PANDOSTO.  
¶ The Triumph of Time.  
WHEREIN IS DISCOVERED by a pleasant History, that although by the means of sinister fortune Truth may be concealed, yet by Time in spite of fortune it is most manifestly revealed.  
Pleasant for age to avoid drowsy thoughts, profitable for youth to eschew other wanton pastimes, and bringing to both a desired content.  
Temporis filia veritas.  
¶ By Robert Green Master of Arts in Cambridge.  
Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci.  
Imprinted at London by Thomas Orwin for Thomas Cadman, dwelling at the Sign of the Bible, near unto the North door of Paul's, 1588.   

TO THE GENTLEMEN READERS HEALTH.  
THe paultring Poet Aphranius being blamed for troubling the Emperor trajan with so many doting Poems: adventured notwithstanding, still to present him with rude and homely verses, excusing himself with the courtesy of the Emperor, which did as friendly accept, as he fond offered. So Gentlemen, if any condemn my rashness for troubling your ears with so many unlearned Pamphlets: I will strait shroud myself under the shadow of your courtesies, & with Aphranius lay the blame on you aswell for friendly reading them, as on myself for fond penning them: Hoping though fond curious, or rather currish backbiters breath out slanderous speeches: yet the courteous Readers (whom I fear to offend) will requite my travel, at the least with silence: and in this hope I rest: wishing you health and happiness.  Robert Greene..  

TO THE RIGHT Honourable George Clifford Earl of Cumberland, Robert green wisheth increase of honour and virtue.  
THE Rascians (right honourable) when by long gazing against the Sun, they become half blind, recover their sights by looking on the black Load stone. unicorns being glutted with brousing on roots of Licquoris, sharpen their stomachs with crushing bitter grass.  
Alexander vouchsafed as well to smile at the crooked picture of Vulcan, as to wonder at the curious counterfeit of Venus. The mind is sometimes delighted as much with small trifles as with sumptuous triumphs, and as well pleased with hearing of Pan's homely fancies, as of Hercules renowned labours.  
Silly Baucis could not serve jupiter in a silver plate, but in a wooden dish. All that honour Esculapius, deck not his shrine with jewels. Apollo gives Oracles as well to the poor man for his mite, as to the rich man for his treasure. The stone Echites is not so much liked for the colour, as for virtue, and gifts are not to be measured by the worth, but by the will. Mis●n that unskilful Painter of Greece, adventured ●o give unto Darius the shield of Pallas, so roughly shadowed, as he smiled more at the folly of the man, then at the imperfection of his art. So I present unto your honour the triumph of time, so rudely finished, as I fear your honour will rather frown at my impudency, then laugh at my ignorancy: But I hope my willing mind shall excuse my slender skill, and your honour's courtesy shadow my rashness.  
They which fear the biting of vipers do carry in their hands the plumes of a Phoenix. Phydias drew Vulcan sitting in a chair of ivory. Caesar's Crow durst never cry, ave, but when she was pearked on the Capitol. And I seek to shroud this imperfect Pamphlet under your honour's patronage, doubting the dint of such envenomed vipers, as seek with their slaunderours' reproaches to carp at all, being oftentims, most unlearned of all: and assure my sel●e, that your honours renowned valour, and virtuous disposition shall be a sufficient defence to protect me from the Poisoned tongues of such scorning Sycophants, hoping that as jupiter vouchsafed to lodge in philemon's thatched Cottage: and Philip of Macedon, to take a bunch of grapes of a country peasant: so I hope your honour, measuring my work by my will, and weighing more the mind than the matter, will when you have cast a glance at this toy, with Minerva, under your golden Target cover a deformed Owl. And in this hope I rest, wishing unto you, and the virtuous Countess your wife: such happy success as your honours can desire, or I imagine.  Your Lordship's most dutifully to command: Robert Greene..  

THE HISTORY OF DORASTUS AND FAWNIA.  
AMong all the Passions wherewith human minds are perplexed, there is none that so galleth with restless despite, as the infectious soar of jealousy: for all other griefs are either to be appeased with sensible persuasions, to be cured with wholesome counsel, to be relieved in want, or by tract of tune to be worn out, (jealousy only excepted) which is so sawsed with suspicious doubts, and pinching mistrust, that whoso seeks by friendly counsel to raze out this hellish passion, it forthwith suspecteth that he giveth this advise to cover his own guiltiness. Yea, who so is pained with this restless torment doubteth all, distrusteth himself, is always frozen with fear, and fired with suspicion, having that wherein consisteth all his joy, to be the breeder of his misery. Yea, it is such a heavy enemy to that holy estate of matrimony, sowing between the married couples such deadly seeds of secret hatred, as Love being once razed out by spiteful distrust, there oft ensueth bloody revenge, as this ensuing History manifestly proveth: wherein Pandosto (furiously incensed by causeless jealousy) procured the death of his most loving and loyal wife, and his own endless sorrow and misery.  
IN the Country of Bohemia there reigned a King called Pandosto, whose fortunate success in wars against his foes, and bountiful courtesy towards his friends in peace, made him to be greatly feared and loved of all men. This Pandosto had to Wife a Lady called Bellaria, by birth royal, learned by education, fair by nature, by virtues famous, so that it was hard to judge whether her beauty, fortune, or virtue, wan the greatest commendations. These two linked together in perfect love, led their lives with such fortunate content, that their Subjects greatly rejoiced to see their quiet disposition. They had not been married long, but Fortune (willing to increase their happiness) lent them a son, so adorned with the gifts of nature, as the perfection of the Child greatly augmented the love of the parents, and the joy of their commons: in so much that the Bohemians, to show their inward joys by outward actions, made Bonfires and triumphs throughout all the Kingdom, appointing Iustes and Attorneys for the honour of their young Prince: whether resorted not only his Nobles, but also divers Kings and Princes which were his neighbours, willing to show their friendship they ought to Pandosto, and to win fame and glory by their prowess and valour. Pandosto, whose mind was fraught with princely liberality, entertained the Kings, Princes, and noble men with such submiss courtesy, and magnifical bounty, that they all saw how willing he was to gratify their good wills, making a general feast for his Subjects, which continued by the space of twenty days: all which time the Iustes and Attorneys were kept to the great content both of the Lords & Ladies there present. This solemn triumph being once ended, the assembly taking their leave of Pandosto and Bellaria: the young son (who was called Garinter) was nursed up in the house, to the great joy and content of the parents. Fortune envious of such happy success, willing to show some sign of her inconstantie, turned her wheel, and darkened their bright sun of prosperity, with the misty clouds of mishap and misery. For it so happened that Aegisthus King of Sycilia, who in his youth had been brought up with Pandosto, desirous to show that neither tract of time, nor distance of place could diminish their former friendship, provided a navy of ships, and sailed into Bohemia to visit his old friend and companion, who hearing of his arrival, went himself in person, and his wife Bellaria, accompanied with a great train of Lords and Ladies, to meet Aegisthus: and espying him, alighted from his horse, embraced him very lovingly, protesting that nothing in the world could have happened more acceptable to him then his coming, wishing his wife to welcome his old friend and acquaintance: who (to show how she liked him whom her husband loved) entertained him with such familiar courtesy, as Aegisthus perceived himself to be very well welcome. After they had thus saluted and embraced each other, they mounted again on horseback, and road toward the City, devising and recounting, how being children they had passed their youth in friendly pastimes: where, by the means of the Citizens, Aegisthus was received with triumphs and shows in such sort, that he marveled how on so small a warning they could make such preparation. Passing the streets thus with such rare sights, they road on to the Palace, where Pandosto entertained Aegisthus and his Sycilians with such banqueting and sumptuous cheer, so royally, as they all had cause to commend his princely liberality, yea, the very basest slave that was known to come from Sycilia was used with such courtesy, that Aegisthus might easily perceive how both he and his were honoured for his friends sake. Bellaria (who in her time was the flower of courtesy, willing to show how unfeignedly she loved her husband by his friend's entertainment, used him likewise so familiarly, that her countenance bewrayed how her mind was affected towards him: oftentimes coming herself into his bed chamber, to see that nothing should be amiss to mislike him. This honest familiarity increased daily more and more betwixt them: for Bellaria noting in Aegisthus a princely and bountiful mind, adorned with sundry and excellent qualities, and Aegisthus finding in her a virtuous and courteous disposition, there grew such a secret uniting of their affections, that the one could not well be without the company of the other: in so much that when Pandosto was busied with such urgent affairs, that he could not be present with his friend Aegisthus, Bellaria would walk with him into the Garden, where they two in private and pleasant devices would pass away the time to both their contents. This custom still continuing betwixt them, a certain melancholy passion entering the mind of Pandosto, drove him into sundry and doubtful thoughts. First, he called to mind the beauty of his wife Bellaria, the comeliness and bravery of his friend Aegisthus, thinking that Love was above all Laws, and therefore to be stayed with no Law: that it was hard to put fire and flax together without burning: that their open pleasures might breed his secret displeasures. He considered with himself that Aegisthus was a man, and must needs love: that his wife was a woman, and therefore subject unto love, and that where fancy forced, friendship was of no force. These and such like doubtful thoughts a long time smothering in his stomach, began at last to kindle in his mind a secret mistrust, which increased by suspicion, grew at last to a flaming jealousy, that so tormented him as he could take no rest. He then began to measure all their actions, and to miscenstrue of their too private familiarity, judging that it was not for honest affection, but for disordinate fancy, so that he began to watch them more narrowly, to see if he could get any true or certain proof to confirm his doubtful suspicion. While thus he noted their looks and gestures, and suspected their thoughts and meanings, they two seely souls who doubted nothing of this his treacherous intent, frequented daily each others company, which drove him into such a frantic passion, that he began to bear a secret hate to Aegisthus, and a lowering countenance to Bellaria, who marveling at such unaccustomed frowns, began to cast beyond the Moon, and to enter into a thousand sundry thoughts, which way she should offend her husband: but finding in herself a clear conscience, ceased to muse, until such time as she might find fit opportunity to demand the cause of his dumps. In the mean time Pandostoes' mind was so far charged with jealousy, that he did no longer doubt, but was assuaged (as he thought) that his Friend Aegisthus had entered a wrong point in his tables, and so had played him false play: whereupon desirous to revenge so great an injury, he thought best to dissemble the grudge with a fair and friendly countenance: and so under the shape of a friend, to show him the trick of a foe. Devising with himself a long time how he might best put away Aegisthus without suspicion of treacherous murder, he concluded at last to poison him: which opinion pleasing his humour, he became resolute in his determination, and the better to bring the matter to pass he called unto him his cupbearer, with whom in secret he broke the matter: promising to him for the performance thereof, to give him a thousand crowns of yearly revenues: his cupbearer either being of a good conscience, or willing for fashion sake, to deny such a bloody request, began with great reasons to persuade Pandosto from his determinate mischief: showing him what an offence murder was to the Gods: how such unnatural actions did more displease the heavens, than devoid of pity, commanded that without delay it should be put in the boat, having neither sail nor other to guide it, and so to be carried into the midst of the sea, and there left to the wind & wave as the destinies please to appoint. The very shipmen seeing the sweet countenance of the young babe, began to accuse the King of rigour, and to pity the child's hard fortune: but fear constrained them to that which their nature did abhor: so that they placed it in one of the ends of the boat, and with a few green bows made a homely cabin to shroud it as they could from wind and weather: having thus trimmed the boat they tied it to a ship, and so haled it into the main Sea, and then cut in sunder the cord, which they had no sooner done, but there arose a mighty tempest, which tossed the little Boat so vehemently in the waves, that the shipmen thought it could not continue long without sinking, yea the storm grew so great, that with much labour and peril they got to the shore. But leaving the Child to her fortunes. Again to Pandosto, who not yet glutted with sufficient revenge, devised which way he should best increase his wives calamity. But first assembling his Nobles and Counsellors, he called her for the more reproach into open Court, where it was objected against her, that she had committed adultery with Aegisthus, and conspired with Franion to poison Pondosto her husband, but their pretence being partly spied, she counseled them to fly away by night for their better safety. Bellaria, who standing like a prisoner at the Bar, feeling in herself a clear Conscience to withstand her false accusers: seeing that no less than death could pacify her husband's wrath, waxed bold, and desired that she might have Law and justice, for mercy she neither craved nor hoped for, and that those perjured wretches, which had falsely accused her to the King, might be brought before her face, to give in evidence. But Pandosto, whose rage and jealousy was such, as no reason, nor equity could appease: told her, that for her accusers they were of such credit, as their words were sufficient witness, and that the sudden & secret flight of Aegisthus, & Franion confirmed that which they had confessed: and as for her, it was her part to deny such a monstrous crime, and to be impudent in forswearing the fact, since she had past all shame in committing the fault: but her stolen countenance should stand for no coin, for as the Bastard which she bore was served, so she should with some cruel death be requited. Bellaria no whit dismayed with this rough reply ● told her Husband Pandosto, that he spoke upon choller●, and not con●●●●ence: for her virtuous life had been ever such, as no spot of suspicion could ever stain. And if she had borne a friendly countedaunce to Aegisthus, it was in respect he was his friend, and not for any lusting affection: therefore if she were condemned without a●y further proof, it was rigour, and not Law. The noble men which sat in judgement, said that Bellaria spoke reason, and entreated the king that the accusers might be openly examined, and sworn, and if then the evidence were such, as the jury might find her guilty (for seeing she was a Prince) she ought to be ●ryed by her peers, then let her have such punishment as the extremity of the Law will assign to such malefactors. The king presently made answer, that in this case he might, and would dispense with the Law, and that the jury being once panneld, they should take his word for sufficient evidence, otherwise he would make the proudest of them repent it. The noble men seeing the king in choler, were all whist, but Bellaria, whose life then hung in the balance, fearing more perpetual infamy, then momentary death, told the king's if his fury might stand for a Law, that it were vain to have the jury yield their verdict, and therefore she fell down upon her knees, and desired the king that for the love he hare to his young son Garinter, whom she brought into the world, that he would grant her a request, which was this, that it would please his majesty to send six of his noble men whom he best trusted, to the Isle of Delphos, there to inquire of the Oracle of Apollo, whether she had committed adultery with Aegisthus, or conspired to poison him with Franion: and if the God Apollo, who by his divine essence knew all secrets, gave answer that she was guilty, she were content to suffer any torment, were it never so terrible. The request was so reasonable, that Pandosto could not for shame deny it, unless he would d●e counted of all his subjects more wilful than wise, he therefore agreed, that with as much speed as might be there should be certain Embassadores dispatched to the isle of Delphost ●●d in the mean season be commanded that his wife should be kept in close prison. Bellaria having obtained this grant, was now more careful for her little babe that floated ●● the Seas, then ●●●●● bookful for her own mishap. For of that she doubted: of herself she was assured, knowing if Apollo should give Oracle according to the thoughts of the heart, yet the sentence should go one her sid●, such was the clearness of her mind in this case. But Pandosto (whose suspicious head still remained in one song) chose out six of his Nobility, whom he knew were scarce indifferent men in the queens behalf, and providing all things fit for their journey, sent them to Delphos: they willing to fulfil the kings command, and desirous to see the situation and custom of the Island, dispatched their affairs with as much speed as might be, and embarked themselves to this voyage, which (the wind and weather serving fit for their purpose) was soon ended. For within three weeks they arrived at Delphos, where they were no sooner set on land, but with great devotion they went to the Temple of Apollo, and there offering sacrifice to the GOD, and gifts to the Priest, as the custom was, they humbly craved an answer of their demand: they had not long kneeled at the Altar, but Apollo with a loud voice said: Bohemians, what you find behind the Altar take, and departed. They forthwith obeying the Oracle found a scroll of parchment, wherein was written these words in letters of Gold.  

The Oracle.  
SVspition is no proof: jealousy is an unequal judge: Bellaria is chaste: Aegisthus blameless: Franion a true subject: Pandosto treacherous: his Babe an innocent, and the King shall live without an heir: if that which is lost be not found.   
AS soon as they had taken out this scroll, the Priest of the God commanded them that they should not presume to read it, before they came in the presence of Pandosto: unless they would incur the displeasure of Apollo. The Bohemian Lords carefully obeying his command, taking their leave of the Priest, with great reverence departed out of the Temple, and went ●● their ships, and assoon as wind would permit them sailed toward Bohemia, whither in short time they safely arrived, & with great triumph issuing out of their Ships, went to the kings pall●●e, whom they found in his chamber accompanied with other Noble men: Pandosto no sooner saw them, but with a merry countenance he welcomed them home, as king what news: they told his Majesty that they had received an answer of the God written in a scroll, b●t with this charge, that they should not read the contents before they came in the presence of the King, and with that they delivered him the parchment: but his Noble men entreated him that sith therein was contained either the safety of his wives life, and honestly, or her death, and perpetual infamy, that he would have his Nobles and Commons assembled in the judgement Hall, where the Queen brought in as prisoner, should hear the contents: if she were found guilty by the Oracle of the God, than all should have cause to think his rigour proceeded of due desert: if her Grace were found faultless, than she should be cleared before all, sith she had been accused openly. This pleased the King so, that he appointed the day, and assembled all his Lords and Commons, and caused the Queen to be brought in before the judgement seat, commanding that the indictment should be read, wherein she was accused of adultery with Aegisthus, and of conspiracy with Franion: Bellaria hearing the contents, was no whit astonished, but made this cheerful answer.  
IF the divine powers be privy to human actions (as no doubt they are) I hope my patience shall make fortune blush, and my unspotted life shall stain spitefully discredit. For although lying Report hath sought to appeach mine honour, and Suspicion hath intended to soil my credit with infamy: yet where Virtue keepeth the Fort, Report and suspicion may assail, but never sack: how I have led my life before Aegisthus coming, I appeal Pandosto to the Gods, & to thy conscience. What hath passed betwixt him and me, the Gods only know, and I hope will presently reveal: that I loved Aegisthus I can not deny, that I honoured him I shame not to confess: to the one I was forced by his virtues: to the other for his dignities. But as touching lascivious lust, I say Aegisthus is honest, and hope myself to be found without spot: for Franion. I can neither accuse him, nor excuse him: for I was not privy to his departure, and that this is true which I have here rehearsed, I refer myself to the divine Oracle.  
BEllaria had no sooner said, but the King commanded that one of his Dukes should read the contents of the scroll: which after the commons had heard, they gave a great shout, rejoicing and clapping their hands that the Queen was clear of that false accusation: but the King whose conscience was a witness against him of his witless fury, and false suspected jealousle, was so ashamed of his rash folly, that he entreated his nobles to persuade Bellaria to forgive, and forget these injuries: promising not only to show himself a loyal and loving husband, but also to reconcile himself to Aegisthus, and Franion: revealing then before them all the cause of their secret flight, and how treacherously he thought to have practised his death, if the good mind of his Cupbearer had not prevented his purpose. As thus he was relating the whole matter, there was word brought him that his young son Garinter was suddenly dead, which news so soon as Bellaria heard, surcharged before which extreme joy, and now suppressed with heavy sorrow, her vital spirits were so stopped, that she fell down presently dead, & could be never revived. This sudden sight so appalled the kings Senses, that he sanck from his seat in a sound so as he was fain to be carried by his nobles to his Palace, where he lay by the space of three days without speech: his commons were as men in despair, so diversly ●●●sed: there was nothing but mourning and lamentation to be heard throughout all Bohemia: their young Prince dead, their virtuous Queen bereaved of her life, and their King and Sovereign in great hazard: this tragical discourse of fortune so daunted them, as they went like shadows, not men: yet somewhat to comfort their heavy hearts, they heard that Pandosto was come to himself, and had recovered his speech, who as in a fury brayed out these bitter speeches.  
O Miserable Pandosto, what surer witness than conscience? What thoughts more sour than suspicion? What plague more bad than jealousy? Unnatural actions offend the Gods, more than men, and causeless cruelty, never escapes without revenge: 〈…〉 recall I cannot 〈…〉 the conscience, suppressing reason, and inciting rage: a worse passion than frenzy, a greater plague than madness. Are the Gods just: Then let them revenge such brutish cruelty: my innocent Babe I have drowned in the Seas: my loving wife I have slain with slanderous suspicion: my trusty friend I have sought to betray, and yet the Gods are slack to plague such offences. Oh unjust Apollo, Pandosto is the man that hath committed the fault: why should Garinter, seely child, abide the pain: Well sith the Gods mean to prolong my days, to increase my dolour, I will offer my guilty blood a sacrifice to those sackles souls, whose lives are lost by my rigorous folly. And with that he reached at a Rapier, to have murdered himself, but his Peers being present, stayed him from such a bloody act: persuading him to think, that the Commonwealth consisted on his safety, and that those sheep could not but perish, that wanted a shepherd: wishing, that if he would not live for himself, yet he should have care of his subjects, and to put such fancies out of his mind, sith in sores past h●lp, salves do not heal, but hurt●nd in things past c●re, care is a ●●rāsiue: with these and such like persuasions the King was overcome, and began somewhat to quiet his mind: so that assoon as h●● could go abroad, he caused his wife to be embalmed, and wrapped in lead with her young son Garinter: erecting a rich an● famous Sepulchre, wherein he entombed them both, making such sollenme obsequies at her funeral, as all Bohemia might perceive he did greatly repent him of his forepast folly: causing this Epitaph to be engraven on her Tomb in letters of Gold:  

¶ The Epitaph.  
Here lies entombed Bellaria fair,  
Falsely accused to be unchaste:  
Cleared by Apollo's sacred doom,  
Yet slain by jealousy at last.   

What ere thou be, that passest by,  
Curse him that caused this Queen to die   
THis Epitaph being ingr●uen, Pandosto would once aday repair to the Tomb, and there with watery plaints bewail his misfortune: coveting no other companion but sorrow, nor no other harmony, but repentance. But leaving him to his dolorous passions, at last let us come to show the tragical discourse of the young infant.  
WHo being tossed with Wind, and Wave, floated two whole days without succour, ready at every puff to be drowned in the Sea, till at last the Tempest ceased, and the little boat was driven with the tide into the Coast of Sycilia, where sticking upon the sands, it rested. Fortune minding to be wanton, willing to show that as she hath wrinkles on her ●●owes: so she hath dimplés in her cheeks: thought after so many sour looks, to lend a feigned smile, and after a puffing storm, to bring a pretty calm: she began thus to dally. It fortuned a poor mercenary Shepherd, that dwelled in Sycilia, who got his living by other men's flocks, miss one of his sheep, and thinking it had stra●ed into the covert, that was hard by, sought very diligently to ●ind that which he could not see, fearing either that the Wolves, or Eagles had undone him (for he was so poor, as a sheep was half his substance) wandered down toward the Sea cliffs, to see if perchance the sheep was browsing on the sea Iu●, whereon the●●reatly do feed, but not finding her there, as he was ready to return to his flock, he heard a child cry: but knowing there was no house near, he thought he had mistaken the sound, & that it was the ble●●yng of his Sheep. Wherefore looking more narrowly, as he cast his eye to the Sea, he spied a little boat, from whence as he attentively listened, he might hear the cry to come: standing a good while in a maze, at last he went to the shore, and wading to the boat, as he looked in, he saw the little babe lying all alone, many to die for hunger and cold, wrapped in a Mantle of Scarlet, richly embroidered with Gold, and having a chain about the neck. The shepherd, who before had never seen so fair a Babe, not so rich jewels, thought assuredly, that it was some little God, and began with great devotion to knock on his breast. The Babe, who writhed with the head, to seek for the pay, began again to cry afresh, whereby the poor man knew that it was a Child, which by some sinister means was driven thither by distress of weather: marveling how such a silly infant, which by the Mantle, and the Chain, could not be but borne of Noble Parentage, should be so hardly crossed with deadly mishap. The poor shepherd perplexed thus with divers thoughts, took pity of the child, and determined with himself to carry it to the King, that there it might be brought up, according to the worthiness of birth: for his ability could not afford to foster it, though his good mind was willing to further it. Taking therefore the Child in his arms, as he folded the mantle together, the better to defend if from cold, there fell down at his foot a very fair and rich purse, wherein he found a great sum of gold: which sight so revived the shepherds spirits, as he was greatly ravished with joy, and daunted with fear: joyful to see such a sum in his power, and fearful if it should be known, that it might breed his further danger. Necessity wished him at the least, to retain the Gold, though he would not keep the child: the simplicity if his conscience feared him from such deceitful bribery. Thus was the poor man perplexed with a doubtful Dilemma, until at last the covetousness of the coin overcame him: for what will not the greedy desire of Gold cause a man to do? So that he was resolved in himself to foster the child, and with the sum to relieve his want: resting thus resolute in this point, he left seeking of his sheep, and as covertly, and secretly as he could, went by a by-way to his house, lest any of his neighbours should perceive his carriage: assoon as he was got home, entering in at the door, the child began to cry, which his wife hearing, and seeing her husband with a young babe in his arms, began to be somewhat ielousse, yet marveling that her husband should be so wanton abroad, sith he was so quiet at home: but as women are naturally given to believe the worst, so his wife thinking it was some bastard: began to crow against her goodman, and taking up a c●●gel (for the most master went breathless) swore solenmly that she would make clubs trumps, if he brought any bastard brat within her doors. The goodman seeing his wife in her majesty with her mate in her hand, thought it was time to bow for ●eare of blows, & desired her to be quiet, for there was none such matter: but if she could hold her peace, they were made for even and with that he told her the whole matter, how he had found the child in a little boat, without any secure, wrapped in that costly mantle, and having that rich chain● about the neck: but at last when he showed her the purse full of gold, she began to simper something sweetly, and taking her husband about the neck, kissed him after her homely fashion: saying that she hoped God had seen their want, and now meant to reliéeve their poverty, and seeing they could get no children, had sent them this little babe to be their heir. Take heed in any case (quoth the shepherd) that you be secret, and blab it not out when you meet with your gossippes, for if you do, we are like not only to lose the Gold and jewels, but our other goods and lives. Tush (quoth his wife) profit is a good hatch before the door: fear not, I have other things to talk of then of this: but I pray you let us lay up the money surely, and the jewels, lest by any mishap it be spied. After that they had set all things in order, the shepherd went to his sheep with a merry note, and the good wife learned to sing lullaby at home with her young babe, wrapping it in a homely blanket in stead of a rich mantle: nourishing in so cleanly and carefully as it began to be a jolly girl, in so much that they began both of them to be very fond of it, seeing, as it waxed in age, so it increased in beauty. The shepherd every night at his coming home, would sing and dance it on his knee, and prattle, that in a short time it began to speak and call him Dad, and her Mam: at last when it grew to ripe years, that it was about seven years old, the shepherd lest keeping of other men's sheep, and with the money he found in the purse, he bought him the lease of a pretty farm, and got a small flock of sheep, which when Fawnia (for so they named the child) came to the age of ten years, he set her to keep, and she with such diligence performed her charge as the sheep prospered marvelously under her hand. Fawnia thought Porrus had been her father, and Mopsa her mother, (for so was the shepherd and his wife called (honoured and obeyed them with such reverence, that all the neighbours praised the dutifully obedience of the child. Porrus grew in short time to be a man of some wealth, and credit: for fortune so favoured him in having no charge but Fawnia, that he began to purchase land, intending after 〈…〉 give it to his daughter: so that diverse rich farmer● sonne● came as wo●rs to his house● for Fawnia was something ●●●ly attired, being of such singular beauty and excellent ●●te, that whoso saw her, would ● thought, she had been some heavenly nymph, and not a mortal creature: in so much, that when she came to the age of six● years, she so increased with exquisite perfection both of body and mind, as her natural disposition did bewray that she was borne of some high parentage: but the people thinking she was daughter to the shepherd Porrus; tested only amazed at her beauty and ●e: yea she won such favour and commendations in every man's eye, as her beauty was not only praised in the country, but also spoken of in the Court: yet such was her submiss modesty, that although her praise daily increased, her mind was no whit puffed up with pride, but humbled herself as became a country maid and the daughter of a poor shepherd. E●●ry day she went forth with her sheep to the field, keeping them with such care and diligence, as all men thought she was very painful, defending her face from the heat of the sun with●●● other vale, but with a garland made of bows and flowers: which attire became her so gallantly, as she seemed to be the Goddess Flora herself for beauty ● Fortune, wh● all this while had showed a friendly face, began now to turn her back, and to show a lowering countenance, intending as she had given Fawnia a flenderchecke, so she would g●●● her a harder mate: to bring which to pass, she laid her trains on this wise. Aegisthus had but one only son called Dorastus, above the age of twenty years: a Prince so decked and adorned with the gifts of nature: so fraught with beauty and virtuous qualities, as not only his father joyed to have so good a son, ● all his commons rejoiced that God had lent them such a noble Prince to succeed in the Kingdom. Aegisthus placing all his joy in the perfection of his son: seeing that he was now marriageable, sent Ambassadors to the King of Denmark, to entreat a mariege between him and his daughter, who willingly consenting, made answer, that the 〈…〉 please Aegisthus with his son to come into Denmark, he doubted not, but they should agree upon reasonable conditions. Aegisthus resting satisfied with this friendly answer, thought convenient in the mean time to break with his son: finding therefore on a day fit opportunity he spoke to him in these fatherly terms.  
DOrastus, thy youth warneth me to prevent the worst, and mine age to provide the best. Opportunities neglected, are signs of folly: actions measured by time, are seldom bitten with repentance: thou art young, and I old: age hath taught me that, which thy youth cannot yet conceive.  
I therefore will counsel thee as a father, hoping thou wilt obey as a child. Thou seest my white hairs are blossoms for the grave, and thy fresh colour fruit for time and fortune, so that it behoveth me to think how to die, and for thee to care how to live. My crown I must leave by death, and thou enjoy my Kingdom by succession, wherein I hope thy virtue and prowess shall be such, as though my subjects want my person, yet they shall see in thee my perfection. That nothing either may fail to satisfy thy mind, or increase thy dignities: the only care I have, is to see thee well married before I die, and thou become old.  
Dorastus who from his infancy, delighted rather to die with Mars in the Field, then to dally with Venus in the Chamber: fearing to displease his father, and yet not willing to be wed, made him this reverent answer.  
SIr, there is no greater bond than duty, nor no straighter law than nature: disobedience in youth is often galled with despite in age. The command of the father ought to be a constraint to the child: so parents wills are laws, so they pass not all laws: may it please your Grace therefore to appoint whom I shall love, rather than by denial I should be appeached of 〈…〉re: I rest content to love, though it be the only thing I hate.  
Aegisthus hearing his son to 〈◊〉 from the 〈◊〉, began to be somewhat choleric, another 〈…〉.  
WHat Dorastus canst thou not 〈…〉 cynical passion of pr●ne de●●res, or p●●uish ●●●wardnesse. What dorst thou think thyself to good for all, or none good enough for thee: I tell thee, Dorastus, there is nothing sweeter than youth, nor swifter decreasing, while it is increasing. Time past with folly may be repent, but not recalled. If thou marry in age, thy w●●●es fresh colours will breed in thee dead thoughts and suspicion, and thy white hairs her loathsomeness and sorrow. For Venus' affections are not fed with Kingdoms, or treasures, but with youthful conceits and sweet amours. Vulcan was allotted to shake the tree, but Mars allowed to reap the fruit. Yield Dorastus to thy Father's persuasions, which may prevent thy perils. I have chosen thee a Wife, fair by nature, royal by birth, by virtues famous, learned by education, and rich by possessions, so that it is hard to judge whether her bounty, or fortune, her beauty, or virtue, be of greater force: I mean● Dorastus, Euphania Daughter and hair to the King of Denmark.  
Egistus' pausing here a while, looking when his son should make him answer, and seeing that he stood still as one in a trance, he shook him up thus sharply.  
WEll Dorastus take he●de, the tree Alpya wasteth not with fire, but withereth with the dew: that which love nourisheth not, perisheth with hate: if thou like Euphania, thou breedest my content, and in loving her thou shalt have my loue● otherwise; and with that he fling from his son in a race leaving him a sorrowfullman, in that he had by denial displeased his Father, and half angry with himself that he could not yield to that passion, whereto both reason and his Father persuaded him: but see how fortune is plumed with times feathers, and ●ow she can minister st●●●●ge causes to breed strange effects.  
It happened not long ●fter this that 〈…〉ng of all the farmer's Daughters 〈…〉 whither F●●●●● was also bidden as the mistress of the feast, who 〈…〉 herself, in her best garments, went among the rest of her companions to the merry meetings there spending the day in such homely pastimes as shepherd's use. As the evening grew on, and their sports ceased, each taking their leave at other, Fawnia desiring one of her companions to bear her company, went home by the flock, ●o see if they were well folded, and as they returned, it fortuned that Dorastus (who all that day had been hawking, and ●●●de store of game) encountered by the way these two maids, and casting his eye suddenly on Fawnia he was half afraid, fearing that with Actaeon he had seen Diana, for he thought such revisit perfection could not be found many mortal creature. As thus he stood in ● maze, one of his Pages told him, that the maid with the garland on her head was Fawnia the fair shepherd, whose beauty was so much talked of in the Court. Dorastus desirous to see if nature had adorned her mind with any inward qualities, as she had decked her body with outward shape began to question with her whose daughter she was of what age and how she had but trained up, who answered him with such madess reverence and sharpness of wit, that Dorastus thought her outward beauty was but a counterfeit to darken her inward qualities, wondering how so courtly behaviour could be found in so simple a cottage, and cursing fortune that had shadowed wit and beauty with such hard fortune. As thus he held her a long while with that. Beauty seeing him at discouer● thought not to lose the ●●tage, but struck him in deeply with an envenomed shaft, as he wholly lost his liberty, and became a slave to Love, which before containned Love, glad now to gaze on a poor shepherd, who before refused the offer of a rich Princess: for the perfection of Fawnia had so fi●ed his fancy as he felt his mind greatly changed, and his affections altered, cursing Love that had wrought such a chaun●e, and blaming the baseness of his mind that would make such a choice● but thinking these were but passion 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that might be thrust out at pleasure to avoid the Siren that enchanted him 〈…〉 his horse and had this f 〈…〉  
Fawnia (who all this while had marked the 〈…〉 of Dorastus) seeing his face 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and each time so perfectly frame●, began greatly to praise his perfection, commending him so long, till she found her sel●e faulty, and perceived that if she waded but a little further, she might slip over her shoes: she therefore seeking to quench that fire which never was put out, went home, and ●●●n●ing herself not well at ease, got her to bed● where casting a weasand thoughts in her head, she could take no rest: for if she wake●, she begun to call to mind his beauty, and thinking to beguile such thoughts with ●●eepe, ●he ●●en dreamt of his perfection: pestered thus with these unacquainted passions, she passed the night as she could in short ●●umbers.  
Dorastus (who all this while road with a flea in his ear) could not by any means forget the sweet favour of Fawnia, but rested ●o bewitched with her wit and beauty, as he could take no rest. He felt fancy to give the assault, and his wounded mind reap●●te to yield as vanquished: yet he began with divers considerations to suppress this frantic affecti●● ca●●ing to mind, that Fawnia was a shepherd, one not worthy to be 〈◊〉 at of a Prince, much less to be loved of such a potentate thinking what a discredit it were to himself, and what a grief it would be to his father, blaming fortune and acc●●●●ng his own 〈◊〉 that should be so fond as but once to ●ast a gla 〈…〉. As thus he was raging against ●●mselfe, Love fearing if she dallied long, to 〈…〉 ept more nigh, and gave him such a fresh wound as it pra●●t him at the heart, that he was feign to yield, maugre his ●a● e, and to forsake the company and get him to his chamber: where being solemnly set, he burst into these passionate ●●armes.  
" Ah Dorastus, art tho● alone? No not alone, wosste t●o● art tired with these unacquainted passions. Yield to fancy, thou can●● not by thy father's countable, but in a frenzy t●o● art by 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. THy father were content 〈…〉 ●●● by reason without Lawe● and therefore above all Law.  
How now Dorastus, why ●●● thou blaze that with maises, which thou hast cause to blaspheme with curses. Yet why should they curse Love that are in Love:  
Blush Dorastus at thy fortune, thy choice, thy love: thy thought cannot be uttered without shame, nor thy affections without discredit. Ah Fawnia, sweet Fawnia, thy beauty Fawnia.  
Shamest not thou Dorastus to name, one unfit for thy birth, thy dignities, thy Kingdoms? die Dorastus, Dorastus die, better hadst thou perish with high desires, then live in base thoughts. Yea but, beauty must be obeyed because it is beauty, yet framed of the Gods to feed the eye, not to fatter the heart.  
Ah but he that striveth against Love, shooteth with them of Scyrum against the wind, and with the Cockatrice pecketh against the steel. I will therefore obey, becave I must obey. Fawnia, yea Fawnia shall be my fortune, in spite of fortune. The Gods above disdain not to love women beneath. Pho●bus liked Sibilla, jupiter Io, and why not I then Fawnia, one something inferior to these in birth, but far superior to them in beauty, horn to be a Shepherd, but worthy to be a Goddess.  
Ah Dorastus, wilt thou so forget thyself as to suffer affection to suppress wisdom, and Love to violate thine hononour? How sour will thy choice be to thy Father, forgetful to thy Subjects, to thy friends a grief, most gladsome to thy foes? Subdue then thy affections, and seaseto love her whom thou couldst not love, unless blinded with too much love. Tush I talk to the wind, and in seeking to prevent the causes. I further the effects. I will yet praise Fawnia, honour, yea and love Fawnia, and at this day follow content, not counsel. D●● Dorastus, thou canst but repent: and with that his Page came into the chamber, whereupon he ceased from his complaints hoving that time would wear out that, which fortune had wrought. As thus he was pained, so poor Fawnia 〈◊〉 diversly perplexed: for the next morning gett●●● 〈◊〉 very early, she went to her sheep, thinking with hard 〈◊〉 to pass 〈◊〉 her 〈…〉 (poor soul) she was more tried with 〈…〉 began to assault her, in so much 〈◊〉 as she 〈◊〉 upon the side of a hill, she began to accuse her o●●e folly in these 〈◊〉.  
INfortunate Fawnia, and therefore infortunate because Fawnia, thy shepherd's hook showeth thy poor 〈◊〉, thy proud desires an aspiring mind: the one declareth thy 〈◊〉, the other thy pride. No bastard hawk must so●re so high as the Hobby, ●o Fowl gaze against the Sun but the Eagle, 〈◊〉 wrought against nature reap despite, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 above Fortune disdain.  
Fawnia, thou art a shepherd, daughter to poor Porrus: if thou rest content with this, thou art like to stand, if thou climb thou art sure to fall. The Herb Anita growing higher 〈…〉 weed. Nilus' flodding more than twelve cubits procureth a dearth. Daring affect●●● that pass measure, ar● cut short by time or fortune: suppress then Fawnia those thoughes which thou 〈◊〉 to express. But ●● Fawnia, love is a Lord, who will comm●●● by power, and constrain by force.  
Dorastus, a● Dorastus is the man I love, the woor●e is thy 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the less 〈◊〉 hast thou to hope. Will Eagles catch 〈◊〉 〈◊〉; will Cedars stoop to be brambles, or mighty Princes ●●●●● at such homely tru●●es. No, no, think this, Dorastus 〈…〉, he is a Prince respecting his 〈◊〉, thou a beggar's brat forgetting thy calling. Cease then not only to say, but to think to love Dorastus, and dissemble thy love Fawnia, for better it were to die with grief, then to live with shame: yet in despite of love I will sigh, to see if I can sigh out love. Fawnia somewhat appea●● her griefs with these pithy perswa●●●s, began after her 〈◊〉 manner to walk about her sheep, and to 〈…〉 the very ve●●inies did deny hereto ●●erine.  
But Dorastus was more impatient in his passions: for love so fiercely assailed him, that neither company, nor music could mitigate his martyrdom, but did rather far the more increase his malady: shame would not let him crave counsel in this case, nor fear of his Father's displeasure reveyle it to any secret friend: but he was sane to make a Secretary of himself, and to participate his thoughts with his own troubled mind. Lingering thus awhile in doubtful suspense, at last stealing secretly from the court without either men or Page, he went to see if he could espy Fawnia walking abroad in the field: but as one having a great deal more skill to retrieve the partridge with his spaniels, then to hunt after such a strange prey, he sought, but was little the better: which cross luck drove him into a great choler, that he began both to accuse love and fortune. But as he was ready to retire, he saw Fawnia sitting all alone under the side of a hill, making a garland of such homely flowers as the fields did afford. This sight so revived his spirits that he drew nigh, with more judgement to take a view of her singular perfection, which he found to be such, as in that country attire she stained all the courtly Dames of Sicilia. While thus he stood gazing with piercing looks on her surpassing beauty, Fawnia cast her eye aside, and spied Dorastus, with sudden fight made the poor girl to blush, and to die her crystal cheeks with a vermilion red: which gave her such a grace, as she seemed far more beautiful. And with that she rose up, saluting the Prince with such modest courtesies, as he wondered how a country maid could afford such courtly behaviour. Dorastus, repaying her courtesy with a smiling countenance, began to parley with her on this manner.  
Fair maid (quoth he) either your want is great, or a shepherds life very sweet, that your delight is in such country labours. I can not conceive what pleasure you should take, unless you mean to imitate the nymph●●, being you, self so like a Nymph. To put me out of thy 〈…〉 me what is to be commended in a shepherds l●●e, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 pleasures you have to counter●●aile these drudging labours. Fawnia with blushing face made him this ready answer.  
SIr, what richer state than content, or what sweeter life then quiet, we shepherds are not borne to honour, nor beholding unto beauty, the less care we have to fear fame or fortune: we co●●t our attire brave enough if warm enough, and our food dainty, if to suffice nature: our greatest enemy is the wolf: out only care in safe keeping our flock: in stead of courtly ditties we spend the days with country songs: our amorous conceits are homely thoughts: delighting as much to talk of Pan and his country pranks, as Ladies to tell of Venus and her want on toys. Our toil is in shifting the folds, and looking to the lambs easy labours: oft singing and telling tales, homely pleasures: our greatest wealth not to ●●ouer, out honour not to climb, our quiet not to care. Envy looketh not so low as shepherds: Shepherds gaze not so high as ambition: we are rich in that we are poor with content, and proud only in this that we have no cause to be proud.  
THis witty answer of Fawnia so inflamed Dorastus fancy, as he commended himself for making so good a choice, thinking, if her birth were answerable to her wit and beauty, that she were a fit mate for the most famous Prince in the world. He therefore began to sift her more narrowly on this manner.  
FAwnia, I see thou art content with Country labours, because thou knowest not Courtly pleasures: I commend thy wit, and pity thy want: but wilt thou leave thy Father's Cottage, and serve a Courtlip Mistress.  
Sir (quoth she) beggars ought not to strive against fortune, nor to gaze after honour, lest either their fall be greater, or they become blind. I am borne to toil for the Court, not in the Court, my nature unfit for their nurture, better live th●● in mean degree, than in high disdain.  
●●ll 〈◊〉, Fawnia (quoth Dorastus) I guess at thy 〈◊〉, thou art in love with some Country shepherd.  
No sir (quoth she) shepherds cannot love, that are so simple, and maids may not love that are so young.  
Nay therefore (quoth Dorastus) maids must love, because they are young, for Cupid is a child, and Venus, though old, is painted with fresh colours.  
I grant (quoth she) age may be painted with new shadows, and youth may have imperfect affections: but what art concealeth in one, ignorance revealeth in the other. Dorastus seeing Fawnia held him so hard, thought it was vain so long to beat about the bush: therefore he thought to have given her a fresh charge: but he was so prevented by certain of his men, who missing their master, came possing to seek him: seeing that he was gone forth all alone, yet before they drew so ●ie that they might hear their talk, he used these speeches.  
Why Fawnia, perhaps I love thee, and then thou must needs yield, for thou knowest I can command and constrain. Truth sir (quoth she) but not to love: for constrained love is force, not love: and know this sir, mine honesty is such, as I had rather die then be a Concubine even to a King, and my birth is so base as I am unfit to be a wife to a poor farmer. Why then (quoth he) thou canst not love Dorastus? Yes said Fawnia, when Dorastus becomes a shepherd, and with that the presence of his men broke off their parley, so that he went with them to the palace, and left Fawnia sitting still on the hill side, who seeing that the night drew on, shifted her folds, and busied herself about other work to drive away such fond fancies as began to trouble her brain. But all this could not prevail, for the beauty of Dorastus had made such a deep impression in her heart, as it could not be worn out without cracking, so that she was forced to blame her own folly in this wise.  
AH Fawnia, why dost thou gaze against the Sun, or catch at the win: stars are to be looked at with the eye, not reached at with the hand: thoughts are to be measured by Fortunes not by desirest falls come not by sitting low, but by climbing too high: what then shall all fear to fall, because some hap to fall? No luck cometh by lot, and fortune 〈◊〉 those threads which the destinies spin. Thou art fau●●●● Fawnia of a prince, and yet thou art so fond to reject desired favours: thou hast denial at thy tongues end, and desire at thy heart's bottom: a woman's fault, to spurn at that with her foot, which she greedily catcheth at with her hand. Thou lovest Dorastus, Fawnia, & yet seemest to lower. Take h●●de, if he retire, thou wilt repent: for unless he love, thou canst but die. die then Fawnia: for Dorastus doth but jest: the Lion never prayeth on the mouse, nor Faultons' stoup not to dead stales. Sat down then in sorrow, cease to love, and content thyself, that Dorastus will vouchsafe to flatter Fawnia, though not to fancy Fawnia. Heigh ho: Ah fool, it were séemelier for thee to whistle as a Shepherd, then to sigh as a lover, and with that shè ceased from these perplexed passions, folding her sheep, and ●ying home to her poor Cottage. But such was the incessant sorrow of Dorastus to think on the wit and beauty of Fawnia, and to see how fond he was being a Prince: and how froward she was being a beggar, than he began to lose his wont appetite, to look pale and ●an: in stead of mirth to feed on melancholy: for courtly ●aunces to use cold dumps: in so much that not only his own men, but his father and all the court began to marvel at his sudden change, thinking that some lingering sickness had brought him into this state: wherefore he caused Physicians to come, but Dorastus neither would let them minister, nor so much as suffer them to see his urine: but remained still so oppressed with these passions, as he feared in himself a farther inconvenience. His honour wished him to cease from such folly, but Love forced him to follow fancy● yea and in despite of honour, love won the conquest, so that his hot desires caused him to find new devices, for he presently made himself a shepherds coat, that he might go unknown, and with the less suspicion to prattle with Fawnia, and conveyed it secretly into a thick grove hard joining to the Palace, whether finding fit time, and opportunity, he went all alone, and putting off his princely apparel, got on those shepherds robes, and t●●●●g a great hook in his hand (which he had also gotten) he w●●● very ●●ciently to stood out the mistress of his affection: but as he went by the way, seeing himself clad in such unseemly rags, he began to smile at his own folly, and to reprove his fondness, in these terms.  
WEll said Dorastus, thou keepest a right decorum, base desires and homely attires: thy thoughts are fit for none but a shepherd, and thy apparel such as only become a shepherd. A strange change from a Prince to a peasant? What is it? thy wretched fortune or thy wilful folly? Is it thy cursed destinies? Or thy crooked desires, that appointeth thee this penance? Ah Dorastus thou canst but love, and unless thou love, thou art like to perish for love. Yet fond fool, choose flowers, not weeds: Diamonds, not pebbles: Ladies which may honour thee, not shepherds which may disgrace thee. Venus is painted in silks, not in rags: and Cupid treadeth on disdame, when he reacheth at dignity. And yet Dorastus shame not at thy shepherds weed: the heavenly Gods have sometime earthly thoughts: Neptune became a Ram, jupiter a Bul, Apollo a shepherd: they Gods, and yet in love: and thou a man appointed to love.  
Devising thus with himself, he drew nigh to the place where Fawnia was keeping her sheep, who casting her eye aside, and seeing such a mannerly shepherd, perfectly limmed, and coming with so good a pace, she began half to forget Dorastus, & to favour this pretty shepherd, whom she thought she might both love and obtain: but as she was in these thoughts, she perceived then, it was the young prince Dorastus, wherefore she rose up, and reverently saluted him. Dorastus taking her by the hand, repaid her courtesy with a sweet kiss, and praying her to sit down by him, he began thus to lay the battery.  
IF thou marvel Fawnia at my strange attire, thou wouldst more muse at my unaccustomed thoughts: the one disgraceth but my outward shape, the other disturbeth my inward senses. I love Fawnia, and therefore what love liketh I cannot mislike. Fawnia thou hast promised to love, and I hope thou wilt perform no less: I have fulfilled thy request, and now thou canst but grant my desire. Thou wert content to love Dorastus when he ceased to be a Prince; and to become a shepherd, and see I have made the change, and therefore not to miss of my choice.  
Truth, quoth Fawnia, but all that wear Cools are not Monks: painted Eagles are pictures, not Eagles, Zeusis Grapes were like Grapes, yet shadows: rich clothing make not princes: nor homely attire beggars: shepherds are not called shepherds, because they were hooks and bags: but that they are borne poor, and live to keep sheep, so this attire hath not made Dorastus a shepherd, but to esteem like a shephherd.  
WEll Fawnia, answered Dorastus: were I a shepherd, I could not but like thee, and being a prince I am forced to love thee. Take heed Fawnia, be not proud of beauties painting, for it is a flower that fadeth in the blossom. Those which disdain in youth are despised in age: Beauties shadows are tricked up with times colours, which being set to dry in the sun are stained with the sun, scarce pleasing the sight ere they begin not to be worth the sight, not much unlike the herb Ephemeron, which flourisheth in the morning and is withered before the sun setting: if my desire were against law, thou mightest justly deny me by reason, but I love thee Fawnia, not to misuse thee as a Concubine, but to use thee as my wife: I can promise no more, and mean to perform no less.  
Fawnia hearing this solemn protestation of Dorastus, could no longer withstand the assault, but yielded up the fort in these friendly terms.  
AH Dorastus, I shame to express that thou forcest me with thy sugared speech to confess: my base birth causeth the one, and thy high dignities the other. Beggar's thoughts ought not to reach so far as Kings, and yet my de●●es reach as high as Princes, I dare not say Dorastus, I 〈◊〉 thee, because I am a shepherd, but the Gods know I have honoured Dorastus (pardon if I say amiss) yea and loved Dorastus with such dutiful affection as Fawnia can perform, or Dorastus desire: I yield, not overcome with prayers, but with love, resting Dorastus handmaid ready to obey his will, if no prejudice at all to his honour, nor to my credit.  
DOrastus hearing this friendly conclusion of Fawnia embraced her in his arms, swearing that neither distance, time, nor adverse fortune should diminish his affection: but that in despite of the destinies he would remain loyal unto death. Having thus plight their troth each to other, seeing they could not have the full fruition of their love in Sycilia for that Aegisthus consent would never be granted to so mean a match, Dorastus determined assoon as time and opportunity would give them leave, to provide a great mass of money, and many rich & costly jewels, for the easier carriage, and then to transport themselves and their treasure into Italy, where they should lead a contented life, until, such time as either he could be reconciled to his Father, or else by succession come to the Kingdom. This devise was greatly praised of Fawnia, for she feared if the King his father should but hear of the contract, that his fury would be such as no less than death would stand for payment: she therefore told him, that delay bred danger: that many mishaps did fall out between the cup and the lip, and that to avoid danger, it were best with as much speed as might be, to pass out of Sycilia, lest fortune might prevent their pretence with some new despite: Dorastus, whom love pricked forward with desire, promised to dispatch his affairs with as great haste, as either time or opportunity would give him leave: an so resting upon this point, after many embracings and sweet kisses they departed. Dorastus having taken his leave of his best beloved Fawnia, went to the Grove where he had his rich apparel, and there uncasting himself as secretly as might be, hiding up his shepherds attire, till occasion should serve again to use it: he went to the palace, showing by his merry countenance, that either the state of his body was amended, or the case of his mind greatly redressed: Fawnia poor soul was no less joyful, that being a shepherd, fortune had favoured her so, as to reward her with the love of a Prince, hoping in time to be advanced from the daughter of a poor farmer, to be the wife of a rich King: so that she thought every hour a year, till by their departure they might prevent danger, not ceasing still to go every day to her sheep, not so much for the care of her flock, as for the desire she had to see her love and Lord Dorastus: who oftentimes, when opportunity would serve, repaired thither to feed his fancy with the sweet content of Fawnias, presence: and although he never went to visit her, but in his shepherds rags, yet his oft repair made him not only suspected, but known to divers of their neighbours: who for the good will they bore to old Porrus, told him secretly of the matter, wishing him to keep his daughter at home, lest she went so oft to the field that she brought him home a young son: for they feared that Fawnia being so beautiful, the young Prince would allure her to folly. Porrus was stricken into a dump at these news, so that thanking his neighbours for their good will: he hied him home to his wife, and calling her aside, wring his hands, and shedding forth tears, he broke the matter to her in these terms.  
I Am afraid wife, that my daughter Fawnia hath made herself so fine, that she will buy repentance too dear. I hear news, which if they be true, some will wish they had not proved true. It is told me by my neighbours, that Dorastus the kings son gins to look at our daughter Fawnia: which if it be so, I will not give her a halfepenp for her honestiect the years end. I tell thee wife, now adays beauty is a great stolen to trap young men, and fair words and sweet promises are two great enemies to a maidens honesty: and thou knowest where poor men entreat, and cannot obtain, there Princes may command, and will obtain. Though King's sons dance in nets, they may not be seen: but poor men's faults are spied at a little hole: Well● it is a hard case where Kings lusts are laws, and that they should bind poor men to that, which they themselves wilfully break.  
Peace husband (quoth his wife) take heed what you say: speak no more than you should, lest you hear what you would not, great streams are to be stopped by sleight, not by force: and princes to be persuaded by submission, not by rigour: do what you can, but no more than you may, least in saving fawnia's maidenhead, you lose your own head. Take heed I say, it is ill jesting with edged tools, and had sporting with Kings. The Wolf had his skin pulled over his ears for but looking into the Lion's den. Tush wife (quoth he) thou speakest like a fool, if the King should know that Dorastus had begotten our daughter with child (as I fear it will fall out little better) the King's fury would be such as no doubt we should both lose our goods and lives: necessity therefore hath no law, and I will prevent this mischief with a new devise that is come in my head, which shall neither offend the King, nor displease Dorastus. I mean to take the chain and the jewels that I found with Fawnia, and carry them to the King, letting him then to understand how she is none of my daughter, but that I found her beaten up with the water alone in a little boat wrapped in a rich Mantle, wherein was enclosed this treasure. By this means I hope the King will take Fawnia into his service, and we whatsoever chanceth shall be blameless. This device pleased the good wife very well, so that they determined assoon as they might know the King at leisure, to make him privy to this case. In the mean time Dorastus was not slack in his affairs, but applied his matters with such diligence, that he provided all things fit for their journey. Treasure and jewels he had gotten great store, thinking there was no better friend than money in a strange country: rich attire he had provided for Fawnia, and because he could not bring the matter to pass with out the help and advise of some one, he made an old servant of his called Capnio, who had served him from his childhood, privy to his affairs: who seeing no persuasions could prevail to divert him from his settled determination, gave his consent and dealt so secretly in the cause, that within short space he had gotten a ship ready for their passage: the Mariners seeing a fit gale of wind for their purpose, wished Capnio to make no delays, lest if they pretermitted this good weather, they might stay long ere they had such a fair wind. Capnio fearing that his negligence should hinder the journey, in the night time conveyed the trunks full of treasure into the ship, and by secret means let Fawnia understand, that the next morning they meant to departed: she upon this news slept very little that night, but got up very early, and went to her sheep, looking every minute when she should see Dorastus, who carried not long, for fear delay might breed danger, but came as fast as he could gallop, and without any great circumstance took Fawnia up behind him and road to the haven, where the ship lay, which was not three quarters of a mile distant from that place. He no sooner came there, but the Mariners were ready with their Cockboat to set them aboard, where being couched together in a Cabin they passed away the time in recounting their old loves, till their man Capnio should come. Porrus who had heard that this morning the King would go abroad to take the air, called in haste to his wife to bring him his holiday hose and his best jacket, that he might go like an honest substantial man to tell his tale. His Wife a good cleanly wench, brought him all things fit, and spungd him up very handsomely, giving him the chains and jewels in a little box, which Porrus for the more safety put in his bosom. Having thus all his trinkets in a readiness, taking his staff in his hand he had his wife kiss him for good luck, and so he went towards the Palace. But as he was going, fortune (who meant to show him a little false play) prevented his purpose in this wise.  
He met by chance in his way Capnio, who trudging as fast as he could with a little coffer under his arm to the ship, and spying Porrus whom he knew to be fawnia's Father, going towards the Palace, being a wily fellow, began to doubt the worst, and therefore crossed him the way, and asked him whither he was going so early this morning.  
Porrus (who knew by his face that he was one of the Court) meaning simply, told him that the King's son Dorastus dealt hardly with him: for he had but one Daughter who was a little Beautiful, and that his neighbours told him the young Prince had alured her to folly, he went therefore now to complain to the King how greatly he was abused.  
Capnio (who strait way smelled the whole matter) began to soothe him in his talk, and said, that Dorastus dealt not like a Prince to spoil and poor manes daughter in that sort: he therefore would do the best for him he could, because he knew he was an honest man. But (quoth Capnio) you lose your labour in going to the Palace, for the King means this day to take the air of the Sea, and to go aboard of a ship that lies in the haven, I am going before, you see, to provide all things in a readiness, and if you will follow my counsel, turn back with me to the haven, where I will set you in such a fit place as you may speak to the King at your pleasure. Porrus giving credit to Capnios' smooth tale, gave him a thousand thanks for his friendly advise, and went with him to the haven, making all the way his complaints of Dorastus, yet concealing secretly the chain and the jewels. Assoon as they were come to the Sea side, the mariners seeing Capnio, came a land with their cockboat, who still dissembling the matter, demanded of Porrus if he would go see the ship, who unwilling and fearing the worst, because he was not well acquainted with Capnio, made his excuse that he could not brook the Sea, therefore would not trouble him.  
Capnio, seeing that by fair means he could not get him aboard, commanded the mariners that by violence they should carry him into the ship, who like sturdy knaves hoisted the poor shepherd on their backs, and bearing him to the boat, launched from the land.  
Porrus seeing himself so cunningly betrayed durst not cry out, for he saw it would not prevail, but began to entreat Capnio and the mariners to be good to him, and to pity his estate, he was but a poor man that lived by his labour: they laughing to see the shepherd so afraid, made as much haste as they could, and set him aboard. Porrus was no sooner in the ship, but he saw Dorastus walking with Fawnia, yet he scarf knew her: for she had attired herself in rich apparel, which, so increased her beauty, that she resembled rather an Angel than a mortal creature.  
Dorastus and Fawnia, were half astonished to see the old shepherd, marveling greatly what wind had brought him thither, till Capino told them all the whole discourse: how Porrus was going to make his complaint to the King, if by policy ●he had not prevented him, and therefore now sith he was aboard, for the avoiding of further danger, it were best to carry him into Italy.  
Dorastus praised greatly his man's devise, and allowed of his counsel: but Fawnia, (who still feared Porrus, as her father) began to blush for shame, that by her means he should either incur danger or displeasure.  
The old shepherd hearing this hard sentence, that he should on such a sudden be carried from his Wife, his country and kinsfolk, into a foreign Land amongst strangers, began with bitter tears to make his complaint, and on his knees to entreat Dorastus, that pardoning his unadvised folly he would give him leave to go home: swearing that he would keep all things as secret as they could wish. But these protestations could not prevail, although Fawnia entreated Dorastus very earnestly, but the mariners hoisting their main sails weighed anchors, and hailed into the deep, where we leave them to the favour of the wind and seas, & return to Aegisthus.  
WHo having appointed this day to hunt in one of his Forests, called for his son Dorastus to go sport himself, because he saw that of late he began to louvre: but his men made answer that he was gone abroad none knew whither, except he were gone to the grove to walk all alone, as his custom was to do every day.  
The King willing to waken him out of his dumps, sent one of his men to go seek him, but in vain, for at last he returned, but find him he could not, so that the King went himself to go see the sport: where passing away the day, returning at night from hunting, he asked for his son, but he could not be heard of, which drove the King into a great choler: where upon most of his Noblemen and other Courtiers, posted abroad to seek him, but they could not hear of him through all Sicilia, only they miss Capnio his man which again made the King suspect that he was not gone far.  
Two or three days being passed, and no news heard of Dorastus, Aegisthus began to fear that he was devoured with some wild beasts, and upon that made out a great troop of men to go seek him: who coasted through all the Country and searched in every dangerous and secret place, until at last they met with a Fisherman that was sitting in a little covert hard by the sea side mending his nets, when Dorastus and Fawnia took shipping: who being examined if he either knew or heard where the King's Son was, without any secrecy at all revealed the whole matter, how he was sailed two days past, & had in his company his man Capnio, Porrus, and his fair Daughter Fawnia. This heavy news was presently carried to the King, who half dead for sorrow, commanded Porrus wife to be sent for: she being come to the Palace, after due examination, confessed that her neighbours had oft told her that the King's Son was too familiar with Fawnia her Daughter: whereupon, her husband fearing the worst, about two days passed (hearing the King should go an hunting) rose early in the morning and went to make his complaint, but since she neither heard of him, nor saw him. Aegisthus perceiving the woman's unfeigned simplicity, let her departed without incurring further displeasure, conceiling such secret grief for his Sons reckless folly, that he had so forgotten his honour and parentage, by so base a choice to dishonour his Father, and discredit himself, that with very care and thought he fell into a quartan fever, which was so unfit for his aged years and complexion, that he became so weak, as the Physicians would grant him no life.  
But his son Dorastus little regarded either father, country: or Kingdom, in respect of his Lady Fawnia, for fortune smile on this young novice, lent him so lucky a gale of wind, for the space of a day and a night, that the mariners lay and slept upon the hatches: but on the next morning about the break of the day, the air began to overcast, the winds to rise, the seas to swell, yea presently there arose such a fearful tempest, as the ship was in danger to be swallowed up with every sea, the main ●●ast with the violence of the wind was thrown over board, the sails were torn, the tacklings went in sunder, the storm raging still so furiously that poor Fawnia was almost dead for fear, but that she was greatly comforted with the presence of Dorastus. The tempest continued three days, all which time the Mariners every minute looked for death, and the air was so darkened with clouds that the Master could not tell by his compass in what Coast they were. But upon the fourth day about ten of the clock, the wind began to cease: the sea to wax calm, and the sky to be clear, and the Mariners descried the coast of Bohemia, shooting of their ordnance for joy that they had escaped such a fearful tempest.  
Dorastus hearing that they were arrived at some harbour, sweetly kissed Fawnia, and bade her be of good cheer: when they told him that the port belonged unto the chief City of Bohemia where Pandosto kept his Court, Dorastus began to be sad: knowing that his Father hated no man so much as Pandosto, and that the King himself had sought secretly to betray Aegisthus: this considered, he was half afraid to go on land, but that Capnio counseled him to change his name and his country, until such time as they could get some other Bark to transport them into Italy. Dorastus liking this devise made his case privy to the Mariners, rewarding them bountifully for their pains, and charging them to say that he was a Gentleman of Trapalonia called Meleagrus. The shipmen willing to show what friendship they could to Dorastus, promised to be as secret as they could, or he might wish, and upon this they landed in a little village a mile distant from the City, where after they had rested a day, thinking to make provision for their marriage: the fame of fawnia's beauty was spread throughout all the City, so that it came to the ears of Pandosto: who then being about the age of fifty, had notwithstanding young and fresh affections: so that he desired greatly to see Fawnia, and to bring this matter the better to pass, hearing they had but one man, and how they rested at a very homely house: he caused them to be apprehended as spies, and sent a dozen of his guard to take them: who being come to their lodging, told them the King's message: Dorastus no whit dismayed, accompanied with Fawnia and Capnio, went to the court (for they left Porrus to keep the stuff) who being admitted to the King's presence. Dorastus and Fawnia with humble obeisance saluted his majesty.  
Pandosto amazed at the singular perfection of Fawnia, stood half astonished, viewing her beauty, so that he had almost forgot himself what he had to do: at last with stern countenance he demanded their names, and of what country they were, and what caused them to land in Bohemia. Sir (quoth Dorastus) know that my name Meleagrus is a Knight borne and brought up in Trapalonia, and this Gentlewoman, whom I mean to take to my wife is an Italian borne in Padua, from whence I have now brought her. The Cause I have so small a train with me, is for that her friends unwilling to consent, I intended secretly to convey her into Trapalonia: whither as I was sailing, by distress of weather I was driven into these coasts: thus have you heard my name, my country, and the cause of my voyage. Pandosto starting from his seat as one in choler, made this rough reply.  
Meleagrus, I fear this smooth tale hath but small truth, and that thou coverest a foul skin with fair paintings. No doubt this Lady by her grace and beauty is of her degree more meet for a mighty Prince, then for a simple knight, and thou like a perjured traitor hast bereft her of her parents, to their present grief, and her ensuing sorrow. Till therefore I hear more of her parentage and of thy calling, I will stay you both here in Bohemia.  
Dorastus, in whom rested nothing but Kingly valour, was not able to suffer the reproaches of Pandosto, but that he made him this answer.  
IT is not meet for a King, without due proof to appeach any man of ill behaviour, nor upon suspicion to infer belief: strangers ought to be entertained with courtesy, not to be entreated with cruelty, least being forced by want to put up injuries: the Gods revenge their cause with rigour.  
Pandosto hearing Dorastus utter these words, commanded that he should strait be committed to prison, until such time as they heard further of his pleasure, but as for Fawnia, he charged that she should be entertained in the Court, with such courtesy as belonged to a stranger and her calling. The rest of the shipmen he put into the Dungeon.  
Having thus hardly handled the supposed Trapalonians: Pandosto contrary to his aged yeaxes began to be somewhat tickled with the beauty of Fawnia, in so much that he could take no rest, but cast in his old head a thousand new devices: at last he fell into these thoughts.  
HOw art thou pestered Pandosto with fresh affections, and unfit fancies, wishing to possess with an unwilling mind, and a hot desire troubled with a could disdain: Shalt thy mind yield in age to that thou hast resisted in youth? Peace Pandosto, blab not out that which thou mayest be ashamed to reveal to thyself. Ah Fawnia is beautiful, and it is not for thine honour (fond fool) to name her that is thy Captive, and an other man's Concubine. Alas, I reach at that with my hand which my heart would feign refuse: playing like the bird Ibys in Egypt, which hateth Serpents, yet feedeth on their eggs.  
Tush, hot desires turn oftentimes to cold disdain: Love is brittle, where appetite, not reason bears the sway: Kings thoughts ought not to climb so high as the heavens, but to look no lower than honour: better it is to peck at the stars with the young Eagles, then to pray on dead carcases with the vulture: 'tis more honourable for Pandosto to die by concealing Love, their to enjoy such unfit love. Doth Pandosto then love? Yea: whom? A maid unknown, yea and perhaps, immodest, straggled out of her own country: beautiful, but not therefore chaste: comely in body, but perhaps crooked in mind. Cease then Pandosto to look at Fawnia, much less to love her: be not overtaken with a woman's beauty, whose eyes are framed by art to enamour, whose heart is framed by nature to enchant, whose false tears know their true times● and whose sweet words pierce deeper than sharp sword. Here Pandosto ceased from his talk, but not from his love: for although he sought by reason, and wisdom to suppress this frantic affection: yet he could take no rest, the beauty of Fawnia had made such a deep impression in his heart. But on a day walking abroad into a Park which was hard adjoining to his house, he sent by one of his servants for Fawnia, unto whom he uttered these words.  
FAwnia, I commend thy beauty and wit, and now pity thy distress and want: but if thou wilt forsake Sir Meleagrus, whose poverty, though a Knight, is not able to maintain an estate answerable to thy beauty, and yield thy consent to Pandosto: I will both increase thee with dignities and riches. No sir, answered Fawnia: Meleagrus is a knight that hath won me by love, and none but he shall wear me: his sinister mischance shall not diminish my affection, but rather increase my good will: think not though your Grace hath imprisoned him without cause, that fear shall make me yield my consent: I had rather be Meleagrus wife, and a beggar, then live in plenty, and be Pandostos' Concubine. Pandosto hearing the assured answer of Fawnia, would, notwithstanding, prosecute his suit to the uttermost: seeking with fair words and great promises in scale the fort of her chastity, swearing that if she would grant to his desire, Meleagrus should not only he fet at liberty, but honoured in his course amongst his Nobles: but these alluring baits could not entice her mind from the love of her ●● we betrothed mate Meleagrus: which Pandosto seeing, he left her alone for that time to consider more of the demand. Fawnia being alone by herself, began to enter into these solitary meditations.  
AH infortunate Fawnia, thou ●éest to desire above fortune, is to strive against the Gods, and Fortune● Who gazeth at the su●●e we akeneth his sight: they which stare at the sky, fall oft into deep pi●s: hadst thou rested content to have been a shepherd, thou neededst not to have feared mischance: better had it been for thee, by sitting low, to have had quiet, then by climbing high to have fallen into misery. But alas I fear not mine own danger, but Dorastus displeasure. Ah sweet Dorastus, thou art a Prince, but now a prisoner, by too much love, procuring thine own loss: hadst thou not loved Fawnia thou hadst been fortunate, shall I then be false to him that hath forsaken Kingdoms for my cause: no, would my death might deliver him, so mine honour might be preserved. With that feching a deep sigh, she ceased from her complaints, and went again to the Palace, enjoying a liberty without content, and proffered pleasure with small joy. But poor Dorastus ●●● all this while in olose prison, being pinched with a hard restraint, and pained with the burden of cold, and heavy Irons, sorrowing sometimes that his fond affection had procured him this mishap, that by the disobedience of his parents, he had wrought his own despite: an other while cursing the Gods and fortune, that they should cross him with such sinister chance: uttering at last his passions in these words.  
Ah unfortunate wretch borne to mishap, now thy folly hath his desert: art thou not worthy for thy base mind to have bad fortune: could the destinies favour thee, which hast forgot thine honour and dignities: will not the Gods plague him with despite that paineth his father with disobedience. Oh Gods, if any favour or justice b●●left, plague me, but favour poor Fawnia and shroud her from the tyrannies of wretched Pandosto, but let my death free her from mishaps and then welcome death: Dorastus pained with these heavy passions, sorrowed and sighed, but in vain, for which he used the more patience. But again to Pandosto, who broiling at the heat of unlawful lust could take no rest but still felt his mind disquieted with his new love, so that his nobles and subjects marveled greatly at this sudden alteration, not being able to conjecture the cause of this his continued care: Pandosto thinking every hour a year till he had talked once again with Fawnia, sent for her secretly into his chamber, whither though Fawnia unwillingly coming, Pandosto entertained her very courteously using these familiar speeches, which Fawnia answered as shortly in this wise.  Pandosto. 
Fawnia are you become less● wilful and more wise, to prefer the love of a King before the liking of a poor Knight: I think ere this you think it is better to be favoured of a King then of a subject.  Fawnia. 
Pandosto, the body is subject to victories, but the mind not to be subdued by conquest, honesty is to be preferred before honour, and a dram of faith weigheth down a tun of gold. I have promised Meleagrus to love, and will perform no less.  Pandosto. 
Fawnia, I know thou art not so unwise in thy choice, as to refuse the offer of a King, nor so ingrateful as to despise a good turn: thou art now in that place where I may command, and yet thou seest I entreat, my power is such as I may compel by force; and yet I su●●y prayers: Yield Fawnia thy love to him which burneth in thy love, Meleagrus shall be set free, thy countrymen discharged: and thou both loved and honoured.  Fawnia. 
I see Pandosto, where lust ruleth it is a miserable thing to be a virgin, but know this, that I will always prefer fame before life, and rather choose death then dishonour.  
Pandosto seeing that there was in Fawnia a determinate courage to love Meleagrus, and a resolution without fear to hate him, flung away from her in a rage: swearing if in short time she would not be won with reason: he would forget all courtesy, and compel her to grant by rigour: but these threatening words no whit dismayed Fawnia: but that she still both dispighted and despised Pandosto. While thus these two lovers strove, the one to win love the other to live in hate: Aegisthus heard certain news by merchants of Bohemia, that his son Dorastus was imprisoned by Pandosto, which ●●● h●●● fear greatly that his son should be but hardly entreated: yet considering that Bellaria and he was cleared by the Oracle of Apollo from that crime wherewith, Pandosto had unjustly charged them, he thought best to send with all speed to Pandosto, that he should set free his son Dorastus, and put to death Fawnia and her father Porrus: finding this by the ad●●●e of Counsel the speediest remedy to release his son, he ●aused presently two of his ships to be rigged and thoroughly furnished with provision of men and victuals, and sa●ediuers of his nobles, Ambassadors into Bohemia: who willing to obey their King, and receive their young Prince: made no delays, for fear of danger, but with as much speed as might be, sailed towards Bohemia: the wind and seas favoured them greatly, which made them hope of some good hap, for within three days they were landed: which Pandosto no sooner heard of their arrival, but he in person went to meet them, entreating them with such sumptuous and famili●● courtesy, that they might well perceive how sorry he was for the formet mi●ries he had offered to their King, and how willing (if it might be) to make amends. As Pandosto made report to them, how one Meleagrus a Knight of Trapolonia was lately arrived with a Lady called Fawnia in his land, coming very suspiciously, accompanied only with one servant, and an old shepherd. The Ambassadors perceived by the half, what the whole tale meant, and began to conjecture, that it was Dorastus, who for fear to be known, had changed his name: but dissembling the matter, they shortly arrived at the Court, where after they had been very solemnly and sumptuously feasted, the noble men of Sicilia being gathered together, they made report of their Embassage ● where they certified Pandosto that Meleagtus was son and heir to the King Aegisthus, and that his name was Dorastus: how contrary to the King's mind he had privily conveyed away that Fawnia, intending to marry her, being but daughter to that poor shepherd Porrus: whereupon the King's request was, that Capnio, Fawnia, and Porrus might be murdered and put to death, and that his son Dorastus might be sent home in safety. Pandosto having attentively and with great marvel he●rd their Embassage, willing to reconcile himself to Aegisthus, and to show him how greatly he esteemed his labour: although love and fancy forbade him to hurt Fawnia, yet in despite of love he determined to execute Aegisthus will without mercy, and therefore he presently sent for Dorastus out of prison, who marveling at this unlooked for courtesy, found at his coming to the King's presence, that which he least doubted of, his father's Embassadours● who no sooner saw him, but with great reverence they honoured him: and Pandosto embracing Dorastus, set him by him very lovingly in a chair of estate. Dorastus ashamed that his folly was bewrayed, sat a long time as one in a muse, till Pandosto told him the sum of his Father's embassage, which he had no sooner heard, but he was touched at the quick, for the cruel sentence that was pronounced against Fawnia: but neither could his sorrow nor persuasions prevail, for Pandosto commanded that Fawnia, Porrus, and Capnio, should be brought to his presence: who were no sooner come, but Pandosto having his former love turned to a disdainful hate, began to rage against Fawnia in these terms.  
THou disdainful vassal, thou currish kite, assigned by the destinies to base fortune, and yet with an aspiring mind gazing after honour: how durst thou presume, being a beggar, to match with a Prince: By thy alluring looks to enchant the son of a King, to leave his own country to fulfil thy disordinate lusts. O despiteful mind, a proud heart in a beggar is not unlike to a great fire in a small cottage, which warmeth not the house, but burneth it: assure thyself thou shalt die, and thou old doting fool, whose folly hath been such, as to suffer thy daughter to reach above thy fortune: look for no other meed, but the like punishment. But Capnio, thou which hast betrayed the King, and hast consented to the unlawful lust of thy Lord and master, I know not how justly I may plague thee: death is too easy a punishment for thy falsehood, and to live (if not in extreme misery) were not to show thee equity. I therefore award that thou shall have thine eyes put out, and continually while thou diest, grind in a mil like a brute beast. The fear of death ●rought a sorrowful silence upon Fawnia and Capnio, but Porrus seeing no hope of life, burst forth into these speeches.  
PAndosto, and ye noble Emabassadours of Sicilian, seeing without cause I am condemned to die: I am yet glad I have opportunity to disburden my conscience before my death: I will tell you as much as I know, and yet no more than is true: whereas I am accused that I have been a supporter of fawnia's pride, and she disdained as a wild beggar, so it is, that I am neither Father unto her, nor she daughter unto me.  
For so it happened that I being a poor shepherd in Sicilia, living by keeping others men's flocks: one of my sheep straying down to the sea side, as I went to seek her, I saw a little boat driven upon the shore, wherein I found a babe of six days old, wrapped in a mantle of scarlet, having about the neck this chain●: I pitying the child, and desirous of the treasure, carried it home to my wife, who with great care nursed it up, and set it to keep sheep. Hear is the chain and the jewels, and this Fawnia is the child whom I found in the boat, what she is, or of what parentage I know not, b●●t this I am assured that she is none of mine.  
Pandosto would scarce suffer him to tell out his tale, but that he inquired the time of the year, the manner of the boat, and other circumstances, which when he found agreeing to his count, he suddenly leapt from his seat, and kissed Fawnia, wetting her tender cheeks with his tears, and crying my daughter Fawnia, ah swtete Fawnia, I am thy Father, Fawnia. This sudden passion of the King drove them all into a maze, especially Fawnia and Dorastus. But when the King had breathed himself a while in this new joy, he rehearsed before the Ambassadors the whole matter, how he had entreated his wife Bellaria for jealousy, and that this was the child whom he sent to float in the seas.  
Fawnia was not more joyful that she had found such a Father, than Dorastus was glad he should get such a wife. The Ambassadors rejoiced that their young prince had made such a choice, that those Kingdoms which through enmity had long time been dissevered, should now through perpetual amity be united and reconciled. The Citizens and subjects of Bohemia (hearing that the King had found again his Daughter, which was supposed dead, joyful that there was an heir apparent to his Kingdom) made Bonstres and shows throughout the City: The Courtiers and Knights appointed justs and tourneys, to signify their willing minds in gratifying the King's hap.  
Eighteen days being passed in these princely sports, Pandosto willing to recompense old Porrus, of a shepherd made him a Knight: which done, providing a sufficient Navy to receive him and his retinue, accompanied with Dorastus, Fawnia, and the Sicilian Ambassadors, he sailed towards Sicilia, where he was most princely entertained by Aegisthus: who hearing this comical event, rejoiced greatly at his sons good hap, and without delay (to the perpetual joy of the two young Lovers) celebrated the marriage: which was no sooner ended, but Pandosto (calling to mind how first he betrayed his friend Aegisthus, how his jealousy was the cause of Bellarias' death, that contrary to the law of nature he had lusted after his own Daughter) moved with these desperate thoughts, he fell in a melancholy fit, and to close up the Comedy with a Tragical stratagem, he slew himself, whose death being many days bewailed of Fawnia, Dorastus, and his dear friend Aegisthus, Dorastus taking his leave of his father, went with his wife and the dead corpse into Bohemia, wh●● after they were sumptuously ●●●●●●bed, Dorastus ended his days in contented quiet.  
FINIS.