THE STRANGE FORTUNE OF Alerane: OR, My Lady's Toy. By H. M. of the middle Temple in London.  Tantieris aliis, quanti tibi fueris. 
Printed at London by V. S. for M. L. 1605.   

To the Reader.  

GIve not rash judgement, on my rudest Toy,  
For 'tis my first: Say well although I swerve,  
Dispraise is evil, but for to praise 'tis joy:  
Help him with praise, that doth no praise deserve:  
Unworthiness deserveth laud always,  
For that which sells itself doth need no praise.   

I give no leave to men, to read my Book,  
My Toy is made to please the women kind:  
I give it them, see that you do not look  
Upon their Toy, which here you written find:  
Some things there are, of which things this is one,  
That none but women may them look upon.   

If they will let you, I will let you too:  
If they give leave, 'tis nothing unto me:  
If they deny it, I say also no:  
In all things I with Ladies do agree:  
O would 'twere worthy of that name of joy,  
For to be called, Her pretty little Toy.   
Yours as you like to take him, H. M.   

To his singular good Ladies, F. R. H. R. H. M. wisheth all good increase.  
ADmired Ladies, as well for your excellent virtues; as your rare beauties; I humbly entreat your pardons before I crave your Patronage, deem not I beseech you, that this presumption of mine, (namely) the resemblance of a Poet, hath taken his original from any defect of your ladyships ingenies, or want of discretion to judge between the piping of Pan, and the music of Apollo; bettweene that which is rude, and that which is exquisite, in whom, there is no defect or want of acute and discreet judgement: But only that it hath proceeded from the abundance of your patiences and courteous promises, to all such as are endued with any spark of good literature, or have a desire to attain to knowledge. For my part (sweet Ladies) I always affected Scholars, but every man cannot be learned, every Poet cannot be Virgil. I present therefore unto you this my Pamphlet (kind favourites) not as the picture of Minerva, wrought by Fideas', was presented; that is, as a thing worthy to be respected, but at your vacancy and fit opportunity to be perused. As a trifle therefore to spend the time withal, I have entitled it (My Lady's Toy,) which I hope shall not be offensive either in Title or Tittle, in composing whereof, I have more aimed at the fulfilling of your pleasures, than any ways deserved popular applauses. Thus wishing to your Ladyships, the comfort of heaven, the contentment of heart, and the continuance of happiness; in hope whereof, and prayer for which, I rest  
Your servant, H: M.   

My Lady's Toy.  

APollo that most wise and learned god,  
Did give this poesy, Second thoughts are best,  
Which since 'tis so, like Owl in Ivy tod  
I hid my Muse, for 'tis the first I priest,  
For had not I commanded been to wright,  
My Toy had slept, and none had seen her sight.   

For 'twas my chance, oh happy chance of late,  
To meet my Mistress at a royal feast,  
Where dainties were in most abundant rate,  
Yet of them all (alas) I fed the least:  
For I did surfeit on a dainty dish,  
Which was more dainty, than my heart could wish.   

And after dinner, when the feast was done,  
Against all Reason and the rules of Rhyme,  
As I did gaze against this glorious Sun,  
She used me as a Toy to pass the time:  
Commanding me instead of Cards and Dice,  
To tell some story of some stately price.   

Even as the Schoolboy which is set his task,  
And show'd the manner of his masters will:  
The matter must be of some monarchs mask,  
In verse (forsooth) to try my slender skill.  
God knows (alas) before this time I scrafe  
In English tongue composed an idle verse.   

Full glad I was to please my Mistress care,  
And yet full loath for to displease myself;  
For many curious women's wits were there,  
That much I feared to prove my Muse an elf:  
For on a sudden women's wits are best;  
men's wits are dull, except they give them rest.   

I craved their pardon ere I did begin,  
For sure I was that I should speak amiss,  
As all men are, so apt am I to sin,  
Therefore (sweet Ladies) pardon him that is  
Vowed and devoted for to please your kind,  
Were but his skill concording to his mind.   

They promised pardon when I spoke not well,  
And with fair words they made it fair weathet:  
My Lady's smiles did me entreat to tell  
Some Rhyme with Reason rashly joined together:  
My trembling tongue gave thanks for my good cheer,  
And on a fuddaine spoke this sequel here.   

Fair Ladies, since your pleasure is to pass  
Away the time with Stories grave and fit,  
I am not grave nor wise, my Silver's brass,  
My wit is willing, but my will wants wit:  
Virgil's verse, and one of Tully's imps,  
Agreeth better with Diana's Nymphs.   

To speak divinely, 'tis above my reach,  
To speak of duty, you know more than I,  
To speak of dainties, here you stay my speech,  
To speak of doting, I ne'er knew it, I:  
But for to speak of things now most in fashion,  
Are lovely Ladies of most mild condition.   

Pan counts her lovely which doth make men love;  
I say, She is lovely which doth love again;  
For if no plaints nor prayers her can move,  
She is not lovely, but a lowering Swain:  
Needs must I think she springs of savage kind,  
Whom no desires, love, or deserts, can bind.   

We read (Avisa) as reports the Writer,  
We read that Lucrece was pursued after;  
'tis read in prose, but never yet in mitre,  
The Saxons story of King Othoes daughter:  
Deign with patience, if you please to reed,  
'tis very strange, but yet 'tis true indeed.   

In antic time there was a Saxon King  
Of famous memory, named Charles the Great,  
Who was a Prince complete in every thing,  
All sorts of men he rightly did entreat:  
His power, plenty, and his peace and praise,  
This Prince to pride, no worldly pomp could raise.   

This noble King was matched forty years,  
To one Matild daughter of Duke de Maine,  
Forty years past, her belly princely pears,  
And brings a child unto old Charlemagne:  
As soon as he had seen his sweet faced boy,  
As Pyrrhus did, he fell down dead for joy.   

This learns us (Ladies) that who wants an heir,  
Yea, be she young, or be she in the wane,  
What e'er she be, she ought not to despair,  
A time may come to touch her master vein:  
As here Matilda bringeth forth a son,  
When all men thought her finest thread was spun.   

Yea, 'tis a thing for to be marked of all  
Those latter children which are borne so late,  
How jove infuses in those Infants small,  
A kind of height, or else a kind of hate:  
That all the world should highly them esteem,  
Or that the world of them should hardly deem.   

But that the Father for the Son should die,  
The ancient Father like the aged Tree,  
Which when he sees young branches springing by,  
He saith, Adieu, and grow good trees for me:  
My time is gone, and yours is to come,  
Rend up my roots, and plant yours in the room.   

Were I a Twig to see my father's harms,  
His dying kindness would increase my rage:  
But out (alas) young trees, thinks older arms  
Will top their twigs, and press their tender age:  
Some youth like twigs would fain their friends forego,  
Yet I, and Otho, never wished so.   

Well to go on, and tell my Story out,  
The Father's dead, the Son is growing up,  
Who as in stature, so in State grows stout,  
He scorns Synetes, but takes Xerxes' Cup:  
So warlike given, that if he stirred his eye,  
The Saxon soldiers would like Saxa lie.   

He was a man much feared and loved of All,  
He would speak truly and uprightly both,  
That when he spoke, then was it said of all,  
If Otho speaks it, than it needs no oath:  
His valour, venture, and his virtue shown,  
Made him beloved where he was never known.   

Thus when his prowess and perfections  
Divulged his long and everliving fame:  
All Europe, Asia, and the worlds affections,  
Did bow in honour of King Othoes name:  
Through all the world his praise so rare did ring,  
That Saba like they came to see this King.   

As did his Credit, so his Court increased,  
As did his Crown, so did his Comfort than,  
He had no fault, his Fame for to decrease,  
Pray mark the matter, and conceive the man:  
There were three Othoes, but the third is he,  
Which makes my tongue, 'twill not contained be.   

But see how Fortune turneth up and down,  
To make man famous in a world of fraud,  
Upon his head she joins a triple Crown,  
Saying, Hail King, to thy eternal laud:  
If half a world set Otho's praise on wing,  
What may whole worlds then of our sovereign K?   

Otho was noble, but not like to our  
james, more commended, and of more command;  
He joined three kingdoms, but our king joined four,  
Which shall be spoke of while the world doth stand:  
Henry joined Roses, and king Otho Reams,  
But four great kingdoms were conjoined by james   

he's present with us, what should I discuss?  
His gallant virtues shall for ever live,  
He gives us honour, which sufficeth us;  
Otho gave gifts, but did no glory give:  
Though from my Tale I have awhile digressed,  
Forgive me (Ladies) you shall hear the rest.   

This noble Otho had not long been matched  
To one Ferrara, which was fair and rare,  
But had a daughter that did want no watch,  
Till she discharged them of their painful care:  
The Sun at noon day did her light deny,  
Shaming to show it, when this girl was by.   

Even as the sunshine in the summer bright,  
Casts her reflection on the pale-faced wall;  
Or as a Diamond by the candlelight,  
Doth dim the candle which gives light to all:  
So at her presence all lights seemed to die,  
That all night long thou needst no candle by.   

(Adelasia,) so they call her name,  
Oh too too happy that her name was so;  
She had such fortune, and she had such fame,  
Thrice happy he, could Adelasia woe:  
If Art together had agreed with Nature,  
They could not make one of more fair feature.   

What should I stand for to define her parts,  
I should defile them in defining them,  
Refined words so oft from me departs,  
That I want skill for to describe this Stem:  
I think that Venus (if so say I may,)  
Did strive with Fortune who should have the day.   

Pray mark (fair Ladies) this same tale begun,  
How cruel Fortune crossed a guiltless Lamb,  
Poor young Alerane, Duke of Saxons son,  
To Otho's Court, to be brought up he came:  
Who had not long been there, but soared above,  
And did conciliate every man's good love.   

For as it chanced that the King did hunt,  
On foot (alas) to try his body's force,  
Out comes a Bear, from whence no beast was wont,  
Which on the King, would have had no remorse:  
Had not stout Alerane then have killed the Bear,  
The Bear had killed his King and Master there.   

You see how fortune hath allotted so,  
That some man shall have mean enough to rise,  
Had not Alerane chanced then to go,  
The King had never loved him in such wise:  
When he did this, the story plain appears,  
He was of age, no more than seventeen ears.   

As to (Alerane) his love did increase,  
So Aleranes love, to Adelasia grew,  
And Adelasia had the same disease,  
For his report did make her love renew:  
Whose virtue so inflamed her tender heart,  
Yet durst not this between themselves impart.   

For well she wot, if that her father did  
Perceive the least appearance of their love,  
He should be headed for his love that's hid,  
Or from his place should have a wrong remove:  
For he might think it were against all right,  
Yet am not worthy of so brave a wight.   

But see how Cupid like a cruel (Cain,)  
Doth change fair days, and makes it frowning weather:  
These Prince's joys, he overcast with pain,  
For 'twas not likely they should match together:  
By this we see, that Cupid seeth not,  
For he is blind which gives so blind a lot.   

Who hideth fire to extinguish it,  
It seeks (we see) to show itself the more;  
Who hides his love within his bosom's pit,  
'Twill break the walls, or make him open the door:  
'tis like a surfeit, which if'ft break not out,  
It kills the Patient, be he ne'er so stout.   

What may it do then to a tender Prince,  
Whom love made loyable to his lustful laws?  
If one might judge before, or ever since,  
It did consume her like Calipson straws:  
Which straws did pine as holy Delphon pleased,  
So pined this Princess, till her mind was eased.   

In haste therefore she opes her chamber door,  
And calls Radeegon to come to her straight,  
For I in straits, and ne'er so strait before,  
Am caught (quoth she) oh hear a thing of weight;  
But keep it secret as thy heart within,  
Teach me to end, or learn me to begin.   

Then like a leaf, at blasts of western wind,  
Her tongue did tremble, and her body quaked,  
As though her soul, her inward place resigned,  
She could not speak, but still she stood and shaked:  
Which then perceiving, she began to weep,  
Speak Prince (quoth she) I will thy secrets keep.   

Radegon, I have always found thee just,  
Now be not false to her which means too true,  
My doleful state to thee declare I must,  
Be just (sweet maid) my heart too much doth rue:  
I was a Queen which yet did never crave,  
But now no Princess, but am Cupid's slave.   

His sable suit, and his arrest I feel,  
Distracts my senses, and disturbs my soul;  
That Ixion like, in hell I turn the wheel,  
Or Sisyphus' stone from steepy mountain roll:  
Thou feltst his force, let thy experience teach,  
To free me captive, caught by Cupid's reach.   

Then (quoth Radegon) hear sweet Lady mine,  
When I was wounded with his golden Dart,  
No salve could save me from the Psyche's sign,  
Till he which hurt me helped and healed my heart:  
So must your Grace receive some grace from him,  
Or else you peril both your life and limb.   

Alas (quoth she) it is young Aleran,  
Who (as I think) doth love me not at all,  
And I too young as yet to love a man:  
Oh, why did Cupid make me love so small?  
Besides all this, we women dare not speak,  
Although for love our hearts are like to break.   

I am sorry Lady (quoth Radegon then)  
That from yourself you seem so much to swerve:  
Must you choose him above all other men,  
To have that place which none but Kings deserve?  
Oh peace (quoth she) for Cupid's sight is dim,  
I'll have him (Lady) though I beg with him.   

Well (quoth Radegon) this too far is spent,  
My poor persuasion cometh all too late;  
Yet this I know, your Father's Sceptres rent  
Will raise a beggar to a King's estate:  
What pleaseth you, doth also make me smile,  
He shall come to you, and confer a while.   

And if you find his speech comes from his heart,  
And with salt tears doth manifest his love,  
Then vow you will not from his love depart,  
But from the Court in haste yourselves remove:  
For if'ft be known to Queen or King,  
The Court shall rue it, and the Country ring.   

In haste Radegon went to seek her boy,  
Whose fancy also was with frenzy fed,  
Whom when she found him, and did tell this joy,  
His face put on an Elemental red:  
Let's go (quoth he) for till I see my dear,  
Every hour I do think a year.   

And when he came to the ascending stairs,  
Which leads the way unto his Paradise;  
He falleth prostrate, and there makes his prayers,  
And the cold steps he kisseth twice or thrice:  
Beseeching there those silly senseless powers,  
To pray for him, and for his happy hours.   

When he approached to her presence nigh,  
He kneeleth down, and did her favour crave:  
Kneel not to me: then quoth the Princess by,  
My knees are made for thee, I am thy slave:  
Thou hast my heart, none shall have me, but thee,  
Let's leave the Court before this noted be.   

They plighted their troth, and to Radego swore,  
She should be his, and he her own would be,  
And did address them like to pilgrims poor,  
To spend the time, till Otho pleased they see:  
I will (quoth she) for thee all pains approve,  
I'll lose my life, before I'll lose thy love.   

Thus these two Princes in a moonshine night,  
Did leave the King and all his royal Court,  
And wandered long until their purse was light,  
Then were they left in very grievous sort:  
Poor little Princes were constrained to crave,  
Those things, before which they did scorn to have.   

Oh see how love doth dulcerate all grief,  
Their doleful travel in the drowsy night,  
They were contented with their love's relief:  
But in the morning when they missed this wight,  
The Court lamented and the King did frown,  
Saying that Alerane had destroyed his Crown.   

Otho proclaimed in all his market towns,  
That what he was of them could tidings bring,  
He should have given him fifteen hundred crowns,  
But yet of them no news was brought the King:  
For in the deserts on Lyguria side,  
In darksome forests there themselves did hide.   

Necessity, the Mistress of all Arts,  
Did learn them there to use a Collier's trade,  
And Nature also taught those little hearts,  
To dress their pits, and how the coals were made:  
Thus made he coals, and trudged about for pelf,  
And yet was forced to content himself.   

This Saxon Courtier carried sacks of coals]  
Upon his neck, about from town to town,  
And in their ground they dressed up certain holes,  
And there they dwelled till Fortune ceased to frown:  
As he to market on a time was gone,  
She was delivered of a goodly son.   

Whom they named William; as this child did grow,  
They brought him up to be a Collier too,  
For seav'nteene years he there such seed did sow,  
That every year she brought him one or two.  
These fair Collier's had so fowl a trade,  
That their white skins were clean contrary made.   

Thus to the son, it chanced the father spoke,  
And sent his son to sell some coals hard by,  
Who with his money straight did buy a hawk,  
And brought it home: which when his father spy,  
He did rebuke him, and told him, such things  
Became no Collier's, but were fit for Kings.   

And afterwards, when years did witafford,  
Again he sent him for to sell his ware,  
Who as before, so now he bought a sword,  
And home he brings it to his father there:  
Which when he sees, his eyes like springs did run,  
Saying, Hard fortune had much wronged his son.   

here mark, I pray, Dame Nature's deep instinct,  
His birth could not conceal his noble blood,  
His parent's poorness, nor the place distinct,  
But shine it would, for no oblivious flood  
Could him obscure, or make him leave to be  
A Prince of Kingdoms more than two or three.   

Oh who would think, unless one see it so,  
That Nature works thus in the heart of man,  
His blood did make him his black Art forego,  
He scorned the Moore-bird, but did love the Swan:  
He left his Dad, and had such happy doles,  
Which made his heart he could not carry coals.   

About this time there was a true report,  
That th'Hungarians had besieged a Town,  
Thither comes Otho, from his royal Court,  
And brings great aid, for he did owe the Town:  
William no sooner heard their warlike drums,  
But takes his sword, and to the Town he comes.   

There showed he valour of a worthy man,  
For when the king had overcome their fort,  
There was an Almain challenged any man  
To fight with him, to show the King some sport:  
Then forth steps William with his sword and shield,  
And there before them made him fly the field.   

Eternal credit was this William's fee,  
The King did call him to come near his sight,  
Me thinks (quoth he) this soldier looks like me,  
For in my youth I had his favour right:  
From whence come you that you such fame have won?  
I am (quoth he) a sorry Collier's son.   

Where dwells your Father, saith this noble King?  
Tell me his name, and where he useth most,  
I will prefer him to some better thing,  
And make thee captain of some mighty host:  
Go bid thy parents unto me resort,  
Even for thy sake I'll place them near the Court.   

I have heard (great King) my parents fled their parts,  
And ran to dwell among those sightless trees,  
Where Fauni museth, and Sylvani martes,  
There do they work like to the weary Bees:  
Which brings home honey to their hollow hive,  
And yet (poor souls) they cannot learn to thrive.   

But I (may't please your Grace to hear)  
Their wicked child, and haughty hearted son,  
Did scorn their Spade, and did delight the Spear,  
I left them straight, when I did hear the gun:  
And came to you; in wars is my delight,  
My heart me thinks would have my hands to fight.   

The King did view him, and did much suspect  
He was the son of his poor daughter gone:  
He calls lord Gunford unto this effect,  
To go with him, and bring his parents on:  
By his report, they are those little elves,  
Which fled for fear, and there did hide themselves.   

When Gunford and his son came near his Cell,  
They saw this Collier Prince a loading wood,  
His son lamenting, on his knees he fell,  
Craving his blessing, Oh pardon father good:  
Thy wicked son forgetting God and thee,  
Forsook his father in extremity.   

Welcome (quoth he) I pardon thy offence,  
And if thy coming be as good as glad:  
For Gunfordes' sight doth much disturb my sense,  
I fear the King doth know of me my Lad.  
With that comes Gunford, and salutes this Moor,  
Saying, He ne'er saw Prince cry coals before.   

I am glad (my Lord) I swear by heaven's oath,  
To see you safe: where is my Princess trim?  
The King is pleased, and appeased both,  
And hath sent me to bring you both to him:  
He bid me tell you, if I found you out,  
He means your good, he would not have you doubt.   

They left their cottage, and their coals and caves,  
And like no Collier's, but like Princes brave,  
They took their journey: As they went she craves,  
That she of Gunford there the truth might have:  
'tis true (saith he) for unto you I vow,  
I will not feign, nor fail my Lord and you.   

No sooner were they come, but even as soon,  
The King did meet them with exceeding joy,  
Swearing by heavens, the stars, the sun, and moon,  
Welcome my son, my daughter, and my boy:  
Who hath my Image, and for your sons sake,  
I will you both unto my favour take.   

Then down they kneeled, & out these words did weep,  
We thank your Grace, that you such mercy show,  
For we deserve not once to come, or creep,  
To have your blessing like the morning dew:  
But if our lives will get your love again,  
Kind King, command one for to kill us twain.   

No no, my children, if my life will serve,  
To die for you when you for me should die,  
From you I will not, though from me you swerve,  
But keep you as the apple of my eye:  
Nothing more grieves me, when on you I look,  
Than your hard fortunes, which you kindly took.   

Ill luck and chance needs must that man endure,  
Which strives with Fortune, and would her restrain,  
He spurns 'gainst pricks, and can no good procure,  
Unless his patience make her practise vain:  
To grudge thereat, it booteth not at all,  
To seek to shun her way ward whurling ball.   

How many Prince's Fortune turns to shame,  
Helena, Creta, yea great jove above,  
Medea also that same furious Dame,  
Did humble homage to the force of love:  
These fled their Countries as you Princes did,  
jove fled from heaven, and left his juno's bed.   

No marvel then if you, weak flesh and blood,  
Did leave your countries for to live with love,  
When th'immortal gods which knows what's good,  
Do yield to love, and leaves their thrones above:  
Muse not (sweet wench) if Cupid's force be such,  
Why men and women daily love so much.   

It is no marvel (sweet daughter dear)  
If love did pierce your young and tender heart,  
The smallest touch doth crack the crystal clear,  
The sweetest wine turns taste at length to tart:  
Yet take no care, for thou shalt live in state,  
Do not as Troyans, which repent too late.   

Thus did he summon all his chiefest Peers,  
To celebrate his daughters nuptial day:  
Their eldest son he made him Duke of Clears,  
Their second son was marquess of Salay:  
The third of Bosco, which still bears the name,  
Those which have travelled can report the same.   

Well, when the King had set them both in state,  
And all their children placed in their degree,  
Old Otho dies, having lived out his date,  
And as next heir, and by the heavens decree,  
Those mighty kingdoms and imperial crowns,  
Possessed these Princes to their high renowns.   

Thus have I (Ladies) finished your request,  
Yet not so fully pleased your curious ears,  
Though most unworthy, yet among the rest,  
Receive this Pamphlet which looks pale with fears:  
For your tuition will defend my Muse,  
From Esop's Dog, and from all Momus crews.   

'tis hard to please the world, 'tis grown so coy,  
How many men, so many minds there be:  
Rebuke him Madam, who deludes your Toy,  
'tis made for Ladies, not for Lords to see:  
For these same Zoyles are like Zeuxes Grapes,  
Which make fair shows, & are but painted shapes.   Carpere, velnoli nostra, vel ede tua. 
Finis.