her breast, that she will for ever remain possessed therewith: howsoever she give no other exterior sign or testimony of it, than her patient and attentive ear to his words; wherein also she used so much discretion and reservedness, that a Mortal could not perceive it, but that it was requisite to have a Divinity to discern it. But Apollo, who read her thoughts, finding, that what arguments soever he alleged, she could not be induced to entertain any undue affection, and that all his attempts unprofitable to his own suit, had no other effect, but to render more acceptable the person, of whom he bore the shape, contented himself with the admiration of Diophanias virtue, and to grant to Hermodan the aid he required so humble at his hands. It now only remains to make him know, that he is no less fortunate, than he thinks himself miserable: which he presently performs before he would quit the shape he had assumed, the more pregnantly to prove to him, that notwithstanding his separation had prohibited him to see Diophania, yet, that he had been both seen and heard of her▪ Hermodan, tired with sighing and lamentation, was by chance risen from the foot of a Tree, and sitting himself to retire, stood a while beholding his flock, which seemed sensible of his anguish and affliction; when as from far he perceived the Sun, like his second self approaching him, which so perfectly resembled him, that he could not mistake him, without mis-knowing himself; which so much disturbed his thoughts, that to get out of the confusion wherein he was, he determined to go and behold himself in some Fountain, to see whether he were not by some miracle changed into another, as he really beheld another transformed into his likeness: he could not understand any possibility of being in two places at once, to walk and stand still all at once, or how he could be entire, and yet divided. And although in this object, he saw no other thing than what he had beheld every day of his life; yet if any man should have asked him the name of it, he would have been much troubled to have told it: when he heard these words: Hermodan, I am the god whom thou implorest, and who have assumed thy shape for no other end, but to render thee more powerful and acceptable to her who gloried in disdaining thee: An affright she lately had, made her wish for thy presence, which I have this day granted her in thine absence, to the end, by this means, and by the strongest persuasions, and most powerful charms, which under a humane show could proceed from a Divinity to make her sensible. Having spoken these words, the Sun retires, and night arrives, so that Hermodan had not time, either to adore him, or give him thanks: And in that intention he scarce knew how to resolve to demean himself, so much he feared to offend the gods, in Honouring his own Image. He never had thought himself so fair or perfect, that he could easily be induced to take his own resemblance for the Sun. Here upon a thousand doubts assaulted his imagination, especially when he called to mind what had some few days before been told him by an old Shepherd, who had the name and repute of a Magician or Sooth-Sayer; to wit, that to purchase the love of the Beauty he affected, were required the qualities of a god, under the appearance of a man: Which he formerly had taken for a testimony of Diophania's Pride and Scorn, and the small hope he was to expect of her. But now comparing these sayings with the words he had last heard, that which before made him despair, gives him now more assurance: yet as the gods, when they are disposed to appear to us, do accommodate themselves to the weakness of our senses, and assume such shapes as are most familiar, and supportable by us, lest by presenting themselves in their own real Forms, the only glance of their presence should destroy and consume us: so also by too much disposing themselves in so gentle a way, they often leave scruples and doubts in us of their reality, and whether they be themselves or no; suggesting by this means to our blindness a thousand Subjects and causes of incredulity. So this poor shepherd, not knowing what he should believe, vexes himself, and finds his Spirits overwhelmed in the confusion of his thoughts, and passing the night with a thousand Disquiets, could not sleep, had he not been forced to it by the necessity of his former watching.  
The end of the Third Book.   

ENDYMION.  
The Fourth Book.  
ON the other side Diophania finds not her sleep so sweet or pleasing as she was wont, and her ill rest begins already to make her awake before Aurora: she never ceases to delight her spirit with the pleasures which love usually at first represents to those whom he intends to engage in his service, and as yet perceived not the secret thorns and prickles, covered with the sweet pleasing Flowers and Roses: she admires the constancy and loyalty of her shepherds, and incessantly revolves in her thoughts his discourses and his actions, which rendered him perfectly amiable. But as her beauty acquired her no fewer servants than all young men that durst look upon her; so amongst others, Amphidamas had already but too much beheld her, for he thence found such inward assaults▪ as deprived him of his patience, and induced him, with the day, to go interrupt the quiet of Hermodan with this language. Now is the time and opportunity Hermodan says he, that together with the glorious title of the firmest friend in the world, thou mayst in one instant gain Amphidamas his fortune; and whatsoever is his, if thou but accord him one good office, which, also, no respect can permit thee to refuse him in.  
Thou knowest that the extreme beauty of Diophania, accompanied with as great an austerity, renders her inaccessible to all men, except only to thee, whom a long habit of acquaintance hath rendered familiar with her: In which respect I ●ntreat thee to intimate unto her my desire and suit to serve her, and to add in my behalf whatsoever thy good will or friendship shall suggest unto thee, to oblige me: I cannot think this message propounded by Hermodan, in the behalf of Amphidamas, can displease her, except it be so that none but a Deity only, can be able to deserve or obtain the grace and permission I sue for. Hermodan, whose misfortune continually assaults and traverses his merit, and so violently opposes his felicity, that even the gods themselves have much travile and difficulty to witness by effects the good will they bear him, would fain have excused himself of this so fatal Commission: But when we have to do with men, whose condition so far exceeds ours, excuses must be well grounded, and supported with many firm reasons, otherwise they are taken as refusals, and injurious discourtesies. But he with this begins to conceive, that this employment will give him a good pretext to frequent and accost Diophania with the more confidence and be a means for him to draw from her some proof of her late favourable change: whereupon (through his excessive desire thereof) he could not yet fix his hope, and so resolves to gratify this his irksome Rival with this smooth answer: That he would most cheerfully and willingly deliver to Diophania the message he had charged him withal, and would with no less fidelity and promptitude, render him the answer which he should receive from her; that he so perfectly Honoured them both, that he desired to render them equally satisfied of his obedience: and that he would rather expose himself to the hazard of incurring Diophanias displeasure, than to omit any occasion of serving him. So Amphidamas stayed him no longer, for indeed they were both travailed with one and the same longing: Hermodan to see Diophania, and Amphidamas to see him set forward.  
Behold now at length the happy day wherein Hermodan begins to reassume the path he had so long lost: But although he was bound to trust more to the gods than to himself, yet his incredulity hourly suggested new fears, and kept him in a continual irresolution, until he came even into Diophanias presence, whom he at first perceived nothing moved, or surprised at his sight, as at some new thing, which somewhat fortified his resolution, yet he endeavoured by these words to gather more full assurance. There is, Diophania, says he, a new occasion which engages me to make thee a discourse, which perchance will be less unpleasing than that whereby I purchased thy displeasure, and procured banishment from thy presence: Thou now hast no further need to consult thy rigour for mine answer, or employ it to make me suffer death, since the design of Amphidamas is more than enough to ruin and destroy me; he is wholly resolved to serve thee, and hath made me promise him to give thee notice of it. Whereat Diophania interrupting him, says; Tell me no more of this, says she, neither let me any more hear of thee, or Amphidamas. These first words so astonished Hermodan, that he thought himself no less unfortunate than he was wont: He inwardly accuses both the gods and men, and imagines that his evil Genius, or some other Devil yet more fatal to him, had assumed his form to deceive him, and mock his hope. Then Diophania thus went forward: Had I yesterday the patience to hear thee speak thy pleasure of thine own affection, that thereby I should encourage thee to think that I would endure this day to hear thee talk so much of that of Amphidamas? hast thou had half a day's constancy? or hast thou so little to sue for in thine own behalf that thou must of necessity either be silent, or speak for another? Away deceiver, thou no more remember'st the words thou speakest, or the protestations thou makest, than as if some other had pronounced them for thee, or thou never hadst thought on them: With this Hermodan manifestly perceiving the verity he had been informed, began too late to repent his incredulity; yet a secret joy seizing his heart, doth so transport him beyond himself, that he forgets all his former sorrows, and suffers now no pain, but that of excessive pleasure: He throws himself at Diophanias feet, and begs of her the pardon he is sure to obtain; for now all her rigours are grown feigned, and her moth utters not that harsh word which is not presently contradicted by her eyes. It was now that these two lovers began to sigh equally for one another, and entertain themselves with so much delight and felicity, that there was no day so long, which in this respect seemed not short to them; yet not their pleasures only, but even their very desires were always accompanied of innocence; and whatsoever violent trials love charged them, their virtue was never injured or impaired in the least. And as they judged of all things only in favour, and by the rule of their affections, so they soon forgot the inequality of their fortunes; and without troubling themselves with any thing that might be able to cross their designs, they promised themselves that time would accommodate all things, and from thenceforward entertained only good hopes thereof.  
In the mean time Amphidamas, whose love sensible increased by the difficulty Diophania made in receiving the advice of it, found soon after an expedient to procure him audience: for by addressing himself to Lycaspis her father, obtained of him all that he could request at his hands. The only respect of his power and parentage, which ranked him as far above Diophania, as she was above Hermodan, permits him not to consult further upon the point, and thinks his daughter must needs be no less pleased therewith than he: and so when he speaks to her of it, he imputes the change which appears in her face to modesty, and the natural bashfulness, which in the like occasion commonly accompanies those of her Age and Sex, and takes her silence for consent; yet Amphidamas pressing more and more, Diophania must declare herself; and her father, who at first is resolved to constrain her, is desirous to hear her inclination thereunto from herself. But her fear of displeasing him, makes her not dare to tell him, what she hath before sufficiently declared to her mother▪ and therefore Mirtamisa speaking for her, informs Lycaspis of that which he desired not to have heard: which was, that her Daughter's disposition, would make her prefer the condition of the poorest shepherd of the World, before all the wealth of him, whose person she could not affect: Which when Lycaspis heard, his Barbarous inhumanity would not give him leave to reply any thing, but words of reproach. And as he never had the temper either to retain his Choler, or conceal his opinion, he failed not to acquaint Amphidamas, with the very words, which Mirtamisa had reported of Diophania, and to advise with him what means were most proper to be used to gain her. Amphidamas bearing himself violently against whatsoever resists him, thinking all things due to him upon his first demand, is not able to support with patience, at the hands of whom he so much loves, words so full of disdain and hatred: Whosoever now looks upon her, increases his jealousy, but especially Hermodan, who never forsakes her Company; insomuch that the first thing he counsels Lycaspis, is to forbid Diophania any more to see him, or admit him to her presence. Then he commands her to resolve, and join a voluntary and cheerful obedience to the necessity of obeying; that he had engaged his promise therein, and beside could not think that she was so little careful of herself, or void of Judgement, as to refuse the greatest honour and advantage that ever he should be able to procure her. Lycaspis' being far more indulgent to the desires of Amphidamas, than to those of his Daughter, forgot not from thence forward to repeat often to her that unpleasing Oration, and to offer her the choice of two things, either to remain in his perpetual disgrace, or to give him satisfaction in that which he required.  
Diophania finding herself thus urged, howbeit she could not easily persuade herself, that her determinations were in every thing to depend on her Father's will, or that it was more convenient for her to enter into an assured misfortune for her whole life, than once to disobey him; resolves nevertheless to tell him, that her will depends wholly upon his, and that she will rather choose death than disobedience: But it was far easier for her to weep than to answer; and from those two or three words, which she scarce was able to utter, she fell suddenly into an abundance of tears; this is now all the exercise she can employ herself in, and by night she chiefly torments and afflicts herself, whilst Hermodan takes his rest, or perhaps delights his spirit with some pleasing hope, although indeed it were time for him to despair. He longs for nothing but the day, to render himself in these fair places, as the sole witnesses of his felicity and contentment; which arrives for him too soon, because with it he encounters Diophania sad and desolate, bringing him this irksome and unpleasing message. Ah Hermodan says she, now is the time that my Father's tyranny is become complete, who not only commands me to love Amphidamas, but with all forbids me to see or speak to thee: Farewell therefore Hermodan; the small power I have over mine actions and myself, permits me not any further conference with thee: know only that my life cannot subsist without the continuance of thy love, and nothing can comfort me but thy loyalty: How should I be able to express the estate our poor Lover was now reduced, to whom this change was so rude and sensible, that he was not himself able to signify his sorrow but by astonishment and silence? he knows not what way to turn him, and seeing her the whole object of his love, and only that which made his life acceptable to him, retire from him, if he could have thought on any expedient to facilitate the approach of death, he would assuredly have made use of it. And Diophania from thence forward became so wholly seized with sorrow, that every hour she visibly changed, and in a very short time became wholly unlike to herself; yet she continued fair, for her beauty was so perfect, that neither her tears or her sorrows were able to deface it.  
I observing all those passages, and having before perceived the affection she bore to Hermodan, although I were not resolved much to flatter her passion, as imagining it could turn to no other thing but a necessary change of the one or the other, or at least a common despair in both, yet her Father's cruelty was to her so complete an affliction, that she needed not the addition of any other from me, who on the contrary sought all opportunities to divert and comfort her: And perceiving that the only name of Hermodan had more power with her than any discourse I was able to present her withal, I forced myself, for her sake, as much as was possible, to comply with her humour, and by that means got knowledge of the whole Story. If at any time I laboured to reduce her memory to the consideration of what she ought to do, as by that means gently to draw her back to the knowledge of her duty, I found the opposition of two such strong passions, her love to Hermodan, and her hatred to Amphidamas, that the only effect of all my remonstrances was a renovation of her tears, and a drawing of this plaint from her lips.  
Ah me! says she, either our desires and affections are blind, or the Laws of Heaven are cruel, that we must so ardently love that which we can never possess, or be possessed by that, which we cannot affect: What likelihood is there, that ever I shall be able to persuade myself, that Amphidamas, whom I hate above all other men, should one day become my better part, or indeed my second self? If the gods have so much exalted his fortune, it is only to display his defects, and show the many wants in his person. My Father is quite different from the disposition of other Fathers, whose children, how deformed soever, seem fair to them; for it is his opinion, I must seem very defective and ill-shapen, since he goes about to present me my Match in the most imperfect man of all others, and as if I were bound to see only with his eyes, and love with his inclination, he will purchase me a contentment, which I shall not only never enjoy, but rather esteem it for a singular affliction. Wherein have I ever so much offended him, that he inflicts a penance on me no shorter than my life? and whereas others seek the good and contentment of their Children, he will unworthily condemn me to the sufferance of an eternal affliction. Shall I alone in all the works of Nature be linked to my contrary? If it be a Decree of Heaven, why is it only particular to me? And why is not light as well annexed to darkness, and all other opposites mixed with a like confusion? It is a vain proposition they make to me, that even those, who in the beginning are most odious to us, do become, when once the Law renders them ours, amiable by custom, and the necessity which is imposed upon us to affect them; Is not this a continual error that reigns in us? Thus the poor Galleyslave becomes enamoured on the Chain wherewith he hath been accustomed to be continually fettered; thus the very poison, retaining its proper quality, is to many, food and nourishment: and thus must we doubtless be grown exceeding ill, when we can find no taste but in ill things, and that we begin to esteem Vice in lieu of Virtue.  
Whilst I entertained myself with those thoughts, more full of fear than hope, I heard one open the door, where I saw enter a great number of the principal, and the most ancient of the City, who took special notice of my face, my stature, and the whole proportion of my body; and then they examined me whence I was, what was the occasion of my Voyage, and concerning the accident that was befallen me; which done, they retired apart, and talked a good while together, and by their gestures they seemed to me, all to consent to one and the same thing: In the mean time, I not knowing what to do, could conclude no other thing in my thoughts, but that I was a lost man, and bought and sold by them, and should be presently delivered over to the best Chapman. I waited with longing to see how they had disposed of me: And daring to expect nothing at the hands of my misfortune, but all manner of disasters, I resolved myself to a constant suffering of more torment than they could inflict upon me. But in stead of this, I was on the sudden wholly amazed to see them, whom I had newly so much incensed; to treat me, as if they had been much obliged to me: and the chiefest of those that had taken me, suddenly turning his Choler into Courtesy, and his injuries into good offices, was exceeding careful that I should receive all manner of contentment in his house, and be better treated than himself: this made me say with myself, those people are not sensible of injuries, since they thus mildly punish sacrileges, and so ill defend the cause of their gods. But little knew I that it was their custom to observe the words and gestures of their Captives, and slaves thereby to discern, which of them was best inspired to the discourse of times, and events, and foretell things to come, and then to sacrifice them. And so walking one evening with some of the principal of them, and being the first that perceived the New Moon, as soon as she appeared in the Sky, I took occasion to discourse of her, telling them how happy I thought this Country, by being in the protection of so great a goddess; and in pursuit of this, I began to show them her course, her motions, the causes of her several shapes, and all her alterations and effects: Thus, whilst I precipitated myself to my fatality, these people heard me with great attention, and admiring that which they understood not, they took all my words for Oracles: especially perceiving me so passionately to rehearse the praises of the goddess, and repeat Hymns in Honour of her, such as they had not been wont to hear. Sometimes I seemed to them to be transported even to Heaven; and that the performance of these Discourses, required, that either I must have an extraordinary inspiration have been an eyewitness of all her motions; insomuch, that they all unanimously professed, and with one voice said: this young man is questionless happened fortunately into our hands, and we have not any one more worthy of the sacred Chain than he▪ for it was the custom to honour and adorn with this Chain, the person designed for the Sacrifice) which I then understood not.  
But Endymion, says Pyzander, pardon my just curiosity, which obliges me to interrupt thee, by ask thee what became of Hermodan all this while, whom you lost at the foot of the Myrtle? Hermodan, replied Endymion, stayed there the whole day, beholding Diophania in this new condition, adoring her, and pouring out his lamentations before her: but it seems she hath neither voice nor words more, and that her Fate had already put a limit to all the Discourses she was for ever to make, with that case she had uttered to us: neither do I think that he received any other answer from her: or at least, if she spoke any more to him, it was that which only served to increase his affliction to the height of despair. At length perceiving there was no more of Diophania left him, and that to see her in that estate, and to see her dead, was one and the same thing; that after having acquired the affection of the rarest beauty in the World, and been preferred therein, not only to the greatest of men, but even to the gods themselves, there remained no earthly thing fit for him to desire: And beside, he having been the principal cause of whatsoever had been tragical, and most deploreable in this sad adventure●; it would have argued a want of sense or feeling of it, and a stupidity of courage to have desired to live longer, and purchase nothing thereby, but contempt and shame: So, finding both love and despair, yea, and his very Conscience reproaching him with every moment he added to his life, he resolved to rank himself into the number of the dead, provided, that in Sacrificing himself in her presence, he might, if it were possible, procure her a place amongst the Deities. And thus, having the whole day watered and bedewed the foot of the Myrtle with his tears, he resolved at night to besprinkle it with his blood; but just as he was giving himself the mortal stroke, one by chance passing by saw him, and snached the Dart out of his hand, which he was going to employ in this fatal execution. Afterwards he would have sought some Rock or Precipice for the accomplishing of his purpose, if he had not esteemed it as a great crime, from thenceforward any moment to leave her presence, for whose sake only in what estate soever she were, he was fully determined to live and dye. He therefore implores the pity of the gods, especially of Apollo, and conjures them so unfeignedly to put some period to his sufferings, that the night following, when all creatures were dumb and at rest, they also stopped the current of his lamentations, and by a change, not much unlike that of Diophania, granted him the repose he had so much desired at their hands. For the next morning the people who came flocking from all parts, to see this new Nymph, under the shape of a Myrtle, where wholly amazed with the sight of another spectacle before her, which was that of Hermodan, represented under the figure of a wild Olive-Tree, which Olive and Myrtle were so near together, that their branches began to intermix in token of sympathy and affection. And since that time, the Nymphs of these quarters have celebrated nothing so much as the names of Hermodan and Diophania, singing continually to their praises, as of two incomparable examples of love and fidelity, whom they have recommended to everlasting memory and renown.  
There is one doubt more, says Pyzander, to be cleared, which is, that thou hast hitherto discoursed of a City, a River, and a Country, without naming either one or other of them. Indeed says Endymion, that question is easily answered; they having all three almost one and the same name. The City is called Alba; the River, Alban; and the Country, Albania. And this, as I suppose, by reason of the nature of the place, which produces the people generally flaxen-haired in their youth: A people excelling in beauty, of fair stature; another race of Cyclops, inhabiting the Confines of the Caspian Sea, and Mount Caucasus, for the most part shepherds; Galactophagi, simple, innocent, and just of life and manners, and in a word, really such as the Abiens, and Nomadi. Furthermore, it is a Country of pasture, the soil is so fertile, that without any manuring it produces infinite quantity of good fruits, which in mine opinion is the cause that the people are more negligent, and less addicted to husbandry; for indeed they love no kind of labour, except it be immediately followed with reward, or accompanied with pleasure, as hunting, also they employ more fervency and affection than industry. But in stead of Art, Nature hath furnished them with the best and strongest Dogs of the World, such as both fight with, and destroy Lions, and are not afraid to set upon any living creature. I cannot give thee any more particular description of it, save only, that as the fertility of Egypt is accompanyied with its Crocodiles, so this Country hath her Serpents, the teeth whereof are mortal, and their poison of such a tickling operation, that men die of it with continual laughing.  
That is the place, Pyzander, where I (not sensible of the disaster, which not only threatened but pressed my life) have remained ever since thou last sawest me, and where I have passed the greatest part of my time at ease, amidst the fresh shades, on the River sides, with fragrant and odoriferous Flowers and Herbs, amongst the Nymphs and the May-maids, in the fullness of thousands of delights, if my Spirit had then been as sensible thereof, as I became afterwards, when I was reduced to the like degree of torment and affliction. There were the feasts, where I was treated with the most exquisite Cates, with the Music both of instruments and voice, and with the Dances of young Gallants, and fair Ladies: in a word, there was nothing but pastimes and delights▪ If I were accompanied, so had I also the liberty of being alone when I pleased; and so making daily choice of the recreations that most pleased me; I went usually up and down the Forest, where I often encountered Diana, whose sole presence made me live, in the same time that her change, and the remembrance of the time passed had even killed me. Sometimes I saw her walk, attended by the sixty daughters of Oceanus, and of twenty other Nymphs, who have charge of her Bows, her Arrows, her Busgins, and her Dogs. Sometimes I observed her returning from her game, all haughty, and triumphing over the Lions, Bears, and other Monsters which she had slain. Sometimes also I found her almost all alone, where I had opportunity of seeing, and being seen of her: But Pyzander wilt thou believe this? Oh do, for it is certain, howbeit it seem scarce credible: Albeit, she saw me in the estate wherein I was, bearing the Chain, which she knew well (though I knew it not) to be the mark, not only of my Captivity, but of the end whereunto I was designed; although I say, she well knew I was to be sacrificed for her, yet had she in the mean time the heart to look upon me without pity, as if she had been changed into another, or had suddenly lost all compassion, remembrance, knowledge, or speech of me. If I had presented myself to the flinty Rock, where the waves of the Sea are broken, and Mariners suffer shipwreck; I might have obtained as much comfort: And yet it is not lawful for me to say she is a little rigorous, since that from henceforward there is no other contentment left me, than to allege mine affection to her, that doth not acknowledge it: Yea, that Nymph who had promised me so much favour and assistance, and to whom I had vowed so much service, had also forgotten my vows, and her own promises; and either vouchsafed not to look upon me at all, or else looked on me by chance, or as it were upon a delinquent. Must the transgression of the Laws which Ismena had prescribed me, cost me so dear? and must I thus pay for having been compelled to violate things esteemed sacred: O Endymion, happy hadst thou been if thou hadst not found any Myrtle in the Forest of Diana: I should at least from the beginning have believed the Oracle which sounded thence, and which at length I found too true. I should have laid aside the care of presenting myself before her, since her insensible carriage continually frustrated my pains and expectation. But that hope which usually entertains men with error and vanity, engaging them after to force their Fate, persuaded me to tempt fortune yet once more; yea, and a second time also. I went so often to the place where I first had seen her, and received more than a thousand Deaths from her hand, without dying, that at length it chanced me to find her there, and participate of a spectacle far more worthy of the gods than of men.  
The noise which these Nymphs made, to whom her affection and goodness permitted all manner of freedom in these solitary places, even to a familiar sporting with her, gave me occasion to hide myself in a thicket, which I had before observed, where I could see all, yet no body could see me; they stood all upon their feet before the Goddess, observing heedfully the enterprise which two or three of the chiefest of them had engaged themselves in against her, which she resisted only with smiling, as if she cared not much, although they should overcome her. One would have thought, seeing them so imperiously to abuse the power she had given them, that they had changed conditions with her, and that she, being really subject to them, had deserved to be handled as a disobedient and criminal person; for one bound her feet, another her hands, with bonds of silk and gold, which they took from the Dryads that stood by: O ye gods, thought I to myself! being amazed to see so many virtues and beauties captive together; in what estate or fashion soever Diana at it, and could not contain themselves. But the Naiads only laughed at it; and I took that opportunity to retire me.  
Thus much time stole away, and the Feast of Sacrifices approached: It was now that Diana, ceasing to be any more favourable to me, Ismene might have been to me in stead of a goddess; if the knowledge she had of what was to befall me, and the remembrance of the promises she had made me, had moved her to have a greater care of my return, than I had of it myself. But is it possible, said Pyzander, that thou wert not troubled, concerning the time and means she should use to free thee from thence? I was so far from calling her to mine aid, or once naming her, that I endeavoured to deny her admittance into my thoughts, for fear lest my thoughts should come to her knowledge, and making some attempt upon her virtue, should solicit her favour towards me; as I had feared nothing more, than to be drawn out of the torment wherein I was: A blind desire made me violently to pursue that which I ought to have avoided: for whether Diana were averse or favourable, I could not forbear to go daily to seek her: Moreover the true innocence of these people, the honour and good entertainment they gave me, the beauty of the place and the persons, and especially of the women, who almost generally had fair hair▪ and fresh complexions, mingled with red and white, and the stature so graceful and comely, that if they had added to their natural perfections the Art of setting them out, with the grace and ornaments, which the Greekish Dames use, they would have seemed goddesses. Those things which seemed in a manner to induce Diana herself to visit them so often, might well make me for a while forget the charms of my native soil.  
Amongst other, the High Priest, named Timetes, had a Niece of about seventeen or eighteen years of age, who shared with him in the care of the sacred things, and seemed to vow herself wholly to the service of Diana: But her beauty extremely resisted her vows, being such, with the Natural grace wherewith it was accompanied, that there are very few in the world can equal it, but none surpass it: From the first time that I saw her; I thought I had formerly beheld and seen her else where, or at least some shadow, or resemblance of her beauty; for, having been always separated with so many Rivers, mountains, and remote Countries, there was no likelihood that it could be the same: Moreover, I imagined she thought the same concerning me, because she continually looked upon me, as if she had known me; which made me suddenly believe we had seen each other in Heaven before we were borne into the World; and by consequence might have some sympathy of affections: In the mean time, I who was never unsensible in the encounter of such objects (save only since the Law which I imposed on myself) to observe constantly the vows I had made to Diana, whose only Idea purifies my thoughts, and banishes all earthly & mortal thoughts from my heart, would not engage her affection by too much Discourse, nor promise her more than I had liberty to perform, having ever observed that Rule amongst all sorts of people, that my words should not in any thing differ from mine intentions. But yet from my first view of her I endeavoured to render mine actions acceptable to her, thereby to do me good will at her hands.  
It happens usually that in these accidents we find something within us which doth so strongly animate us, and stirs up in us desires of on affection so natural, that we have much ado to overcome ourselves, and conceal our passion: And although in this respect, our own inclinations were not of themselves so prompt, yet we are obliged by discretion and civility, not to seem wholly insensible of it. Great beauties have a secret kind of Divinity, more powerful than Sceptres and Empires: And our extreme disposition to love them, makes our opinions add new force, and charms to them. They can so naturally persuade and constrain; yea, without the assistance of Art, that their very silence is more eloquent than any Language; we cannot look on them without amazement and disturbance; and their sole presence in one instant bereaves us both of judgement, force, and courage: for by the eyes issue such attracts, as gives us what inspiration and motion they please, and by invisible Chains do so sweetly force and draw us, that they make us follow them without contradiction or resistance. A smile, a gesture, or motion, ravishes us with admiration and sighs, and even transports us: what shall I say more? one only look charms us, enchants us, drinks our blood, transforms and renders us insensible. No Pyzander, I am of opinion, that if the World were without women, we should have a familiar conversation with the gods: for indeed, what is there but they may command over our souls? and what persuasion, compulsion, or torture, is comparable to the force of their attracts? O jupiter! wilt thou not pardon all the wrongs malice, fraudulent Discourses, artifices, false oaths, loss of time, and the impertinent pains and labours they engaged us in? As for me, I neither ought nor could love any other earthly thing, being so far engaged in the service of a goddess; yet wheresoever this fair one came into my sight; I was much troubled to keep myself from using a secret language of mine eyes, a persuading silence, a gesture and garb more eloquent than speech itself, a negligence replenished with artifice, and a demeanour discreet and moderate in itself, although towards others full of violence: Whereof at first, by reason of the innocent freedom of her age, and her small experience she took little heed, but within a few days I could plainly perceive that her heart was as tender as others, and that her disposition was capable of love, how careful soever she were to keep it private; and that a woman more expert in dissembling her thoughts, would have been harder to be discovered. But Stenobea (so was her name) who had not yet learned that love is a fire, hard to be hidden, or kept from shining, and that the heat of it causes a thousand disquiets, which beget as many several motions, thought her silence a sufficient Mask to cover her inward trouble, as if love had had no other Organ but the tongue to express itself by: Indeed she betrayed not her thoughts with any one word, and so made it a dumb love, though not blind: But the veil seemed to be taken from her eyes, only to stop her mouth. How then couldst thou perceive Pyzander, that she loved thee. The end, answered Endymion will give thee proof of the truth of it: It was that, which gave me assurance of it myself; yet I will tell thee what it was that made me of that opinion from the beginning, where I might reckon the extraordinary care she had of me; the recommendation she gave of me to others, and the testimonies of it, which I could read in the faces of her servants; and the frequent messages, she sent me upon all occasions under the pretexts, as sometimes sending me little Presents, or demanding where I was as soon as ever I was out of her sight: every thing smiled, and looked upon me with affectionate eyes. But thou mayst imagine that all this was only in respect of their Custom of treating those well, who are designed to dye for them. So I, not building much on those slighter proofs, was wholly amazed to see her in so short a time become unlike to herself, and change her former liberty, and free actions, the signs of a sound mind, into a disposition pensive, solitary, and languishing: Her face was become pale, and her eyes swollen, true witnesses of her watchings and disquiet: Her looks were sometimes wand'ring in the air, and sometimes fixed on the earth, like one in a deep frenzy. Sometimes she began Discourses, but ended them not, as not knowing well what she said: Otherwhiles leaving her works undone, and forgetting her most pleasing exercises, they being not powerful enough to make her forget her torment; she inclined to all manner of change, she wandered impatiently, seeking that repose every where, which she could not encounter in any one place: Sometimes as if she had perceived that she discovered herself, she laboured to reprove herself, by employing an endeavour to resist her malady, and putting on a more cheerful countenance; And if the compassion she had of my disaster had not forbidden her to add to mine affliction, she would have made a show of hating me, to prevent the accusation of loving me too much. But do what she could, it was of small continuance, and immediately as Conquered, she relapsed into her former passion: she sighed incessantly, without any apparent cause of vexation or sorrow, and this she could not forbear whatsoever she attempted to suppress her sighs, and smother them in the Cradle. Besides, the heart, by a secret power, turns the eyes always towards the Object of its love: there was nothing able to possess her so fully, but that she diverted her eyes a thousand times from it, to return, without any occasion at all, to the continual search of the subject of her thoughts; I confess freely that I often observed great alteration in her disposition, insomuch that sometimes she made me distrust my former opinion, or fear that she esteemed me unworthy of her affection, because I showed my self, so little sensible of it: whereas, if on the other side I had given her cause to perceive, that my breast was possessed with another more pleasing care, it would have been as much, as if I had played to win her hatred: for women are naturally inclined to fall from one externity to another; and betwixt those two of their love and hatred, there is no medium: whatsoever they will, they will absolutely; and if happily it be not granted at the very lest sign they give of their will, there is no hope to excuse it; and on the contrary, they are all ready to proclaim to the world the small esteem they make of it, and conserve their own interest to the very prejudice of what they most before loved. When once they have changed their disposition and affection, as they give themselves what opinion they please of things past, so they endeavour in the end to persuade us that they have never been: But when they perceive that they cannot beguile our senses and judgement, at least, as they have lost the affection of a thing, so would they have us lose the memory of it, whereof we dare not so much as complain; for discretion obliges us to silence, because their tyranny whereunto we attribute all, hath so won upon us, that the very truth itself would be always imputed to error and vanity. But by good chance Stenobea had neither leisure nor opportunity to come by the repentance of it, or make me taste her rigours; for I kept myself always upright in the terms of the duty and honour I was obliged to render her, yet so, that nothing could thereby be alleged against me, in prejudice of my constancy, or the vows I had made to be Diana's servant for ever. And although Stenobea was such a one, as only the affection of a goddess was to be esteemed above hers, and that it is hard to be loved of the most amiable creature of the world, without growing very sensible thereof; yet I had so much power of myself, as that I was no way touched or moved with her love; yet very much with her grief, and the sorrow I had, for not being able to requite her with the like affection: O subject worthy of a far better acknowledgement, and of an affection as loyal and sincere as her own! whom, neither my Captivity, nor inevitable Death, nor the whole multitude of just reasons which assaulted her, would ever be able to make her change conclusion. Have I not cause to curse the day wherein I found Diana so ready to give me testimony of her good will, and promise me her favours; since that now, when she hath made me contemn and despise all things, she bears me to the contempt and loss of myself.  
The end of the Fourth Book.   

ENDYMION.  
The Fifth Book.  
C de Pas inven.  
I Picart fecit.  
We have hitherto observed the great advantages, Endymion; which the gods have vouchsafed unto thee above other men; but there is yet something remaining which must be done, ere thy glory can be brought to perfection, and this is the solemn day wherein we are to see the strongest proofs of thy generous courage: wherein we have nothing to desire, but that thou appear always like thyself: great minds never yield to the assaults of the strongest adversities, or encounter any thing greater than than themselves: and to such all humane accidents seem so slight, that they disdain to live for them: If then neither labour or toil can daunt them, or sorrow wring plaints from their mouths, what is it that can terrify them in death, whom so many virtuous men despise, so many also even contemn, and with all men must once suffice? The Oracles which have proceeded from thine own mouth, have taught us that thou art far more worthy of Heaven than of Earth, and that the goddess hath made choice of thee above all others, as the most dear and grateful Oblation we can present on her Altar. And this is the cause why we have always so honoured thee, for which we shall be amply recompensed, if thou but this day bear thyself constantly, and not fear, or seem unwilling to shorten thy life, to give so great and large an increase to thy fame: Justify then both thyself and us; and (if I may dare to say so) justify the goddess herself in the choice she hath made of thee, and we shall be all obliged to celebrate eternally the memory of thee, as of one, whose life and behaviour hath rendered so dear to the gods, and his death so wholesome to men. This day is to thee, Endymion, the most happy of all other, as that wherein thou art to have so many witnesses of thy glory; when thou shalt show them that they do not so much conduct thee to death, as to immortality; make it therefore appear, that thou art not only a man, but that thou hast a great resemblance of the gods themselves, who will bereave men of thy Company. At these words they all observed attentively what gesture I would use, and took special notice of my first Motions; which I laboured to overcome as much as lay in me: for what man is able (without some change) to hear the report of my extraordinary and unthought of accident, whether it concern him or no, and though he neither gather thence any particular cause of joy or sorrow? Besides, Death is of itself always hideous and terrible, in what soothing form soever it be represented: yet I, presently resolving, thus answered them. Is it then for Diana's sake that I must this day dye? Yes son, answered Timetes, it is for her, the fairest, the greatest, and the best of all the goddesses. Whosoever, replied I, hath been judged worthy to dye for Diana, hath lived but too happily: it is the most grateful tidings you could have brought me: doubt not at all of me, for my resolution is already taken, whet your knives and freely drench them in my blood, pour it it out even to the last drop for her sake, and cover her Altar with the Crimson dye thereof: for I am so far from being troubled or amazed with the fear of it, that I do with longing expect the hour. This day, says he, is yet wholly thine, and howbeit the Sacrifices of the Celestial Deities are usually celebrated in the presence of the Sun, yet we are by some secret Fate apppointed to attend the night, to the end that this may be rendered more famous by the honour of the goddesses presence, of which secret Fate we cannot guess the cause, except it be, that thou art the most dear and most acceptable of all the Sacrifices that ever have been offered to her. Be of good cheer then Son, says Timetes, kissing and embracing me; for indeed we held it fit to give thee knowledge of it, to the end thou mightest be the better prepared. Go, go your ways said I, and provide for the rest, as for me, I will be sooner ready than you, and the delay of my death will be more tedious to me than the death itself.  
Thus they left me, looking one upon another, letting loose some sighs and tears. Ah Stenobea! said I then to myself, is it for this that thou hiddest thyself yesterday? hast thou had the heart to refuse me thy presence only on the last day, as if I had some suit to beg at thy favour: By this anticipated and untimely bereaving me of one of the sweetest contentments of my life, thou art the first that begins to kill me. And thou Ismena, what is become of all thy promises? is this the care thou wilt take of me: It may be that thou esteemest not thyself obliged to afford me succour, since I demanded not any at thy hands: But whatsoever thou owest not to my desire herein, thou owest at least to thine own promise; whereof, if thou labour not to render me performance, thou remainest no less guilty: Alas! this savage and Barbarous people have pity on my Fate; those that are to kill me, bemoan me, and even he who is apppointed to give me the sad stroke, kisses me, and embraces me with the same arms that are to plunge the knife deep in my blood, and open my Bowels; and yet all these things will not procure me at the hands of Diana the least sign of Compassion: she remains unmoved, and makes as slight account of my death as my life.  
Is the Altar the place than Diana, where I must be presented to thee, to gain thy favour, and receive the effects of thy promises: must they be sought in the Stygian waters, and through the streams of blood and tears? Is this the way to go take possession of a place amongst the stars? and can we not without forsaking the apparel of this mortal and earthly body, arrive at the honour of Heaven, or share in the glory of the gods? Oh no, I perceive the mystery of thy design, thou hast only given me verbal promises, whereof I in vain retain thy memory, since thou art resolved to take away my hope and life together; to the end to drown all those particulars in everlasting oblivion. Thou repentest thee for having favoured me with too much affection: but although thou killest me, thou shalt not have power to make me repent my over-loyall adoring thee: And although thine affection to me, be wholly blotted out of thine heart, yet thou shalt not be able to banish it thy memory, which, against thy will, will satisfy me, with a continual reproaching and remonstrance of thy fickleness and ingratitude. Add yet some new torture to my death, &, so it be pleasing to thee, be sure I will embrace it as a peculiar felicity: At least, how great soever thou be amongst the goddesses, I shall have just ground to boast myself of having something more great, and divine than thou, when I shall have witnessed a greater constancy.  
Whilst I uttered those words with a low voice, and a resolved, but grieved mind, the sighs and sobs of Stenobea, piercing the walls betwixt my Chamber and hers came to mine ears; suddenly imposing silence upon me, that I might give ear to a lamentation, which was to prove so dear to me, and which more deplored my calamity than myself. How is it possible that I can this day behold with dry eyes so tragic and lamentable a spectacle? and that I must assist, and as it were consent to an action so so cruel and so averse to my life and tranquillity: and that I must bear a part in the execution: O Endymion, Endymion, pardon me I beseech thee, and know that in the design I had of delivering thee, I have a great while forgotten my duty both to my Country, and myself, that I might render thee that which I never owed thee, for who ever saw any love so loyally as I, having utterly nothing to expect of my love, should I only have turned mine eyes on a person pensive, solitary, and possessed with some other thoughts, which I could not conceive or comprehend, and who only respected me so far as superficial civility, and a kind of general custom of honouring my Sex obliged him? But alas▪ it is now time to bewail, rather than accuse thee: know then, that if thou this day receive the mortal stroke, I shall bear the greatest part in the suffering, thou only wilt endure the violence for a moment, but I shall thereby feel an immortal sorrow. O Endymion! why have not the Oracles set me in thy place? why cannot I be accepted there? at least, why may not I have leave to dye with thee, since my misfortune will not permit me to live with thee? And thou o Goddess, so great and powerful, what advantage will redound to thee from a Disaster, whereunto thou mayest with so much facility apply a remedy? Doth the glory and felicity which environs thee, stand in want of our affliction, to render them more complete? or do they reap any advancement or perfection from our sorrows and torments? Or if our superstition offer thee more than thou requirest, suffer not our error to continue longer, nor force not me, by this act of inhumanity, which hath no other object than thy service, to witness more resentment and pity than thyself: Content thee with a milder sacrifice, and choose instead of Endymion, some Hind, or some one of those straggling Oxen, marked with the Lamp, and which are consecrated to thee in Persia, and live unprofitably on the banks of Euphrates; whilst the most exquisite of men are sacrificed to thee: or if thou lovest one of these better, receive my life for his: In this case death will be exceeding welcome to me, whether thou dost appoint it me in recompense of the services I have done thee, or for my punishment, for having esteemed thee too cruel. Thus did poor Stenobea lament, and the excess of her grief not being able to be smothered, or retained within the limits of any respect, made her power forth more tears than words. It was a great honour to me Pyzander, to be thus bewailed, and yet a greater affliction to see her thus torment herself; and both these extremes together did so comfort me, in torturing me, that finding myself thus bewailed, I could have been loath to have died: I had a perfect cause to esteem Death sweet, both for that I was to be offered to Diana, and bewailed by Stenobea; but all those passages were only as the first signs of her despair.  
By this time it was broad day, and the hour of arising being come, I saw enter, not the Slaves, which were wont to serve me, for they kept themselves farther from me, rendering me no other duty than that of their tears; but one of those who had the prime charge of sacred things, who brought me garments whiter than Snow, the smell whereof exceeded the sweetest perfumes of Sabea, and the delights of the Assyrians; and having presented them to me with greater respect and reverence, than if it had been to the greatest Monarch of the earth, he presently retired; for now the time entered wherein Stenobea was to execute her Function: But besides that it is the usual custom of Maidens, to be long making them ready, chiefly on such days as they are to put on their fairest Ornaments, there is no doubt but her sorrow rendered her yet more slow; for she made them expect her a good while, and at length appeared in more magnificence and pomp than ever I had seen her, dressed as it seemed by the hands of the Graces, who had not forgotten to beautify her Tresses with all the forms of adornment that Venus had taught them, to deck her head with the most precious stones, or crown it with the most beautiful Flowers: Then I perceived and knew her, whom at first I had so much ado to call to mind, and whom I formerly had seen in my Vision in the sacred Forest, and who seemed never to be appointed to appear before me in the Equipage of her Attracts, but either to condemn me, or put me to death. I knew her by the rich dress of her head, her Girdle of Gold and Emeralds, and her Gown embroidered with Flowers, the ground whereof was a kind of white stuff, fine, and shining, which the Nymphs who inhabit the shores of Phasis do make, of the finest wool in the world; she wanted nothing to render her wholly the same, that appeared to me in the Forest, but the Knife she had in her hand, which also she had when we came before the Altar: But I could not any where about her perceive the branch of Myrtle she had made me cut, and which she had promised to wear for my sake. What! says Pyzander, didst not thou see that which was most visible in her? why, this her extreme but fruitless, and vain love of thee was the true Myrtle, which was to flourish long, and remain green in her breast, yet without hope of any fruit. This was not like the love of Thetis (says Endymion) the day she married Peleus, nor like that of her who waits upon the Table of the Gods; the day that by Juno's own hand she was presented to Hercules. And howbeit poor Stenobea being then more moved than ever, had no steadfast colour, but in one instant often blushed and waxed pale again, and bore all the tokens of sorrow, vively represented in her face; yet her beauty shined in despite of her affliction, the tears upon her cheeks resembled the Morning-dew on the blushing Roses, whereunto her very grief seemed to add some new grace. She was followed of some of her most faithful Companions, all gentile and properly accoutred, and of Maids who carried the Ornaments wherewith she was to apparel me. The first thing she did, she besprinkled me as Timetes had done before, with some few drops of water, which were presently followed with a whole Torrent of her tears. She no sooner began to put the Purple-vaile over mine eyes, and bind it upon mine hair with a trembling hand, but that her heart, swollen with affliction and bitterness, overflows more than ever with tears and sighs. She hath neither power, or commandment more of herself, and her reason losing its absolute power, sorrow gives itself liberty. In vain do the poor Maiden's labour to make her compose herself again, their own pity and compassion prevailing so far on them, that they are like to fall into the same distemper; which respect obliged me to speak thus to her.  
What means this Stenobea, art thou come here to afflict me? Hast thou more pity, than either myself or Diana have of me? for, by as much as I see, if thou wert in her place, perchance I should not die. Hitherto my resolution hath forbidden me to wonder, and thou alone dost now trouble me; let me, I pray thee, die in peace, and be contented, that I tell thee, I do more pity thy suffering, than fear mine own, and should not be sensible of death itself, but that thine affliction makes me feel it; and Fate is in no respect cruel to me, but in afflicting thy beauty for my sake: If thou continue thus, thou wilt make me die more than once: O Stenobea, reserve my life and blood for the Altar, and pour them not out before hand in thy sighs and tears.  
I had no sooner spoken the first word, but she redoubled her former lamentations, in such sort, that my desire of comforting her, seemed to give addition to her sorrow: When I had finished, she would have spoken, but had not the power, by reason of the excess of grief wherewith she was travailed: At length (like as after one violent undertaking we cannot enterprise another without some interval of repose) so she, having dried her eyes, at great leisure, began very coldly to re-imbrace her duty, and drawing nearer to me, began sometimes one thing, sometimes another, but could finish nothing; for being transported, and wholly seized with the despair which before had deprived her of her speech, she lost also at length the ease of tears and sighs, having nothing left her but silent sobs, to testify that there remained some little life, but great grief within her: Insomuch that she, leaning upon my bed, the others were fain to put their hands to the work: some of which told me, Alas! she hath done her uttermost endeavour to cause some other to be put into thy place; wherein she hath been so serious, that she hath not for forborn to consult with old Women, whose Art and Experience she thought might have furnished her with some invention to this effect: Besides, that her fear was somewhat diminished, by the hope was given her by a whispering report amongst the slaves, who, all with one accord seemed to prophesy, that the course of the Sacrifices should be altered, and that the Goddess, as being herself a Virgin, required a Virgin for Sacrifice; but could not notwithstanding all this, find any means for thy deliverance, she calls said I, the exposing me to a thousand torments, my deliverance; No, no, said I, since the Moon is grown weary of seeing me, so I am also weary of seeing the Sun; but they took no notice of my meaning herein, being three or four hours together busy to dress me in sundry colours, and binding my head, mine arms, and every part with a thousand different Flowers and Ribonds. After this Stenobea, being a little come to herself, through the multitude of importunate requests, and remonstrances they made her, passed slightly with her hand and eye over all those things, and so taking a small Viol of precious Oil, she poured it upon my head, and for conclusion crowned me with a Garland, which she herself had prepared for me.  
The Sun having done the moiety of his course, the multitude expected me in Jupiter's Temple, where the people assembled, and were to go thence unto the high places, which were a good way within the Forest, and where the yearly Sacrifice was celebrated. Then came Timetes, in a more venerable and grave manner than usual, with his Turban, which sparkled with the number of Jewels that were therein, and a Cloak of the Phrygian fashion, which covered him from the head to the feet: His other chief ministers with their Coronets of Flowers, and all their sacred Ornaments, came with him to fetch me, and brought me to the Temple, where with voices and Instruments they made an excellent Harmony, until I was consecrated before the Altars, where usually the Sacrifices were offered, in the presence of the Images of their gods, Jupiter, the Sun, and the Moon; where the eyes of the whole Assembly were fixed upon me: on the one side stood all the men, from the highest to the lowest, and on the other side the women, where the Mothers, the new married, and the Maidens, exposed their richest and fairest Ornaments to the public view. From thence we were to part presently, and go towards the high Altar; whither the remainder of the day was little enough for our March: yea, but Endymion, says Pyzander, thou passest this very slightly over, do they go so without order, or any pomp to their Sacrifices, and is there nothing in their whole Ceremony and State worth the pains of Remembrance? Thou mayst well think Pyzander says Endymion, that I could not be so curious a Spectator, being myself the greatest part of the Spectacle, yet I will give thee briefly an account of what I was able to observe.  
C pass. in  
Now, by reason of their slow March, it grew late, and the Sun was entered a good way into the Ocean, when we first entered the Forest, and before we came to the high places, the day had forsaken us: From thence we could see the City of Alba, as from this Mount Lathmos we can that of Heraclea; and the Forest under us, seemed like a waved valley. There, in the midst of a large Plain, is a fair and spacious Altar, a reverend Testimony of the devotion of the Ancients, horrible and frightful in respect of the Forest itself; and is not higher raised, than even with the Earth, the place itself being so high, that nothing can hinder it from the first and immediate beam of the Moon's light. Thither do repair, to render their most solemn vows to the Goddess, not only the Inhabitants of Albania, but also many of the neighbouring peoples, as those of Armenia, and Colchos, the Iberians and Nomades, even from Palus Meotis, to the Caspian Sea.  
With this they made an end of their Songs, and I expecting every moment the fatal stroke, lifted up mine eyes again towards the Moon: And Stenobea gave the Knife to Timetes, who had no sooner looked upon it, but turning suddenly towards her, what dost thou mean Stenobea, says he, and what dost thou here give me? are we wont to use such Knives in our Sacrifices? why this is so weak and so light, that me thinks I have nothing in my hand; from whence proceeds this Novelty? Ask this Woman, answered Stenobea, that stands here, who will tell thee strange things thereof: Hereupon I turning myself to see who this might be, to my great amazement and wonder saw it was Ismene, who thus began to speak.  
You shall know Oh Priest, and people of Albania, that the Goddess being the other day on Hunting in the Country of the Cimmerians, took occasion to go and repose herself with one of the gods of that Country, who in a Banquet gave her a taste of those rare and delightful Cates where with he is wont to charm the cares both of the gods an men. Afterwards having showed her in his Dens and Caves, as in another World, the Magazine of all manner of Rarities, he presented her with one of the Knives wherewith he takes his Recreation, and cuts what he pleases in his Nocturnal Exercises; saying, what more proper or fitter Present can I be able to make to thee Oh Goddess, who art so great a Lover of Hunting, than the best Knife that ever our Vulcan made with his own hand, where with thou mayst cut down all things that hinders thee, and make thine own way through the thickest forests. This gift was infinitely grateful to the Goddess, the more, because it was neatly made, light, and fit for her hand: but through a mischance, she had no sooner taken it, but going to feel the edge of it with the thumb of her left hand, she could not so gently touch it, by reason of the sharp and subtle edge of it, but that she cut her finger that some drops of blood followed; which he perceiving said, Alas, Goddess, I gave it thee not for that use: I believe it well, said she, but since it is so greedy of blood, I will for thy sake have it employed in the most pleasing and acceptable Sacrifice that ever was made to me: herewith said Ismene, she gave it me, with command to bring it hither, and present it, as I have done, to the maiden that serves at the Altar: Doubt not then to obey the message of the Goddess, and then you shall perceive, that obedience joined with sacrifice is of force even to draw the Gods from Heaven: for you shall presently see her come down (if ye be not blinded) to gratify with a gracious acceptance, the Oblation you offer her of this young man.  
She had no sooner said this, but there was presently heard a confused murmur of different voices through the whole assembly; the greater part whereof were rejoiced at this alteration, as supposed it tended to my delivery: but seeing me apppointed for death, they reentered into their former fashion of pity and compassion. Now I leave thee to judge whether I were a little amazed or no, to see her, from whom only I was to expect life and delivery, carrying the Knife wherewith I was to be killed. Then said Timetes with a loud voice: O ye people of Albania, lift up your eyes and hearts to Heaven, and give thanks to the Goddess who this day is so careful of you, & your Sacrifices: And then turning towards me, said, Endymion, whether thou hast been chosen for the offence thou hast committed, or for the generosity that is in thee, thou thyself plainly seest what confirmation the Goddess gives to the election we have made of thee: It is thy part now to carry thyself with such resolution, as that we may have no cause to repent us of having offered thee, nor the Goddess of having desired thee. ay, whom the fear of death touched far less than the offence, and suspicion I had conceived of Stenobeas' change; as in those extremes, the least sign of disloyalty we discover in those who have professed love to us, is far more irksome to us, than whatsoever else can cross us. I could not contain myself from speaking thus to him: Didst thou not observe, said I, Timetes, that the Goddess gave express command, that the Knife should be given to the Virgin that served at the Altar? wherefore then dost thou take it out of her hand, and hinder her from killing me, who of herself hath more desire to do it, than thou hast? and who appears so resolute? She will, doubtless, acquit herself better than thee, and the Sacrifice will thereby be much bettered. This is not carried as thou imaginest, says Timetes, neither is it the intention of the Goddess, or our custom: The stroke must be given, Endimon, by that person, who of all the assembly, either doth, or should love thee best: Ah me! said I then, it must not be done by Stenobea: But she, beholding me with the eye of innocence and amazement, was mightily surprised at my uttering of these words; and her receiving unjustly so great an injury from one whom she had always so highly obliged; and to receive it in such a manner, as that the opportunity of justifying herself, was for ever taken away, by my going to death with this opinion, which so vively touched her heart, that I did more and more perceive in her the extreme grief she had hereupon contracted; which also made her retire behind Timetes; whether it were, that she would not see me any more, or that she desired to cover the alteration which appeared in her look.  
In the mean time Timetes perceiving that there was nothing wanting but my death, to the accomplishment of the sacrifice, lifting up his hand wherewith he held the Knife, said to me: Now is the time, Endymion, wherein thou must give a notable proof of that excellent nature, which hath been cause thou hast been chosen by the gods. He had no sooner uttered these words, but that suddenly there arose a great murmuring amongst the people that were behind him, chiefly amongst the Damosels, who were about Stenobea, some of which hastened to receive her in their arms, seeing her falling down, either dead, or in a swoon, grief, despite, and choler all at once seized her, and in such a furious and violent manner suffocated her spirits, that she became suddenly unable either to speak or breath. What sacrifice have we here? says poor Timetes, who was utterly lost and desperate; Do the Gods on a sudden require two in stead of one? Endymion for the Moon, and perchance Stenobea for the Sun? Why then am not I, wretched and miserable man, as acceptable to jupiter, to the end, that every one of our Gods may have a particular Oblation? What became of me, Pyzander, at the sight of this dying beauty, when I discerned the flower and ornament of the whole assembly lying on the ground: Woe is me, Stenobea, said I, art thou then indeed so sensible of mine unjust calumnies? and am I so little touched with thy good offices? Although I have not had just cause to believe thy mutability, yet I have at least had ground for my suspicion of it: But in vain do I confess a fault, whereof I demand no pardon; I just now desired death at thy Hands, and have since given it thee: How shall I alone be able to suffice to the expiation of so many crimes? Alas, I have need to have two lives, the one to offer for Diana, the other to pour out for Stenobea: O Stenobea, thou teachest me to dye, and I long to follow thee, and my spirit in these vain lamentations loses the opportunity of accompanying thine: Then I became incensed against myself, and mine own Fate: and being grown wholly weary and impatient of life, I thrice called upon Timetes, but he heard me not, being on the other side as busy in the incessant calling upon her, as his daughter, who indeed was only his Niece: and who, by what name soever he called her, was not able to make him any manner of answer. At length, having by continual pulling him by the garment, gotten him to turn towards me: Wherefore, said I, dost thou lose any more time about her, on whom thou gainest nothing? or what can thy care add to her life, or contentment? Dost not thou know that it is unlawful to interrupt the sacrifices of the gods for vain and unprofitable respects? wilt thou keep those alive, whose death Diana requires? what knowest thou but this may be a stroke of her own hand: seest thou not that she requires nothing but death on every side? use then the knife she hath sent thee, and keep me no longer in languishing, who am like to dye with a desire and longing for death.  
Timetes pressed with time, and mine importunity, making a sign with his hand to the whole assembly, to impose silence upon the murmur was risen, by reason of Stenobea's accident, and to oblige every one to the attention and respect he owed to the Sacrifice, took the Knife by the Ebon-haft, and presented it to me. Which when I beheld with amazement, not knowing what he meant, and imagining that his mind was exceedingly distempered in the occasion: How now Endymion, says he, hast thou not yet learned our Laws and Customs? knowest thou not, that our Sacrifices are most happy, chiefly when the person sacrificed dies cheerfully. Now we, who by the commandment of the Oracle, are to offer men to the Goddess, do use no other trial of their resolution and constance, to assure us of their willing acceptance of death, than in engaging them to be themselves the actors of it. This likes me well Timetes, said I, taking the Knife, I shall myself far better know where my life lies hidden, and shall not miss my heart at first stroke: And so addressing my last words to the Moon: O Goddess, said I, I have erred I confess; but my firm belief that the gods are always true, and not subject to change, hath been the cause of all mine errors. This heart, the most true guardian of that affection and loyalty, which hath brought me where I now am, shall presently expiate the offence I have thereby committed. Content thyself, O Goddess, to see, that having forgone all things for thy sake, I yet willingly lay down my life, for testimony that I am thine even unto the Altar, and further, if it were possible. Having finished these discourses, I struck the Knife profoundly into my bosom, and gave myself a stroke, which so suddenly cut in sunder the thread of my life, that I had only so much sense left me, as to hear a pitiful lamentation of many thousand confused voices, just in the instant as I fell down upon the Altar.  
What is this thou tellest me Endymion, says Pyzander, taking him by the hand, if from the beginning I had not embraced thee, and did not still touch thee, I should rather think it were a Ghost than a man that now speaks to me. I do not my self know, says Endymion, what I am, and therefore thou shalt do me a great pleasure, if thou seest farther into my adventures than myself, to give me some light; there is yet something more sad and tragical therein, there is yet another sacrifice, & another Priest; for I do believe that the gods, observing the small esteem I have made of death, & of whatsoever is therein most terrible, are again resolved to enforce me to live, intending to be more cruel to me, and keep me in a continual torment with the sorrow and anguish, wherewith I am possessed, for having been the cause of another more strange & lamentable sacrifice. What sacrifice can that be, says Pyzander, or what more strange accident canst thou recount unto me? O Endymion, there are many thousand and broad ways to go out of this life, but scarce any one for return. How then, says Endymion, have I found it, without seeking, and how am I returned to myself, that so little desired it? O sweet, but too short death? who, or what hindered me from seeing the Kingdom of the Ghosts? was it the sad and drowsy Lord, or the inexorable Judges? and that from thence I attained not the Elysian fields, which are perpetually watered with the streams of milk and honey, flowing and running through the meadows, wholly enamelled with flowers which no winter is either able to annoy or wither. What hindered me that I could not participate in the delightful banquets, revel, and dances of the Children and favourites of the gods? I was at the banks of Acheron, with an extreme desire to pass it, but that old, uncivil boat-man would not receive me into his Bark; whether it were that I brought not my passage money in my mouth, like the rest, or that my body had not yet been interred: I had the patience to see him cross, and return often, and as often to offer myself to him, out of a hope, that one time might have rendered me more acceptable than another; but all my hope was vain, and I could never gain any thing of him: At length, as I stood still observing the multitude of souls which repaired thither from all sides, in no less number than the leaves in Autumn use (after the first frost) to fall from the trees, the sad and unfortunate soul of poor Stenobea, presented itself to me, with the self same lineaments and feature which I had usually seen in her, save only that she seemed far greater, which did so surprise both mine eyes & thoughts, that I knew not what to think of it, until she began to enter into this Discourse.  
What strange adventure, Endymion, makes thee wander in these obscure and solitary places, whereunto thy Fate hath not yet called thee? For (to the end thou mayst not trouble thyself to ask me the same question) I tell thee; that it is not the will of Heaven that thou shalt dye yet, or that I should live any longer: perchance the gods, being now at length tired with crossing me, do send thee hither to give me opportunity of justifying myself of the crime thou hast unjustly laid to the charge of mine innocence; the only sorrow which had power to annoy me even after death. Thou didst me wrong in the interpreting of the resolution, wherewith I beheld thee dye, and that I had so soon forgot thy loss. All the resolution I took, proceeded from the hope Ismene gave me, that the Knife would do thee no harm, & that thy life was in far less danger than mine own. But thou esteemedst my joy for thy deliverance as a crime, and thine exclamations were so highly injurious to mine affection, and so sensible to me, that at length they bereft me of sense, making me fall down in thy presence, as the true and real Sacrifice of Love first, and then of Diana: All the care which the maidens that were about me took to remove me out of the throng into the grass, produced no other effect, than a transporting me from one death to another, and under colour of giving me more air and liberty of breath, and seeking a cure for my present disease, they gave me a general cure for all my diseases at once; for Diana, who for a while before held me in a continual pursuit, had laid a Serpent in ambush, which with his sting, and mortal venom had wholly infected me, before I could either come to myself, or give any notice of it. This was a strange kind of Sacrifice, wherein Timetes bore only the vain name and title of a Priest, and a Serpent performed the Office. Endymion was presented, but Stenobea was accepted. I had been far more happy Endymion, if thou hadst been less curious, and hadst never seen Albania; then none of the gods would have made use of my resemblance, to make thee violate the sacred Forest, or have kindled in my breast a fire so contrary to my vows: for to be in love, and to be vowed to Diana are two things incompatible in one subject: I had not then presented myself at her Altar, with any other care or duty, than that which I owed to her service, nor should have been troubled at the fall of such other sacrifices as were made unto her. Thus she finding me more guilty than thee, slew me to preserve thee; my life hath redeemed thine, and now, the same image that made thee guilty, brings thee thy absolution. Farewell then Endymion, but remember this testimony I give thee, even beyond the grave itself, that I have loved thee, more than I have loved the gods themselves. Thou seest how the Ferryman presses and calls upon me, therefore hinder me not to go look for rest after death, since thou hast possessed it in life.  
Thy Felicity Endymion, exceeds thy vows and thy hopes, from hence forth let thine accusing the gods cease, for they give much better than men are able to demand: Thy sufferings are this day crowned with glory, and have ranked thee in the number of the Immortal; and this thou art obliged to thine affection for, or rather, to mine. The names of the greatest number of the Stars are scarce known to the world, but as long as there shall be any speech of the Moon, or that she shall shine in the Heavens, thy name shall remain in the mouths and memory of men.  
Thus she continued rewarding my pains with wind and smoke, when on a sudden a shrill noise of Trumpets, and Clarions, a confused bruit of Cymbals, and all other kinds of Instruments of Copper, and Brass, issued from the Hills, and the Valleys, and beat the air with such violence, that it bereft me of her, who retired and vanished in an instant. Then I opened mine eyes indeed, just like one that suddenly starts out of his sleep, and suddenly stretched forth my head and hands, as if I would have followed her, or called her back again: but having wholly lost the sight of her, I looked about me, to see if I could perceive the assembly, wherewith I seemed lately environed, but neither saw that, nor the Priest, or Altar; nay, I could not see myself, it was so dark; and so making more use of my hands than mine eyes, I endeavoured by feeling round about me, to find out where I was; I began to think myself shut up in some Sepulchre: At length I discerned a small light, which by little and little increased, and drawing nearer to the place, where I first saw it appear, I found myself (to my great astonishment) upon Mount Lathmos, and the Moon in the Firmament, to whom I was making my complaint, just as thou camest to me.  
Verily Endymion says Pyzander, if I be not deceived, I begin to discern the whole mystery of thine Adventures, and in mine opinion I may say, thou hast done a great journey, without budging from one place, in lying still thou hast travailed far, and hast seen strange Cities, peoples, and large Countries, all in one little Cave: It was doubtless one and the same noise that recalled the Moon from her swoon, and thee from the long sleep Ismene had cast thee into, either by some slight of her craft, or else by some inspiration of the goddess herself; for since the time she gave thee that water to make thee, as she said, rest, whilst she travailed for thee, I have not observed that she ever waked thee: Only I have noted that thou feltst her take thee by the hand, to conduct thy March in the dark, where thou encountredst all those strange Monsters whereof thou madest mention, which in effect are but dreams, yet images of the truths we this day see. Moreover, the Arrows of Venus' Boy, coming out of Diana's hand, which cast thee down at the foot of a Tree, or the Knife of Morpheus, brought as thou sayest▪ from the Country of the Cimmeriana, the ordinary residence of slumber, do of their own nature work no other execution, or kill any body otherwise than thou art slain there with, as long as no other force is used with them. But what clearer proof canst thou desire of what I say, than the very words which the virgin Parthenopea uttered to thee at the beginning by way of Oracle?  
What charm can this be, but that of Sleep, by the mean whereof, Ismena to give thy curiosity some kind of satisfaction, hath given thee visions of thy good or ill fortune, of the estate wherein thou art with Diana, and in a word, the very same things which thou mightest see with thine eyes open, if thou wouldst well consider them. I always imagined Pyzander, says Endymion, that mine adventures would seem so little strange to thee, that thou wouldst rather take them for dreams, than verities.  
By this time the Birds began to raise their several notes, to give a joyful welcome to the approach of the Morning, and the wont noise of the Carts, and men returning to their accustomed labour, was heard on all sides, when Endymion at the earnest request of Pyzander, came down from Mount Lathmos, and returned to his Household-gods in the City of Heraclea, and to a thousand vows and prayers which his friends incessantly offered for his presence. From that time forward he continued recounting, and extolling to all the World the praises of Diana, although she had been the cause of all his miseries and tortures; and that he had spent the better part of his time and life, either in the tedious watchings which he had employed in the contemplation of her beauty and glory, or in the long sleep which she had caused him to be cast into.   
FINIS.