To the Reader.  
THat which Hierom said was his condition in publishing of some of his labours, do I now expect to fall upon me, i e. plu●imorum morsibus patere, to lie open to many censures; I have ever thought myself below Envy, which being the d●ughter of Pride (as S. Ambrose said) will not abase herself to look ●n so small a thing as me: yet because (as S. Ch●ysostome hath observed) there are some men (like Carrion Crows, that fly over fair Meadows and sit on Fens; and like Flies, which pass by sound flesh, and seize on Ulcers) fly over and pass by men's better parts, and feed upon their Imperfections: I do therefore implore thy favour in ●e●ding these papers, that what Accidental defects o● Erratas thou findest therein, thou wouldst reform with thy Pen, that the Carrion Crows and corrupt Fl●es may not find● whereon to full: If there be any erroneous matter, thereof inform me, and I shall retract it; for though I may err, yet I will not be an Heretic; if any thing thou ●●ndes● go●d, that ascribe to the Father of Lights, to wh●se glory ● daily profit I de●ote my se●f, craving no retribution but thy prayer, for me, that whilst I preach to others, I myself may not be a Cast away, so shall I be  
Ever thine in Christ jesus, F.B.   

GREEN'S Mourning Garment, Given him by repentance at the funerals of Love, which he presents for a favour to all young Gentlemen that wish to wean themselves from wanton desires. R. Greene..  
Vtriusque Academiae in Artibus Magister. Sero sed Serio.  
LONDON Printed by I. W. for Thomas Newman. 1590.   

GREEN'S Mourning Garment.  
IN the City of Callipolis seated in the land of Auilath, compassed with Mi and Euphrates two rivers that flow from Eden, there sometimes dwelled a man called Rabbi Bilessi, lineally descended from the seed of holy Sem, aiming in his life to imitate his predecessors perfection, as he was allied unto him in parentage. This Rabbi Bilessi was a man upon whom Fortune had powered out the Cornucopia of her favours, and prodigally had wrapped him in the vestment of her riches, seeking as far to exceed nature in excellence, as nature had overreached herself in cunning: For he was the chief G●●gamaster of the whole City: aged he was for the Palm tree had displayed her blossoms on his head, and his hairs were as white as the silk that is sold in tire, honour had pitched her pa●●lion in his tresses, and the tramelles of his hair were full of reverence, his countenance grave as became his years, and yet full of levity that as the Eagle hath talents to strick, and wings to shadow, so his looks carried threats to chastise, and favours to encourage. This old man being thus graced by nature and fortune, hath the gifts of the mind so interlarded with the excellence of all virtues, that if Aristotle had been alive he would have confessed this Rabbi to have attained unto the perfection of his summum bonum. Thus every way happy Fortune not content to enrich him with these favours, that he might be the Phoenix of all ●●licitie, gave him by one wise two sons issued of such a tree as might discover the tripartite fo●●e of his life.  

The description of his Eldest Son.  
THe Eldest whose name was Sophonos, was so beholding unto nature for the lyneamentes of his body, as he could not wrong her with any default of cunning, for she had so curiously leveled every ly●● as though she would present virtue a subject wherein to flourish. His exterior proportion was not more pleasing to the eye, than his inward perfection to the care, resembling the Panther in excellence of hue, and the Siren in harmony of virtues, young he was, for as yet the prime of his years was in the flower, and youth sat and basted him kalends in his forehead. But as the Cinnamon tree looketh tawny when he is a twig, and the Halciones most black when they are most young: so Sophonos in his tender years carried grave thoughts, and in the spring of his youth such ripe fruits, as are found in the Autumn of age: yet was he not Morosus tied to austerne humours, neither so cynical as Diogenes, to mislike Alexander's royalty, nor such a Timonist but he would familiarly converse with his friends, he counted Cato too severe, and Cassius too sullen, and both too fond, not laughing once a year with Apollo, but holding all honest and merry recreation necessary, so it were not blemished with any excess: yet as he was endued with these special qualities, nature was spotted with some little imperfections: the Phoenix amongst all her golden plumes may have one sick feather, and yet a Phoenix: the purest Pome granates may have one rotten kernel, and the perfectest man is not without some blemish, and so was Sophonos: for as he was grave, wise, virtuous, and affable, yet he had that fault which Tully called defectum Naturae, and that was cowardice, fearful he was of his flesh, and thought it good sleeping in a whole skin, he preferred the Olive before the sword, and the Dove before the Eagle, peace before wars: and therefore giving himself to Merchandise, he remained at home with his father.   

The description of the youngest son.  
THe youngest, who was called Philador was so beautified with exterior favour, that Natura naturans which the philosophers call the exquisite former of features, seemed to set (non ultra) on his lineaments. When Nature had cast this curious mould, that she might triumph as the mistress of all perfection, she infused such interior and vital spirits into this carcase, that it seemed repollished with the purity of the senses. For Philador had so pregnant a wit, and such a swift inséeing and reaching capacity, as it seemed the graces in some Synod had powered out the plenty of their influence. Quick it was and pleasant, fall of such witty facetiae and affable sentences, that those Epithetons that Homer assigned to Ulysses, might very well have been ascribed to Philador: he was courteous to salute all, counting it commendable prodigality that grew from the Bonnet and the Tongue, alluding to this old verse of Chawcer.  
Much grace wins he  
That's frank of bonnet, tongue, and knee.  
To court amongst the beautiful Dames of Callipolis, he had such a ready insinuation of present prattle, powdered with such merry questions, sharp replies, sweet taunts, and delightful jests, that as he was an Adamant to every eye, for his beauty, so he was a Siren to every care for his eloquence, drawing women desirous of his company, as Orpheus the Bacchanals with his melody. Fit he was for all companies, as a man that had wit at will, his countenance at command, and his thoughts in his fist. He could with Cleanthes study with a Candle, and with Brutus determine in the night, and yet with Salern● say, 
Balnea, vina, venus, etc.  
Haec nocent oculis sed vigilare magis.   
With Diogenes he would eat Coleworts, with Aristippus' delicates, with Aristotle he would allow Materia prima, with Moses, that there was no forma nor privatio, but fiat. To be brief, he could cretizare cum Cretensibus, and pay sterling where he had received money that was currant: he contrary to the disposition of his brother frequented such company as was agreeable, both to his years, and his thoughts, spending the time as pleasant as his wit could devise, and his purse maintain, and would have done more if old Rabbi Bilessy his father had not overlooked him with a careful eye: but as the Stork when he sees his young too forward to fly, beateth them into the nest, so Bilessy when he saw his son beginning to soar too high with Icaru●, he cried to him, Medium tutissimum, with a fatherly voice, so reclaiming him from proving to ravening. Philador feeling his father he is the reins of his liberty with a hard hand, and that if he bated never so little, he was checked to the fist, thought to desire that he might travel, and see the world, and not to be brought up at home like a meacock: finding therefore one day his old father sitting alone in an Arbour, he began thus:   

Philadors request to old Rabbi Bilessy.  
SIr, quoth he, when I consider with myself, what experience Ulysses got by traversing strange Countries, what Aphorisms the Philosophers sought into, by seeking far from home, I may either think your fatherly love too tender, that limits me no further than your looks, or mine own ●olly great that covet no further traveles. Tully said, every Country is a wise man's native home, and Thales Milesius thought, as the Sun doth compass the world in a day, so a man should cut through the world in his life, and buy that abroad with travel, which at home could be purchased with no treasure. If Plato had lived still in Greece, he had never fetched his strange hieroglyphics from the Egyptians, if Aristotle had still like a my●her been stewed up in Stagyra, he had never written his works De natura Animalium to Alexander: Travel (father) is the mother of experience, and for every penny of expense, it returns home laden with a pound of wisdom. Men are not borne to be tied to their Cradles, nor ought we with the Tortoise to carry our house upon our back: the Eagles no sooner see the pens of their young ones able to make wing, but they pull their nests asunder, and let them fly. What? Fortune hateth meacockes, and shutteth her hand to such as fear to seek where she is: here at home I deny not but I shall have wealth, but gotten by your labours, and lands purchased by your travels, so like a Drone shall I feed on that honey which others have brought home unto the Hive: in Callipolis I may learn to traffic, and to take a turn up and down the Exchange, I may for pleasure take a walk about your pastures, and either with the hound course the Hart, and with the hawk fly the Pheasant: recreations they be, and fit for such as think no smell good, but their Country's smoke. But in traveling foreign nations, and traversing the Parallels, I shall see the manners of men, the customs of countries, the diversities of languages, and the sundry secrets the mother earth ministereth, I shall be able at my return with the Geographers to describe the situation of the earth, with Cosmographers to talk of Cities, Towns, Seas, and Rivers, to make report what the Chaldées be in Egypt, the Gymnosophists in India, the Burgonians in Hetruria, the Sophi in Gretia, the druids in France, to talk as well as Aristotle of the nature of beasts, as well as Pliny of Trees and Plants, as Gesnerus of minerals and stones: thus wit augmented by experience, shall make me a general man, fit any way to profit my Common wealth. Further, I shall have a deep insight into customs of all countries, I shall see how the Grecians prize of learning, how they va●●●● Chivalry, and practise their Youth in both, so shall I taste of a Scholar, and savour of a Soldier, able, when I return, in peace to apply my Book, and in war to use my Lance. Seeing then (sir) I am in the prime of my youth, living at home, only to feed your looks, let me not so idly pass over the flower of mine age, but give me leave to pass abroad, that I may return home to your joy and my country's comfort. Old Rabbi Bilessy hearing his son in this mind, began to wonder what new desire, to see strange countries, had tickled his sons humour, but knowing young wits were wandering, he began to reclaim him thus:   

Rabbi Bilessies' answer to his son Philador.  
Son, quoth he, thou seest my years are many, and therefore my experience should be much, that age hath furrowed many wrinkles in my face, wherein are hidden many actions of deep advice, my white hairs, I tell thee, have seen many Winters, and further have I traveled than I either reaped wisdom or profit. Son, as yet thou hast not eaten bread with one tooth, nor hath the black Ox trodden upon thy foot, thou hast only fed on the fruits of my labours, and therefore dost thou covet to taste of strange pleasures: But knowest thou Philador what a long harvest thou shouldest reap for a little corn? What high hazards thou shouldest through for little amends? What large prejudice for small profit, thou wouldst say, Nolo tanti poenitentiam emere. First, (my son) note thou art here in thy native country loved of thy friends, and feared of thine enemies, here hast thou plenty at command, and Fortune danceth attendance on thy will. If thou wilt be a Scholar, thou hast here learned men with whom to converse: if a traveler, and desirous to know the customs and manners of men, here by jews, Grecians, Arrabians, Indians, and men of all nations, who may sully decipher to thee the nature of every climate, for the situation of the world, thou hast Maps, and mayest wander in them as far with thine eye, as thou wouldst repent to travel with thy foot. Seeing then thou mayest learn as much in Callipolis as Ulysses found in all his weary & dangerous journeys, content thee with these helps, and rest at home with thine old Father in quiet, for (my son) in travel thou shalt pocket up much disparagement of humour, which I know will be gréevefull to thy patience: thou must fit thine humour to the place, and the person, be he never so base. If he wrong thee, thou must either bear his brave, or feel the force of his weapon, thou shalt be feign to content thee with the meridional heat that scortcheth, and pass through the septentrional clouds that freeze, oft in danger of thieves, many times of wild beasts, and ever of flatterers. In Crete thou must learn to lie, in Paphos to be a lover, in Greece a dissembler, thou must bring home pride from Spain, lasciviousness from Italy, gluttony from England, and carousing from the Danes. Thus (my son) pack thee forth with as many virtues as thou canst bear, thou shalt disourthen them all, and return home with as many vices as thou canst bring. Therefore rest thee from that foolish desire to travel, and content thee at home with thine old father in quiet. All these persuasive principles of the old Rabbi could not dissuade Philador from the intent of his travels, but that he replied so cunningly, and so importunately, that the old man was feign to grant, and bade him provide him all things necessary for his journey. Philador was not slack in this, but with all speed possible, did his endeavour, so that within short time he had all things in a readiness: at last, the day of his departure came, and then his father bringing forth in coin great store of treasure, delivered it unto his son as his portion, and then sitting down with his staff in his hand, and his handkerchief at his eyes, for the old man wept, he gave his son this farewell:   

Rabbi Bilessies' farewell to his son Philador.  
NOw my son, that I must take my leave of thee, and say farewell to him that perhaps shall far ill, yet before we part, mark and note these few precepts which thy father hath bought with m●ny years, and great experience.  
First (my Son) serve God, let him be the author of all thy actions, please him with prayer and penance, lest if he frown, he confound all thy fortunes, and thy labours be like the drops of rain in a sandy ground.  
Then forward let thine own safety be thy next care, and in all thy attempts foresee the end, and be wise for thyself.  
Be courteous to all, offensive to none, and brook any injury with patience, for revenge is prejudicial to a travailer. ●● and passed up into the continent almost a whole day without descrying either town, village, hamlet, or house, so that wearied, he alighted and walked a foot down a vale, where he descried a Shepherd and his wife sitting keeping flocks, he of sheep, she of Kids, Philador glad of this, bad his men be of good cheer for now (quoth he) I have within ken a country swain, and he shall direct us to some place of rest, with that he paced on easily, and seeing them sit so me together, and so lovingly, he thought to steal upon them to see what they were doing, and therefore giving his horse to one of his boys, he went afore himself, and found them sitting in this manner.  

The description of the Shepherd and his wife.  
IT was near a thickie shade,  
That broad leaves of Beach had made:  
joining all their tops so nigh,  
That scarce Phoebus in could pry,  
To see if Lovers in the thick,  
Can dally with a wanton trick.  
Where sat this Swain and his wife,  
Sporting in that pleasing life,  
That Corydon commendeth so,  
All other lives to over-go.  
He and she did sit and keep,  
Flocks of Kids, and folks of sheep:  
He upon his pipe did play,  
She tuned voice unto his lay.  
And for you might her housewife know,  
voice did sing and fingers sow:  
He was young, his coat was green,  
With weltes of white seamde between,  
Turned over with a flap,  
That breast and bosom in did wrap,  
Skirts side and plighted free,  
Seemly hanging to his knee.  
A whittle with a silver chape,  
Cloak was russet and the cape,  
Served for a Bonnet oft,  
To shroud him from the wet aloft.  
A leather scrip of colour red,  
With a button on the head,  
A Bottle full of Country whigge,  
By the shepherds side did lig,  
And in a little bush hard by,  
There the shepherds dog did lie,  
Who while his Master 'gan to sleep,  
Well could watch both Kides and sheep's  
The Shepherd was a frolic swain,  
For though his apparel was but plain,  
Yet done the Authors sooth say,  
His colour was both fresh and gay.  
And in their writs plain discusse●  
Fairer was not Tytirus,  
Nor Menalcas whom they call,  
The alderliefest Swain of all,  
Seeming him was his wife,  
Both in line and in life.  
Fair she was as fair might be,  
Like the Roses on the tree:  
Buxsane bliese, and young I ween,  
Beauteous like to summers Queen,  
For her cheeks were ruddy hued,  
As if lilies were imbrued,  
With drops of blood to make thee white,  
Please the eye with more delight,  
Love did lie within her eyes,  
In ambush for some wanton prise.  
A liefer Lass than this had been,  
Coridon had never seen.  
Nor was Phillis that fair may,  
Half so gaudy or so gay:  
She wore a chaplet on her head,  
Her cassock was of Scarlet red,  
Long and large as strait as bend,  
Her middle was both small and gent.  
A neck as white as Whale's bone,  
Compassed with a lace of stone,  
Fine she was and fair she was,  
Brighter than the brightest glass.  
Such a shepherds wife as she,  
Was not more in Thessaly.   
PHilador seeing this couple sitting thus lovingly, noted the concord of Country amity, and began to conjecture with himself what a sweet kind of life those men use, who were by their birth too low for dignity, and by their fortunes too simple for envy: well, he thought to fall in prattle with them had not the Shepherd taken his pipe in his hand and began to play, and his wife to sing out this Rondelay.  

The shepherds wives song.  

AH what is love is it a pretty thing,  
As sweet unto a Shepherd as a King,  
And sweeter too:  
For Kings have cares that wait upon a Crown,  
And cares can make the sweetest love to frown:  
Ah then ah then,  
If Country loves such sweet desires do gain,  
What Lady would not love a Shepherd swain.   

His flocks once folded he comes home at night,  
As merry as a King in his delight,  
And merrier too:  
For Kings bethink them what the state require,  
Where shepherds careless Carol by the fire.  
Ah then, ah then,  
If country loves such sweet desires gain,  
What Lady would not love a shepherd swain.   

He kisseth first, then sits as blithe to eat,  
His cream and curds, as doth the King his meat,  
And blyther too:  
For Kings have often fears when they do sup,  
Where Shepherds dread no poison in their cup.  
Ah then, ah then,  
If country loves such sweet desires gain,  
What Lady would not love a shepherd swain.   

To bed he goes, as wanton than I ween,  
As is a King in dalliance with a Queen,  
More wanton too:  
For Kings have many griefs affects to move,  
Where Shepherds have no greater grief than love,  
Ah then, ah then,  
If country loves such sweet desires gain,  
What Lady would not love a shepherd swain.   

Upon his couch of straw he sleeps as sound,  
As doth the King upon his beds of down,  
More sounder too:  
For cares cause Kings full oft their sleep to spill,  
Where weary Shepherds lie and snort their fill,  
Ah then, ah then,  
If country loves such sweet desires gain,  
What Lady would not love a Shepherd swain.   

Thus with his wife he spends the year as blithe,  
As doth the King at every tide or sith,  
And blyther too:  
For Kings have wars and broils to take in hand,  
When shepherds laugh and love upon the land.  
Ah then, ah then,  
If country loves such sweet desires gain,  
What Lady would not love a shepherd swain.    
The shepherds wife having thus ended her song, Philador standing by, thought to interrupt them, and so began to salute them thus: My friends (quoth he) good fortune to yourselves, and welfare to your flocks, being a stranger in this Country, and uncouth in these plains, I have straggled all this day weary and thirsty, not having descried town or house, only yourselves the first welcome objects to our eyes: may I therefore of courtesy crave your direction to some place of rest, I shall for such kindness requite you with thanks. The Shepherd starting up, and séing he was a Gentleman of some calling by his train, put off his bonnet and answered him thus: Sir, quoth he, you are welcome, and such courteous strangers as yourself, have such simple swains at command with your looks in greater matters than direction of ways, for to that we are by courtesy bound to every common travailer. I tell you sir, you struck too much upon the South, and so might have wandered all day and at night have been glad of a thicket, for this way there is no lodging, but whereas me thought you said you were weary and thirsty, first take my bottle and taste of my drink, scorn it not, for we Shepherds have heard tell, that one Darius a great King, being dry, was glad to swink his fill of a shepherds bottle: hunger needs no sauce, and thirst turns water into wine, this we earn with our hands thrift, and this we carouse of to ease our heart's thirst, spare it not sir, there's more malt in the floor. Philador hearing the shepherd in such a liberal kind of phrase, set his bottle to his head, and drunk a hearty draft, thinking it as savoury as ever he tasted at home in his father's house: well, he drank and he gave the shepherd thanks, who still went forward in his prattle thus: now that you have quenched your thirst for the way it is so hard to find, as how charyly soever I give you direction, yet unless by great fortune you shall miss of the way, and therefore seeing it is night I will leave my wife and my boy to fold the flackes, and I myself will guide you on to the view of a town. Philador gave him a thousand gramercies, and excepted his gentle proffer, and the shepherd he telling his wife where to fold, went with Philador, and as they passed down the way there was a pillar erected, whereupon stood the picture of a Stork, the young one carrying the old, and under was engraven this motto in Greek, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Philador demanded of the shepherd what this picture meant, marry ●ir quoth he, it is the representation of a Lombe, for here was buried a lusty young shepherd, whose name was Merador: who having a father that was so old as he could not go, was so kind to his old sire, that he spent all his labours to relieve his father's wants, nourishing him up with such fare as his flocks could yield or his penny buy, and when the man would covet to take the air even to this place from his lodge would Merador bring him on his shoulders, resembling they say, herein the Stork, who when she sees the dam is so old she cannot fly, the young takes him on his back, and carries him from place to place for food, and for that Merador did so to his father, after his death they buried him here with this picture: It was well done (quoth Philador) but if I be not grievous in questions what monument is that which standeth on yonder hill, our way lies by it (quoth the shepherd) and then I will tell you it. In the mean time look you here quoth he, and with that he showed him a stone lying upon the ground, whereupon was engraven these words.  
Non ridet periuria Amantum jupiter.  
Here was buried a shepherd, who in this place forswearing his love fell mad, and after in this place slew himself, and was here buried, whereupon in memory of the fact, the shepherds erected this monument as a terror to the rest to beware of the like treachery. By this they were come to the hill where Philador saw a Tomb most curiously contrived with stately architecture, as it seemed some cunning carver had discovered the excellence of his workmanship, upon it stood the picture of a woman of wonderful beauty naked only, her hair trussed up in a cawl of gold, and one leg crossing an other by art to shadow that which nature commands be secret, in her left hand she held a heart, where out issued drops of blood, in her right hand she held a pillar, whereon stood a black Swan and the old verse written about.  
Rara avis in terris nigróque simillima Cigno.  
Philador seeing by the beauty of the Tomb, that it was some monument of worth, demanded of the shepherd who was buried there, at this the shepherd stayed, and with a great sigh, began thus, I will tell you sir, quoth he, here was entombed the fair Thessalian maid, so famozed in all writings under the name of Phillis, for love she died, and sith it is a wonder that women should perish for affection, being as rare a thing as to see a black Swan, they have placed her here holding a black-Swanne with the poesy, and sith we have yet a mile, and more to the place whether I mean to bring you, I will rehearse you the course of her life, and the cause of her death, and so the shepherd began thus.   

The shepherds tale.  
HEre in Thessaly dwelled a shepherd called Sydaris, a man of mean parentage, but of good possessions, and many virtues, for he was holden the chief of all our Shepherds, not only for his wealth, but for his honest qualities: this Sydaris lived long without any issue, that he meant to make a sister's son he had, his heir, but Fortune that meant to please the old man in his age, even in the winter of his years, gave him by a young wife a young daughter called Rosamond, which, as she was a joy to the old Shepherd at her birth, so she grew in process of time unto such perfection, that she was the only hearts delight that this old man had. Rosamond went with her father's shéeepe to the field, where she was the Queen of all the shepherds, being generally called of them all, Diana, as well for her beauty as her chastity, her fame grew so great for the excellency of her feature, that all the Shepherds made a feast at Tempe, to see the beauty of Rosamond, where all the Thessalonian Virgins met, decked in the royalty of their excellency, all striving to exceed that day in outward perfection: gallant they were, and glorious, wanting nothing that Art could add to Nature, filling every eye with admiration, but still they expected the coming of Rosamond, insomuch, that one Alexis a young Shepherd, who was the paragon of all proportions, above the rest said, that when Rosamond came, she could not bring more than she should find: as he spoke these words, in came old Sydaris, and after him his daughter, who seeing such a company of bonny lasses, and Country swains in their bravery, bewrayed her modesty with such a blush, that all the beholders thought that Luna & Titan had justled in her face together for preferment: every eye at her presence stood at gaze, as having no power to draw themselves from such an heavenly object, wrapped their looks in the trammels of her locks, and snared them so in the rareness of her face, that the men wondered, and the women hung down their heads, as being eclipsed with the brightness of so glorious a Comet. But especially Alexis, he poor swain, felt in him a new fire, and such uncouth flames, as were not w●nt to broil in his breast, yet were they kindled with such delight, that the poor boy lay like the Salamander, and though he were never so nigh the blaze of the bavine, yet he did not Calescere plus quam satis. As thus all gazed on her, so she glanced her looks on all, surveying them as curiously, as they noted her exactly, but at last she set down her period on the face of Alexis, thinking he was the fairest, and the featest swain of all the rest. Thus with looks and cheering, and much good chat, they passed away the day till evening came, and then they all departed: Sydaris home with his Rosamond, and every man else to his cottage, all talking as they went by the way, of the beauty of Rosamond, especially Alexis, who the more highly commended her, by how much the more he was deeply in love with her. The affects of his fancy were restless, and his passions peremptory, not to be pacified, unless by her persuasive arguments, and therefore did Alexis find sundry occasions to walk into the fields of Sydaris to meet with Rosamond: oft would he feign he had lost one of his Ewes, to seek amongst the sheepcotes of Sydaris, and if Fortune so favoured him, that he met with Rosamond, than his piteous looks, his glances were glazed with a blush, his sighs, his silence, and every action bewrayed the depth of his passion, which Rosamond espying, smiled at, and pitied, and so far grew into the consideration of his affects, that the thoughts thereof waxed in her effectual, for she began to love Alexis, and none but Alexis, and to think that wanton Paris that wooed Enone was not like to her Alexis, insomuch, that on a day Alexis meeting with her, saluted her, with a blush, and she abashed: yet the swain emboldened by Love, took her by the hand, sat down, and there with sighs and tears bewrayed his loves, she with smiles and pretty hopeful answers, did comfort him, yet so, as she held him in a longing, and doubtful suspense, part they did, she assure● of her Alexis, he in hope of his Rosamond, and many of these meetings they had, so secret, that none of the Shepherds suspected any love between them. Yet Alexis on a day lying on the hill, was said to frame these verses by Rosamond.  

Hexametra Alexis in laudem Rosamundi.  
Oft have I heard my lief Coridon report on a love day,  
When bonny maids do meet with the swains in the valley by Tempe.  
How bright eide his Phillis was, how lovely they glanced,  
When fro th' Aarches Eben black flew looks as a lightning,  
That set a fire with piercing flames even hearts adamantine,  
Face Rose hued, Cherry red, with a silver taint like a Lily.  
Venus' pride might abate, might abash with a blush to behold her.  
Phoebus' wires compared to her hairs unworthy the praising.  
juno's state, and Pallas wit disgraced with the graces,  
That graced her whom poor Coridon did choose for a lovemate,  
Ah, but had Coridon now seen the star that Alexis  
Likes and loves so dear, that he meltes to sighs when he sees her,  
Did Coridon but see those eyes, those amorous eyelids,  
From whence fly holy flames of death or life in a moment,  
Ah, did he see that face, those hairs that Venus Apollo  
Bashed to behold, and both disgraced, did grieve, that a creature  
Should exceed in hue, compare both a god and a goddess:  
Ah, had he seen my sweet Paramour the taint of Alexis,  
Then had he said, Phillis, sit down surpassed in all points,  
For there is one more fair than thou, beloved of Alexis.   
These verses do the Shepherds say Alexis made by Rosamond, for he oft times sung them on his Pipe, and at last, they came to the ears of Rosamond, who took them passing kindly: for sweet words, and high praises, are two great arguments to win women's wills, insomuch, that Alexis stood so high in her favour, that no other Shepherd could have any good look at her hand. At the last, as Fame is blab, and Beauty is like smoke in the straw, that can not be concealed: the excellency of Rosamond came to the Court, where it was set out in such curious manner, and deciphered in such acquaint phrases, that the King himself coveted to see her perfection, and therefore upon a day disguised himself, and went to the house of Sydaris, where, when he came, and saw the proportion of Rosamond, he counted Fame partial in her prattle, and man's tongue unable to discover that wherein the eye by viewing might surfeit: he that was well skilled in courting, made Love to her, and found her so prompt in wit, as she was proportioned in body, insomuch, that the King himself was in love with her. The Noble men that were with him, doted upon her, and each envied other as jealous, who should court her with the most glances, but all in vain, her heart was so set upon Alexis, as she respected King nor Kaiser in respect of her Country Paragon, in so much, that the King returned home with a flat denial. This caused not his Noble men to cease fro their suits, but they daily followed the chase, insomuch, that the house of Sydaris was a second court, some offered her large possessions for her dowry, other, as great revenues, some were cavaliers, and men of great value. Thus every way was she haunted with brave men, that poor Alexis durst not come near the sight of the smoke that came out of the chimney, past all hope of his Rosamond, thinking women aimed to be supremes, that they prize gold before beauty, and wealth before love, yet he hovered a far off, while the Courtiers fell together by the ears, who should have most favour, in so much, that there arose great mutinies. Whereupon the King fearing some manslaughter would grow upon these amorous convents, and that Rosamond like a second Helena would cause the ruin of Thessaly, thought to prevent it thus: he appointed a day, when all the Lords, Knights, and Gentlemen, with the country swains of his land, should meet, and there before him take their corporal oath, to be content with that verdict Rosamond should set down, which amongst them all to choose for her husband, he to possess her, and the rest to depart quiet. Upon this they were resolved, and sworn, and Rosamond set upon a scaffold, to take view of all, the King charging her to take one, and, quoth he, if it be myself (sweet heart) I will not refuse thee. Here Rosamond dying all her face with a Uermillion blush, stood, and viewed all: the King in his pomp commanded all the Realm, and asked her if she would be a Queen, and wear a Crown: but she thought over high desires had often hard fortunes, and that such as reached at the top, stumbled at the root, that inequality in marriage was oft enemy to Love, that the Lion, howsoever yoked, would overlook all beasts but his fere, and therefore the mean was a merry song. Beauty, though she is but a flash, and as soon as that withers, the King is out of his bias, I must be loathed, and he must have another leman. Then she looked lower amongst the Lords, and considered how sweet a thing wealth was, that as riches was the mother of pleasure, so want and poverty was a hateful thing, yet quoth she, all is but trash, I shall buy Gold too dear, in subjecting myself to so high a husband, for if I anger him, then shall he object the baseness of my birth, the newness of my parentage, and perhaps, turn me home into my former estate, than the higher was my seat, the sorer shall be my fall, and therefore will I content me with mean desires, as I was borne, to low fortunes. Thus she surveyed them all, seeing many brave youths, and lusty Cavaliers, that were there present for her love. But as she looked round about her, a far off on a hill saw she Alexis sit with his pipe laid dawn by him, his arms folded, as a man overgrown with discontent, and upon his arm hung a willow garland, as one in extreme despair to be forsaken, seeing so many high degrees, to snare the thoughts of his Rosamond, his looks were such as Troilus cast towards the Greekish tents to Cressida, suing for favour with tears, and promising constancy with continual glances, so sat poor Alexis, expecting when Rosamond should breath out the fatal censure of his despairing fortunes. Rosamond seeing her lover thus passionate, comforted him thus. She told the King that she had taken a general view of all the Thessalians, that Love with her alluring bats had presented her with many shows of Beauty, and Fortune had there sought to inveigle her with the enticing promises of dignities: but sir, quoth she, my parents are base, my birth low, and my thoughts not ambitious, I am neither touched with envy, nor disdain, as one that can brook superiors with honour, and inferiors with love. I am not Eagle flighted, and therefore fear to fly to nigh the Sun: such as will soar with Icarus, fall with Phaeton, and desires above fortunes, are the forepointers of deep falls. Love, quoth she, is a queasy thing, and great Lords hold it in their eyes, not their hearts, and can better draw it with a penseil than a passion. Helena shall be but a hang-by, when age ●its in her forehead. Beauty is momentany, and such as have only love in their looks, let their fancies slip with time, and keep a calendar of their affection, that as age draws on, love runs away. Seeing then high estates have such slippery fancies, let honours and dignities go: Venus holds the needful, but not necessary, and welcome the mean estate, and the shepherds loves, who count it religion to observe affection: and therefore seeing I must choose one, and of all these but one, yonder ●its the lord of my love, and that is the young Shepherd Alexis. With that he started up, and the King and all the rest of the company looked on him, and saw him the dapperest swain of all Thessalia, being content to brook the choice of Rosamond, for that they were bound thereto by oath and promise, all accusing Love, that had made so fair a creature look so low. Well, home went the King with his train, and Alexis a proud man guarded with the Shepherds, went towards the house of Sydaris, where with great feasting the match was made up. Alexis remaining thus the possessor of the fairest Nymph of Thessaly, went to his cottage, determining with himself when the wedding day should be. As thus he was about to resolve, it chanced that Love and Fortune armed themselves to give poor Rosamond the frump, and that on this manner. Alexis going one day abroad, met with a shepherds daughter called Phillida, a maid of a homely hue, nutbrown, but of a witty and pleasant disposition, with her he fell in chat, and she, to tell you the truth, with her Alexis fell in love. In love did Alexis fall with this nutbrown Phillida, that he quite forgot his ●●ire Rosamond, and Phillida perceived that she had won the fair shepherd, left not to inveigle him with her wit, till she had snared him in, that Alexis could not be out of her sight, which at last came to the ears of Rosamond, but she incredulous, would not believe, nor Alexis confess it, till at last Sydaris espied it, and told it to his daughter, wishing her to cast off so inconstant a lover. But Love that was settled in the centre of her heart, made her passionate, but with such patience, that she smothered the heat of her sorrows, with inward conceit pining away, as a woman forlorn, till on a day Alexis overdoating in his fancies, stepped to the Church and married himself to Phillida: which news for certain brought unto the ears of Rosamond, she cast herself down on her bed, and passed away the whole day and night in sighs and tears: but as soon as the Sun gave light to the world, she leapt from her couch, and began to wander up and down the fields, mourning for the loss of her Alexis, wearied at last with tracing through the fields, she sat her down by Tempe, and there wrote these mournful verses.  

Hexametra Rosaemundae in dolorem amissi Alexis.  
Tempe the Grove where dark Hecate doth k●ep her abiding.  
Tempe the Grove where poor Rosamond bewails her Alexis,  
Let not a tree nor a shrub be green to show thy rejoicing,  
Let not a leaf once deck thy boughs and branches, O Tempe,  
Let not a bird record her tunes, nor chant any sweet Notes,  
But Philomele, let her bewail the loss of her amours,  
And fill all the wood with doleful tunes to bemoan her,  
Parched leaves fill every spring, fill every fountain,  
All the meads in mourning weed fit them to lamenting.  
Echo sit and sing despair i'the valleys i'the mountains,  
All Thessaly help poor Rosamond mournful to bemoan her,  
For she's quite bereft of her love, and left of Alexis,  
Once was she liked, and once was she loved of wanton Alexis:  
Now is she loathed, and now is she left of trothless Alexis.  
Here did he clip and kiss Rosamond. and vow by Diana.  
None so dear to the swain as I, nor none so beloved,  
Here did he deeply swear, and call great Pan for a witness.  
That Rosamond was only the Rose beloved of Alexis,  
That Thessaly had not such an other nymph to delight him.  
None, quoth he, but Venus' fair shall have any kisses.  
Not Phillis, were Phillis alive should have any favours.  
Nor Galate, Galate so fair for beauteous eiebrowes,  
Nor Doris that lass that drew the swains to behold her,  
Not one amongst all these, nor all should gain any graces,  
But Rosamond alone to herself should have her Alexis.  
Now to revenge the perjured vows of faithless Alexis,  
Pan, great Pan, that heardst his oaths, and mighty Diana,  
You Dryads and watery Nymphs that sport by the fountains,  
Fair Tempe the gladsome Grove of greatest Apollo,  
Shrubs, and dales, and neiboring hills, that heard when he swore him,  
UUitnes all, and seek to revenge the wrongs of a virgin,  
Had any swain been lief to me but guileful Alexis,  
Had Rosamond twined Myrtle boughs, or Rosemary branches,  
Sweet hollyhock, or else Daffodil, or slips of a bay tree,  
And given them for a gift to any swain but Alexis:  
Well had Alexis done t'have left his rose for a giglot.  
But Galate near loved more dear her lovely Menalcas.  
Then Rosamond did dearly love her trothless Alexis.  
Endymion was near beloved of his Cytherea,  
Half so dear as true Rosamond beloved her Alexis.  
Now silly lass, hie down to the lake. haste down to the willows.  
And with those forsaken twigs go make thee a Chaplet,  
Mournful fit and sigh by the springs by the brooks by the rivers,  
Till thou turn for grief, as did Niobe to a Marble,  
Melt to tears, pour out thy plaints, let Echo reclaim them,  
How Rosamond that loved so dear is left of Alexis.  
Now die, die Rosamond, let m●n engrave o'thy toombe-stone,  
Here lies she that loved so dear the youngster Alexis,  
Once beloved, forsaken late of faithless Alexis.  
Yet Rosamond did die for love false hearted Alexis.   
These verses she wrote, and many days after she did not live, but pined away, and in most pitiful passions gave up the Ghost, her death did not only grieve her father Sydaris, but was bruited abroad unto the ears of Alexis, who, when, he heard the effectual essence of her loves, and entered in to consideration of his wrongs, he went down unto the water side, and in a fury hung himself upon a Willow tree. This tragic news came unto the ears of the King, who being certified of the whole truth by circumstance, came down, and in mourning attire lamented for the loss of fair Rosamond, and, for that he would have the memory of such a virgin to be kept, he erected this Tomb, and set up this Monument.  
The shepherd had scarce ended his tale, but they were within ken of a town, which gladded the heart of young Philador, for had not this History of Rosamund made the way somewhat short, he had been tired long before: well, the Town once descried, yonder (quoth the shepherd) sir, is your place of rest, a pretty City it is, and called Saragunta, good lodging you shall find, but the people within it are passing false, especial (if a plain country man's counsel might avail) take heed of the sign of the Unicorn, there sir is a house of great riot and prodigality in youth, it is like rust in iron that never leaves fretting till it be consumed: beside there be three sisters, all beautiful and witty, but of small honesty: their eyes are hooks that draw men in, and their words birdlime that ties the feathers of every stranger, that none can escape them, for they are as dangerous as the Sirens were to Ulysses. Some says they are like Circe's riches, and can turn vain glorious fools into Asses, gluttonous fools into Swine, pleasant fools into Apes, proud fools into Peacocks: and when she hath done, with a great whip scourge them out at doors, take heed Master (quoth the shepherd) you come not there, unless you have the herb that Ulysses had, lest you return someway transformed. Thus Master I have brought you to the foot of the hill, now will I take my leave and home to my wife, for the sun will set ere I can get to my little cottage. The Gentleman gave the swain hearty thanks both for his pains and his prattle, and rewarded him well, and so sent him away. The shepherd gone, Philador takes his way to the City, and for that he had heard him tell of the three sisters, he went to take up his lodging there, and so make experience of the orders of the house, and qualities of the women: in he road and inquired to the place, and there alighted: these merry minions seeing such a frolic gallant come riding in, thought that now their purses should be filled if his abiding were long there, and his coffers full of any crowns, his boy no sooner held his styroppe and he leapt from his horse, but the Eldest of them all, a gallant and stately Dame, came and saluted him, and gave him a hearty welcome, showing him her own self strait to his chamber, where he found all things in such order, that he thought he was not come into a common I●●e, but some stately palace. Philador seeing so fair an Hoastis, and such good lodging, said to himself the old text.  
Bonum est nobis esse hic,  
And so thought to set up his rest for a week or two, as he was in a quandary what he should do, came in the second sister more brave than the first, a woman of such comely parsonage, and so sweet a countenance, that Philador turned his doubt to a peremptory resolution, that there he would stay for a while: this cunning Courtesan gave him friendly entertainment and a welcome with a smile, and a cup of wine to wash down, all which, Philador took kindly and desired her they might have good cheer to supper, and to promise that both she and her sisters would be his guests, a little entreaty served, and she made faithful promise, which indeed was performed: for when supper time came, and Philadors servants had served up the meat, in came (for the last dish) the three sisters, very sumptuously attired, but the youngest exceeded them all in excellency, upon whom Philador no sooner cast his eye, but he felt himself fettered. He that could his courtesy entertained them all as graciously, and welcomed them on this manner. Fair Gentlewomen (quoth he) I would by outward demonstration you could conjecture how kindly I take it, that all three of you would vouchsafe so friendly to come and hear a Gentleman and a stranger company, now I have no other means to requite you, but thanks, and such simple cheer as you have taken pains to provide, but where so ever I come I shall make report what favourable entertainment I have found in this place, and give me leave to seat you. The eldest straying back a little, before she sat made this reply: I am glad sir if any ways we have wrought you content, but sir I pray you think it not a common favour that we use to every stranger thus to bear him company, for our custom is to attend below, and to be seen little above, especially altogether, in such equipage: if your fortune be better than the rest, then say you came in a lucky hour: but we are not so blind but we can discern of colours, and though they be both christallaine, yet discover a Diamond from a Saphir, and so sir I will take you this night for mine Host, with that she and both her sisters sat down to supper. Philador seeing these, thought on the three Goddesses that appeared to Paris in the vale of Ida, and though he were passing hungry with long travail, yet had fed his eyes with beauty, as well as he did his stomach with delicates, so that every sense for supper time was occupied. When he had well victualled himself, and that his belly began to be full, he thought to try their wits with chat, and therefore began thus. Now Gentlewomen do I find the old Proverb true, better fill a man's belly then his eye, for your savoury victuals hath stayed my stomach, but mine eye restless, takes such greedy survey of your beauties, as I fear by long looking he will surfeit, but I am in good hope, if I should fall lovesick, I might find you favourable Physicians. It is sir (quoth the eldest) a dangerous disease, and we have little skill in herbs, yet in what we might we would seek to ease your malady with woman's medicines: I pray you quoth Philador, let me ask you all a question without offence, you may sir (quoth the eldest) if it be not offensive, and how if it be (quoth Philador) then pardon sir (quoth she) if we be as lavish to reply as you to demand. Howsoever you take it (quoth Philador) than this it is, I pray you fair Ladies, are you all maids, at this they blushed, and the Eldest made answer they were. And so (quoth Philador) long may you not continue, for fear any of you should die with her virginity, and lead Apes in hell, but it is no matter, maids or not maids.  
Bene vixit qui bene latuit, Caute si non Caste.  
The Cat may catch a mouse and never have a bell hanged at her ear, & what needs the hand a Taber when he means to catch the Hare, I believe and hold it for a principle that you are all maids: now then let me crave so much favour at your hands, as to tell me if you were to choose husbands at your own voluntary, and it stood in your free election, what manner of husbands would you choose: I (quoth the Eldest) would have one that were beautiful, the second said, witty: the youngest, valiant. We have nothing to do (quoth Philador) after supper, and therefore may it please you severally to show me the reasons that do induce you to this choice. The Gentlewomen agreed to this, and the eldest began thus.   

The discourse of the eldest sister.  
I Hope sir (quoth she) you expect no rhetorical insinuation, nor no curious Circumquaque to fetch my exordium in with figures, only you consider I am a woman, and therefore look for no more but bare reasons without Sophistry or eloquence. Such Philosophers generally as have written de sensu as Aristotle and other Naturalistes, or such Physicians as by anotomizing have particularly set down the parts of man, affirm that the sight is the most pure, quickest, and busiest of all the senses, and therefore most curious in the choice of his object: and so precious a sense it is that nature to comfort it made all things upon the face of the green, because the sight above all, delighteth in that colour. The eye being the surveyor of all exterior objects, pleaseth himself in those that are most beautiful, and coveteth that every superficies be fair and pleasing, commending it strait to the fantasy as a thing of worth. For in flowers it alloweth with favour of the fairest as the Carnation, the Rose, the Lyllie, and the Hiacynth. In trees the eye liketh of the tail Cedar, before the low beech, and praiseth the stature of the Oak, before the smallness of other plants. So in stones the Diamond is preferred before the flint, the Emerald before the Marble, and the Saphir highlier esteemed for the hue, than the Porphuer for his hugeness: and so by consequence in humanie creatures, love being of all the passions in man the most excellent, alotteth herself to the eye of all the parts the most pure, thinking that the fight will be soon imi●agled with the fairest, and what fairer thing can there be then beauty: so that love bringing a beautiful creature, presents it to the eye, and that liking it for the property, conveys the affect thereof to the heart, and there is knit up the sympathy of desires. By these premises sir then I infer that the eye is loves Cator, and who so pleaseth his eye contenteth his affects, then why should not I choose a beautiful man to my husband, whose exquisite perfection every way may content my fancy, for if the eye find any blemish in deformity, strait love gins to wax cold, and affection to take his farewell. A beautiful man why he is a pearl in a woman's eye, that the lineaments of his feature, makes her surfeit with delight, and there can be no greater content then to enjoy a beautiful and comely parsonage: and in my opinion by so much the more are well proportioned men to be loved, by how much the more they excel she deformed. In all things the perfection of the inward qualities is known by the exterior excellence, the rose being the fairest of flowers, hath the most precious savour, the brightest Diamond the most deepest operation, the gréenest herb the most secret virtue: nature hath ever with a provident foresight harboured the most excellent qualities in the most beautiful carcase: Diogenes had a deformed body, so had he a crooked mind: Paris well-favoured and full of courtesy. Thirsites ill shapen, and none (saith Homer) full of more bad conditions, Achilles' comely and courteous: if then sir, the more a man be beautiful, the more he is virtuous: 
Gratior est pulchro v●niens è corpore virtus.   
Let me have for my husband, such a one as may content mine eye with his beauty, and satisfy my sight with his proportion.   

The discourse of the second Sister.  
I Can not deny (quoth the second) but beauty is a precious thing, and metaphysical as being divinely infused upon man from above, but yet he that commended it most writ upon it this distichon.  
Forma bonum fragile est quantúmque accedit ad annos,  
Fit minor & spatio carpitur ipsa suo.  
The fairest Rose hath his canker, the bravest, branch his Caterpillars, the brightest sun his cloud, and the greatest beauty his blemish. Helena had a scar, Leda a wen, Lays a spot in her brow, and none so fair but there is some fault: but grant all these be graces, as Paris called Helen's scar, Cos amoris, yet at length she looking in a glass, sight to see age triumphant in her forehead. There is none so fair but the sun will parch, the frost nip, the least sickness will change, or the least exterior prejudice blemish, and then where is love that grows from the pleasure of the eye, vaded, and vanished, and turned to a cold mislike. But give me that which is permanent that feedeth the ear with delight, and increaseth with age, and that is wit, far excelling beauty, for by how much the more the interior senses are more precious, and th● gifts of the mind more excellent than the exterior organs and instruments of the body, by so much the more is wit to be preferred before the outward proportion of lineaments: wit is a sympathy of those perfections that grows from the mind, and what can delight a woman more then to have a man full of pleasant conceits, witty answers, and eloquent devices: were not the Philosophers for their wit's fellow companions to Kings. Ovid that was the grandmaster of love, wan he not Corinna more with his wit then his beauty: yes we find that as the herbs are more estimated by the inward virtue, than the outward colour: so the glories of the mind are more than the glosses of the body, the Cedar is beautiful, yet less vaived than the crooked Synamond, for that men measure the profit more than the proportion, weeds are gathered for their operation, not for their outward excellence, and such stones, whose secret nature worketh most, are worth most, and so in men, Cicero was not so anuable, but he was eloquent, and that pleased Terentia, Ulysses whom Homer so highly commends in his Odissea, wounded Ci●ces, not with his beauty, but with his wisdom, in so much that he is called facundus Ulysses. How sweet a thing is it when every word shall as a harmony ●all in a cadence to please the ear, every syllable weighed with a pleasant wit, either turned is a grave sentence, or a pleasant ●est, having that salem ingenij which entangleth more the all the curious features in the world: Pallas helped Pari● more than Venus, or else Helena had still remained in Gréece, Mercury was fame in all Amours to be jupiters' messenger, & to wi●ch more with his wit, than he could do with his Deity. Therefore seeing wisdom is so pleasing a thing, if ever I marry God send me a witty husband.   

The discourse of the third sister.  
YOu have said well sisters, quoth the youngest, to have made a good choice, both to please the ear, and the eye, in electing wit and beauty, as two objects fit for such excellent senses, but yet to feed my fancy, give me a man of valour, a Soldier, a Cavalire, one, that with his sword dare maintain right, and revenge wrong. What is it for me to pin a fair meacock, and a witty miski●p on my ●●éeue, who dare not answer with their sword in the face of the enemy? Shall I brave mine enemy with beauty, or threaten him with wit? He will then either think I bring him a fair fool, or a wise Coward. Was it the wit of Alexander that won him so much fame, or his courage? Was it Caesar's pen, or his sword that installed him Emperor? Paris goat Helena, but who defended her? Hector. When the Greeks lay before ●ro● might not Andromache stand on the walls, and see Hector beating Achilles to his tent, with more honour than Helena Paris ●etting in his silks. Yes, and therefore she rested her whole estate in his prowess, and said: 
Tu dominus, tu vir, tu mihi fraier eris.   
The Oak is called Arbour iovis for the strength, the Eagle king of Birds for his courage, the Lion for his valour, the Diamond is esteemed for the hardness, and men esteemed for their magnanimity and prowess. Hercules was neither famoused for his beauty, nor his wit, but his valiant resolution, made him Lord of the world, and lover of fair Deianira. Thesus was a Soldier, and therefore Leda's daughter first liked him, and rewarded him with her virginity. Tush, Venus will have Mars to be her paramour. Love careth not for cowards, faint heart never won fair Lady, a man is the mark all we aim at, and who is a man without valour? Therefore a Soldier for my money, or else none.  
Philador hearing them discourse so wittily, began to 〈◊〉, and iumpte in with them thus. Gentlewomen, so marry heads so many censures, every fancy liketh a sundry friend, and what is an Antidote to one, is an Aconito● to another: you like a fair man, you a wise, you a valiant, but tell me, what if there came in a man endued with wealth, who like to Midas could turn all to gold with a touch, should he be thrust out for a wrangler, or might he not rather displace beauty, disgrace wit, and put down valour: I speak this for that I have heard them say, that women's eyes are of the nature of Chrisocoll, that wheresoever it meeteth with gold, it mingleth with it, and their hearts like the herb Aurifolium, that if it be not rubbed with gold once a year, it dirth. I know sir, quoth the youngest, the conclusion of this induction, you would with these enigmatical allusions prove, that women are covetous, and care more for an ounce of give me, than a pound of hear me. I deny it not sir, but wealth and women would be Relatives, and therefore sir, in our choice, Quod subintelligitur non deest, when my sister chose a beautiful man, she meant he should be rich, and when the second spoke of wit, she understood wealth, and think you me so simple sir, that I would have a beggarly Soldier? No, no sir, whether he be beautiful, wise, or valiant, let this stand for a principle: 
Si nihil attuleris ibis Homere foras.   
Gramercy for that, sweet wench, quoth Philador, give us one cup of claret more, in vino veritas. I see women are no liars, they will tell truth in those matters that require no conceited secrecy, so he drunk to them all: and for that it was late in the night, they all took their leave of him, and went to bed. Philador once being alone, began to commend his fortune that had brought him to so good a lodging, where, with three such witty Wenches he might make his dinners and suppers with pleasant chat philosophica convivia, but especially he highly had in his thought the excellency of the youngest, being already over the shoes in a little love forsooth, taking but a little sleep for his new entertained fancy. The next morning he up very early, and bade the Gentlewomen good morrow with a cup of hippocras, and after, calling the youngest aside, where he courted her a great while, and at the first found her coy, but at the last they ended with such a courteous close, that he commanded his horses to be put to grass, intending for a time there to make his residence. The Gentlewomen seeing the fool caught, thought to be quick Barbers, and therefore spared for no good cheer, and the more daintily they fared, the more he thanked them, so it might content his young Mistress, on whose favour depended his whole felicity, he was not content in gluttony to spend his patrimony, but sent for such copesmates as they pleased, who with their false dice, were oft sharers with him of his crowns. Thus sought they every way to disburden him of that store with which he was so sore cumbered. Tush his purse was well lined, and might abide the shaking, and therefore as yet he felt it not. The young Courtesan his Paramour, thinking all too little for herself, began as though she had taken care of his profit, to wish him, seeing he meant there to make some abode, to live with a less charge, and cassier some of his men, which Philador seeing it would spare him somewhat, and to please his Mistress fancy and for his own profit, put them all out of service but one boy. The Servingmen seeing the vain of their young Master, were sorry that he took that course of life, to be overruled with women, but his will stood for a law, and though it were never so prejudicial, yet would he be peremptory, and therefore they brooked their discharge with patience, but one of them that before time had served his father, hearing what farewell old Rabbi Bileisi gave him, thought to take his leave with the like adieu, and so being solitary with his Mistress at his departure, he told him thus: Sir (quoth he) I see well if Ulysses stops not his ears, the Sirens will put him to shipwreck, if he carry not Moly about him, Circe's will enchant him, and youth if he bush not at beauty and carry antidotes of wisdom against flattery, folly will be the next Haven he shall be in. I speak this by experience, as seeing the Sirens of this house following your ears with harmony that will bring you to split upon a rock, and here I find be such Circe's as will not only transforms you, but so enchant you, that you will at last buy repentance with too dear a price. Ah Master do you not remember the precepts that your father gave you, especially against women, nay chiefly against such women as these, whose eyes are snares, whose words are charms, whose hands are bird-lime, whose deceit is much, whose desires are insatiable, whose covetousness is like the Hydaspis, that the more it drinks, the more thirsty it is, whose conscience is like a Pumice stone, light and full of holes, whose love is for lucre, whose heart is light on your person, whose hand heavy on your purse, being Uultures that will eat men alive. Ah master be not blinded with a Courtesan, there are more maids then maulken, if you will needs be in love, love one and marry, so shall you have profit and credit, if not lie not here in a consuming labyrinth, the idle life is the mother of all mischief, it fretteth as rust doth iron, and eateth as a worm in the wood, till all perish. Live not here Master without doing somewhat, Mars himself hateth to be ever on Venus' lap, he scorneth to lie at rack and manger. Consider how the calls have set down in their writings, that from the first creation of the world idleness was had in hatred, and man was commanded to satisfy his thirst with his hands thrift. Adam tilled the earth, and fed himself with his labours: jubal exercised Music, and spent his time in practising the sympathy of sundry sounds: Tubalcaine did work in metals, and was a graner in brass: No having the world before him for his inheritance yet planted vineyards, tush, all the holy Israelites lived by their labours, and men hated to have an hour idly spent: trajan numbered not that day amongst the date of his life, which he had wholly consumed in idleness. If then this lascivious kind of life be so odious, shake off these Calip●es, travel with Ulysses, see countries, and you shall as he did return to Ithaca with credit. Be a Soldier, win honour by arms: a Courtier win favour of some King with service, a Scholar, get to some university, and for a while apply your book, sit not here like Sardanapalus amongst women, be not bewitched with Hercules, to spin by Omphale's side, leave all, yet may ye stop before you come to the bottom, but if you be so besotted, that no counsel shall prevail, I am glad that I may not see your future misfortunes. Although these words of his man drive him into a dump, and made him call to remembrance his father's farewell, yet did he so dote on his young love, that he bade his man be jogging, and so went down into the parlour to shake off melancholy with company. Thus did Philador lie in the fire, and dally in the flame, and yet like the Salamander not feel the fire, for this is an old theological action.  
Consuetudo peccandi tollit sensum peccati.  
He counted fornication no sin, and lust, why he shadowed that with love, he had a vail for every vanity, till that he might see day light at every hole. While thus he lived in his jollity, there fell a great dearth in the land, corn was scant, and the poor were oppressed with extreme penury, and in such sort, that they died in the streets. Philador heard by the chapmen how the market went, and might perceive by the cry of the poor, what famine was spread throughout the whole Country, but he had gold, and want could not wring him by the ●ingar, the black Ox could not tread on his foot, and therefore he stopped his ears, and proved half merciless: only his care was to spend the day as deliciously, as he thought the night delightful, having ever his paramour in his presence, whose finger was never far from his purse: tush, all went upon wheels, till on a day looking into his coffers, he found a great want, and saw, that his store was in the waning: whereupon he put away his boy, and sold his horses, he had enough of himself, and too many by one. This youngsters purse drew low, but as long as he let angels fly, so long they honoured him as a god. But, as all things must have an end, so at last his Coffers waxed empty, and then the post began to be painted with chalk. The score grew great, and they waxed weary of such a beggarly guest. Whereupon on a day, the eldest of them told him, that either he must provide money, or else to furnish him of a new lodging, for there was a great dearth throughout the whole country, victuals were dear, and they could not pay the Baker and the Brewer with chalk. Upon this he went unto his trunk, and all his rich apparel and jewels walked to the Brokers, and for that time he cleared the score. Which, when he had done, he got him into his Chamber, and sitting down, began to call to remembrance the precepts of his old Father: but as soon as his young Mistress was in sight, she banished all such thoughts out of his remembrance. Long it was not before he grew deeply indebted again in the house, and so far, that he had not wherewithal to discharge it, and then very early in the morning the three sisters came up into his Chamber, seized of his trunk, and that apparel that was left: yea, so near they went him, that they took his Doublet that was on his back. Philador seeing the cruelty of his hostess, and especially, how forward his Mistress was to wrong him, rose out of his bed, and putting on his hose, sitting on the bed side, began thus:  
Why (Gentlewomen) have I been so ill a guest, that I deserve such extremity, or so bad a paie-maister, that so hardly you hold Bayarde in the Stable? Are these the favours that I was promised at my first welcome? Are women's courtesies such sharp showers? Now I do see, although too late, that all is not Gold that doth glister, that every Orient stone is not a Diamond, all Drugs that are dear, are not precious, nor every woman that can flatter, is not faithful. Did you at the first deck me with Roses, and now do you beat me with Nettles? Did you present me with Perfumes, and now do you stifle me with Hemblocke? Did yoou say, I should never want, and now do you wrong me, when I do want? Then must I brook it with patience, and accuse you of perjury. I have spent my portion in this house, my revenues are all fallen into your purses, and now for a few pence will you seek my prejudice? Be not (and with that he looked on the youngest sweet Mistress) so cruel, if you cannot relieve me, yet entreat for me to your sisters, that they bereave me not of my clothes, to the disparagement of my credit: remember the favours I have showed you in my prosperity, and requite them with some courtesies in my adversities, think what promises and protestations have passed between us. No sooner had he spoken these words, but she cried out: What a beggarly Knave is this, quoth she, for to challenge promises at my hands? and for to tell me of favours, If thou hast spent thy money, thou hast had meat, and pennyworths for thy pence. Couldst thou not (like a prodigal patch) have looked better into thine own life, but thou must strain further than thy sleeve would reach? Repentance is a whip for such fooles● and therefore, were thy Hose off, thou shouldest go in thy Shirt, unless that thou dost pay the uttermost Farthing. Philador hearing this, fetched a very great sigh, and said, Is there any grief to a troubled Soul? Or any mischief unto the mischief of a woman? Why? insatiable are her fetches. You have had here my blood, will you have my heart? My living you have amongst you, and now do you aim at my life. Fie upon such gripes as cease not to pray upon poor Prometheus, until they have eaten his very entrails. What sister, quoth the youngest, shall we suffer this Rascal for to ra●le against us, and be in our debts? Come, let us beat him out at the doors: with that they do call up the Servants, and so thrust him out of the Chamber, naked as he was, and beat him sore, in so much, that they did shut him out comfortless and wounded. Being ashamed of himself, he durst not tarry in the city where he was known, but in all the haste he got him ●ut of the Gates and hied him far from the city, lest that he should be discovered by some of his acquaintance. In the mean while, the three sisters began for to count what gains they had gotten by their novice: and as they did smile at his pelf, so they laughed at his penury, and wished that they might have many such guests. Thus were they very pleasant, whilst Philador like unto a poor Pilgrim wandered on still upon his way, going now naked that erst came riding with such pomp, and seeing himself to be in the depth of misery, that thought no frown of Fortune could shake him from Felicity: after that he had wandered a long while, being weary, hungry, and thirsty, with grief, he sat him down by a Brooks side, where he did drink his fill, and for very sorrow he fell asleep, and when he awaked, and entered into the consideration of his present misfortune, looking upon himself, he melted into tears, and at last burst forth into these passions.  
Infortunate Philador, and therefore infortunate, because thou wouldst neither be directed by advise, nor reclaimed by counsel. Thy Father, whose years had reaped much experience, whose white hairs were instances of grave insight, whose age contained a multitude of reverent advertisements, foretold these misfortunes, and with forepointing actions, gave thee caveats of these most bitter Crosses. The Fawn doth choose his ●oo●e by the lay of the old Buck: the Li●n doth teach his young Whelps: and the young Eagles make not flight, but as the old ones do learn them to carry wing, yet I instructed by my father, both fly from nature as a haggard, and refuse nurture as one that would ever prove ran●ning. self-love is a fault that follows youth, and like the ●●●ng of the Tarantala fretteth inwardly before it paineth outwardly: I thought my father's counsel to be good, but too grave for my young years, quoth I, these precepts are too ●e●ere for the kalends of my youth. What? he doth measure my quick coals by his dead ●●●ders, and thinketh that I should ●ée in the prime as he is in the wane. No, his Aphorifanes are to far fetched for me, and therefore, Quae suprae nos nihil ad nos: What? I can see what is good for myself, and also prevent a prejudice if it be imminent. Thus did I flatter myself, until such time as too late Repentance hath given me a Movening Garment. Oh now I do plainly see, when my Father gave unto me precepts, he gave me more than pence, for counsel is more worth than co●●●, but I did then ●ightly regard it, and therefore do I now heau●ly repent it. Ah Philador, thou wert warned not to be prodigal, and who more riotous? Not for to strain above thy reach, and yet thou wouldst needs beyond the Moon. Now doest thou sorrow at thy ●osse, and they do smile that have gained: whilst that thou hadst Crowns ●rammed in thy coffers, thou hadst friends enough at commandment, and wert able to take many flatterers with trencher-flies, thou hadst such as soothed thee in thy follies, and fed upon thy fortunes, that did ordinarily pay thee with a cap and a knee, and that could trick thee up with Titles of honour. But now (Philador) now that thou art in want, they are all vanished like unto an empty Cloud: now that ther● is no wealth left, they are all lost, thy Gold is flown, and they are fled: thus (●●ore man) sittest thou comfortless and friendless, having haught wit too dear, and only gotten this verse for all thy gold: 
Nullus ad amissas ibit ami●●● 〈◊〉   
Thus as Philador sat debating with himself of his former Fortunes, and present misery, such melancholy entered into his thoughts, that he feared to fall in despair, and therefore rose up and went traveling into the Country, passing over three or four days without any so●●e, that he was almost famished, till at last it was his good hap to meet a citizen that had a farm in the country, him Philador humbly saluted, and desired him of service, the Citizen looking earnestly upon him, seeing he had a good face, puttied the extremity of the poor young man, and answered him thus: My friend (quoth he) thou seest there is a general dearth over the whole Country, and many perish through pe●●●●ie, ●●od is so scant that our servants are ready to famish, and therefore every man coveteth to make his charge less, yet for that I pity thy youth, and favour ●y parsonage, I will place thee in a farm house of mine hard by adjoining, where thy labour shall be to feed my swy●e, wherein if thou showest thyself 〈◊〉, thy recompense shall be the greater. Philador glad of this, with tears in his eyes for joy, made this answer. Master (quoth he) pe●●●ie is a sore pinch, and I think there is no sharper sling, than necessity, therefore doubt not of my labour, for I will take any pains to please, and brook any toil to content, and so I beseech you to favour me, as you shall find me dutiful. With that the Citizen took him into service, and sent him to his farm house, where Philador kept the swine, but himself had very hard fare, in so much that for extreme hunger he eat the husks with the hogs, & yet had not enough to satisfy his stomach. Sitting down at last, and seeing the hogs feed, having a husk in his hand, he wept and blubbered out these passionate complaints.  
Ah hunger hunger, the extremest of all extremes, now do I see that high desires have low fortunes, that thoughts which reach at stars, stumble at stones: that such as gaze at the heavens, fall on the earth: that pride will have a fall, and every fault is punished with the contrary. Ah Philador thou that of late didst swim in gluttony, art now pinched with penury, thou that didst invent what to eat, hast not now any thing to eat: thine eye could not be contented with mean cates, that now demisheth for want of any fare, where be thy dainties, thy excess, thy wines, thy delicates, all past with Philexenus, through thy throat, and thou left to eat husks with swine in the deepest extremity of hunger: ah miserable Philador how art thou Metamorphosed, where be thy costly abyliments, thy rich robes, thy gorgeous attire, thy chains & thy rings, Omnia vanitas, they are ●allen to the Lombard, left at the Brokers, and thou here ●ittest poor and naked brooking this misery as patiently, as thou didst spend thy goods riotously. But now Philador, enter into consideration of thy hard hap, and see into the cause of thy froward Fortunes. What shall I attribute it to my nativity, and say the Planets did calculate as much at my birth? no, there is no necessity in their influence, the stars determine, but God disposeth, tush 
Sapiens dominabitur Astris.   
What then shalt thou accuse, ah nothing but the folly o● my youth, that would neither accept of advice, nor vouchsafe of counsel. Love Philador love, ah no, shadow not vanity with the vale of virtue, not love but lust brought me to this bane, wanton affects forced me to this fall, and the pleasure of mine eye procured these bitter passions. Beauty, ah beauty the bane that poisoneth worse than the juice of the Baaron. Beauty the Serpent that infecteth worse than the Basilisk. Beauty the Siren that draweth unto death. Beauty that leadeth youth captive into the labyrinth, where resteth that merciless mynotaure. But rather fond man that delightest in such a fading flower, in such a manifest poison, in such an open prejudice. The Dear knoweth Tamariske to be deadly, and will not browse on the branches, the mouse hateth the trap, the Bee hemlock, the Serpent the Oliphant: but man runneth greedily after that which worketh his fatal disparagement. Ah Philador, did not thy father forewarn thee of woman's beauty, did he not say they were Adamants that drew, Panthers that with their painted skins do al●ure, if my son (quoth he) thou surfeit'st with their beauty, thou drinkest Aconitum and so dost perish. Tush, but I little regarded his precepts, but now have I bought his axioms with deep repentance: now do I find that their faces are painted sepulchres, whereas their minds are tombs full of rotten bones and serpents, their brows contain like the Diamant, virtue to relieve, and poison to kill, their looks are like kalends, that can determine no certainty, but as the leaf of the Liquonico when it looks most moist, is then most dry, so when they smile, they imagine deceit, & their laughters are tempered with envy and revenge. Ah Philador, what are woman's vows? words written in the wind: what are their promises? characters figured in the air: what are their flatteries? figures graven in the snow, which are blown with the wind or melted with the Sun: what are their loves? like the passage of a Serpent over a stone, which once past can never be seen. They will promise mountains and perform moul-hilles, say they love with Dido, when they fain with Cressida, and follow Demophon with Phillis, when they are more straggling than Luna, they have tears at command as the Crockadile to betray, and smiles at voluntary to bewitch: as long as thou hast gold they are horseleeches, and will not out of thy bosom: but they hat● an empty purse, as the Hyena doth the sight of a man, and will fly from thee when thou art poor, as the fowl from the Falcon. Ah Philador mightest thou be the last who were entrapped by their love, it were well, & happy wert thou to be an instance to all other gentlemen, nay might young youth bridle their follies by thy fall, they would ere day say to themselves: 
Faelix quem faciunt aliena pericula cautum.   
But alas Philador, Troilus fortunes could not make others fear the like foolish end. Though Theseus bought Helen's love dear, yet Paris would not be warned, but brought her home to Troy, so thou art but one Swallow, and makest not summer: and young gentlemen will say, thy folly will not be every man's fortune: but when repentance shall cover them with a Mourning Garment, than they will say had I witted is a little too late. But Philador why sit'st thou here discoursing against love, against women, against beauty, leave them as refuse & things too low for thy looks, and provide for thy body, for thou art here almost famished, and sittest eating of husks with the hogs, whereas the meanest of thy father's servants, his hind Mercenaries hath bread enough to eat, and thou sittest and feelest the extremity of hunger. What shall I do, shall I home? will my father vouchsafe of such a prodigal son, who in so short a time hath consumed so large a portion: can he look on him with favour that hath committed such folly, or receive him into his house, that hath despised his counsel. Ah why not Philador, love is more vehement in descent then in ascent, nature will plead for me, if nurture condemn me, fathers as they have frowns to chastise, so they have smiles to pardon: as they can lower, so they can laugh: and they are as ready to forgive, as thou to be penitent. Then will I home to my father, and say to him, father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee, & am no more worthy to be called thy son, make me as one of thy hired servants: with this he fell into bitter tears, and in this resolution continued, and taking leave of his master hied him home towards the land of Havilath, by the way traversing many Countries, and noting the manners of men, he saw how folly had wrapped many in the snares of woman's beauties, amongst the rest one day as he lay in a thick to shroud him from the heat of the sun, hearing a great noise, he heard the complaint of a forsaken lover, who exclaimed against the cruelty of women, that denied to grant love for love, and grew so far into passions, that pulling forth his rapier, there he resolved both to end his love and his life. As he was ready to have fallen on his sword, Philador stepped out of the thick, and caught hold of him: the Gentleman turning his head, and seeing such a poor snake to hinder his attempt, thought to check him with a frown: but Philador used these speeches unto him. Sir, marvel not that so mean a man hath dared to stay you from so bad a deed, for to this I am compelled by manhood, desperation is a double sin, and final impenitence hath no remission. There is no hap past hope, and therefore bewray your grief, perhaps I may persuade with reason, or relieve with counsel, measure me not by my rags, ne estimate not my present fortunes, but think as the foulest weeds hath oft the most virtuous operation, so the hood makes not the Monk, nor the apparel the man, but I may sooner apply a medicine for your meladie, than a séemelier Physician. The Gentleman hearing such a sensible induction did strait conjecture that whatsoever his present estate was, his nurture had been good, and there looking him in the face, and leaning on his rapier, he began to discourse unto him how long time he had been a votary unto Venus, and a servant unto love, that he was snared in the beauty of a young Damsel, who the more she perceived him passionate, the less she was pitiful, and by how much the more he sought to show manifest signs of his affection, by so much the more she made little regard of his fancy: in so much that wearied with love, and seeing no hope of favour, he thought with a momentary death, to end those passions wherein still to linger were worse than any death. At this Philador sell into a great laughter, and after into these terms: what (quoth he) art thou so mad to die for love, or so fond to grieve thyself at the frown of a woman. I tell thee sir (quoth he) if thou knewest how Fortune favours thee, and how the stars agree to make thee happy, thou wouldst count thyself not the most miserablest, but the most fortunate of all men: ah my friend didst thou as well as I know the effects of love, and the wiles of women, thou wouldst say: 
O me felicem quantis me periculis fortunae mea eripuit.   
If she be fair whom thou lovest, first consider that beauty is a flower to day fit for the eye, to morrow withered and to be cast into the furnace: that love which grows from such a fading object is momentary, and subject to every accident: besides beauty brings with it suspicion, fear, and jealousy, seeing every man's eye will feed on a fair face, and every man's thought will seek to be partner in thy fancies, and how weak vessels women be, especially if they be beautiful: I refer thee to Helena and Cressida. But thou sayest she is coy, ah my friend, woman's faces are not the Crystals of truth, nor their words Gospel, what she hates in outwardly, she likes inwardly, and what she thrusts away with one finger, she will pull again with both her hands: but as long as thou fawnest upon her, she will be froward, but be but a little absent and she will wish thy presence: woman's thoughts are like babies fancies, that will and will not, proffer them meat, and they refuse it, offer it to an other, and they cry after it, so wean thou thyself but from her for a while, and frequent the company of some other as fair as she, and so either shalt thou draw her on to be fond, or else by such absence, shake off thine own folly. But suppose love and fortune favour thee, that thou hast her love, didst thou know what a world of woes thou dost enter into by taking a wife, thou wouldst say, fie on love, and farewell to women. Be she never so fair, thou shalt find faults enough in her face shortly to mislike: and beside, the fairest flower hath oft the most infectious savour, the Cedar is beautiful, but bears no fruit, the Christolite of an orient hue, yet of a deadly operation: and so in the fairest proportion shalt thou find oft the least perfection, and the sweetest face, the most prejudicial qualities. Who was fairer than Venus, but such a wanton as she would never want one. Clytaemnestra beautiful, but a giglot. I tell thee sir they are sullen, and be Morosae, as was Zenia the wife of Antisthenes, or scouldes as she that overruled Socrates, or froward, as Marpesia: deceitful, flattering, contentious, sick with the puff of every wind, and lowering at the show of every storm. These vices are incident by nature, though they seem never so virtuous by nurture. Penelope had furrows in her brow, as well as she had dimples in her chin, Artemisia could frown, as well as she could smile, and Lucrece though she were chaste, yet she could chide. Sir, believe me, I speak it by experience, if thou marry one fair and dishonest, thou weddest thyself to a world of miseries, if thou marriest one beautiful, & never so virtuous, yet think this, thou shalt have a woman, & therefore in despite of Fortune a necessary evil. At this period the passionate Gentleman put up his Rapier into his sheath, and told Philador his medicine had somewhat eased his malady, and his counsel mitigate the force of his despairing passions, in so much that his hot love was waren a little cold, and the heat of his fancy was qualified with the lenative plasters that grew from his experience advice. Therefore sir (quoth he) as the Date tree is not known by the bark, but by the blooms: and the precious balm not by his colour, but by the operation: so the outward show did not always manifest the inward man, but the effects of his virtues: and therefore not measuring your parentage by your present estate, nor your calling by your adverse fortune, I first (as one that coveteth not to be ungrateful) render thanks for your Pathetical precepts, and seeing you have kindly relieved me with your counsel, as Terence wisheth: 
Remeate adiwabo:   
I will supply your want with my wealth, and change your Fortunes with my possessions, so that what I have in treasure shall be parted between us with a friendly proportion. Philador gave him great thanks for his courteous proffer, and told him, that such urgent haste of his journey called him away, as no alteration of his fortune how beneficial so ever, might stay him. My way (quoth he) is long, and my weariness great, I have many places to tread, and many thoughts to meditate upon, I go laden with much sorrow, and little hope: yet despair I must not, for though my miseries be many, and my friends few, yet do say in myself to salve my passion: 
O passi graviora? dabit Deus his quoque finem.   
Therefore sir, if my counsel have done you any comfort, or my words been so effectual, as to mitigate your affects, think love hath brought me to these Fortunes, and therefore beware of the like follies, for he that shuns Scylla, and falls into Charybdis: that will accuse Circe's for an enchantress, and yet wed himself to Calypso, that thinks he may shake off fancy for a moment, and entertain love for a month, shall tread upon glass, and work himself into a labyrinth of overweening fooleries. The sun waxeth low and my Inn is far hence, therefore must I lean you, and yet quoth he, because I see you are willing to learn, take this scroll as a precedent how to eschew much prejudice, the only favour that I request, is that you will be as ready to deliver precepts of virtue, as I have b●ene to set down axioms to you, with that he gave him a paper soulded up, and shaking him by the hand, bade him farewell. The Gentleman with great courtesy bade him adieu, and so they parted, Philador towards his fathers, and he towards his lodging: yet longing to see what was in the scroll, he sat him down and unfolded it, where he found these strange Aphorisms.  

The Contents of Philadors scroll, ovidius. Hei mihi quod nullis Amor est medicabilis herbis.  
Love is a thing I know not of what it cometh, I know not from whence: it groweth, but unknown whereof: goeth we know not whether, and beginneth and endeth I know not which way: yet a passion full of martyrdom, misery, grief, and discontent, having pleasures, but tempered with pains, and a short delight mixed with a long repentance.  
The Hydaspis hath a fair skin and a sweet breath, but his sting is fatal, gaze not too much lest thou attempt to touch and so perish.  
The Crockadile weeps, but then she worketh wiles, for her tears pretend relief, but intend destruction, rue not her sorrows, lest when she rejoiceth, thou repentest.  
The Sirens fits and singes in a calm bay, but her seat to ●●uironed with rocks, beware of her melody, for if it please the ear, it pincheth the heart.  
When the Tiger hideth her claws, than she menaceth for her pray, see either her claw open, or hold her at thy rapiers point.  
The eye of a Basilisk is as bright as a stone, but as prejudicial as a thunderbolte, whilst thou lookest with delight, it woundeth with death, hold thine eyes from such objects, lest thou become an abject.  
Cyrce● amongst all her potions had one most sweet, and that turned men to asses, taste not of that, without before thou chaw on Moly.  
The Hyena will fawn on thee and smile, but if thou follow her, she leads thee to a demie full of Serpents, either shun her flatteries, or wear the horn of a Hart that drives away infectious vermin.  
There are no Hawks sooner manned than they of India, none eat more, and fly less, while she is full gorged she keepeth the fist, but keep her low, and she proves ravening, either be not a Falconer, or beware of such fowls.  
Give a Camel store of provender, and she will strike thee with her foot, beat her, and she will kneel till thou gettest upon her back, for such a beast, wear a cudgel, then when thou seest it her lift her heel, thou mayest strike.  
If these Aphorisms be too enigmatical, become a Lover, and experience will quickly set thee down a comment, but if thou canst, find them out, and be philosopher to thyself.   
The Gentleman read these obscure principles, and perceived they all tended to the discovery of women's qualities, wherefore he held them most precious: but looking upon the page, there he perceived certain verses, which were these.  

Philadors' Ode that he left with the despairing lover.  
When merry Autumn in her prime,  
Fruitful mother of swift time  
Had filled Ceres' lap with store  
Of vines and Corn, and wickle more,  
Such needful fruits as do grow  
From Terras bosom here below,  
Tytirus did 〈…〉  
A gaudy Chaplet on her head,  
A Chaplet that did shroud the beams,  
That Phoebus on her beauty streams:  
For Sun itself desired to see  
So fair a Nymph as was she,  
For, viewing from the East to West,  
Fair Galate did like him best:  
Her face was like to Welkin's shine,  
Crystal brooks, such were her eine,  
And yet within those brooks were fires,  
That scorched youth and his desires.  
Galate did much impaier  
Venus honour for her faire●  
For stately stepping junos' pace,  
By Galate did take disgrace:  
And Pallas wisdom bore no prize,  
Where Galate would show her wise.  
This gallant girl thus passeth by  
Where Tytirus did sighing lie:  
Sighing sore for love strains  
More than sighs from lovers veins,  
Tears in eye, thought in heart,  
Thus his grief he did impart.  
Fair Galate but glance thine eie●  
Here lies he that here must die,  
For love is death, if love not gain  
Lovers salve for lovers pain.  
Winters seven and more are past  
Since on thy face my thoughts I cast,  
When Galate did haunt the plains,  
And fed her sheep amongst the swaines●  
When every shepherd left his flocks,  
To gaze on Galates fair locks.  
When every eye did stand at gaze.  
When heart and thought did both amaze.  
When heart from body would asunder,  
On Galates fair face to wonder.  
Then amongst them all did I  
Catch such a wound as I must die,  
If Galate oft say not thus,  
I love the shepherd Tytirus ●  
'tis love (fair nymph) that doth pain  
Say Galate, oft smile and say,  
'Twere pity love should have a nay:  
But such a word of comfort give,  
And Tytirus thy love shall live:  
Or with a piercing frown reply,  
I can not love, and then I die,  
For lovers nay is lovers death,  
And heartbreake frowns doth stop the breath.  
Galate at this arose,  
And with a smile away she goes,  
As one that little card to ease  
Tytir, pain with loves disease.  
At her parting Tytirus  
Sighed amain, and said thus:  
Oh that women are so fair,  
To trap men's eyes in their hair,  
With beauteous eyes loves fires,  
Venus' sparks that heats desires:  
But, oh that women have such hearts,  
Such thoughts, and such deep piercing darts,  
As in the beauty of their eye,  
Harbour nought but flattery:  
Their tears are drawn that drop deceit,  
Their faces, Kalends of all sleight,  
Their smiles are lures, their looks guile,  
And all their love is but a wile.  
Then Tytir leave, leave Tytirus  
To love such as scorns you thus:  
And say to Love, and women both,  
What I liked now I do loath,  
With that he hied him to the flocks,  
And counted Love but Venus' mocks.   
The Gentleman having read over this Ode, held it as a treasure, and went home as free from Love as Tytirus was from affection, wondering what this poor pilgrim should be that had given him such enigmatical precepts, and praying, that his fortune might be answerable to his qualities. Well, leaving him thus, free from his passion, again to Philador, who wandering homewards met with many adventures, and saw many sights that had made him for to wonder at the follies of the world, at the last he came within the sight of his father's house, the which he no sooner saw, but it was such a piercing object to his eye, striking such remorse to his heart, that he sat him down and melted into tears, thinking on the prosperity of his former estate, and the misery of his present fortunes, as thus he sat in a deep passion, lifting up his eyes, he saw where his aged Father was walking in the pastures to take the air, although his adverse fall were a means to make him bashful, yet the sight of his father kindled so the fuel of nature in him, that emboldened, he arose up, and went towards him in those robes of distress, that he was banished out of his Inn. And when he came near, naked, and poor, he went to his father, and falling flat upon the ground, said: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against thee, I am no more worthy to be called thy son. Old Rabbi Bilessy looking in his visage, and seeing it was his son, Nature that hath never such dead cinders, but there be Quaedam scintillulae certain sparkles of secret affection, began to draw remorse into his face, pity into his heart, and tears into his eyes, that, throwing down his staff, he stepped to his son, and fell on his neck, weeping bitterly, and yet with such an ecstasy, as the storm pretended both joy and sorrow, the one for his hard fortunes, the other, for his happy recovery. Philador seeing his father thus passionate, took heart a grass, and on his knee began thus.   

Philadors' submission to his father at his return.  
I Know not (sir) what insinuation to use for your favour, so many, & so monstrous are the number of my follies, nor can I plead any excuse, the distress of my present fortunes are so manifest, only submission must sue to nature for a pardon, and my repentant sorrows put in plea for some fatherly remorse. Ah the wanton desires of youth, why they be like to the giddiness of ravening Hawks, that bate at the sight of every bush: and the prime of young age is as the flowers of the Pine tree, that are glorious to the sight, but unsavoury, and without smell. Vanity is the mask wherein it marcheth, and folly is the Page that waits attendance upon the actions of youth, so that all his affects are slippernes, and the effects full of prejudicial disparagement, had I regarded the grave Aphorisms of your advised counsel on the golden precepts delivered from the experience of your years, or the sweet actions that drop as balm from the silver tresses of your hair, neither had my fall been such, my distress so great, nor my fortune so miserable: fools are they which say: bought wit is best, especially, if it be rated at my prize. Counsel is the sweet conserve, and advise the purest antidote: happiest is he that is ware by other men's harms, and such most miserable, that are wise by their own woes.  
Piscator ictus sapit.  
But hard is his hap that flies from the viper for her sting, that hateth the Tarantala, for that he hath felt her venom, and infortunate is that man that can anotomise misery by his own distress: Ah father, had I reverenced my God as I honoured my goddess, and offered as many Orisons to his deity, as I powered out passions for her beauty: the● had I been graced with as many favours as I am crossed with misfortunes. But I thought he had not seen my faults, and therefore went forward, in hue I thought their faces to be Adamants, their beauties to be like the spots of devouring Panthers, had I deemed them to be prejudicial Sirens, had I believed what I was foretold, Philador had been less miserable, & more fortunate. But I counted their beauties metaphysical, their qualities divine, their proportions heavenly, themselves Angels: I thought, as the Phoenix had none but precious feathers, as the Myrrh tree hath no caterpillars, as the Topas hath no operation but excellent, so I thought women to be such perfect creatures as had nothing in them but supernatural. But at last I found the precepts of Rabbi Bilessy to be authentical, that as the Cinnamon tree, though it hath a sweet bark, yet it hath bitter leaves, & the Pirite stone, though it have one virtue hath twenty prejudicial operations, so women though they were never so beautiful, yet were they the painted continents of flattery, of deceit, inconstancy, and the very guides that lead men unto the pernicious labyrinth of endless distress. Had I thought prodigality superfluous excess, my coffers had been full of Crowns, and my heart void of cares, but I counted expense the empress of a gentleman, and gifts the thing that graced a traveler: as trajan numbered not that day amongst the date of his life, wherein he had not done something worthy of memory, so I did hold that Nefanda dies wherein I did not triumph in magnifical prodigality. Tush, I did think come to be called currant à currendo, gold, why I held it as dross, and counted it the deepest dishonour to be counted frugal: Par symonia, why, quoth I it is pal●●y, and spa●ing it is the badge of a peasant. The Chaldees in their Hieroglyphics described a Gentleman with his hand always open, meaning, that to give was heroical. And T●tus the Emperor said, give, if thou wilt be worthy the worlds monarchy: I counted Cyancynatus the Dictator a fool for his frugality: I discommended the small diet of Ca●●s Fabritius, and said A●athocles was base-minded that drunk in earthen vessels. But for Lucullus, I commended his sumptuous fare, and the prodigal thoughts of ●ulinus. Thus did I glory in excess, and thought not that measure was a merry mean. While thus I flowed in the conceit of my folly, I had many that like trencher ●●es waited upon my person, more for the hope of my purse, then for any perfect love. And as the Doves flock where the house is fair, so where the c●rrion is, thither such hungry eagle's resort. I can best compare them unto empty Uesselles that have l●wde sounds, to painted sheaths that have rusti●●●des, unto glorious flowers that have no smell, and so they pretend much friendship, and contain nothing but superficial flattery. For as soon as by drawing too o●te the well waxed dry, that my purse began with so many purging glisters to wax not only laxative, but quite empty: then these insinuating hangbies flew away like vapours, and left me unto the deep fall of my fortunes. This experience hath poor- Philador bought with much sorrow, and this Wit hath he purchased with great Repentance, in so much, that the loathsomeness of my faults is more than the pleasure of my follies, and the hate of such vanities is greater than the desire of such vices: 〈◊〉, thou grant pardon unto him that is penitent, have remorse upon him that groaneth under the burden of his sins, let thine eye behold me, and thy heart pity the extremity of my distress, And if my offences be so great that thou wilt not entertain me as a son, yet make me as one of thy hired servants.  
Rabbi Bilessy hearing the penitent passion of his son, felt nature pleading for the reconciliation of so sorrowful a Pilgrim, and therefore folding his arms about his neck, and wetting his cheeks with tears, he made this fatherly reply.   

Rabbi Bilessy his comfortable answer to his son.  
I tell thee Philador, quoth he, though I have tears in mine eyes, yet I have joy in my heart, these drops are not signs of sorrows, but instances of content: I conceive as much pleasure in thy penitence, as I reaped grief at thy disobedience. Ah Philador, hadst thou followed thy father's counsel, thou hadst not tasted of this care, and my precepts sunk into thy heart, these misfortunes had not been rewards of thy follies. But to rub the sore afresh, by recounting thy offences, is but to make thee more passionate, and me deeper perplexed. Therefore omitting all matters that are past, hoping these protestations are not present sorrows, but continual penitence, I admit thee into former favour, forgiving and forgetting the follies of thy youth. With that lifting up Philador he embraced him afresh, covered him in a new rob, but with a garment of black, as a man mourning at his high faults and low fortunes, and so carried him home to his house, where he commanded all his servants to make preparation for a solemn feast, which was done with all diligence. Sophonos being from home, and at his return hearing of this, had his face full of frowns, and his heart of grief, that such a prodigal unthrift should so soon be reconciled, and so boldly entertained, in so much, that discontent, he sat him down at the door, and would not come in. News was brought unto Rabbi Bilessy, that Sophonos was malcontent. With that the old man stumbled out of the doors, and coming to his son, persuaded him to think nothing if he graciously accepted of his penitent brother. Sophonos with a lowering countenance made him this answer.   

Sophones' to old Rabbi Bilessy.  
Why sir, quoth he, have I not reason to frown when I see you so fond, and to be deeply discontent when I see you so divers in your actions? one while with Diogenes to exclaim against pride, an● strait with Aristippus to ●et in surcoats of gold, aged thoughts should have but one period, and the resolution of grey hairs ought always to be peremptory: hath not Rabbi Bilessy inveighed against the follies of youth? and doth he not now maintain it in his own son? hath he not said, that a prodigal man is like to a flood that over floweth, which enforceth prejudice to the whole plains? and now he welcomes him with feasting that hath spent all in riotous expense. What is this but to foster folly, and to nurse up vice? I speak not this as envying my brother's reconciliation, but that Sophonos hath deserved more grace, and yet hath found less favour. Ah son, quoth Rabbi Bilessy, hast thou not heard that inexpected chances, are most welcome, that losses recovered are most sweet, that nature likes best seldoms seen? Ah Sophonos, and art thou angry then with thine old father, for entertaining his son that was lost, and is found, that was dead and is alive again, for welcoming home of Philador, that returns back poor, but penitent, crossed with ill fortunes, but careful for his faults, distressed, but vowed to devotion, his mind hath altered with a strange Metamorphosis, he hath (Sophonos) bought wit, and now will beware, better late than never: Nunquam se●a est ad bonos mores via. Then (my son) if thou be son to Rabbi Bilessy, and be'st as kind as I am natural, ●eme, and welcome home with me, thy brother Philador, greet him with favours, as I have done with tears, be as glad to see him come home, as thou wert sorry to see him departed, and for thy courtesy thou shalt have his brotherly love, and my fatherly blessing. With that Sophonos was content, and his old Father carried him in: and then Sorphonos as kindly as his stomach would suffer entertained Philador, and then frolickely they went to feasting. Old Rabbi rejoicing at the great change of his sons manners, in that he went forth full of vanity, and returned home tempered with gravity: all the company were pleasant, and a feast it could not be without music: the shepherds they came in with their tyrants and Cymbals, and played such melody, as the Country then required: amongst them all one swain slept forth, and as they sat, revived them with this song.  

The song of a country Swain at the return of Philador.  

THe silent shade had shadowed every tree,  
And Phoebus in the west was shrouded low:  
Each hive had home her busy labouring Bee,  
Each bird the harbour of the night did know.  
Even then,  
When thus:  
All things did from their weary labourlinne,  
Menalcas sat and thought him of his sin.   

His head on hand, his elbow on his knee,  
And tears like dew be drenched upon his face,  
His face as sad as any Swains might be:  
His thoughts and dumps befitting well the place  
Even then,  
When thus:  
Menalcas sat in passions all alone,  
He sighed then, and thus he 'gan to moon.   

I that fed flocks upon Thessalia plains,  
And bed my lambs to feed on Daffodil,  
That lived on milk and curds poor shepherds gains,  
And merry fate, and piped upon a pleasant hill.  
Even then,  
When thus:  
I sat secure and feared not fortunes ire.  
Mine eyes eclipsed, fast blinded by desire.   

Then lofty thoughts began to lift my mind,  
I grudgd and thought my fortune was too low;  
A shepherds life 'twas base and out of kind,  
The taulest Cedars have the fairest grow.  
Even then,  
When thus:  
Pride did intend the sequel of my ruth,  
Began the faults and follies of my youth.   

I left the fields and took me to the town,  
fold sheep who list, the hook was cast away,  
Menalcas would not be a country clown,  
Nor shepherds weeds, but garments far more gay,  
Even then,  
When thus:  
Aspiring thoughts did follow after ruth,  
Began the faults and follies of my youth.   

M●iutes were silk, my talk was all of state,  
● stretched beyond the compass of my sleeve,  
The bravest Courtier was Menalcas mate,  
Spend what I could I never thought on grief.  
Even then,  
When thus:  
I lashed out lavish then began my ruth,  
And then I feit the follies of my youth.   

I cast mine eye on every wanton fa●e,  
And strait desire did hale me on to love,  
The lover like I prayed for Venus' grace,  
〈◊〉 ●he my mistress deep affects might move.  
Even then,  
When thus,  
Love trapped me in the fatal bands of ruth,  
Began the faults and follies of my youth.   

No cost I spared, to please my Mistress eye,  
No time ill spent in presence of her sight,  
Yet oft we fround● and then her love must die,  
But when she smiled, oh then a happy wight.  
Even then,  
When thus,  
Desire did draw me on to deem of ruth,  
Began the faults and follies of my youth.   

The day in poems often did I pass,  
The night in sighs and sorrows for her grace,  
And she as fickle as the brittle glass,  
Held sunshine showers within her flattering face.  
Even then,  
When thus,  
I spied the woes that woman's loves ensueth,  
I saw and loath, the follies of my youth.   

I noted oft that beauty was a blaze,  
I saw that love was but a heap of cares,  
That such as stood as Dear do at the gaze,  
And sought their wealth amongst affectious thares.  
Even such,  
I saw,  
Which hot pursuit did follow after ruth,  
And fostered up the follies of their youth.   

Thus clogged with love with passions and with grief,