PHILOMELA. THE LADY FITZWAters Nightingale.  
By Robert Greene..  
Vtriusque Academiae in Artibus magister.  
Serosed serio.  
Imprinted at London by R. B for Edward White, and are to be sold at the little North door of Paul's. 1592.   

To the right honourable the Lady Bridget Ratliffe, Lady Fitzwaters: Robert green, wisheth increase of honour and virtue.  
RIght beautiful and bountiful Lady, finding myself humbly devoted to the Right honourable the Lord Fitzwaters your husband, not only that I am borne his, but also for the gracious acceptance of a small Pamphlet written by an other, and presented to him by me, I endeavoured any way and every way that I might, to discover my affectionate duty to him by some scoller-like labours that I began to toss over the first fruits of my wits wrapped up as scholars treasures be, in lose papers that I might sift out some thing worthy his honour, but finding all worthless of his Lordship, at last I lighted upon this fiction of Venetian Philomela which I had written long since & kept charily being penned at the request of a Countess in this land to approve women's chastity, assoon as I had red it over and reduced it into form licking it a little as the bears do their whelps to bring them to perfection, I have resolved to make good my duty to his Lordship in doing homage with my simple labours to your Ladyship knowing service done to the wife is gratefied in the husband) whereupon I presume to present the dedication of chaste Philomela to your honour and to christian it in your ladyships name, calling it the Lady Fitzwaters nightingale as if I should insinuate a comparison twixt you and him of equal and honourable virtues. Imitating herein Master Abraham France, who titled the Lamentations of Amintas under the name of the Countess of Pembroke's ivy Church: for herein your Ladyship had far more perfections than years & more inward excellence then extern beauty, yet so beautiful as few so fair though none more virtuous, I thought the legand of an honourable and chaste Lady. Would be grateful to your honour whose mind is wholly delighted in chaste thoughts, keeping herein a perfect decorum to appropriate the nature of the gift to the content of the person. For such as offer incense to Venus burn myrrh mixed with Eringion. Those that glory Pallas give her a shield: Diane's present a bow: witty poems are fit for wise heads and examples of honour for such as triumph in virtue so that seeing there hath few led more chaste than an Italian Philomela I thought none only more fit to patronyse her honours then your Ladyship whose chastity is as far spread as you are either known or spoken of, if then my well meaning may not be misconstrued but my presumption pardoned and my labours favered with your gracious acceptation I have what I aimed at and what I expected, in the hope of which courtesy setting down my rest I humbly take my leave.  
Your Ladyshipps in all dutiful service Robart Greene..   

TO THE GENTLEMEN REAders, Health.  
IF the contents of lines could at life discover the collar of the face, you should gentlemen see my ruddy cheeks manifest my open follies, but seeing paper cannot blush, I will confese my fault & so humbly crave pardon I promised gentlemen, both in my Mourning Garment & Farewell to Follies never to busy myself about any wanton pamphlets again, nor to have my brain counted so addle as to set out any matter that were amorous, but yet am I come contrary to vow and promise once again to the press with a labour of love which I hatched long ago, though now brought fourth to light. If the printer had not been I would have had it thrust out as an orphan without any name to father it: but at his earnest entreaty I was content to subscribe, though I abide your hard censures and angry frowns for a penance. Therefore sith the work was writ afore my vow and published upon duty to so honourable and beautiful a Lady: I humbly sue for favour, and crave that you will bear with this fault, and hold me every way excused: which courtesy if you grant me I have more than I deserve, and as much as my desire every way can wish, and so farewell.  
Yours, Robert Greene..   

The Lady Fitzwater Nightingale.  
THere dwelled in the City of Venice near the Rialto, an Earl of great excellence, both for the descent of his parentage, and largeness of his patrimony, called Il Conte Phillippo Medico, a gentleman every way, not only by birth: as being by the mother's side of the Aemilii, but every way furnished with civil virtues for peace, and martial valour for the wars as politic at home as resolute abroad: reverenst of all, not for his grey hears for he was young, but for his many virtues wherein he overwent men of age. This Conte Philippo had by the favour of Fortune and his own foresight, linked himself to a yoonge Gentlewoman in marriage called Phylomela Celii, at that time the wonder of Venice, not for her beauty, though Italy afforded none so fair, nor for her dowry, though she were the only daughter of the Duke of Milan: but for the admirable honours of her mind, which were so many and matchless, that virtue seemed to have planted there the paradise of her perfections: her age exceeded not xvii. yet appeared there such a symmetry of more than womanly excellence in every action of this Venetian paragon that Italy held her life as an instance of all commendable qualities: she was modest without sullenness, and silent not as a fool, but because she would not be counted a blab: chaste, and yet not coy, for the poorest of all held her courteous: though she was young, yet she desired neither to gad nor to gaze nor to have her beauty made common to every bad companions eye, the vale she used for her face was the covert of her own house: for she never would go abroad but in the company of her husband, and then with such bashfulness, that she seemed to hold herself faulty in stepping beyond the shadow of her own mansion: thus was Philomela famous for her exquisite virtues, and Philippo fortunate for enjoying so virtuous a paramour. But as there is no Antidote so precious but being tempered with Antimony is infectious: nor no heart so sovereign good, but art can make simply ill, so Philippo was not so commendable for some good parts, as afterwards bad thought of for some unworthy qualities. For though he had a wife every way answerable to his own wish, both fair to please his eye, and honest to content his humour, yet in seeking to quittance these virtues with love, he so overloved her, that he plague her more with iélousy then recompensed her with affection, insomuch that with a deep insight entering into the consideration of her beauty and her youth, he began to suspect that such as frequented his house for traffic (for the greatest men in Venice used merchandise) were rather drawn thither by a desire to see his wife then for the special use of any other his commodities. Feeding upon this passion that gnaweth like envy upon her own flesh, he called to mind to which of his friends she showed the most gracious looks, upon whom she glanced the most smiling favours, whose carver she would be at the table, to whom she would drink, and who had most courteous entertainment at her hands, these men he did both suspect and envy, as those to whom he thought his wife for those granted savours most affectionate. Yet when he called to mind her chaste virtues, and did ruminate the particularities of his loves toward himself, he suppressed the suspicious flame of jealousy with the assured proofs of her invinsyble chastity, hammering these betwixt fear and hope he built castles in the air and reached beyond the moon: one while swearing all women were false and inconstant, and then again protesting if all were so, yet not all because Philomela was not so: In this jealous quandary he used to himself this acquaint discourse. If love be a blessing Philippo as yet proves in the ends most bitter, how blessed are they that never make trial of so sour a sweet, a child stung with a be will fly from the hunnicombe, such as are bitten with vipers, will fear to sleep on the grass: but men touched with the inconvenience of fancy, hunt with sighs to enrich themselves with that passion: what conquest have such as win fair women? Even the like victory that Alexander had in subduing the Scythians reconciled friends, who the more they flattered him the more he mistrusted. Beauty is like the herb Larix, cool in the water but hot in the stomach: precious while it is a blossom, but prejudicial grown to a fruit: a iem not to be valued if set in virtue, but disgraced with a bad foil like a ring of gold in a swine's snout: yet what comfort is there in life if man had no solace: but man, women are sweet helps and those kind creatures that god made to perfect up men's excellence. Truth Philippo they be wonders of nature, if they wrong not nature: and admirable angels if they would not be drawn with augels to become devils. Oh flatter not thyself in flattering them for where they find submission, there they proclaim contempt: and if thou makest them thy mate, they will give thee such a checkmate that happily thou shalt live by the loss all thy life after: what needs this invective humour against women, when thou hast such a wife as every way is absolute both for beauty and virtue? let such as have been stung with the scorpion be warned, speak then as thou findest, and then thou wilt say that women are creatures as excellent in mind, as they be singular in complexion: as far beyond men in inward virtues, as they exceed men in exterior beauties I grant all this, yet Philippo the juice of the Heleborins is poison, the gréener the Alexander leaves be, the more bitter is the sap, every outward appearance is not an authentical instance, women have chaste eyes when they have wanton thoughts, and modest looks when they harbour lascivious wishes: the Eagle when he soareth nearest to the son, than he hovers for his prey, the Salamander is most warm when he lieth furthest from the fire, and then are women most harthollowe when they are most lip-holie, and by these premises, Philippo, argue of thy wives preciseness, for though she seem chaste, yet may she secretly delight in change, and though her countenance be coy to all, yet her conscience may be courteous to some one, when the son shines most garish it foreshows a shower, when the birds sing early, there is a storm before night, women's flatteries are no more to be trusted than Astronomers Almanacs, that proclaimeth that for a most fair day that proves most cloudy, and so of Philomela. As thus the County Philippo was jarring with himself about this humour of jealousy, there came to him while he sat (for all this while he was in an Arbour in his Garden) a familiar friend of his called Signior Giovanni Lutesio, so private unto the Earl in all his secret affairs, that he concealed nothing from him which came within the compass of his thoughts, this Signior Giovanni seeing the County in a brown study, wakened him of his muse with a merry greeting, and bad a penny for his thought: the Earl seeing his second self, his only repository of his private passions, entertained him very courteously, and after some familiar speeches used betwixt them, Giovan began to question what the cause was of that melancholy dump that he found him in: the Earl fetching a great sigh, taking Lutesio by the hand, setting him down by him, began to rehearse from point to point what a jealous suspicion he had of his wives beauty, and that for all the show of her honesty, he somewhat doubted of her chastity. Giovanni who with a reverent love favoured the Countess, began somewhat sharply to reprove the Earl, that he should admit of so foolish a passion as jealousy, and misconstrue of her whose virtuous life was so famous through all Venice: As suspicious heads want not sophistry to supply their mistrust, so Philip at that time was not barren of arguments to prove the subtlety of women, their inconstancy, how they were faced like janus, having one full of furrows, the other of smiles, swearing he should never be merry at his heart, till he had made an assured proof of her chastity, and with that he broke with Signior Giovanni Lutesio, that he should be the man to make experience of her honesty, although the Gentleman were very unwilling to take such a task in hand, doubting least in dallying with the flame, he might burn his fingar, and so injury his friend, yet at the importunate entreaty of Philippo, he promised to undertake the matter, and by all means possible to assault the invincible Fort of her chastity, protesting that if he found her pliant to listen to his passions, he would make it manifest to him without dissembling, Philippo glad of this, to grant Giovanni opportunity to court his wife, would be more often abroad, and that he might drive her the sooner to listen unto his suit, he used not that wonted love and familiarity that he was accustomed to do, but quitted all her dutiful favours with uncouth and disdainful frowns, so that poor Philomela who knew nothing of this compacted treachery, began to wonder what had altered her husband's wonted humour, and like a good wife she began to examine her own conscience, wherein she had given him any occasion of offence, feeling herself guiltless (unless his own conceit deceived him) she imagined that her husband affected some other Lady more than herself, which imagination she concealed with patience, and resolved not by revealing it, to retrieve him from his new entertained fancy, but with obedience, love, and silence, to recover her Philippo to savour none but his Philomela. While thus her mind a little suspicious began to waver, Lutefio began to lay his baits to betray this silly innocent. Now you must imagine he was a young Gentleman of a good house, of no mean wealth, nor any way made infortunate by nature, for he was counted the most fine and courtly Gentleman in all Venice. This Lutesio therefore seeking fit opportunity to find Madam Philomela in a merry vain (for Time is called that Cappillata Ministra, that favours Lovers in their fortunes) watched so narrowly, that he found the Countess sitting all alone in her Garden, playing upon a Lute many pretty roundelays, Borginets, Madrigals, and such pleasant Lessons, all as it were amorous love vowed in honour of Venus, singing to her Lute many pretty and merry ditties, some of her own composing, and some written by some witty Gentlemen of Venice, thinking now time had smiled upon him by putting her in such an humorous vein. At last he heard her warble out this pleasant Ode.  

philomela's Ode that she sung in her Arbour.  
SItting by a river side,  
Where a silent stream did glide.  
Muse I did of many things,  
That the mind in quiet brings.  
I 'gan think how some men deem,  
Gold their god, and some esteem  
Honour is the chief content,  
That to man in life is lent.  
And some others do contend,  
Quiet none like to a friend.  
Others hold there is no wealth  
Compared to a perfect health.  
Some man's mind in quiet stands,  
When he is Lord of many lands.  
But I did sigh, and said all this  
Was but a shade of perfect bliss.  
And in my thoughts I did approve,  
Nought so sweet as is true love.  
Love twixt Lovers passeth these,  
When mouth kisseth and heart grease.  
With folded arms and lips meeting,  
Each soul another sweetly greeting.  
For by the breath the soul fleeteth,  
And soul with soul in kissing meeteth.  
If Love be so sweet a thing,  
That such happy bliss doth bring,  
Happy is loves sugared thrall,  
But unhappy maidens all.  
Who esteem your Virgin's blisses,  
Sweeter than a wives sweet kisses.  
No such quiet to the mind,  
As true love with kisses kind.  
But if a kiss prove unchaste,  
Then is true love quite disgraced,  
Though love be sweet, learn this of me,  
No Love sweet but honesty.   
As soon as Philomela had ended her Ode, signor Lutesio stepped to her and half marred her melody with this unlooked for motion: I am glad Madam to find you so full of glee, women's minds set on mirth, shows their thoughts are at quiet, when Birds sing early there hath been a sweet dew, so your mornings Anthem shows your nights content, the subject of your song, and the censure of my thoughts argue upon conclusion, for lykelye it is you have found kissing sweet that so highly commend it, but as the old proverb is, such laugh as win, and such as en●s favours may afford her incense, love is precious to such as possess their love, but there is no hell if love be not hell to such as dare not express their passions. Philomela seeing Lutesio took her napping in singing so merry an Ode showed in the blush of her cheeks the vashfulnesse of her thoughts, yet knowing he was her husband's familiar she cared the less, and smiling made him this pleasant answer. signor Lutesio as I relished a wanton song at random, so I little looked your ears should have been troubled with my music, but since you are a hearer of my hoarse ditty, take it as you find it and construe of it as you please, I know mine own meaning best. In that I commend kissing, it argues me the more kind and my husband the more loving in that I find lip love so sweet, women may be wantoness in their husbands, yet not immodest: & wives are allowed to sport so their dallying be not dishonest: yet had I known you had been so nigh, I would have been more silent, and at this word she blushed again, discovering by her looks it grieved her any man (though never so familiar) should hear her so extraordinary pleasant: but to find fish in signor Lutesios' fingers because he glanced at disdain in love she followed her reply thus: yet since sir what is passed cannot be recalled, I will overstep the conceit of mine own folly, and be so bold as to have you under confession. What is the reason Lutesio you diversly descant of the fruition of love, hath that divine passion crept into your brains? Giovanni hearing her harp on that string strained it a pin higher thus. Divine passion call you it Madam, nay rather a fury fetched from hell, a madness brewed in the bosom of Tisiphone, an unbridled desire, a restless agony, a continual anguish, thus do I value love, because my life is at an end by the wrongs of love: such as are poisoned with rugwort count it fatal yet such as have the pleurisy drink it in potions the Mercurial Moti was very much commended of Ulysses though condemned of Cyres: men's poems follow their passions, and they conclude as they are contented: then Madam if all the world say love is a Heaven, yet must I say desire is a hell: not that the beauteous saint, whom mnie eye doth worship, and my heart doth honour, hath quitted my affection with disdain: but that in not daring discover my passions, I am put to a triple tormenting penance. At this he fetched such a feigned fie, that simple meaning Philomela imagined the Gentleman was full of sorrow, and therefore began to comfort him thus. Why signor Lutesio have you soared so high, that you doubt the scorching of your feathers? hath your desires taken flight so far above your degree, that you fear a fall? is the Lady whom you love so great of birth, that you dare not be your own broker? Love Lutesio if honest, is lawful and may reap disdain, but not disgrace. Desire is the daughter of destiny, and the sympathy of affections is forepointed by the stars: Woman's eyes are not tied to high personages, but to exquisite perfections: and the greater oft times they be in degrees, the lower they prove in loves: be she then Lutesio, the stateliest, the richest, the fairest in all Italy, fear not to court her: for happily she may grant, and she at the worst can but say no: When I entered into thy wont humours, how honestly wanton thou hast been amongst women of high account: when I think of thy wealth, of thy virtues, of thy parentage, of thy person: I flatter not Lutesio, for in my opinion a frump amongst friends is petty treason in effect, I cannot but wonder what she is that Lutesio dares not tell he loves, if without offence I may crave it, tell me her name, that I may censure of her qualities: Lutesio with a face full of discontent, made her this answer: Madam as I dare not discourse my loves, so I will not discover her name: I regard her honour as my life, and therefore only suffice it, I am as far unworthy of her as she is beyond my reach to compass. Philomela who strait found the knot in the rush, began to imagine that it was some married wife that Lutesio aimed at: and therefore charged him by the love that he bore to Philippo Medico, that he would tell her whether it was a wife or a maid that he thus earnestly affected. Lutesio briefly told her that she was not only a wife, but maid to one whom she almost as tenderly loved as he did the Earl her husband: A Lady of honour and virtue, yet a woman, and therefore he hoped might be won if his heart would serve him to be a wooer. Philomela hearing this, began to find a knot in the rush, and to deem that it was some familiar of his that he was affected to: and therefore with a gentle frown, as if she loved him, and yet misliked of his fondness in fancy, taking him by the hand, she began thus to school him.  
Lutesio, now I see the strongest Oak hath his say, and his worms: that Ravens will breed in the fairest Ash, and that the musked Angelica bears a dew, that shining like pearl, being tasted is most prejudicial: that the holiest men in show are oft the hollowest men in substance, and where there is the greatest flourish of virtue, there in time appeareth the greatest blemish of vanity. I speak this by all, but apply it to them who seeming every way absolute, will prove every way dissolute. Hath not Venice held thee more famous for thy good parts than for thy parentage? and yet well borne, and valued the more for living well than wealthily: and yet thy patrimony is not small. Oh Lutesio darken not these honours with dishonesty, nor for the foolish and fading passion of lust, reach not at an everlasting pennance of infamy. As I mislike of thy choice, so I can but wonder at thy change to see thee altered in manners, that wert erst so modest, who was esteemed amongst Ladies for his civil conceits as Lutesio? thou wert wished for amongst the chastest for thy choice qualities, amongst youth for thy wit, amongst age for thy honest behaviour, desired of all because offensive to none: and now if thou prosecute this bad purpose, intent this base love, to violate the honour of a Venetian Lady, look to be hated of all that are virtuous because thou art grown so suddenly vicious, and to be banished out of the company of all that are honest because thou seekest to make one dishohonest: then as thou lovest thy fame leave off this love, and as thou valuest thine honour, so vale the appetite of thy dishonest thoughts. Besides Lutesio enter into the consideration of the fault, and by that measure what will be the sequel of thy folly: thou attemptest to dishonour a wife, nay the wife of thy friend: in doing this thou shalt lose a sweet companion, and purchase thyself a fatal enemy: thou shalt displease God and grow odious to men: hazard the hope of thy grace, and assure thyself of the reward of sin, adultery: Lutesio is commended in none, condemned in all, and punished in the end either with this worlds infamy or heavens anger: it is a desire without regard of honesty, and a gain with greater reward of misery: a pleasure bought with pain, a delight hatched with disquiet, a content possessed with fear, and a sin finished with sorrow. Barbarous nations punish it with death: mere Atheists in Religion avoid it by instinct of nature, such as glory God with no honour, covet to glorify themselves with honesty, and wilt thou that art a Christian than crucify Christ anew, by making the harbour of thy soul the habitation of Satan? Oh Lutesio as thou blushest at my words, so banish thy bad thoughts, and being created by God, seek not to despise thy creator in abusing his creatures: A woman's honesty is her honour, and her honour the chiefest essence of her life: then in seeking to blemish her virtues with lust, thou aimest at no less disgrace than her death: and yet Lutesio this is not all, for in winning her love, thou losest a friend: than which, there is nothing more precious, as there is nothing more rare: as Corruptio unius est generatio alterius: so the loss of a friend is the purchase of an enemy and such a mortal foe as will apply all his wits to thy wracks, intrude all his thoughts to thy ruin, and pass away his days, cares, and nights slumbers, in dreaming of thy destruction. For if brute beasts will revenge such brutish wrongs as adultery, then imagine no man to be so patiented, that will overpass so gross an injury: assure thyself of this Lutesio, if her husband hear of your loves, he will aim at your lives: he will leave no confection untempered, no poison unsearched, no mineral untried, no Aconiton unbruised, no herb, tree, root, stone, simple or secret unsought, till revenge hath satisfied the burning thirst of his hate: so shalt thou fear with whom to drink, with whom to converse, when to walk, how to perform thy affairs, only for doubt of her revenging husband, and thy protested enemy. If such unlawull lust, such unkind desires, such unchaste love procure so great loss, and so many perils revert it Lutesio as a passion most pernicious, as a shine most odious, and a gain most full of deadly sorrows. Though this he much Lutesio, yet this is not all: for many love that are never liked, and every one that woes is not a winner: divers desire with hope, and yet their wishes are to small effect: suppose the Lady whom thou lovest is honest: then is thy love as unlikely as Ixion's was to juno: who aiming at the substance was made a fool with a shadow. I tell thee it is more easy to cut a Diamond with a glass, to pierce steel with a feather, to tie an Elephant with a thread of silk, than to alienate an honest woman's love from her husband, their hearts be harbours of one love, closerts of one contents, Cells, whereinto no amorous Idea but one can enter, as hard to be pierced with new fangled affection as the Adamant to be made soft with fire. A Lady Lutesio that regardeth her honour will die with Lucrece before she agree to lust, she will eat coals with Portia before she prone unchaste, she will think every misery sweet, every mishap content, before she condescend to the allurements of any wanton lecher. Imagine then her who thou lovest to be such a one: then will it qualify thy hope, cool thy desires, and quench those unbridled thoughts that leads thee on to such follies: for if she be a wanton, what dost thou win her that many hath worn, and more than thyself may vanquish? a light housewife and a lewd minion, that after she hath yielded the flower of her love Theseus will marry with Menelaus, and then run away with Paris: amorous to every one because she is humorous to all: Then Lutesio seeing, if thou likest an honest Lady, thy love is past hope: and if thou woo'st a wanton, thou shalt gain but what others have left: leave both and become as hitherto thou hast been an honest gentleman in all men's opinions, so shalt thou live well thought of, and die honourably: and with that, smiling she asked him, if she had not played the preacher well. But Lutesio wondering at her virtues, made no answer he was so amazed: but rested silent, which Philomela perceiving, to waken him out of his dump, she took again her Lute in her hand, and began to sing this following Oade.  

Philomeloes' second Oade.  
IT was frosty winter's season,  
And faire-floras' wealth was geason:  
Meads that erst with green were spread,  
With choice flowers diapered:  
Had tawny vales: Cold had scanted,  
What the Springs and Nature planted:  
Leavelesse bows there might you see,  
All except fair Daphne's tree,  
On their twigs no birds parched,  
Warmer coverts none they searched:  
And by Nature's secret reason;  
Framed their voices to the season:  
With their feeble tunes bewraying,  
How they grieved the springs decaying:  
Frosty Winter thus had gloomed,  
Each fair thing that summer bloomed,  
Fields were bare and trees unclad,  
Flowers withered, birds were had:  
When I saw a shepherd fold,  
Sheep in Coat to shun the cold:  
Himself sitting on the grass,  
That with frost withered was.  
Sighing deeply thus 'gan say,  
Love is folly when a stray:  
Like to love no passion such,  
For his madness if too much:  
If too little, than despair:  
If too high, he beats the air:  
With bootless, if too low:  
An Eagle matcheth with a Crow.  
Thence grows jars thus I find,  
Love is folly if unkind:  
Yet do men most desire,  
To be heated with this fire:  
Whose flame is so pleasing hot,  
That they burn, yet feel it now  
Yet hath love another kind,  
Worse than these unto the mind:  
That is when a wantoness eye,  
leads desire cleade awry.  
And with the Bee doth rejoice,  
Every minute to change choice,  
Counting he were then in bliss,  
If that each fair fall were his:  
Highly thus in love disgraced  
When the lover is unchaste:  
And would taste of fruit forbidden,  
cause the escape is easily hidden.  
Though such love be sweet in brewing,  
Bitter is the end ensuing:  
For the humour of love he shameth,  
And himself with lust defameth:  
For a minute's pleasure gaining,  
Fame and honour ever staining.  
Gazing thus so far awry,  
Last the chip falls in his eye,  
Than it burns that erst but heat him,  
And his own rod 'gins to beat him:  
His choyccst sweets turns to gall,  
He finds lust is fins thrall:  
That wanton women in their eyes,  
men's deceive do comprise.  
That homage done to fair faces,  
Doth dishonour other graces:  
If lawless love be such a sin,  
Cursed is he that lives therein:  
For the gain of Venus' game,  
Is the downfall unto shame:  
Here he pausd and did stay,  
Sighed and rose, and went away.   
Assoon as Philomela had ended her Oade, she smiled on Lutesio and said, hoping then that this private conference shallbe a conclusion of your passions, and a final resolution to reverse your thoughts from this disordinat folly of love: I will at this time cease to speak any more, because I hope you will rest from your motion's, and so taking him by the hand, she led him into the parlour, where amongst other company they passed away the day in pleasant chat, till that Lutesio found convenient opportunity to discover to Philippo the resolution of his wife, who thought every minute a month till he had heard what answer she had made to Lutesio. At last they went both together walking into a garden that adjoined to the house of Philippo: and there Lutesio who revealed from point to point what he had motioned a far off to Philomela, and how honourably and honestly she replied, rehearsing what a cooling card of good counsel shèe gave him, able to have quailed the hottest stomach, or quenched the most eager flame that fancy could fire the mind of man withal: entering into a large and high commendation of the chastity, wisdom, and general virtues of Philomela, averring that he thought there was not a woman of more absolute qualities nor honourable disposition in all Italy, Philippo the more he drunk the more he thirsted, and the more he was persuaded to trust in her honesty, the more he was suspicious, and doubted of her virtue: for he replied still in his jealous humour that women's words were no warrants of their truth, that as the Onyx is inwardly most cold, when it is outwardly most hot: so women's words are like the cries of Lapwings, farthest from their thoughts, as they are from their nests: they proclaim silence with their tongues, modesty with their eyes, chastity with their actions, when in their hearts they are plotting how to grant an amorous pleasure to their lovers: Tush says Philippo, women's tongues are tipped with deceit: they can sing with the Nightingale, though they have a prick at their breasts: they can lend him a cherry lip whom they hearty loath, and fawn upon her husband's neck when she gives her lover a wink: Though my wife hath made a fair show of virtue, it is no authentical proof of her honesty, either she mistrusted or misdoubted of your sorcery, or else she would seem hard in the winning, that her chastity might be holden the more chary for be she never so wanton she will seem modest, and the most common Courtesan will to a novice seems the most coy matron: they have their countenance at command, their words at will, their oaths at pleasure, and all to shadow their 'scapes with the masks of virtue Rhodope seemed coy to Psanneticus, else had a courtesan never conquered a king. Hermia chaste to Aristotle, else had she not bewitched a Philosopher, Plato's overworn trull true to him, else had she not been mistress of his thoughts. I tell thee Lutesio they have more wiles than the sun hath beams to betray the simple meaning of besotted lovers. Therefore though she uttered a legend of good lessons believe her not. Though the Hare take squat she is not lost at the first default, apply thy wits, try her by letters, writ passionately and here her answer, and assure thyself if thou cunningly cast forth the lure she will soon be reclaimed to the aft. Thus importunate was Philippo upon his friend Lutesio, that at the last he craved licence to departed for a while, leaving philippo meditating of his melancholy while he went into his chamber, where taking pen and paper he wrote philomela this cunning letter.  
Lutesio to the fairest Philomela, wisheth what he wants himself.  
IT is no wonder philomela if men's minds be subject to love, when their eyes are the instruments of desire, nor is any blame worthy for affecting, when as the sight of man is a sense that viewing every thing must of force allow of some thing, I speak not sweet lady philosophically as a scholar but stiffly as a lover, whose eyes hath been so lavish in over high looks, that either they must have their longing or else I die through their overliking: for as too sweet perfumes makes the sense to surfeit, and the most bright colours soon blemish the sight, so I in gazing on the choice perfections of beauty, have dazzled mine eyes and fired my heart with desire, that none but the fruition of that blessed object, can save me from being loves cursed abject. Now Madam, the rare Idea that thus through the applause of mine eye hath bewitched my heart is the beauteous image of your sweet self. Pardon me if I presume, when the extremity of love pricks me forward. Faults that grow by affection ought to be forgiven, because they come of constraint: then Madam read with favour, and censure with mercy, for so long I dallied with the fly about the candle, that I began to feel over much heat, would breed my harm, I have played so long with the Mynew at the bait that I am stricken with the hook: I have viewed your beauty with such delight, and considered of your virtues with such desire, that in your gracious looks lies the only hope of my life. Ah Philomela were not my love extreme, my passions passing all measure, my affection to full of anguish: I would have concealed my thoughts with silence, and have smothered my griefs with patience: but either I must live by revealing it, or die by repressing it: I fear thou wilt hear object Philippo is my friend, and then I am of little faith to proffer him this wrong, I confess this is a truth and were worthy of blame, were I not bewitched by love, who neither admitteth exceptions of faith or friendship, if it be a passion that controlleth the Gods, no wonder at all if it conquer and command men. If sons disobey their Fathers to have their desires, it is more tolerable to crack friendship for the conquest of love. Why then did Nature frame beauty to be so excellent, if she had tied the winning of it within exceptions. If that a friend may fault with his friend for a kingdom, no doubt faith may be broken for love, that is a great deal more puissant than Kings and much more precious than Diadems: chief if that the party be chary to have regard of his mistress honour, what the eye sees not Phylomela never hurteth the heart, a secret love impeacheth not chastity. juno never frowned when jupiter made his escape in a Cloud. Private pleasures have never enjoined unto them any penance, and she is always counted chaste enough that is chary enough: then Madam let him not die for love, whom if you please you may bless with love.  
It may be you will reply, that Philippo is a Conte and a great deal my superior and the supreme of your heart, therefore not to be wronged with an arrival. Consider Madam kings do brook many unknown 'scapes: Love will play the wanton amongst the greatest Lords: Women are not made such chaste nuns, but they may let much water slip by the Mill that the Miller knoweth not of: They may love their husband with one of their eyes, and favour a friend with the other. Since than Madam I have been stung with the Scorpion, and cannot be helped or healed by none but by the Scorpion: that I am wounded with Achilles' lance and I must be healed with his Truncheon: that I am entangled and snared in your beauty, and must be set at liberty only by your love. Look upon my passions and pity them, let me not die for desiring your sweet self but rather grant me favour, and enjoy such a lover, as will prize your honour before his life, and at all times be yours in all dutiful service whilst he lives: expecting such an answer as is agreeing to such divine beauty, which cannot be cruel or according unto my destiny, which be it sinister willbe my death, farewell.  
Yours ever though never yours, Geovanni Lutesio.  
Having finished his letter thus perfectly, he remembered himself, and although philippo stayed for him in the garden, yet he stepped once again to his standish and wrote under this following sonnet:  

Natura Nihil frustra.  

On women Nature did bestow two eyes  
Like Hemians bright lamps in matchless beauty shining,  
Whose beams do soon captivate the wise  
And wary heads made rare by Arts refining.  
But why did Nature in her choice combining  
Plant two fair eyes within a beauteous face?  
That they might favour two with equal grace.   

Venus did sooth up Vulcan with one eye  
With tother granted Mars his wished glee,  
If she did so whom Heimens did defy  
Think love no sin but grant an eye to me,  
In vain else Nature gave two stars to thee:  
If then two eyes may well two friends maintain,  
Allow of two, and prove not Nature vain.  
Natura repugnare belluinum.    
After he had ended this Sonnet he went and showed them to Signyor Philippo, who liked well of his passionate humour, and desired nothing more than to hear what answer his wife would make to these amorous poems: therefore that he might grant Lutesio the fit opportunity to deliver them, he took a skiff and went with sundry other Gentlemen his familiars to solace himself upon the waters. In the mean while Lutesio who was left alone by himself, began to enter into the least disposition of a jealous man that would hazard the honour of his wife to content his own suspicious humour: and whet on a friend to a feigned fancy which in time might grow to an unfeigned affection: so that smile to himself he began thus to murmur in his mind. Is not he worthy to find that seeks: and deserveth he not many blows that craves to be beaten? Sith Philippo will buy the Bucks head, is he not worthy to have the horns: and seeing he will needs have me court his wife in jest, were it not well if he might have the Cuckoo in earnest. Knows he not that frumps amongst friends grow at last to open anger: that pretty sport in love, end oftentimes in pretty bargains: that it is il jesting with edge tools: and of all cattle worst cavilling with fair women: for beauty is a bait that will not be dallied with. But I love him to well, and I honour the lady to much to motion such a thought in earnest: Though he be foolish, I know her too honest to grant love to the greatest Monarch of the world. While thus he was musing with himself, Philomela came into the Garden with two of her waiting women, who seeing Lutesio in a dump, thought he was devising of his new love: whereupon she stepped to him, and began to ask him if he proceeded in his purpose: I madame quoth he, if I mean to persever in life, and with that the water flood in his eyes, whether it was that he had an onion in his napkin to make him weep, or that he had sucked that special quality from his mother to let fall tears when he list I know not: but she perceiving he watered his plants, began somewhat to pitty his passions, and asked him if yet he had made the motion: No Madam quoth Lutesio, but here I have written her my mind, and please it you you shall be my secretary, both to read my letter and see her name, for I know you will conceal it, Philomela desirous to see what Lady it was Lutesio was in love withal, as Natura Mulierum Novitatis avida, took it very kindly at Lutesios' hands that he would participate his secrets unto her, and promised not only to be silent, but to yield her opinion of the hope of his success, so she took the letter and promised the next morning to give it him again, and so they fell into other chat talking of sundry matters, as their present occasions did minister, till at last Philomela with child to see the contents of the Letter, took her leave and went into her Closet, where unripping the seals, she found lines far unfitting to her expectation. As soon as she saw Lutesios' love was meant to her, she rend the paper in a thousand pieces, and exclaimed against him in most bitter terms, vowing her Lord should be revenged upon him for this intended villainy, or else he should refuse her for his wife, thus alone while she breathed out most hard invectives against him, yet at last that she might aggravate her husband's displeasure the more against him, she gathered up the pieces, and laying them together read them over, where perceiving his passions, and thinking them to grow from a mind full of fancy, having somewhat cooled her choler, she resolved not to tell her husband, lest if he should kill Lutesio she might be thought the occasion of the murder, and so bring her unblemished honour in question, and therefore she took paper and ink, and wrote him this sharp reply.  
Philomela to the most false Lutesio wisheth what he wants himself.  
IF thou woonderest what I wish thee Lutesio, enter into thine own want and thou shalt find. I desire thou mightest have more honour and less dishonesty, else a short life and a long repentance, I see now that Hemblocke wheresoever it be planted will be pestilent, that the serpent with the brightest scales shroudeth the most fatal venom, that the ruby whatsoever foil it hath will show red, that when nature hatcheth vicious, nurture will never make virtuous.  
Thou art like Lutesio, unto the Hyssop growing in America, that is liked of strangers for the smell, and hated of the Inhabitants for the operation, being as prejudicial in the one, as delightsome in the other: so thou in voice art holden honest, and therefore liked, but being once looked into and found lascivious, thou wilt grow into as great contempt with thy familiars, as now thou art honoured amongst strangers. haddest thou none answerable to thine appetite but Philomela? nor none to wrong but Philippo? canst thou wish me so much harm, or own him so little Friendship, I honouring thee so kindly, and he loving thee so déerelye, how canst thou love the wife, that betrayest the husband, or how shall I deem thou wilt prove constant in love, that art false in thy faith, and to such a friend who next myself counteth thee second in his secrets. Base man that harbours so bad a thought, ransack thy thoughts and rip up the end of thy attempt and then if that shame hath not utterly abandoned thee, thou wilt for fear of shame leave off thy lust, and grow into more grace.  
Tell me Lutesio, and if thou speakest not what thou knowest, I defy thee, wherein hast thou seen me so light, or have my gestures been so lewd, that thou shouldest gather hope to gain thy love, hath Venice suspected me for a wanton, hath Italy deemed me dissolute, have I granted unto thee or to any other extraordinary favours? have I been froward to my Lord, or by any wanton tricks showed the wrack of my chastity? if any of these blemishes have disgraced me, speak it, and I will call for grace and amend them but never a whit the more befriend them: for whereas I honourably thought of Lutesio, unless I find thine humour changed I will aim at thy dishonour, and proclaim thee an enemy to Lady's cause thou art a friend to lust. Ah Lutesio, I would sooner have deemed the seas should have become dry, the earth barren, and the sun without light, than thou wouldst have sought to violate the honesty of philomela, or blemish the honour of philippo: phillippos wealth is at thy will, his sword at thy command, his heart placed in thy bosom, he reserveth of all that he hath for thee, save only me to himself: and canst thou be so unkind to rob him of his only love that owes thee so much love, I judge the best & I hope that I imagine truth thou doest it but to try me: if it be so I brook it with the more patience, yet discontent thou shouldest trouble mine eyes with a wanton line: but if thy passionate humour be in earnest, it contents me not to deny thee but to defy thee, I proclaim myself enemy to thy life, as thou art envious of mine and my husbands honour. I will incense philippo to revenge with his sword what I cannot requite with words, and never live in quiet till I see thee die infamous traitor as thou art, unless thy grace be such to cease from thy treachery, come no more in my husbands house, lest thou look for a dagger in thy bosom: feed not at my table, lest thou quaff with Alexander thy fatal draft, to be brief: love not phylomela if thou mean to live, but look up to Heaven, become penitent for thy fond and foolish passions: let me see repentance in thine eyes, and remorse in thine actions: be as thou hast been a friend to phylippo, and a favourer of mine honour, and though thou hast deserved but meanly yet thou shalt be welcome heartily, and whatsoever is past, upon thy penitence I will pardon, and for this time conceal it from the knowledge of the Conty, otherwise set down thy rest we will not both live together in Italy. Farewell.  
Never thine, though she were not Philippoes', Philomela Media.  
Having ended her letter, she resolved to answer his sonnet as well to show her wit, as to choke his wantonness, and therefore she writ this poem.  

Quot Corda tot Amores.  

Nature foreseeing how men would devise,  
More wiles than Protheus, women to entice:  
Granted them two and those bright shining eyes,  
To pierce into man's faults if they were wise.  
For they with show of virtue mask their vice,  
Therefore to women's eyes belongs these gifts,  
The one must love, the other see men's shifts.   

Both these await upon one simple heart,  
And what they choose it hides up without change,  
The Emerald will not with his portrait part,  
Nor will a woman's thoughts delight to range.  
They hold it bad to have so base exchange.  
One heart, one friend, though that two eyes do chose him  
No more but one, and heart will never lose him.  
Cor unum Amor unus.    
Assoon as she had sealed up her letter she brooked no delay, but sent it strait by one of her waiting women to Lutesio, whom she found sitting alone in his chamber reading upon a book: Interrupting his study, she delivered him the letter, and the message of her Lady. Lutesio kind, gave the gentlewoman a kiss: for he thought she valued a lip favour more than a piece of gold, and with great courtesy gave her leave to departed: she was scarce out of the chamber but he opened the letter, and found what he expected, the resolution of a chaste Countess, too worthy of so jealous a husband, praising in himself the honourable mind of Philomela: he went abroad to find out Philippo, whom at last he met near unto the Arsonale walking together to Lutesios' house, there he showed Philippo his wife's letter, and did comment upon every line, commending greatly her chastity, and deeply condemning his suspicion: Tush says Philippo all this wind shakes no corn, Helena writ as sharply to Paris, yet she ran away with him. Try her once again Lutesio, and for my life thou shalt find calmer words, and sweeter lines: Lutesio with his eyes full of choler made him this answer. Philippo if thou be'st so sottish with Shafalus to betray thy wives honour perhaps with him, prove the first that repent, thy treachery: When the wild boar is not chafed, thou mayst chasten him with a wand, but being once endamaged with the dogs he is dismal. Women that are chaste while they are trusted, prove wantoness being suspected causeless: jealousy is a spur to revenge. Beware Philomela hear not of this practice lest she make thee eat with the blind man many a fly: Canst thou not Philippo content thyself that thy Lady is honest, but thou must plot the means to make her a harlot? If thou likest hunters fees so well, seek another wood man, for I will not play an apple-squire to feed thy humours. If Venice knew as much as I am privy to, they would hold thee worthy of that thou hast not, and her a fool if she gave thee not what thou seekest for: I am sorry I have wronged her virtues by so bad a motion: but henceforth Philippo hope never to get me in the like vain: and more if thou leavest not from being so vain, I will abandon thy company, and renounce thy friendship for ever. Philippo hearing his friend Lutesio so short, desired him to be content, patiented and silent, and he would raze out the suspicious conceit that haunted him, and for ever after grace his good wife with more love and honour: and with that Philippo and he walked to the Rialto: but Lutesio would not for that night go to the house of Philippo, lest his presence might be offensive to Philomela, and so drive him into some dampish choler. Philippo coming home was welcome to his Lady, and being somewhat late, they sat down lovingly to supper. The first course was no sooner come in, but Philippo said he marveled that all that day he had not seen Lutesio, this he spoke with his eyes on philomela's face, to see what countenance she would hold at his name, she little suspecting her husband had been privy to her new find lover, blushed and kept herself silent. Philippo took no knowledge of any thing but past it over smoothly, and used his former wonted familiarity to his wife. The next day going abroad, Lutesio came to his house and went not in as his custom was boldly, but walking in the hall asked one of the Earls Gentlemen if the Countess were stirring: he marveling at Lutesios' strangeness, smiled and said, sir what needs this question? my Lady is alone at her book, go up sir and help her in her Muses. I pray you quoth Lutesio go to the Countess, and tell her I am here, and would if her leisure served her gladly have a word with her: the Gentleman though he wondered at these uncouth words of Lutesio, yet he went up and told his Lady the message, who presently leaving her book and company, all to avoid out of the chamber, sent for him up: who no sooner came into her presence, but she saluted him with such a frown, that he stood as mortified as if he had been strucken with the eye of a Baselisk. Philomela seeing him in this passionate agony, began with him thus.  
I cannot tell Lutesio, how to salute thee either with looks or speeches, seeing thou art not as thou séemedst once my wellwisher and my husbands friend. The Lapidaries value the stones no longer than they hold their virtues: nor I prize a Gentleman no longer than he regards his honour. For as a Diamond with a cloud is cast into the goldsmiths dust: so a Gentleman without credit, is carelessly holden for refuse. I red thy letter, and I answered it: but tell me, how shall I take it? as thou repliest so will I entertain: if to try me, thou shalt find the more favour: If to betray me, hope for nothing but revenge: Lutesio hearing Philomela so honourably peremptory, with blushing cheeks made him this answer.  
Madam as my face bewrays my folly, and my ruddy hue my reckless show, so let my words be holden for witnesses of my truth, and think whatsoever I say is sooth, by the faith of a Gentleman than assure yourself mine eye hath ever loved you, but never unlawfully: and what humble duty I have shown you, hath been to honour you, not to dishonest you. This letter was but to make trial how you liked Philippo, to whom I own such faith that it would grieve me he should have a wife false: I know not Madam what humour drew me on to it. I am sure neither your wanton looks nor light demeanours, but a kind of passion destined to breed mine own prejudice, if your favour exceed not my deserts: If therefore your Ladyship shall forget and forgive this folly, and conceal it from the Earl, who perhaps may take it meant in earnest, enjoin me any penance Madam, and I will perform it with patience. Philomela hearing Lutesio thus penitent, began to clear up her countenance, and said to him thus: it is folly to rub the scar when the wound is almost whole, or to renew quarrels when the matter is put in compromise: therefore omitting all Lutesio I pardon thee, and promise neither to remember thy folly myself, nor yet to reveal it to my husband, but thou shalt be every way as heartily welcome to me as thou wert wont: only this shall be thy penance, to swear upon this bible never hereafter to motion me of any dishonesty. To this Letusio willingly granted and took his oath: so were they reconciled, and the Countess called for a cup of wine, and drunk to him: and after to pass away the afternoon they fell to chess: after a mate or two, the Countess was called aside, by one Margareta Stromia a Venetian Lady, that came to visit her, and Lutecio went down to walk in the garden by chance, as he was striking through the Parlour, he met the Duke whom he took by the arm: and let him into one of the privy walks, & there recounted unto him what reconcilement was grown between him and the Countess his wife, which highly pleased the duke, so that without any more cross humours they passed a long time in all contented pleasures. Till Fortune whose envy is to subvert content, and whose delight is to turn comic mirth, into tragic sorrows: enter into the Theatre of philomela's life, and began to act a baleful scene in this manner.  
Philippo, who had not quite extinguished suspicion, but covered up in the scindars of melancholy, the glowing sparks of jealousy began a fresh to kindle the flame, & to conceit a new insight into his wives actions, & whereas generally he mistrusted her before, and only thought her a wanton as she was a woman. Now he suspected that there was too much familiarity between her & Lutecio, and flatly that between them both he wore the horns: yet accuse her he durst not, because her parentage was great, her friends many, and her honesty most of all. Neither had he any probable articles to object against her, and therefore was silent, but ever murmuring with himself to this effect.  
Philippo thou wert too fond, to plot Lutesio a means of his love, granting him opportunity to woe, which is the sweetest friend to love, men can not dally with fire, nor sport with affection: for he that is a suitor in jest, may be a spéeder in earnest: have not such a thought in thy mind Philippo, for as Lutesio is thy friend, so is he faithful: and as Philomela is thy wife, so she is honest: and yet both may join issue and prove dissemblous, lovers have Argus' eyes to be wary in their doings, and Angels tongues, to talk of holiness, when their hearts are most lascivious: though my wife returned a taunting letter to him openly, yet she might send him sweet lines secretly, her satiable answer, was but a cloak for the rain: for ever since they have been more familiar and less asunder, nor she is never merry if Lutesio begin not the mirth, if Lutesio be not at table, her stomach is queasy, as when the Halcirines hatch, the sea is calm, and the Phoenix never spreads her wings, but when the sun beams shines on her nest. So Philomela is never frolic but when she is matched in the company of Lutesio, this courtesy grows of some private kindness, which if I can find out by just proof and circumstance, let me alone to revenge to the uttermost.  
In this iellouse passion, he passed away many days and many months, till one day Lutesio being alone in the chamber which Philomela, the earl coming in and hearing they were together, went charily up the stairs, & peeping in at the lock hole, saw them two standing at a bay window, hand in hand, talking very familiarly: which fight struck such a suspicious fury into his head, that he was half frantic, yet did he smother what he thought in silence, and going down into the garden, left them two still together: being there alone by himself, he cast a thousand suspicious doubts in his head, of Lutesio and his wives dishonesty, intending to watch more narrowly to take them in a trap, while they poor souls little mistrusted his jealousy.  
He had not stayed in the garden long, ere Lutesio and the Countess went down together to walk, where they found the earl in his dumps, but they two wakened him from his drowsy melancholy, with the pleasant devices of signor Lutesio. Philippo making at all no show of his suspicion, but entertained his friend with all accustomed familiarity, so that they passed away that days with all contented pleasures, till night the infortunate breeder of philomela's misfortunes grew on: when she and the Earl went to bed together, for as she lay talking, she started, being new quickened with child, & feeling the unperfect infant stir. Philippo ask the cause, the ready to weep for joy, said: good news my Lord, you shall have a young son: at this his heart waxed could, and he questioned her if she were with child, she taking his hand laying it on her side, said: feel my Lord, you may perceive it move, with that it leapt against his hand. When she creeping into his bosom, began amorously to kiss him and commend him: that though for the space of four years that they had been married she had had no child, yet at last he had played the man's part, and gotten her a boy. This touched Philippo at the quick, and doubled the flame of his jealousy, that as a man half lunatic he lept out of the bed, and drawing his rapier, began thus to mannace poor Philomela. Incestuous strumpet, more wanton than Lamia, more lascivious than Laius, and more shameless than Pasophane, whose life as it hath been shadowed with painted holiness, so it hath been full of pestilent villainies, thou haste sucked subtlety from thy mother, thou hast learned with Circe's to enchant, with Calypso to charm, with the Sirens to sing, and all these to to breed my destruction: yet at last thy concealed vices are burst open into manifest abuses. Now is thy lust grown to light, thy whoredoms to be acted in the theatres of Venice, thy palpable dissolutions to be proclaimed in the provinces of italy, time is the mother of truth, and now hath laid open thy life to the world: thou art with Venus taken in a net by Vulcan, and though thou hast long gone to the water, yet at last thou art come broken home. I mistrusted this of long, and have found it out at last, I mean the loves between thee and that traitor Lutesio, which although I smothered with silence, yet I hide up for revenge: I have seen with grief, and past over with sorrow many odd pranks, thinking still time would have altered thy thoughts, but now thou hast sported thy belly full, and gotten a bastard, & wouldst foy me off to be the father, no though I be blind I will not swallow such a Flie. For the time of thy quickening, & his fresh acquaintance jumps in an even date, this four year I have been thy husband, and could not raise up thy belly, and Lutesio no sooner grew familiar with thee, but he got thee with child, and were it not base strumpet, that I reserve thee to further infamy, I would presently butcher thee and the brat, both with one stab, and with that he floung out of the chamber, leaving poor Philomela in a great mase, to here this unlooked for discourse: in so much that after she had lain a while in a trance, coming to herself, she burst forth into abundance of tears, and passed away the night in bitter complaints, whilst Philippo mad with the frantic humour of jealousy, sat in his study hamring how he might bring both Lutesio, and her to confusion, one while he resolved to provide Galleys ready for his passage, & then to murder both his wife & Lutesio, and so to flee away into some foreign country, than he determined to accuse them before the Duke his near kinsman, and have them openly punished with the extremity of the law, but he wanted witnesses to confirm his jealous allegations: being thus in a quandary, at last he called up two genoese his servants, slaves that neither regarded God, religion, nor conscience, and them he suborned with sweet persuasions and large promises, to swear that he and they did take Lutesio and Philomela, in an adulterous action, although the base villains, had at all no sparks of honesty in their minds, yet the honour of their lady, her courtesy, to all her known virtues, and special good qualities did so prevail, that they were passing unwilling to blemish her good name with their perjuries, yet at last the County cloyed them so with the hope of gold, that they gave free consent to confirm by oath, what so ever he should plot down to them. Whereupon the next morning the Earl got him early to the Duke of Venice who was his cousin germane, and made solemn complaint of the dishonour offered him by his wife and signor Lutesio: craving justice, that he might have such a manifest injury redressed with the rigour of the Law. The Duke whose name was Lorenzo Medici, grieved that his kinsman was vexed with such a cross, and sorrowed that Philomela, that was so famous in italy for her beauty and virtue, should dishonour herself and her husband by yielding her love to lascivious Lutesio, swearing a present dispatch of revenge, and thereupon granted out warrants to bring them both presently before him.  
Philippo glad of this, went his way to the house of Lutesio, well armed, and every way appointed, as if he had gone to sack the strongest hold in all italy, carrying with him a crew of his friends & familiars, furnished at all points to apprehend the guiltless gentleman: assoon as they came to his house, they found one of his servants fitting at the door: Who seeing the Earl, saluted him reverently, & marveled what the reason should be, he was accompaied with such a multitude. Philippo demanded of him where his master was, walking may it please your honour, (quoth he) in his garden. Then says the earl if he be no more busy, I will be so bold as to go speak with him, and therefore follow me saith he to the crew, who pressing in after the Earl, encountered Lutesio, coming from his garden to go into his chamber, assoon as he spied Philippo, with a merry look, as if his heart had commanded his eyes, to bid him welcome, he saluted the Earl most graciously, but highly was astonished, to see such a troup at his heels.  
Philippo (contrary as Lutesio offered to embrace him with his best hand) took him fast by the bosom, and pulling forth his poineard, said: Traitor, were it not I regard mine honour, and were loath to be blemished with the blood of so base a companion, I would rip out that false heart that hath violated the faith once united betwixt us, but the extremity of the law shall revenge thy villainy: and therefore Officers, take him into your custody, and carry him presently to the Duke, whether I will bring strait the strumpet his Paramour, that they may receive condign punishment for their heinous and detestable treachery.  
Poor Lutesio, who little looked for such a greeting of the Earl, wondered whence this bitter speech should grow, so deeply amazed, that he stood as a man in a trance, till at last gathering his wits together, he began humbly and fearfully to have replied, when the Earl commanded the officers to carry him away, and would not hear him utter any word. He speeding him home to his own house to fetch his sorrowful and faultless wife to hear the baleful verdict of her appeached innocency: coming up into her bed chamber, he found her sitting by her bed side, on her knees in most hearty and devout prayer, that it would please God to clear her husband from his jealousy, and protect her from any open reproach or slander, uttering her Orisons with such heart breaking sighs, and abundance of tears, that the base catchpoles that came in with him took pity, and did compassionate the extremity of her passions: But Philippo, as if he had participated his nature with the bloodthirsty Cannibal, or eaten of the seathin root, that maketh a man to be as cruel in heart as it is hard in the rind, stepped to her & casting her backward, bade her arise strumpet, and hastily make her ready, for the Duke stayed for her coming, and had sent his officers to fetch her.  
Perplexed Philomela, casting up her eye, and seeing such a crew of rakehells, ready to attend upon him, was so surchardged with grief, that she fell down in a passion: Philippo let her lie, but the Ministers stepped unto her and received her again assoon as she was come to herself, she desired Philippo, that for all the love of their youth he would grant her but only this one favour, that she might not be carried before the Duke with that common attendance, but that she and he might go together without any further open discredit, and then if she could not prove herself innocent, let her without favour abide the penalty of the Law: although she craved this boon with abundance of tears, yet Philippo would have no remorse but compelled her to attire herself, and then conveyed her with this crew to the Duke's palace, where there was gathered together all the Consigladiors and chief Magistrates of the City, her passing through the streets, drove a great wonder to the venetians, what the cause of her trouble should be: so that infinite number of Citizens followed her, and as many as could, thrust into the common Hall to hear what should be objected against Philomela.  
At last, when the judges were set, and Lutesio and Philomela brought to the bar: the Duke commanded Philipo to discourse what articles he had to object against his wife and Lutesio. Philippo with his eyes full of jealousy, and heart armed with revenge, looking on them both, fetching a deep sigh, began thus. It is not unknown to the venetians (right famous Duke and honourable Magistrates of this so worthy a City) how ever since I married this Philomela, I have yielded her such love with reverence, such affection with care, such devoted favours with affected duties, that I did rather honour her as a saint, then regard her as a wife: so that the venetians counted me rather to dote on her extremely, then to love her ordinarily neither can I deny mighty Lorenzo, but Philomela returned all these my favours with gentle loves, and obedient amours, being as dutiful a wife as I was a loving husband, until this Traitor Lutesio, this ingrateful monster, that living hath drunk of the river Lethe, which maketh men forgetful of what is past: so he, oblivious of all honour I did him, was the first actor in this tragic overthrow of the fame of the house of Philippo. I appeal to the venetians, even from the magistrate to the meanest man, what honourable parts of friendship, I have shown to Lutesio, how he was my second self, except Philomela, his bosom was the Cell, wherein I hide up my secrets, his mouth was the Oracle whereby I directed my actions, as I could not be without his presence, for I never would do any thing without his counsel: committing thus myself, my soul, my goods, mine honour, nay my wife, to his honour, only reserving her from him: of all that I have private to myself, the traitor (oh listen to a tale of ruth Uenetians) neither regarding God, nor respecting his friend, neither moved with fear nor touched with faith forgetting all friendship, became amorously to woe my wife, and at last dishonestly won her: and now of long time lasciviously hath used her, which I suspected as little as I trusted, and affected them both deeply. How long they have continued in their adulterous loves I know not: but as time hatcheth truth, and revealeth the very entrails of hidden secrets, so yesterday oh the baleful day of my dishonour: Lutesio and my wife being suspected of too much familiarity by my servants, though never mistrusted by me: were watched by these Genoese, who seeing them in the chamber together, shameless as they were, having little regard of any privy pryers into their actions, fell to these amorous sports, so openly that through a chink of the door these were eye witnesses of there adultery. I being then in the garden, coming up and finding these two peeping in at the door, stole secretly up, and with these poor slaves, was a behoulder of mine own dishonour: My shame was so great, and my sorrow so extreme: to see my wife so inconstant, and my friend so false, that I stepped back again into the garden, calling a way these varletes: and leaving them still agents of these unkind villainies▪ when I came into the garden, such was the love to Philomela, and so great the friendship I boar to Lutesio, that trust me Uenetians, had myself only been a witness of their follies, I would have smothered the fault with silence. But knowing that such base rascales would at one time or other be blabs, and so blemish mine honour, and so accuse me for a wittolde to my own wife, I resolved to have them punished by law, that hath so perversely requited my love: therefore have I here produced them in open court, that my dishonours may end in their revenge, calling for justice with extremity, against two persons of such treacherous ingratitude. And here Philippo ceased driving all the hearers into a great maze, that the Duke sat astonished, the Consigladiori musing, and the common people murmuring at the discourse of signor Philippo, and bending their envious eyes against the two innocents, for wronging so honourable a County. To be brief, Lutesio and Philomela were examined, & no doubt, they could sundry tales to clear themselves, but in vain, for the oath of the two slaves found them guilty, whreupon a quest of choice Citizens went upon them, and both as guilty condemned to death. When the fatal sentence should have been pronounced against them, Philippo with a counterfeit countenance full of sorrow, kneeling down, desired that they might not die, because it would grieve him to be blemished with the blood of his wife whom he had loved, or of his friend whom he had honoured: at whose humble entreaty judgement was given that Philippo & Philomela should be divorced: and he at free liberty to marry whom he list, and Lutesio for ever to be banished, not only out of Venice but of all the Dukedom, and territories of the same. Assoon as sentence was given, Lutesio fetched a great sigh, and laying his hand on his bosom said: This breast Philippo, did never harbour any disloyal thought against thee, nor once Imagine or contrive any dishonour against thy wife. Whatsoever thou hast wrongly averred, or the Duke hardly conceived: for witness I appeal to none but God, who knoweth me guiltless, and to thine own conscience: whose worm for this wrong, will ever be restless. My banishment I brook with patience, in that I know time will discover any truth in my absence: smoke cannot be hidden, nor the wrong of Innocents' scape with out revenge. I only grieve for Philomela, whose chastity is no less than her virtues are many, & her honours as far from lust, as thou and thy perjured slaves from truth: it boots not use many words, only this I will say, men of Venice hath lost a friend which he will miss, and a wife that he will sorrow for. And so he went out of the counsel house, home to his own lodging, having the term of twenty one days appointed for his departure. Philomela poor soul, knowing what was in record, could not be reversed: that her credit was cracked, her honour utterly blemished, and her name brought in contempt: for all this abashed not outwardly, what soever she conceited inwardly, but seemed in her far more full of favour and beauty then ever she was before: and her looks so modest and grave, that Chastetye seemed to sit in her eyes, and to proclaim the wrong was offered unto her by these perjured people. With this assured and constant countenance, first looking on the Duke, on the Consiliadori, on the common people, and then on her husband, she used these words.  
O Philippo Medici, once the lover of Philomela though now the wrack of her honours, and the blemish of her high fortunes. How canst thou look to heaven and not tremble? how canst thou behold me, and not blush? how canst thou think there is a God without fear, or a hell without horror? canst thou blind the divine Maistiesty? as thou hast led these Magistrates into a false opinion of thine own dishonour, and my dishonestly mill testes conscientia, if these slaves the ministers of thy jealous envy should grow domme, and all the world silent, yet will thine own conscience daily cry out in thine ears, that thou hast wronged Philomela. I am the daughter of a Duke, as thou art the son of an Earl: my virtues in Venice, have been as great as thine honours: my fortunes and my friends, more than thine: all these will search into this cause, and if they find out mine innocency, think Philippo worthy of great penance. But in vain, I use charms to a deaf Adder, therefore Philippo, I leave thee to the choice of a new love, and the fortune of a fair wife, who if she prove as honestly amorous towards thee as Philomela, then wrong her not with suspicion, as thou hast done me with jealousy: lest she prove too liberal, and pay my debts.  
Yet Philippo, hast thou lost more in losing Lutesio, then in forsaking me, for thou mayest have many honest wives, but never so faithful a friend: therefore though I be divorced, be thou and he reconciled, lest at last the horror of thy conscience, draw thee into despair, and pain thee with too late repentance. So Philippo ever wishing thee well, I will ever entreat that neither God may lay the wrong of mine innocency to thy charge, nor my friends triumph in thy infortunate revenge, and so farewell.  
With this she stepped forth of the Hall, leaving Philippo greatly tormented in his conscience, and the Duke and all the rest wondering at her patience, saying: it was pity she was drawn on to wantonness by Lutesio.  
The rumours of this spread through all Venice, of the lascivious life of Philomela, some said all was not gold that glisteren: that the fairest faces, have oft times the falsest hearts: & the smoothest looks, the most treacherous thoughts: that as the Agate be it never so white without, yet it is full of black strokes within, & that the most shining sun, breedeth the most sharp showers: so women the more chastity they profess openly, the les chary they are in secret of their honesty: others said, it might be a compacted matter, by the Earl to be rid of his wife: some said, that the matter might be mistaken, and made worse than it was. Thus diversly they did descant, while poor Philomela being gotten to a gentleman's house, a friend of hers, sat sorrowfully resolving how she might best salve this blemish: one while she thought to go home to the Duke her father, and incense him to revenge, that again she misliked, for by open jars, and civil dissension, were she never so innocent, yet her name should by such open brawls, grow more infamous: an other while she thought to persuade Lutecio against him, and that he might procure the slaves by torture to bewray the subornation of perjury, and so bring her husband within the compass of open treachery.  
Thus the secret love she bare still to Philippo would not suffice, for she had rather bear guiltless shame then bring her husband to perpetual infamy. Thus did she plot in her mind sundry ways of revenge: but at last this was her resolution, sith her honour so famous through Italy, was now so highly stained: she would neither stay in italy, nor yet return to her father: but go into some strange country, and there die unknown, that being absent from the rumour of her bad report, she might live, though poorly, yet quiet: upon this determination she set down her rest, and gathered all her clothes & jewels together: for the Earl sent her all whatsoever he had of hers, and she returned him by the messenger a ring with a Diamond, wherein was written these words, Olim meminisse dolebit. The Earl took it, and put it on his finger, which after bred his further misery.  
But leaving him a contented man, though with a troubled conscience: for the satisfying of his jealous revenge: Again to Philomela, who having packed up all her jewels and treasures: listened for a ship, and heard of one that made to Palermo in Sicilia. As the poor Countess was careless of herself, as a woman half in despair, so she little regarded to what port of Christendom the bark made, and therefore hired passage in the ship so secretly, that none but her own self and a page did know, when or whether she meant to make her voyage: so that on a sudden, having certain intelligence at what hour the ship would warp out of the Haven, she slipped away, and her Page with her, and getting aboard under sail, commit herself to God, the mercy of the Seas, and to the husband of many hardfortunes. The Ship had not gone a League upon the Seas, but Philomela began to be sick: whereupon the Master of the Ship coming in to comfort her, found her in his eye one of the fairest creatures that ever he saw, and though her colour were something pale through her present sickness, yet he could compare it to no worse show then the glister of the Moon in a silent night and a clear sky, so that the poor Shippers conscience began to be pricked, and love began to shake him by the sleeve, that he sat down by her, and after his blunt fashion, gave her such sweet comfort as such a swain could afford: Philomela thanked him and told him it was nothing but a passion that the roughness of the Seas had wrought in her, who heretofore was unacquainted with any other waters then the river Po, and such small creeks as watered Italy. hereupon the Master departed, but with a Flea in his ear, and love in his eye: for he had almost forgot his Compass, he was so far out of compass with thinking how to compass Philomela: in this amorous humour, he began to visit often, the Cabin wherein Philomela lay, which was a means rather to increase his fury, then to qualify the fire of love that began to heat him: For as he that playeth with a Bee may sooner feel her sting then taste of her honey: so he that acquainteth himself with love, may more easily repent him then content him, and sooner enthrall himself in a Labyrinth, then get an hour of quiet liberty. So it fell out with Tebaldo, for so was the Master of the ship called: for he by conversing privately and familiarly with Philomela, became so far in love, that he held no happiness like the obtaining of this love: he noted the excellency of her beauty, the exquisiteness of her qualities, and measured every part with such precise judgement, that the small heat of desire, grew to a glowing fire of affection. But for all this, he durst not reveal his mind unto her, least happily by his motion, she should be moved unto displeasure: But as by time, small sparks grow into great flames: so at last he waxed so passionate, that there was no way with him but death or despair, if he didnot manifest his thoughts unto her: resolving thus damnably with himself, that howsoever love or fortune dealt with him, he would have his mind satisfied: for if she granted, than he would keep her in Palermo as his Paramor: if she denied, seeing he had her within the compass of his bark, he would have his purpose by force, and so become Lord of his content by conquest. Thus resolute he went towards the cabin of Philomela to bewray his affection unto her, when drawing near the door, he heard her playing most cunningly upon a lute, certain lessons of curious descant, staying a while, lest he might interrupt so sweet music: at last she left of, & fell from her lute to this lamentable complaint. Oh poor woman, worthy so termed, being brought to thy woe by a man, now dost thou see, that as such as are stung by the Tarentula, are best cured by Music: so such minds as are vexed by sorrow find no better relief than a sweet relish of comforting melody. Ah Abstemia, for so she now called her name, the more to disguise herself, if music should be answerable to thy martyrdom, or the excellency of descant conformable to the intent of the distressor: Then must Apollo be fetched from heaven, Orpheus from his grave, Amphion from his rest, the Sirens from their roks to qualify thy muse with their musics: For though they excel in degrees of sounds, thou exceedest in diversities of sorrows, being far more miserable than musical: and yet they, the rarest of all others: once Abstemia thou wert counted the fairest in Italy, and now thou art holden the falsest: thy virtues were thought many, now thy dishonours are counted nomberles: thou wert the glory of thy parents, the hope of thy friends, the fame of thy country, the wonder of thy time of modesty, the peragon of Italy for honourable grace, & the pattern whereby women did measure their perfections: for she that was holden less modest, was counted a wanton: and she that would seem more virtuous, was esteemed too precise: But now thou art valued worth less of all thy former honours, by the stain of one undeserved blemish. Ah, had I been false to my husband, perhaps I had been more fortunate, though not in mine own conscience, yet to the eyes of the world less suspected, and so not detected: but innocency to God is the sweetest incense, & a conscience without guilt, is a sacrifice of the purest savour. What though I be blamed? if my life be lent me, my honour will be recovered, for as God will not suffer a murder to escape without punishment: so he will not let the wrong of the innocent go to his grave without revenge? Though thou be banished Abstemia, yet comfort thyself, account each country thine own, and every honest man thy neighbour: let thy life be mean, so shalt thou not be looked into: for envy creepeth not so low as Cottages: reeds bend with the wind, when Cedars fall with a blast: poor men rely lightly of fortune, because they are to weak for fortune, when higher states feel her force, because they nuzzle in her bosom: acquaint not thyself with many, lest thou fall into the hands of flatterers, for the popular sorts have more eyes, and longer tongues than the rich: seem courteous to all, but converse with few: and let thy virtues be much spoken though thyself live never so private. Hold honesty more dear than thy life, & be thou never so poor, yet be chaste & choose rather to starve in the streets, than live daintily at a lechers table: if as thou art beautiful Abstemia, any fall in love with thy favours, and what he cannot win by suits, will seek to get by force, and so ravish thee of thy richest glory: choose rather to be without breath, then live with such a blemish. Thou art fraudless in Sicilia, and though thou complainest, thou shalt not be heard: might overcomes right, and the weakest are still thrust to the wall. To prevent therefore constraint in love in the greatest Prince: I have provided (quoth she) a poison in the seal of my ring, as deadly as it is little, resolving as stoutly as Hannibal did, who held the like in the pommel of his sword: and choose rather to die free, then fall into the hands of Scipio. So, before any lecher shall force to satisfy his passion, I will end my life with this fatal poison. So Abstenia shalt thou die more honourably, which is more dear then to live disgraced: enough is a feast, poor wench, what needs these solemn preachings? Leave these secret dumps and fall to thy Lute, for thou shalt have time enough to think of sorrow: and with that she tuned her strings, and in a merry vain played three or four pleasant lessons, and at last sung to herself this conceited ditty.  

An Ode.  
WHat is love once disgraced?  
But a wanton thought ill placed,  
Which do blemish whom it paineth,  
And dishonours whom it daineth.  
See even in higher powers most,  
Though some fools do fondly boast  
That who so is high of kin,  
Sanctifies his lovers sin.  
jove could not hide jos scape,  
Nor conceal Calistos rape.  
Both did fault, and both were famed,  
Light of loves whom lust had shamed.  
Let not women trust to men,  
They can flatter now and then.  
And tell them many wanton tales,  
Which do breed their after bales.  
Sin in kings is sin we see,  
And greater seen, cause great of gree.  
Maius peccatum, this I read,  
If he be high that doth the deed.  
Mars for all his Deity.  
Can not Venus dignify.  
But Vulcan trap her and her blame,  
Was punished with an open shame.  
All the Gods laughed them to scorn,  
For dubbing Vulcan with the horn.  
Whereon may a woman boast,  
If her chastity be lost.  
Shame await'h upon her face  
Blushing checks and foul disgrace,  
Report will blab, this is she  
That with her lust wins infamy.  
If lusting love be so disgraced,  
Die before you live unchaste.  
For better die with honest fame,  
Then lead a wanton life with shame.   
As soon as Philomela had ended her ditty, she laid down her Lute, and fell to her book: but Tebaldo having heard all her secret meditation, was driven in such a maze, with the conceit of her incomparable excellency, that he stood as much astonished to hear her chaste speeches, as Actaeon to see Diana's naked beauties: entering with a piercing insight into her virtues, & perceiving she was some greater parsonage than he at the first took her for, his love was so qualed with the rareness of her qualities, that he rather endeavoured to honour her as a saint, then to love her as a paramour: desire now began to change to reverence, and affection to an honest devotion: that he shamed he once thought any way lust towards so virtuous a creature: thus Metamorphosed, he stepped into her cabin, and found her reading, to whom he did show more then accustomed reverence: which Philomela returned with equal courtesy. At last he told her, how he had heard her lamentable discourse of her misfortune and the honourable resolution of her honesty, which did so tie him to be devoted towards her, that if when she came into Palermo, his poor house might serve her for a lodging, it and all therein, with himself and his wife, should be at her command. Philomela thanked him heartily for his kind and courteous proffer, and promised to her ability, not to be ungrateful.  
Well, leaving her under sail towards Palermo, to S. Ganami Lutesio, who harbouring a hateful intent of revenge in his mind against the County Philippo, thought to pay him home pat in his lap, and therefore making as speedy a dispatch as might be, of his affairs: he takes his journey from Venice towards the Duke of Milan's court, the father of Philomela, to whom he had recounted what had happened to his daughter, what had chanced to him, and how great dishonour was offered to him by her husband. The Duke although these news touched him at the quick, yet dissembled the matter, and began in great choler to upbraid Lutesio, that no doubt the earl did it upon just cause, or else neither would he have wronged a wife whom so tenderly he loved, neither rejected a friend whom he so dearly honoured, nor yet the duke & senate of Venice would have yielded so peremptory & hard a sentence, as either banishment to him, or divorce to her.  
To this Lutesio made reply, that the Earl to prove his surmised articles true, had suborned two slaves, that were Genovays to perjure themselves. He showed the Duke the letter that passed between him and his daughter, and the reason why he wrote them: But all this could not satisfy the Duke's opinion, but he charged his gentlemen to lay hands on Lutesio, and to carry him to prison, until he had further trial of the matter, swearing if he found him to have played false with his daughter, neither should his banishment excuse him, nor her divorce: for he would have both their lives, for offering dishonour to the house of Milan.  
Upon this censure of the Duke, Lutesio was carried to prison, and the Duke left mightily perpelexed: who began to cast in his mind many doubts of this strange chance, vowing in his heart, a fatal revenge upon Philipo for blemishing his daughter's honour with such open infamy. When thus the Duke was in a heavy suspicion, one of the Genovays, whose conscience tormented him, ran away from Venice, and came to Milan: where coming to the Duke's palace, he desired to speak with his Grace, from the County Philippo, being brought strait unto him: assoon as he came into his presence, he kneeled down, trembling, and besought him of mercy. The duke astonished at the strange terror of the man, demanded of him what he was, and from whence he came. The slave told him that he was borne at Geneva, and had been servant to that infortunate Earl, the county Philippo Medici, and one of those perjured traitors that had borne false witness against his daughter Philomela. At this the Duke started out of his seat, and taking the fellow courteously up, bade him not to fear nor doubt, for if he spoke nothing but the truth, he should not only be freely pardoned, but highly rewarded.  
Upon this the poor slave discoursed from point to point, First the singular chastity of his lady and Mistress, and then the deep jealousy of Philippo, who first as he had learned, caused his dear friend signor Grevani Lutesio, to try her, who finding her wise, virtuous, and constant, fell out with the Earl, that he would wrong his wife with such causeless suspicion: after he rehearsed how the County grew jealous, that Philomela favoured Lutesio, and because he had no proof to confirm his mistrust, but his own doubting head, he suborned him, and a fellow of his to swear, that they saw Lutesio and the Countess even in the very act of Adultery, which in them was perjury, and in him lechery: for both the Gentleman, and their Lady was innocent, and with that falling down on his knees, and melting into tears, he craved pardon of his life.  
The Duke whose eyes were full of fire, as sparking revenge and hate, had him be of good cheer, and pulling his purse out of his pocket, and gave it him for an earnest penny of further friendship, and charged his Gentlemen to give the Genevaye good entertainment. And with that sent for signor Lutesio out of prison, & sorrowful that he had wronged him so much, told him how one of the Genonais was come that gave false witness against his daughter, & had revealed all: which joyed Lutecio at the very heart, so that humbly & with watery cheeks, he desired the duke to revenge his daughter's wrongs, but as little booted his entreaty, as spurs to a swift horse. For the Duke gathering a mighty army, made as much speed as might be towards Venice, intending to quit the wrong proffered to Philomela by suspicious Philippo, who then lived in all desired content, in that his jelious humour was satisfied: was determining where to make a new choice for favour, when time cheer this change of fortune, that news was brought into Venice, that not only the Milan Duke was come down, to waste and spoil the cities belonging unto the Signory of Venice, but also meant to gather all the forces of his friends in Christendom, to revenge the abuse offered to his daughter Philomela.  
This news being come unto the ears of Philiypo, made him forget his wooing, and begin to wonder how he should shift of the misfortune ready to light upon him, if any thing were proved of his suborning treachery: he now began to enter into consideration with himself that if Lutesio were gotten to Milan, he would not only lay the plot of all mischief against him, but also discover his treason, & incense the Duke to revenge, and upon this he thought grew the occasion of his men in arms: then did he fear lest the Genovaie that was run away from him, should come to the Duke's court, & there confirm by authentical proof, what Lutecio upon his honour did affirm: thus diversly perplexed, he remained in great dumps, while the Duke and Consiliadiorie of Venice gathering into their senate house began to consult what reason the Millonians had to invade their territories. And therefore to be fully satisfied in the cause, they sent Ambassadors to inquire the reason why he rose in arms against them? whether it were for the sentence offered against Philomela or no? and if it were, that he should herein rest satisfied. That as she was exiled by law, so she was justly condemned for lechery:  
The Ambassadors having their charge, came to the Duke, lying than not far of from Bergamo, and did their message unto him, which he reanswered thus: that he was not come as an enemy against them, but as a private foe to Philippo, and therefore required to approve his daughter's innocency: not by arms, but by witnesses in the Senate house of Venice: and if she were found guiltless, to have condign punishment enjoinde and executed against Philippo: This if they did deny, he was come with his own blade, and his Soldiers to plague the venetians for the partial judgements of their Magistrates: and if they meant to have him come into Venice, he craved for his assurance sufficient hostages. The Ambassadors returned with this answer to the Duke and the Consiliadorie, who held his request passing reasonable, and thought it would be dishonour to them and their estate, if they should stand in denial of so equal a demand: and therefore the Duke, not only sent him his only Son, but six young sons more, all the Sons of men of honour for hostage. Upon whose arrival, the Duke of Milan only accompanied with Lutesio, the Genovays, and ten other noble men went to the City, and was magnificently entertained by the Duke and the Citizens: where feasting that day, the next morning they resolved to meet in the Senate house, to hear what could be alleged against Philippo, whom they cited peremptorily to appear, to answer to such objections as should be laid against him. The guilty Earl now began to feel remorse of conscience, and to doubt of the issue of his treachery: and therefore getting into his closet, he called the Genovaie to him, and there began to persuade him, that although both signor Lutesio and his fellow did bewray the subornation of perjury, yet he should deny it unto the death, and for his reward he had him take half his treasure and his freedom. The Genovay made solemn protestation that he would perform no less than he commanded him: and thereupon as an assumsit, took the signet of the Earl, for performance of all covenants. Thus armed as he thought, in that he rested safely in the secrecy of his slave: the next day he appeared in the Senate house, whether the Dukes of Milan and of Venice came with all the Consiliadorie and chief Citizens of the town, to hear how this matter should be debated. At last the Duke of Milan arose amongst them all and began thus to discourse: I come not Uenetians to enlarge my territories with the sword, though I have burdened your borders with the weight of armed men: I rise not in arms to seek martial honours, but civil justice: not to claim other men's right, but mine own due, which is revenge upon false Philipo for his treachery against my innocent daughter Philomela: Innocent I term her, though injury hath wronged her, and yet I accuse not your Duke or Consiliadorie of injustice, because their censure past according to the false evidence propounded by perjured Philippo: But I claim justice without partiality against him, which if it be granted, I shall highly praise your Senate, and be ever professed your friend: If it be denied, I am come in arms to defend my daughter's innocency, and with my blood to paint revenge upon the gates of Venice. If I speak sharply, blame me not, sith mine honour is touched with such a blemish: the discredit of the daughter is a spot in the parent's brow, and therefore if I seek to excuse her, accuse not me: I do but what honour commands, and nature binds me to. For proof that I come not to sanctify sin in my daughter, or shadow her 'scapes with my countenance, I have brought here not only Lutesio but one of their slaves which was by Philippo induced to give false evidence to affirm as much as I aver: therefore I only crave they may be examined with equity, and I be satisfied only in justice. Thus with his face full of wrath, he sat down silent: when the Consiliadorie amazed at this brief and sharp speech of the Milanese, began to examine the Genovaie, who confessed all the treachery: they hearing this, demanded of Philippo how he could answer the confession of his Slave: he smilingly made this scornful reply. I hope worthy Duke, and honourable Senate of Venice, you will not be dashed out of countenance with the sight of weapons, nor be driven from justice by the noise of armour, that though I be an Earl, and am not able to equal the Duke of Milan in multitudes, yet I shall have as high favours as he with equity: in hope whereof I answer, that I think there is none so simple here, but sees how Lutesio constrained through envy, and the Duke compelled by nature, have suborned this poor slave, either by gold or promises to receive what before by solemn oath he here protested. He to recover his former credit, and liberty in his country this to salve the blemish of his daughter's honour: but as such slaves minds are to be wrought like wax with every fair word: so I assure myself, little belief shall be given to such a base and servile person, that cometh to depose against his own conscience: this was partner with him in his evidence (pointing to the other Genovaie, and this can affirne what I testify, and therefore I appeal to your equities: for by the verdict of this slave will I be tried.  
At this the Duke of Venice called the Genovaie forth, and had him speak his mind. When Lutesio rising up charged him, that as he was a Christian, and hoped to be saved by his merits, he should foully pronounce what he knew. At this the Genovaie feeling a horror, a second hell in his conscience, trembling as a man amazed, and touched with the sting of God's judgement in his heart, stood awhile mute, but at last gathering his spirits together, and getting the liberty of his speech, falling down upon his knees, with his eyes full of tears, he confessed and discoursed the whole circumstance of the Earl's villainy intended against Philomela: whereat there was a great shout in the Senate house, and clapping of hands amongst the common people: they all for joy crying Philomela, innocent Philomela. At this the Senators sat silent, and the Duke of Milan, vexed, and the County Philippo now feeling a dreadful remorse in his conscience uttered these words with great resolution. Now do I prove that true by experience, which erst I held only for a bare proverb, that truth is the daughter of time, and there is nothing so secret, but the date of many days will reveal it: that as oil though it be moist, quencheth not fire: so time though never so long, is no sure covert for sin: but as a spark raked up in cinders, will at last begin to glow and manifest a flame: so treachery hidden in silence, will burst forth and cry for revenge. Whatsoever villainy the heart doth work, in process of time the worm of conscience will bewray: oh Senators, this may be applied to myself, whose jealous head compassed this treason to Philomela, and this treachery to Lutesio, the one a most honest wife, the other a most faithful friend.  
It booteth little by circumstance to discover the sorrow I conceive, or little need I show my wives innocency, when these base slaves whom I suborned to perjure themselves, have proclaimed her chastity, and my dishonour: suffice it them, that I repent though too late, & would make amends, but I have sinned beyond satisfaction, for there is no sufficient recompense for unjust slander. Therefore in penalty of my perjury towards Philomela I crave myself justice against myself, that you would enjoin a penance, but no less than the extremity of death.  
At these words of Philippo, the people murmured, and the Senate sat a while consulting with themselves, what were best to do, at last they referred it to the Duke of Milan, to give sentence and censure against Philippo, seeing the wrong was his daughters, and the dishonour his, who being a man of a mild nature, and full of royal honour in his thoughts, rising up with a countenance discovering a kind of satisfaction, by the submiss repentance of Philippo, pronounced that the Earl should abide that penalty was enjoined to his daughter, which was, that he should be banished, that both the Genovayes should have their liberty, and a thousand Ducats a piece: and that Lutesio should have his judgement reversed, and be restored to his former freedom.  
At this censure of the Duke, they all gave a general applause, and Philippo there with tears in his eyes, took leave, protesting to spend his exile contentedly in seeking out of Philomela, and when he had found her, then in her presence to sacrifice his blood as a satisfaction for his Lechery. Lutesio likewise swore to make a queast for her, and so did the Genovayes, and the Duke her father was as forward, and the Senate broke up, and the Duke of Milan forthwith daparted home to his own country: where leaving him going homeward, and Philippo, Lutesio, and the Genovais seeking for Philomela:  
Once again to the innocent Lady, who being arrived in Palermo, was not only courteously entertained of the M. of the Ship, but also of his wife: who noting her modesty, virtue, silence, and other good properties, & rare qualities, was so far in love with her, that she would not by any means let her depart out of her house, but with a sympathy of sweet affectiones, did love like two sisters, in somuch that Philomela was brought ot bed, and had a young Son, called Infortunatus, because he was borne in the extremity of his mother's misery: The M. of the ship and his wife being pledges of his Christendom: living thus obscure, and yet famous in Palermo for her virtues, she found that of all music the mean was the merriest, that quiet rested in low thoughts, and the safest tontent in the poorest cottages: that the highest trees abide the sharpest storms, and the greatest personages the sorest frowns of Fortune: therefore with patience she brooked her homely course of life, and had more quiet sleeps now in the shipmasters house in Palermo, than she had in her palace in Uennice, only her discontent was when she thought on Philippo, that he had proved so unkind: and on Lutesio, that for her sake he was so deeply injuried, yet aswell as she might, she salved these sores, and covered her hard fortunes with the shadow of her innocency. While thus she lived honourably in Palermo, not for her excellent behaviour and good quality: It fortuned that the Duke of Milan and Lutesio both disguised like two palmers, had passed through many places to seek Philomela, and to reduce her from banishment, and at last arrived in Palermo, intending to sojourn there for a while, and then ot pass up to Samagossa, and so through all Sicilia, to have intelligence of the distressed Countess. While thus they stayed enquiring diligently of her, and not hearing any news, sith she was seldom seen abroad, and beside that her name changed and called Abstemia.  
It chanced that either by Fortune or destanie, there arrived at the same time in Palermo, the County Philippo Medici, who having travailed through divers countries, to find out his innocent Countess, wearied at last not so much with travail, as with the gnawing worm of a guilty conscience that still tormented him: he began more and more to enter into despair, and to think his life loathsome unto him, wishing daily for death, so it might not come through the guilt of his own hand, & yet resolving rather to be the murderer of himself, than thus to linger out his days in despair. In this perplexed passion, he got him into a thick grove, there the better to communicate in his melancholy, vowing if he heard not of Philomela in that city, to make that grove the monument of his grave: thus desirous of death, or of the recovery of his wife: It fortuned that Arnoldo Frozzo, son and heir to the Duke of Palermo, being in love with a young gentlewoman, whose lodging was distant some three leagues from the City, pricked forward by the extremity of affection, thought to go visit her, although he was not only forbidden by his father, but watched, least privily he might steal unto her: yet as love can find starting holes, he devised this policy: he carried a slave that remained in his Father's house abroad to the grove with him, where Philippo lay lurking, and there changing apparel with him, he got him to his desired Mistress, and bad the slave return covertly into the City, and meet him the next day at the same place: parting thus, as he was going homeward, he was met by a young Sicilian gentleman, named Petro Salino: who bearing a mortal grudge to the Duke's son, in that he affected the Gentlewoman whom he so tenderly loved: seeing him alone, and thinking him to be Arnoldo Strozzo by his apparel, and deeming he came now from his beloved Mistress, set upon him, and slew him: and with his rapeir so mangled his face, that by no means he could be discerned, and thereupon fled.  
Arnaldoes page missing his M. seeking abroad for him in the fields, for that he desired oft times to be solitary, light upon the dead body of the slave, and judging it to be his M. because he was in his apparel, cried out, & ran home and carried news thereof to the Duke his Father: who as a man distraught of his wits, commanded strait search to be made, to find out the actor of the Tragedy, causing the dead corpse to be conveyed with much grief and many tears.  
All the Courtiers, gentlemen and others, sought abroad to seek out the author of this murder: and not far of where the slave was slain, found Philippo walking up & down untrust, his hat lying by him, and his rapier in his hand: the courtiers seeing a man thus suspicious, made inquiry what he was: why quoth the County, I am the man you look for: Art thou then said the Cousin of Arnaldo, that bloody traitor, that haste slain the Duke's son? The County glad he had so sweet an occasion to be rid of his life, resolute, and briefly said, I Marry am I, and I will kill his father too, if ever I reach him: with that they laid hold upon him and carried him to prison, and as he went by the way, they examined what he was, but that by no means he would reveal unto them: only he said he was an Italian, purposely come from Venice to act it. News strait was carried to the Duke, that the murderer was taken, who was highly glad thereof, and resolved the next day with the states of the country, to sit in judgement: as fame and report cannot be silent, so it was strait noised abroad through Palermo, that the Duke's son was slain by a Venetian, and how he was taken, and should the next day be arraigned and executed.  
Philomela hearing that he was a Venetian that had done the deed: desirous to see him, took the Master of the ships wife with her, and went to the prison, and there by favour of the Jailor, saw him through a window, assoon as Philomela had a view of him, she saw it was Philippo Medici her husband disguised, & having in his face the very signs of despair. This sight of her husband drove her into a maze, yet to conceal the matter to her self, she said she knew not the man. As thus she was standing talking with the Jailor, there came a Venetian that was resident in Palermo, and desired that he might see the Gentleman that had done the murder, but the Jailor would not suffer him, but inquired what country man he was? he answered a Venetian, and that is the reason quoth he, that I am desirous to have a sight of him. Philomela hearing that he was a Venetian, asked him what news from Venice: The Sailor, for so he was, discoursed unto her what late had chanced, and amongst the rest, he discovered the fortunes of Philomela and how she was wrongfully accused by her husband the Earl, how her Father came to Venice, and having her accusers two slaves examined, they confessed the Earl suborned them to the perjury: whereupon Philippo was banished, and now as a man in despair, sought about to find out his wife.  
Philomela hearing these news, thanking him, took her leave of the sailor and went home, where getting alone into her chamber, she began thus to meditate with herself: now Philomela thou mayst see heavens are just, and God impartial, that though he defers, he doth not acquit: that though he suffer the innocent to be wronged, yet at last he persecuteth the malicious with revenge: that time hatcheth truth, and that true honour may be blemished with envy, but never utterly defaced with extremity: now is thy life laid open in Venice, and thy fame revived in spite of Fortune: now mayest thou triumph in the fall of thy jeliouse husband, and write thy chastity in the characters of his blood, so shall he die disgraced, and thou return to Venice as a wonder: Now, shall thine eye see his end, that hath sought to ruinated thee, and thou live content and satisfied in the just revenge of a perjured husband.  
Oh Philomela, that word husband is a high term easily pronounced in the mouth, but never to be banished from the heart, knowest thou not that the love of a wife must not end, but by death: that the term of marriage is dated in the grave, that wives should so long love and obey, as they live and draw breath: that they should prefer their husband's honour before their own life, and choose rather to die, then see him wronged. Why else did Alcestis die for Admetus? Why did Portia eat coals for the love of Brutus, if it were not that wives ought to end their lives with their loves?  
Truth (Philomela) but Philippo is a traitor, he hath imblemisht thy fame, sought to ruin thine honour, aimed at thy life, condemned thee both to divorce and banishment, and lastly hath stained the high honours of thy Father's house.  
And what of all this Philomela? hath not every man his fault? Is there any offence so great, that may not be forgiven? Philippo did not work thee this wrong because he loved some other, but because he overloved thee: 'twas jealousy, not lasciviousness that forced him to that folly: and suspicion is incident only to such as are kind hearted lovers. Hath not God revenged thy injury, and thy Father punished him with the like penalty that thyself dost suffer? and wilt thou now glory in his misery? No (Philomela) show thyself virtuous, as ere thou hast been honourable, and heap coals on his head, by showing him favour in extremity. If he hath slain the Duke's son, it is through despair: and if he had not come hither to seek thee, he had not fallen into this misfortune. The Palm tree the moreit is priest down, the more it sprowteth up: the Camomile the more it is trodden, the sweeter smell it yieldeth: even so ought a good wife to be kind to her husband midst his greatest discourtesies, and rather to venture her life, then suffer him incur any prejudice, and so will I do by Philippo: for rather than he shall die, in the sight of Philomela I will justify him with mine own death, so shall my end be honourable, as my life hath been wonderful.  
With this she ceased and went to her rest, till the next day morning, that the Dukes, and the states gathered together to sit in judgement: whether came Lutesio, and the Duke of Milan disguised, to see what he was, that being a Venetian committed the murder, & there also was Philomela, and the sailors wife. At last the County Philippo was brought forth, whom when the Duke of Milan saw, jogging Lutesio with his hand, he whispered and said, see Lutesio, where man favours, yet God doth in extremity revenge: now shall we see the fall of our enemy, yet not touched with his blood, whispering thus amongst themselves:  
At last the Duke of Palermo began to examine him, if he were he that slew his son, he answered that he was the man, & would with his blood answer it: what moved you says the Duke, to do the murder? an old grudge quoth he, that hath been between him and me ever since he was in Venice, and for that cause revenge was so restless in my mind, that I came from thence, purposely to act the tragedy, and am not sorry that I have contented my thoughts with his blood: at this his manifest confession, the Duke full of wrath arose and said, it was bootless further to impannell any jury, & therefore upon his words he would pronounce sentence against him. Then Philomela calling to the Duke, and desiring she might be heard, began thus to plead.  
O mighty Duke stay the censure, lest thy verdict wrong the innocent, & thou condemn and earl through his own despairing evidence: I see, and with trembling I feel, that a guilty conscience is a thousand witnesses. That as it is unpossible to cover the light of the Sun with a Curtain: so the remorse of murder can not be concealed in the closet of the most secret conspirator.  
For standing by, and hearing thee ready to pronounce sentence against the Innocent, I even I that committed the deed, though to the exigent of mine own death: could not but burst forth into these exclamations to save the sacklesses: Know therefore that he which standeth here before the judgement seat, is an Earl, though banished: his name is County Philippo Medici, my husband, and once famous in Italy, though here he be blemished by Fortune: At this, all the company looked upon her. Philippo as a man amazed, stood staring on her face, the tears trickling down his cheeks to see the kindness of his wife, whom so deeply he had injured: and the Duke of Milan her Father with Lutesio were in as great a wonder. Last she prosecuted her purpose thus: It were too long worthy Scicilians to rehearse the wrongs this Philippo hath used against me distressed Countess, through his extreme jealousy, only let this briefly suffice, he suborned his slaves to swear I was seen in the act of Adultery: they were believed, I divorced and banished: and here ever since, I have lived in contented patience. But since my exile, time that is the revealer of truth, hath made the slaves bewray the effect of the matter, so that this present Earl is found guilty, mine honour saved, he banished, and now extremely distressed.  
Consider the Sicilians, if this County my husband hath offered me such wrong, what reason I had to plead for his life? were it not the guilt of mine own conscience, forceth to save the innocent: who in a despairing humour weary of his life, confesseth himself author of that murder which these hands did execute. I am the woman the infortunate Countess (Sicilians) who suborned by a Sicilian gentleman, whom by no tortures I will name: first practised by witchcraft Arnaldoes death: but seeing that would not prevail, I sought to meet him alone, which I did yesterday by the grove, and there offering him a humble supplication, and he stooping to take it courteously: I stabbed him, and after mangled him in that sort you found him.  
This is truth, this is my conscience, and this I am by God informed to confess. Then worthy Duke save the innocent Earl, and pronounce sentence against me theoffender. I speak not this in that I love the County, but that I am forced unto it, by the remorse of mine own conscience.  
Here she ended, and all they stood amazed: and Philippo began again to reply against her, that she did it to save him: but in vain were his words, for she alleged such probable reasons against herself, that the Duke was ready to pronounce sentence against her, and the Duke her father at the point to bewray himself, had it not been that Arnaldo Strozzo the Dukes so coming home, and meeting certain plain countrymen heard this news how the Duke was sitting in judgement against one that had murdered his son, which news as it drove him into a wonder, so it made him haste speedily to the place, to know the effect of the matter: and he came thither just at the beginning of philomela's oration.  
Seeing therefore two pleading thus for death, he himself being alive, and his father ready to condemn the innocent: he commanded the company to give way, came and showed himself, and said: may it please your grace I am here, whom these confess they have slain.  
At this the Duke start up, and all the standers by were in a maze. At last to drive them out of their dumps, he told them that he thought that the man that was murdered, and taken for him, was a slave with whom the day before he had changed apparel.  
The Duke for joy to see his son, was a great while mute: At last he began to examine the matter, why these two did plead themselves guilty? Philippo answered for despair, as weary of his life. Philomela said, for the safety of her husband, choosing rather to die, than he any ways should suffer prejudice.  
The Sicilians at this, looking Philomela in the face, shouted at her wondrous virtues, and Philippo in a sound between grief and joy, was carried away half dead to his lodging: where he had not lain two hours, but in an ecstasy he ended his life. The Duke of Milan discovered himself, who by the Duke of Palermo was highly entertained.  
But Philomela hearing of the death of her husband, fell into extreme passiones, and although Arnaldo Strozzo desired her in marriage: yet she returned home to Venice, and there lived the desolate widow of Philippo Medici all her life: which constant chastity made her so famous, that in her life she was honoured as the Paragon of virtue, and after her death solemnly, and with wonderful honour entombed in S. Marks Church, and her fame holden canonised until this day in Venice.  
FINIS.   

AT LONDON Printed by E. A. for Edward White, dwelling at the little north door of Paul's Church, at the Sign of the Gun. Anno. 1592.