To the Courteus Readers.  
LIke as the Loadstone pointeth at the immovable poles of Heaven, and will not lie still otherwise: so true generous and noble minds ever aim at virtue, and esteem their noble houses by them half stained, unless in valorous prowess, wise policies, and kind courtesies, they equal themselves to, (if not surpass) the most famous of their Progenitors, yea of all whereof memorial is extant: by which their worthy endeavours they live in most great honourable reputation in this world, and after do live by fame everlastingly. Among which famous worthies, this Edward of Lancaster here mentioned, deserveth not the least praise or prize. And if any will allege, that in this Poetical praising of him, there be many fictions (as, Poetis et pictoribus permagna conceditur licentia) let such learn to read these manner of books, as Socrates wished women to use their looking glasses; namely, fairewomen, to look on their glasses, to beware that their good manners may shine as well as their beauty; and ill-favoured women, to endeavour that their inward virtues might make gracious their outward deformities. So let Gentlemen by reading these books observe therein only those things, the practice whereof may ennoble them more and more, and the base and cowardly sort, here learn only what may promote them: And thus wishing the end of all thy reading to be to attain true virtue, I wish thee an eternal reward of glory. Farewell.  
H. R.   

THE MOST DElectable and pleasant History, of the Illusturous and most puissant Prince, Edward, Knight of the holy Cross of jerusalem.  

The first Chapter.  
IT hath been said (courteous Gentlemen) in the first part of this History, that this most famous Prince, our home born Countryman, having finished with great solemnity, his marriage, to the good content of himself, and more increase of joy to his Lady Valia, making small stay, as desirous to see the holy place where our Saviour was alive and dead, giving the Thracian King most honourable thanks for their great entertainment, & honour done him and his Princes at their marriage, embarked first his Lady in a small Sattia, which came from Marceelas, which of purpose he freighted for Ceneto Vecha, committing the care of her, & her servant Alinda, to the good regard of the Friar who married them. Which done, having well entreated the master, mariners, and merchants, for their more favour in their voyage, the wind blowing a fresh levant, they weighed their Anchors, set sail, and betook themselves to the mercies of the raging Billows.  
What sorrowful parting was between them, I omit, leaving that to their judgement, which on the like suddenness, depart with their sweet loves. To recount unto you the travail of our beloved Knight to the holy land, of which he had great care, having embarked his Lady with her followers, taking a most reverend farewell of the King, the Queen, and the Princess Argentino, with all the Peers of their Country, who both honoured and loved him, he betook himself to travail, not unlamented of all the Court, whose love was so united unto him, that it seemed their spirits to part with their bodies at his bidding farewell. But as all things must have end, so had the Knight made an end of giving the kind Adieu to that Country: and only accompanied with his Page, well mounted, he took his journey first for Peloponensee, an ancient City of Greece, which after many a weary journey, passing the dangerous mountains, and uncouth places unhabited but of ravening and most ugly beasts, he recovered that City of fame, where he had of the Viceroy most honourable entertainment, with all shows of love and kindness that he could require: where resting himself after his weary travails, we leave him for a time, to recount unto you the success of the Princess Vallia, in her journey by sea.   

CHAP. II.  
How Argentino consorting with a Knight of her Country to make the Lady Vallia away, who assailed her at Sea, and what chanced her.  
THe prince, whose love Argentino, daughter to the Thracian King by all means sought to obtain, burned in such jealousy and hate, wanting her desire, that all her mind and study was, by some death or other, to quite her of her rival, the lovely Lady Vallia, thinking thereby to gain the love of her knight, which we more desired than the worlds goods, and sifting her woman's wit, which was apt enough to many devilish devices, and finding none so perfect, which she durst to practise, flaming with revenge to finish her intended evil, bethought her of a knight in her father's Court, whose countenance and shows of kindness persuaded her, he intended some singular affection unto her. Of this knight, her thoughts assured her: wherefore, casting from her all regard of honour, required in such of so highestéeme: she sent for the knight, commanding her messenger to hast him unto her presence. In which, no time was delayed of either part. For the Messenger no sooner had delivered the prince's pleasure, but the knight whose affections was somewhat bend to her love, as one new risen from a dream, amazed to behold such visions, as often in sleep appeareth, rousing himself, without any questions demanding, hasteneth with such speed as he could best use, to her presence, whom with great favour, and unwonted courtesies, she kindly entertained, using many pleasing speeches, to enchant him to effect her devilish will. Of all which, when he had with such kind thanks requited her, and that she felt the tool had taken some conceit of her liking, cunningly to see how this potion would work, she sayeth:  
Siegniur Gualintie, for that I have noted the weak conditions of men, and see by experience the small account they have of their words, and faithful promise, I dare not say what I would, wherefore, I am enforced to conceal in secret, that which to the death consumeth me. And therefore withal, feigning a womanish kind of heaviness, pouring forth a few dissembling tears, like the Crocadill, to effect her intended evil, she ceaseth her speech. Gualintie which saw these unexpected motions, amazed thereat, could not suddenly conceive what these motions might intend, yet aiming at her passion, which he imagined was some discontent, he saith.  
Honoured Princess, what occasions your grace hath to carry so hard opinions of men's constancy, it were too deep a matter for me to question, yet would your good thoughts might be such of your humble servant, as I desire it should, and as my will is at your excellent hands to deserve, I doubt not then but my loyalty should recover those lose opinions you have of men's constancy: for performance whereof, in all faithful duty, I humbly offer the faith of a knight.  
The Princess Argentino, glad to find the Gentleman in so good a humour, was easily drawn to believe what he promised. And therefore without standing on terms of light belief, she said. Gentle knight, whose word I hold so firm, as the surest bands, I accept your kind proffer of courtesy, for which, by that true faith which honour ought to maintain, your performance shall be so requited, as thou shalt ever be honoured for the same, and thy posterity. Therefore what I intent, I will nor can no longer conceal from thee.  
Know (gentle knight) and with that a sigh drawing tears, restrained her dissembling speech, so that she could not utter what she had to say, yet putting off she proceeds: Let it be known to thee, most honoured knight, those abuses offered me in our own Court, by that disloyal and unjust knight of the holy Cross, who making shows of love unto me, many times courted me with his false intended suits, as well as by his flattering tears of no other intent, as I find now by just proof, but to dishonour me and my father: else after so many protestations, vows, and solemn oaths taken, his loyal affection to me was such, as no torment nor sorrow, nor no turmoil whatsoever, could remove from his false and dissembling heart: he would not before my face in presence of my gracious father, and his most noble Peers, have conjoined himself in marriage with a runagate Damsel, a beggar, a common traveler, and therefore no better than a common courtesan, by his disgrace, so disgracing me, as the remembrance thereof can never be rooted from my faithful heart, nor never shall my body take his natural sustenance, until I be by some means or other, revenged on him and her, that thus most perjured hath showed himself, the most uniustest knight of the world. And that minion, the which doubtless by some enchanted spells hath won his love from me, to her liking, which otherwise she could never have done.  
This (good knight quoth she,) my long protestations might weary thee: but pardon my fault, and imagine how dear I hold thee, that amongst all the Knights of my father's Court, have made choice of you, to participate with me of my great heaviness: for which, if thou canst but set down a revenge sufficient for them, but chief for that enchanting sorceress, and execute it by thine own hand, I promise myself thine everlastingly, or what other reward so ever thou shalt require. Guilintie, which felt by her speeches, that grief she endured, was only a longing to revenge her of her loves rival, a torment which stingeth all women to the heart, hoping she would prove as firm as she proffered she would, and that in pleasing her fancy, and revenging her on the Lady, he should gain her love, for so much by her insinuating speech he gathered, standing on no more points of having, but effecting her word.  
He vowed by that honour, which at her princely father's hands he had received, never to take one quiet sleep, until he was for her on the Lady thoroughly revenged, and that with such rigour, as she herself could not devise so ill a torment. And so taking his leave, humbly kissing her hands, he left her to her accustomed thoughts, speeding to the Lantano of the city, or as we say the Admiral, who had charge of all the king's Galleys, Foists, Brigandines, and Frigates, unto whom, feigning a matter of service, he had for the employment of one chief Galley, he compounded with him for her, and presently had her furnished, with victuals, and all other needful things: which done, as one careful of what he intended, he put to the Seas, and by his own skill, knowing what course the Lady kept for her port of Cenito Vecha, shaped the like to his master, rowing that night with all the force his poor slaves was able to make. In the morning the Sun showing his most glorious and splendent beams, and finding himself by his masters reckoning to be well shot from his own coast. After some kind shows oflove, and requital to the master for his service and forwardesse in finishing his pretence, omitting the principal cause of following the ship he sought, he 〈…〉 offered him, by a Merchant in that company of whom he so earnestly craved revenge. The Master which could well demean himself, knowing the knight to be of great account, and believing what he had said, promised his best furtherance for the same. And shifting his course for their more speed, well waiting how the wind had scanted upon them, halled over for an Island, where commonly all men bound that way, accustomed to water. In which place by chance unhappily they met them. The Lady and her women being on the shore recreating themselves, and the men busied in getting water, wood, and such wants, aboard, saw the Galley which rowed mainly in for the place, who showing their colours, by which they were known to be of Thrace, there was no further doubt, they having the Kings pass, and the league such between the nations.  
But the knight whose heart was bound to revenge him on a guiltless Lady, no sooner came to anchor in the road, but haling the ship, inquired for the Lady, who was then a shore, which hearing, he speedeth unto them, furnished with twenty of his best men well appointed, which he thought to be suffient to surprise such naked people as he supposed they were. No sooner was he on land, but with hollow heart, saluting the frenchmen he met, unto whomhe was well known, requiring speeches with the Lady, he was by those that honoured her for her father's love, as also for her noble husband, simply conducted to the place, where the Friar, with all the Merchants were devoutly on their knees at prayer, unto whose Orisons this bloody minded knight, as bad clerk, said Amen, long before it was time, without regard of honour or oath made for defence of Ladies, rushing upon them, laid violent hands upon her, and others on the rest of the Gentlewomen, intending to have carried her away perforce, which the Frenchmen seeing, loath to lose the Ladies good company, required the knight to acquaint them with his intent, in offering them that wrong, whose kindness refusing, without returning any answer, with his sword slew him that first spoke, which caused the others, with such weapons as they had, to revenge their companions death, so that between them began a most cruel and grievous fight: the Frenchmen fight in the right of our English Caveliers Ladies, so valiantly behaved themselves, that they slew the most part of those which came a shore: from whom recovering their weapons, it is not to be thought what exploits was done between them. But in the end all sorting out to the knight's overthrow, who was in the fight slain, with all his company that stood with him in the action. Such as fled was by those that were busily employed, seeing their friends so ill entreated, slain, so that none recovered to carry tidings how they sped. The Friar in this broil being a man of peace, taking care of the Lady and her company, withdrew them from their presence: & searching in fear some place of safety, from pursuit of the enemies, by chance lighted on the Cell of an Hermit, wherein they shrouded themselves.  
The master in the Galley, noting their ill success a shore, laid the ship aboard, rifled her of what she had, and like a most cruel wretch, sunk her in the road: which done, hoisting his sails, having a wind fair for his port, he made no longer stay, leaving the Lady with her company in a barren unfrequented Isle, having no relief at all of any thing, but such roots and herbs provided for them by the aged Hermit, whose guests they were. Now against their wills, with this. Hrmet we leave them a season, to attend their devotions, and a time of deliverance, the Master with the Galley bound for his home, to show you what other fortunes befell the Knight of the Cross.   

CAHP. III.  
How the Knight of the holy Cross, after some small stay in Peloponenses, betook him to his travail, with his fortunes.  
EDward having reposed himself in this City, thinking the time long until he saw the end of his desired journey, taking leave of the Viceroy, betook himself to his good fortunes. Two days travailed he throughout those deserts of Greece, only accompanied with his Page, and a Currier which was his guide. The third day he had sight of a mighty convoy of Cammils, being at least six thousand, with their Merchants, which came from India, bound into Egypt. To those governors and Merchants he sent, requiring them of victuals to relieve his store: his wine and oil, by a casual hap being lost, and no place of refuge near to relicue it by a far way: which the Merchants very kindly granted, furnishing his wants of what he required, and they could spare. With this company he continued three days, very pleasantly passing the time amongst them, of whose company they were all right glad. The third day drawing towards the evening, as they began to unfurnish their Cammils, and to set up their Tents, determining to lodge there all night, their espials descried a company of armed people, well mounted, which sped them towards their company, so hardly pursuing the scowts, that they had much a do to escape. Of these people the Merchants had great doubt, and seemed to be very much troubled in mind at these tidings: which the knight perceiving, chéered them with such comfortable speeches, as he could host utter, and they understand: arming himself to withstand their forces, and placing his companies with such weapons as they had to receive them, which was scarcely finished, before six gallant Caunleres, with their staves charged come near unto them, and required the merchants to deliver those goods they had, for the uses of their king.  
The Merchants, reposing themselves of this noble champion, were driven to a non plus, what to answer, but as men amazed, stood gazing one the other in the face, whose timorousness the knight perceiving, dreading no colours, mounting himself with his staff charged in the rest, singled himself, and putting forward, required those gallants to say what their business was. The Tartars perceiving him to be a knight at Arms, and they soldiers, answered.  
Sir, what thou art we know not, but by thy seeming, if we be not deceived, thou art a man of Arms, whom we come not in any sort to molest. But for these base fugitives, which have wronged our King of his customs, due to be paid of all men passing his Country, we come to be satisfied, which we will have, or lose our dearest lives in gaining thereof: therefore gentle sir, as we have declared the truth of our coming, take no part with them, if thou lovest thine own welfare. The knight which heard their reasonable answers, could not take any thing spoken in ill part, until he had examined the truth of the merchants, and whether there was any such custom due to their king as they required, which on there great oaths they denied, vowing unto them by all solemn protestations they could use, that there were none belonging to the King, but outlaws, and such as lived on the spoils of travailers, neither was there ever any custom required of any prince in their time, some of them having used that passage many years before.  
The good knight which was loath to wrong either part, could not tell what to answer, considering the guise of men, which is to make the best of their own matters, called the chiefest merchants, for in them he had most trust, and examining strictly each particular, of their abode, their cause of travail, and their place whither they were bound, swore them to the truth of all what they had spoken, which donehe returned again unto the armed outlaws, which attended his answer, saying.  
False villains, and deceitful wretches, how dare you, being robbers and disturbers of peaceable travailers, so much to abuse the reverent name of your king, who is altogether unacquainted with your treacheries, as to make his authority a shelter for your bloody minds, and spoiling the goods of honest men, that you have abused both him and us, you shall all well know. Therefore if your business be no other than I have notize it is, depart, or you shall know, to your great sorrow, and hearts grief, that you have met with him which will not be dared with your high looks.  
The Tartars hearing him speak so like himself, and with such resolution, could well have forborn to deal with him, or his company, yet setting their rest upon the courage of their company, which were all well appointed, and better mounted, defied the knight, who taking all advantages, seeing their resolution such, encouraging the Merchants, who were all fearful of losing what they had, began most honourably to assail them whose power was as bravely resisted a long time: in this conflict was most honourable deeds of Arms by the noble knight done, who ever cheered his companies, which were all likely to run away. So hot and fiercely continued this good knight this assault, that encountering hand to hand the principal leaders, he gave them such payment, as they could not with all their skill find fault with their paymaster: such order he took with them, dealing dole to all their costs, that many of them for fear fled the field, betaking them to places where they might behold the wonderful deeds of honour done by this most renowned knight, which on all sides they so assailed, as he had no way to get out, but such passage as he made with his well tempered Curtelar, of whose metal he made at that instant sufficient proof, which those outlaws well felt. And perceiving their power too weak, to conquer where such a guider was, resolved no longer to abide in hope, but every one to make such means as he best could for his own safety, which the noble knight perceiving, so hotly pursued, that many Tartars souls he sent to death: Others without arms, legs, and other limbs, lay weltering in their own blood, that it was lamentable to see, such a Massacre amongst men, if they had been such, as in men living in Prince's obedience they should be.  
These Peasants thus flying, and the noble Edward wearied with pursuit of them, night being at hand, so as it was not to be discerned a friend from a foe, returning again unto his companies Tents, in a Valley distant from them a good Mile, he was there at unawares set upon by one of their leaders, which had escaped him in the battle, who gathering together an hundredth of his straggling Consorts, knowing him to be gone that way, encountered him, who being weary of the toil taking so lately, had like to have put him to the foil, being so at the advantage assailed. Yet he whose heart never was seen to faint, arming himself to defend, casting his shield on his arm, putting himself amongst the rout of them, still crying Lancaster, God and Saint George for England, laying so about him, that some heads, some hands, and others in most pitiful wise crying out, he made way thorough the thickest, so behaving himself, that every one that could make shift for one, was willing to give him room, and to be gone. Of whom being cleared, breathing himself, and receiving some air, he might espy before him running up the Hill, a Gallant mounted on a Milk white Courser, which the knight imagined should be the commander of those companies which last assailed him, with whom desirous to acquaint himself: he gave spurs to his horse, and so earnestly followed this Companion, who little thought of his coming, that overtaking him before he was looked for, he arrested him so soundly with his blade of authority, as he made him forsake his Horse, to taste the sweetness of the earth, which done he dismounted himself, saying: Abide you gallant, and accept a strangers courtesy. I promise thee false felon as thou art thou dishonourest thy Master, which made thee a receiver of custom, to run away when payment is tendered: wherefore seeing there is no more trust in thee, here in your king's name, I discharge thee of this office. And so at one blow taking his head with his Curtle-axe from his body, left his soul to him that had most right.  
This latter task accomplished, breathing himself a while, he mounted his Horse, and pacing easily towards the Tents, which by the fires light he had sight of, he was met with diverse of his company of the Merchants, who being men of more value than many of the rest, had put themselves in search of this worthy Knight, passing all the way, thorough so many heaps of dead men, and grievous wounded bodies, that they admired his worthiness, aplawding his valour, and still praising him, giving him the honour, above all men at Arms, whatsoever they had either heard of or seen.  
Thus passing on in search of their honourable friend, whose company they were not willing to forego, sometimes careful of his welfare, otherwhile commending his haughty deeds of chivalry, they espied passing down the hill, a man armed, which they could not perfectly discern, and therefore made a stand, intending to see if there came any more, before they put themselves into danger. But being perceyed of the Knight, who stood still on his guard, doubtful of any more such unexpected customers, making ready for the fight. And giving his Horse such way, as in his swiftest gallop he accustomed to make, he cried fiercely out saint George. At which words the merchants having knowledge of him, dismounted themselves, and kissing his hands, his knees and feet, honoured him for more than a mortal man, which kindness, asbeit he expected no such reverent honour, he took thankfully, requiting them with all courtesy, for the care they had of his well doing, so with pleasant discourses they pass the way until they came to three tents, where they alighting, took him carefully from his horse, and bringing him with all duty to his lodging puruaide for him, they unarmed him, washing his bruised body, and such small scars as he reserved in fight, with most precious Balms, which done, making him all the frolic cheer and honour they could, they commend him for that night to his rest, causing a sure guard, and heedful watch to attend him in his tent, and placing faithful sentinels, dreading the enemies, they took themselves to their quiet repose.   

CHAP. FOUR  
How the Knight of the Cross, taking leave of the Merchants and their company, left them to their journey.  
THe day ne sooner gave light, but the Negroes and slaves provided to load their Camels, which done, the Tents taken down, and all things ordered to departed, the way lying now for the knight to leave their company, when they had well broken their fast, and carowsed to their welfare, providing of all such provision as they had, they presented him with a most curious casket of the rarest jewels that ever his eyes beheld, beseeching him to accept them at their hands, as interest of their loves, vowing themselves ever his in all humble services. The Knight which was as courteous as valiant, seeing their thankfulness such, making choice of some special jewels, required them to value those which he did fancy, for without paying their prize, he would accept none. The Merchants which had received the benefit of his valour, and freed from thòse men of mischief which had despoiled them of all if he had been absent, generally besought him to take in worth those they had presented, for that not only their goods but their lives was his, alleging that by him they enjoyed what they had, and therefore would not be entreated to receive any of them again, but besought him with all humbleness, if he would not receive them, to bestow them on whom he would.  
The knight when he saw their importunate suit, commended their thankfulness, willing them to attribute that good he had done for them to God, by whose sufferance he had wrought their safety, and in all places to speak of England's honour, and their knight adventurers: which done, taking those jewels of most esteem with him, he commended them to their journey, who with many loath depart, bade him often times farewell with heavy hearts. This adieu taken, we leave the knight to his adventures, the Merchants to finish their journey, until fit time serve to recount such other adventures as he enterprised, to show you further of the Lady Valia, Alind and their honest company, left in the unfrequented Isle.   

CHAP. V.  
Of the great discomfort of the Lady Vallia, who of a conceited fear, fell sick of a grievous malady.  
YOu have heard gentiles, how the Lady Vallia with those Merchants, was in the unfrequent Island, left without any manner of sustenance or relief, other than such wild roots, herbs, and fruits, as naturally had their being in that barren soil, through which unusual diet, and a conceited fear of more ensuing dangers, the Lady fell sick of an extreme malady, for whose recovery no help could avail: yet did those religious Hermits and Friars the best they could. The Merchants and others of the company, to amend their diet, employed their labours to fish, and to making of gins, to take foul and such beasts as was there to be had, only for her content, but in vain do they seek to mitigate her sorrows, or recover her health, such was her grief for her Lord's absence, and fear of more harsh pursuit of the enemies.  
In this perplexed estate continued this good Lady, past all hope of recovery, given quite over to death by all the company, who ceased not their prayers for her good health. But as in all extremes the favour of our God is most shown, so behold in this, Vallia lying on her hard cabin, slumbering as in a dream, there appeared unto her thoughts a beautiful parsonage, so glorious in his attire, as she beholding thereof seemed to lack her senses. This Angel as she supposing, after some pause and standing to behold her, thus said.  
VAllia, surseace thy further dread: thy Lord eioyeth his life, whom once again thou shalt meet, but have no knowledge of him for a time: thine nearest allied death hath taken: yet dismay not, for in the seed of thy womb shalt thou be made glorious. My message is done: thine intercessions are hard, and thy delivery from this place asit hand.  
This said, clapping his wings, as to her seemed, he left the cave, and departed, wherewith Vallia, as one awaked from a trance, seeming as one of her wits to be bereft, cried mainly out for help, whose sudden motions caused them all to fear her death was at hand: yet comforted they her all they might with such speech & words of heavenvly pleasures as in such times is convenient to be used, so long continuing their talk, that in the end grasping her hand about the neck of her trusty Alinda: she raised herself in her bed, and fetching a deep sigh, said. reverent father Hermit, you patron of learning, and others my good friends, this night have I seen my saviour face to face, who by his divine providence hath vouchsafed to show him, self unto me his sinful handmaid, by whom I am assured of my Lord's prosperity, and all our freedoms from this place.  
The Hermit and the rest hearing these speeches proceed from her imagined the lightness of her head had moved these fancies, and had the more doubt of her good health, and standing as men amazed, gazing one the other in the face, were as men senseless, whose hard belief of her words uttered, caused her thus reply. Fathers and my good friends, let it not seem incredulous what I have said, but attend the event, which ensuing to our comforts as we expect, give the honour to him, by whose providence we are comforted. This said, bidding them good night, she fell into a most sweet sleep, in which she continued till the morning was far spent. Before which time the company which usually went about their undertaken labours for getting their victuals, from the tops of the mountains descried a small sail at sea, which they viewed, earnestly waiting by a compass they had, which way she bore: but so long gazed they, that the gale blowing high, and fitting their cause, which were bound thither for water, having spent their store at sea, through such continual foul wether which they endured, in such manner, that they durst cease no land for fear of danger. They descried their hull, which seen, well was he that might make most haste with the first tidings, thinking the time long until they came to the cave, where being near speechless with the hast they made, a sudden fear possessed all the company, specially Alinda, whose heart was at her heel until she heard them deliver the cause of their speedy coming, which known, God was glorified in general. And Villia as one over joyed at this sudden news, might not by any entreaty be held longer in her bed, but calling for her apparel, attired herself with such courage, as if she had felt no grief, which done, resting her weak body on the arm of her Alinda, she left the desolate cave, to take the comfort of the sweet air abroad, and to see the event of those blessed tydidgs she hoped of.  
By this time was the ship ancored, and the Mariners making haste for water, whereof they had great need, hoist their boat, and with their vessels came a shore, where they were hearty welcomed of those poor distressed people, who inquired diligently from whence they were, and what occasion drove them to that coast. Sir quoth the boatswain, being a man of some good demeanour, we are of Sicilia, an Island belonging to the Spanish king, bound by our charty party, for the coast of Egypt, and meeting as poor sea men oft do, with foul weather, the winds raiging in such manner, our store of wine being spent, & water scarce, our coming is hither for that relief. Thus sir, quoth he, as I have acquainted you with our fortunes, refuse not to let us know what you are, which have your abode in a place so unfrequented as this, where I have before this time been often, but never saw or heard any that lived here.  
Friend quoth the Merchant, we are here a great many poor distressed souls, which by violence of an enemy that unawares assailed us on the shore, were driven for safeguard of this Lady to stand on our defence, where by fortune and the assistance of God, we vanquished the proud daring enemies, which were on land with us: which when his companions perceived that kept aboard his galley, they first rifling our ship, taking what they best liked, and afterwards leaving us without any relief, saving that apparel on our backs, sunk our ship, and left us to our fortunes, since which time we never had sight of any man or ship, whereof we had any hope of comfort, before this time. Therefore if God have ordained you for our good, and that as Christians you pity our distresses, help this Lady with us her friends, to any place inhabited by Christians, your payment shall be large, and your charitable deed rewarded both of God and men.  
The Boatswain being a man as full of pit as courage, hearing this lamentable discourse, and seeing the weak estate of the Lady, was moved with remorse of their good, promising his best furtherance for their comforts: so shipping one hogshead of water for the company, hasteneth aboard, taking with him the Friar and two Merchants, whose words wrought such effect with the master and the rest, that a conclusion was paste for their passage, and the master coming a shore, brought with him for the Lady's relief, such bread, succour, and other provision as he had, which came in good time, and not before it was long looked for, which was as thankfully received. The master and his company having a care to be at sea, applied all their people to labour, so that within two days they were well provided with water, ready to set sail.   

CHAP. VI  
How Vallia and the rest taking leave of their good host the Hermit, was shipped from thence, with their fortunes.  
Such was the industry of the Master, that long time was not spent before all needful things were provided, when having a pleesing gale for their course, warning was given to the passengers to be ready, for whom they made no long stay, but their leave taken of the old Hermit, they commend him in their prayers to God, and themselves to such success as they expected.  
All things fitted and the passengers aboard, the anchors weighed, an nimble boy you're with his knife, gave way to the sails, which tryned to good pass, a main they cut the waves, and joyful of this happiness, as to be endowed with great treasure, two days & more they enjoyed of quiet and calm content, without any annoyance either of wether or enemies: the third morning being overcast and gloomy, a Boy looking out for dangers, espied under the edge of an Island, two stout Galleys, who having sight of the Ship, made towards them with all speed they could, of which being advertised, a general fear possessed all their hearts, especially the Lady, who having so lately felt the force and extremity of the merciless foe, was doubtful of the like. But how timorous soever women in their kind be, it resteth for men in extremities to show themselves. The master being a man of courage, called all the company, as well strangers as others, and unto them he saith. Friends all and companions, we have now small time to stand on discourses, seeing our enemies are at hand: if enemies they be, as it is most likely, howif they gets the best, and we by our cowardice subject ourselves unto them, I doubt not but you all have heard what misery we shall endure, for Turks they are, that is without all doubt: therefore like men show yourselves and arm you with courage and hope of victory, for howsoever death cannot be so bitter as the torments they will inflict on you, if they prevail. Therefore as many as will take part with me, hold up your heads, and provide for your safety.  
These words were no sooner delivered from the Master, but you might see with what united hearts every man gave his consent to fight it out, and standing on no terms, every man provided him such weapons as he could best use, lacing close their mettinge, and making ready their fire works to annoy them: whilst every man was thus busied, Vallia whom fear had near overwhelmed, was comforted by her friendly trust Alinda, who cheering her weak spirits, said. avant your fear Madam, cast heaviness aside, and let not these sullen thoughts cumber you, we know the worst, death is to be preferred before a miserable life. Therefore take courage, show yourself to be yourself, and remember your noble Lord, who were he present, would dare all those curs to behold his face. Though we be women let's do our best, or at least, if your heart quail, give me leave, for before you die some of them shall abye your life, or both my heart, power, and weapon shall fail me.  
Vallia, which saw her woman in this humour, could not forbear to smile, how heavy soever her heart was, yet setting a good face on the matter, said, well Alinda well, your great shows will prove I fear but a bold cowards brag, as much may they do that say little, as they that fill the air with threatening clamours, whatsoever thy thoughts are of my fear, if my help need, whereunto I trust it will never come, Alinda shall see Vallia hath Raynolds heart, though not his apparel.  
Whilst they were thus pleasantly jesting, to the good encouraging of all the company, whose care was most for them, the Galleys coming up, hailed them, commanding them to strike, and the master with the Merchants to come aboard, or without resistance to suffer them enter. The Merchants of France, passengers hearing their peremptory speeches, answered. Proud and unhallowed curs, what think ye of us, to be men or babes, that you dare us so with these speeches, know that before thou have in possession the least hair of any of our heads, thou shalt dearly abye them, therefore amain, amain, and therewith all having his piece read, fired the same, aiming at the poop, wherewith shooting at randen, by great fortune killed the Admiral of the Galleys, which done, a most sharp & bloody fight began, and with great courage on the Christians part maintained, who with their ordinance slow their slaves and companies like Bees: which disadvantage the Turks seeing and feeling, fight so far off, boarded them one on the one side, the other on the other: at this onset began the Spaniards to quail, which were cheered to the fight by their passengers, who seeing their valour, was encouraged to stick to that which else they had given over, especially seeing and noting how manly and without fear, the Lady Vallia and her Alinda devoired themselves, who spying their times to work on the advantage, seeing their chains full with Turks, ready to enter their ship, from a port with their short pikes, spoiled many, thrusting them over board, and killing divers, and speeding them from that labour, two naked Turks having fastened an anchor at their Ships rother, thinking to enter in their stern parts, by Vallia and Alinda were so plied with Pots of Powder fired, Pikes of wild fire, and such other, as their whole company giving over the fight, there was very few or none, either Turks or Christian slaves which could stand so pitifully were they spoiled, burned, and massacred, whereby they enforced them to yield themselves unto the Christians mercies, of whom they tooks small pity: but drenching them all in the sea they found alive, sunk one of the Galleys, and taking all the Christians into the other that were able to serve, freed them from their chains, and caused the wounded to be dressed, left the Galley in possession that night of a Merchant of Marceelas: which done, and all things quietly ended, the Friar which saw how valiantly the Lady and Alinda employed their forces, highly commended them for their forwardness in this action, which made Alinda in jesting manner thus to say. That your Ladyship is become so valiant on the sudden, I do not greatly marvel, considering the fellowship you have so lately with so honourable a knight, whose courage hath animated you to this hardiness: if the husband be famous for his worth and honour gained in all places, no doubt but France and Spain, and Italy, shall sound the Lady Vallia her high deserved commendations, whom, if God bless with increase of children, are likely to prove men of high account in the world, if they have the father's courages, or the mother's stomach which is passed by with an English heart. Vallia hearing her Maiden to jest thus broad, cut off her speech thus.  
Alinda, what motions are these, that on such sudden causeth your strings to jar so far beyond your custom, such manner of jests I brook not, though loving thee, I strain myself at this time to digest them. In delivering of which speech, Alinda perceiving by her unwonted scowling of her brows, that she was somewhat discontent at her speech, forbore her further answers for that time. To put her from her melancholy, the master of the ship, told her such viands as they had was ready, if she pleases to sup: whereunto she was easily entreated, having gotten her a stomach with her long fasting, and hard toil in the fight Their discourses at table of each several accident happening, I omit, to let you know their ensuing actions with their success.   

CHAP. VII.  
How the Spaniards delivered the Galley unto the French Merchants, and Mariners, with such victuals as they needed, who taking with them the Lady Vallia, left them.  
THe Lady with her friends discoursed at supper of the dangers past, leaving nothing of worth by any one particular unremembered, done in that action, a motion was made, that the Galley with the flaues able to labour, and victuals necessary should be given unto her to bring her to her desired port, unto which the Spaniards to requite the good done them by her whole company, granted very willingly, for performance of which, order was presently taken, and each thing néedfully puruaide to the ladies good content. In the morning early by break of the day, the master having the wind fair, was loath to make longer stay then need, haled the galley, willing them to come near the ship, and unto the merchant revealed their intent, and what the whole company had agreed upon, which was very well accepted of the French men, who rendered him many thanks for his favour, for dispatch of them both: such haste was made as possible they might, which was suddenly done to the general, rejoicing of these poor captives who by this overthrow of the Turks, were made free. The lady aboard, taking their solemn farewell each of other, they shaped each one there several course best fitting their turn. Vallia frolic with her company, & holy father, unto whom with a very thankful mind unto her maker for all the success she had received from him, and accomplishing her hearts desire, omitted nothing worthy the recounting, to the great admiration of all the hearers, especially the Friar, whose charge she was, who calling to mind the favour of God, in revealing to her by vision their time of sudden departure, thought her some holy & chosen woman, & ever after in all his Masses & other ceremonial rites according to the order of their church and blind devotion, extolled the lady far beyond her expectation. Thus falling from one discourse to another, to drive the time away: after they had spent one whole week at sea, they might discover the mountains near the old city Ceveta vecha, or old Rome, so called, & had all things so favourable to their desire, that long before night they recovered the road, where coming to anchor, was presently boarded by the officers of the city, who had great fear they had been Turks at their first coming in: but having some conference with the Friar, was certified of all their proceedings, leaving nothing unspoken which might gain them fame, and the lady honour, wherefore the officers having knowledge, holding that truth which the friar had spoken, whilst they frolic with the lady, & her company, sent his guidelow a shore with one of his confederates, charging him to deliver to the abbot & his friars what he heard, taking like order for puruaying her of lodging in the old palace of the Emperor, which he caused to be furnished with all needful furniture, as the shortness of time would permit them, with all provision that was there to be had.  
The officer who was a joyful man of these tidings to be the messenger, hasteneth all he might, being with child with those news, & longing to be delivered, wherefore as soon as he recovered the shore, stayeth not until he came unto the lord abbot, unto whom he forgot nothing of his charge, which the old man hearing, blessing & crossing himself, wondrously perplexed with the strangeness of the tale delivered, he first called his covent together in their church, where they praised God for them, and their safety, and so putting on all their best masking attire, went in procession to the sea side, to receive her a shore, where they carried with them the speciallest relics they had.  
The captain of the town with his band, in solemn order marching in like manner, and all the bells ringing for joy, to welcome the holy Lady. After all these the governors and council of the town in their order, making such a beautiful show as had not been on such a sudden ever seen before.  
All things ordered at point device, boats were sent out so richly furnished with tapistry, Carpets, and curious Cushions, as was a wonder to see, the shore standing full with all the people in the Town.  
The men appointed to bring her a shore, being noble men, the one a governor in the town, the other a Cardinal, who boarding the Galley, on their knees solemnly kissed her hands and feet, doing her as much honour as if our Lady had been present, which she took small pleasure to have, which done, and a general welcome to the whole company, the governor entreated her to take the comfort of the shore, to which small persuasions served, at her going to the boat, well was he that might set hand to help, & he thought himself most happiest, that could come nearest her, such foppery was not used aboard, but much more on the shore, where was ducking on all sides, crouching and kneeling, with such singing, drumming & gunning, that the Echo thereof was enough to make a man sick. The welcome given, this noble Lady might not be suffered to touch the earth with her feet. But at her landing place, was spread a most sumptuous cloth of estate, and a Chair thereon to rest her, where when she had a while reposed herself, and every one of account kissed her feet and hands, four commanders, two Priests, and two Captains, carried her in the chair, over whom was borne by the Abbot, the Cardinal, and two noble men, a most rich Canopy. So marched she until they came unto the Abbey, where preparation was made for her lodging, where the Procession ending, the Cardinal and Abbot took leave of the governors of the town, bidding them good night.  
But they which had provided the emperors palace, and been at great charge for her viands, took in ill part, that any such unkindness should be offered them, and in quiet manner besought them to grant them leave to have the guard of her, which they so scornfully answered, that the Cardinal in speaking as his choleric nature accustomed, with his hand had like to have given the Governor a blow on the face, which unkindness the soldiers disdaining, by violence sought to carry the Lady, in such manner, and with such harsh behaviour on both sides, that the Cardinal, Abbot, the Cross, Banners, and all were laid low on the earth, and such a hurley burley begun, as was never seen the like, striving for the Lady's entertainment, which grieved the good Lady, which was then to be ruled by those of greatest power, the soldiers and commanders of the Town, with whom she was best pleased, for that her love and honourable Lord, was a man of Arms and honour.  
This discourtesy the Cardinal and his company took in such ill part, that they cursed all the Town, and Town inhabiters, suspending them from the holy Church for ever. But they whose care was small at that time, for any their doings cared but little. The Lady they cheered, who wanted nothing that was fit for her honour and welfare, where let her repose herself a time with jollity, the Friars sweeting in their own grease, and the Cardinal and Abbot chafing like men frantic, to show you what after happened.   

CHAP. VIII.  
How the Governor advertised the Emperor, of the arrival of the Lady Vallia, and what after chanced her.  
THe broil ended, a great stir was in all the Religious houses, amongst themselves, debating of the wrong offered by the people of the Town, the Church doors were all sealed up, and no man upon pain of their curse to enter them.  
This was considered of the Governors, who took advise in the matter, knowing the authority they have in all places where their religion taketh place. Besought the Lady for her Letters of favour to the Emperor, to the end this begun enmity, might be appeased, unto which she was easily persuaded, though sat against the mind of her Protector the friar.  
The Lady's Letters signed, which imported her message from the Knight of the holy Cross, and the messenger appointed, there was no detracting of time, but with all speed that Horse could make, he applied his business, until he came unto Rome, where coming before the Emperor, he delivered his Letters, which were very welcome, taking great pleasure in the coming of the Lady into those confines, being Lady and wife unto the Knight which of all men living he hold in most regard.  
Whilst the Emperor was discoursing with the Messenger, a Cardinal came to summon him before the presence of the Pope, presently to appear, to answer those wrongs done by his Governors to the Church and Patrons thereof, of all which, the Cardinal had signified his holiness, which was held a matter most heinous.  
The Cardinal gone, the Emperor called again for the Messenger, and with him questioned of all those troubles begun, whereof he did advertise him in each particular, and withal, delivered the governors Letters, which he had written to that end, doubting such a chance would happen, and that the Cardinal would seek revenge, with all extremity he could. When the Emperor was advertised hereof, making no stay, he came before the Pope, unto whom as the manner was, doing reverence, he requireth the cause of his speedy sending for him.  
The Pope whose fury was not yet overpast, incensed to more choler by persuasions of the rest, who hung all in a string, doubting lest giving heed to these, it might incur a farther damage unto them all, in their several government, began in loud and most harsh terms to revile the Emperor, calling him heretic, and subborner of heretics, uttering against him speech of most dishonour and disgrace. All which the Emperor like himself, as he was a most grave and well governed Magistrate, knowing by his own perfections, other men's humours, forbore to answer what he in choler offered, but mildly leaving his presence returned to his Palace, very highly discontent, yet governing his passions, betaking himself to his study, he 'gan with great wisdom to consider of each accident, and finding his governors offence to touch his reputation, albeit he had done all for his honour and credit, yet the Church carrying a hand over all of what estate so ever, knowing by experience their insolency, thought it best to reconcile himself without farther moving of trouble, and thereon resolving sent presently for the Cardinal his Confessor, unto whom he feigneth, what heaviness and grief he conceiveth at those unkind dealings of his Governors against his holiness, the Church, and state thereof, beseeching him, of those loves he always proffered unto him, to find some mean to accord his holiness and him, so that a league and peace being obtained, all wrongs might be forgotten, and his towns men restored to the Church again. All which his Confessor promised most faithfully to follow. And so taking leave of the Emperor, speedeth him to his holiness Presence, where forgetting nothing that he had promised, omitting nothing for his better success, declareth at large the heaviness of the Emperor, for his abuse offered against his will and knowledge, so earnestly applieth his suit unto the Pope and his honourable friends, that though with much ado, yet at last an atonement was granted, but the Emperor and the Town fined at ten thousand Florence for the offence: whereon concluded, a peace was made, and unity between them, and they all restored to the Church.  
This brawl ended, the Emperor not forgetting his friend's Lady, bend his studies for her royal entertainment, for which taking order with all his Officers, he appointed a day to set forward to her place of abode. Till which time, we leave them to recount unto you the knights troubles, and what chanceth him in his travails.   

CHAP. IX.  
How the Knight of the holy Cross, by the treachery of his guide, was rob of his Horse and Armour, and what happened.  
AFter the departure of the Knight with she Merchants, on the Mountains of the Tartars, coming to a place called Sylo, where he was to embark himself, he discharged his guide, and sailed with other company to Misath, where being landed, presented himself with the rest of the passengers to the Bashaw, who came in person to see the passengers bound for jerusalem. This Bashaw being of a proud and insolent condition, expected great reverence, which of the common company was given him. But our Cavylier scorning such base fashions, could not stoop in such manner, wherefore the Bashawe began in vile speech to taunt him, which he better understanding than the rest, though he had not his language so perfect, in Italian answered his speeches, whereat great excepttions were taken, yet by reason of his safeconduit, he durst no quarrel or make stay of him, but amongst the rest, without favour, had victuals and a guide: and so mounting his horse departed, leaving the company to the common guard of the soldiers, as is the custom.  
The Bashawe whom spite had moved to choler against the Knight, understanding he left the ordinary passage, intended to cry quittance with him, by treachery, or as he best might, to fulfil his devilish mind: And that night armed a hundredth of his best jannisaries, whom he hired to slay him, appointing them the way to follow the Knight, whom they very hardly pursued, in such manner hastening, that they had sight of him, following by easy pace a long time, till night growing upon them, they caused a naked Moor to overtake him, and to keep him company, appointing him to take such order with his guide, that where he should rest, to rob him both of horse and armour: And that done, to give them notice, whom he should be sure to find by their several fierce, which they would of purpose make. With this lesson the naked rogue left them. And overtaking the Knight, fell in jesting with his guide, with whom he used such pleasant behaviour, that it greatly delighted the Knight, who made much of him, and willed him to stay by the Fountain where he pitched his Tent, imparting with him such victuals as he had: when the Knight had well refreshed himself, and had seen his Horse well meated with barley which he brought for him, giving strait charge to the Moor his guide, to maintain the Fire which usually they kept, for defence of the Lions and wild beasts keeping the deserts, he took him to rest.  
The Moor having now opportunity to work his companion, taking him from the Tent, began so to work with him, that with shows of kindness being his countryman, love of the soldiers where he lived, and hope of great reward, he won him to effect whatsoever he desired: which done, taking the opportunity offered, he adventured first to enter the Tent, and by several pieces took the Armour, his shield being under his head he durst not touch, and his sword with an arming lace fastened to his arm, being well as he thought with this, they took each of them a Horse, and leaving both the knight and his Page to walk on foot, left them thus in their sound sleep.  
The traitorous villains having sped of their business, ceaseth not posting from Fire to Fire, until they had given notice to all the soldiers what they had done, who gathering themselves together, set on to find the Tent whither they were conducted by the guide and the other slave, his companion in this practice. But he that in many perils had delivered our brave and endaunted Knight, preserveth him still for his Country's honour, as you shall note.  
For the villains gone, and heavy slumber oppressing him, he fell into a sound fléep, in which he dreamt, and in his dream seemed perfectly to see an host of men, environ a few peaceable travailers, which he of mere devotion sought to rescue: in which dream awaking, and bustling himself, as to help those distressed, sought for his armour, being neither fast a sleep nor thoroughly awaked: which ensuing, he calleth his Page, and both went to seek their horses which were likewise gone, leaving them none but the Ass and Mule which carrieth their victuals.  
This chance happening, he could not imagine what to do, nor where to seek those miscreants which so had rob him, yet searcheth he here and there, crying and calling for them, which were too far off to hear him: So long they followed seeking those villains, that they might hear the noise of many horses, which trooping made great speed towards the place where they kept.  
Attentively listened the Knight, to note if he could here any voice, and bnsily bethought him what was best to do in this extreme, believing verily that he was betrayed yet making no semblant thereof, caused the Page to bring from out his tent a case of Pistols with his powder and shot, which commonly the Page carried, with those he charged the boy, if occasion served, to do his best service, and to give him that help he could, which faithfully he promised to accomplish.  
Scarcely had they determined what to do, but they might descry the two Moors galloping on their horses, which by their white Algosines they perfectly did know, leading the others which closely followed them, making all the haste they could.  
This fight made him verily believe that those villains had betrayed him, and that those Horsemen were they which intended to work him mischief, for whom he purposeth to provide, seeking his best advantage to continue the fight, sheltering himself close to a shrubbed Olive Tree, which grew thereby, distant from his Tent a furlong or thereabout, by which they must needs pass that came to seek him.  
The Moors approaching, making ready to take them first, which were the Authors of this stratagem, the Page with a Pistolle killed the one, and the other which was his guide, with his Curtilex he unhorsed, doing him no other harm. But perceiving who he was, thought to save him alive, to be a guide for him, if he escaped out of those Mountains, so binding him hand and foot, he put a gag in his mouth, and cast him from him: which done, making ready to entertain the rest, he speedeth to his chosen Tree: where long he had not stayed, but the others galloping came as swiftly as they could, where finding the two Horses without men, made them stand, but to their cost, for his Pistols being provided, by them the foremost two lost their lives. Which done, he armed himself to defence, ever annoying them as he saw his most advantage, whilst the Page with his Pistols did his part, paying surely all those that he made offer to hit. A hardy broil and dangerous fight endured this Noble English Knight, which for all their great multitudes was not dismayed at all, but in the midst of his distress, to the encouragement of his poor Page, cried still Lancaster, Saint George for England, never making any show of discouragement, albeit his wounds were many, which bled most grievously, yet stood he, to the great everthrowe of them all, bravely and joyfully encouraging himself with hope of their shameful downe-falles. In which aided by him whom he zealously served, he brought to confusion, sometimes assailing, sometimes defending, as he best could find opportunity, and greatest advantage, ever speeding one or other, so that he never struck invaine.  
Continuing his dole with such a kind of devotion, that the better part of their Army being slain, and the most of the rest lying grovelling for life, amongst them, he espied one of the very principallest having on his Armour, who being none of the best men, seeing the others have such ill success, was flying as fast as he could, but the Knight perceiving him, got him to horse, and so earnestly followed him, that to his great cost he overtook him, in ill time, as he might well witness: for with such authority he arrested this runaway, that he had no leisure to ask at whose suit, but being an execution, pawned his life for satisfaction.  
This companion having his passport to the great devil, signed and sealed by the hand of a noble English Knight, he armed him, and posting back amongst the rest, paid them more than he owed, by many a Turks life.  
By this time the day gave him fair light, so that he might well see his work, wherefore such as could make shift for themselves, seeing the ill success their fellows had, stood not on any more points of manhood than was fit they should, but without taking leave, made what haste they could for their safety.  
The noble Edward seeing his companions gone, and none left able to make any resistance, went to survey them, which were all goodly fellows, and well appointed after their fashion, amongst which, he found one Spaniard, who was newly taken in Turkey, and turned Turk: this fellow had some knowledge of the Knight, and was abiding in Gebraltare, when by the Turks he was betrayed to the Governor. And in his company two Easterlings which had been men of value and good worth, who hearing the Spaniard crave for pity at his hands, having some hope to escape with life, cried out unto him, beseeching him to hear them speak, who being of kind and noble condition, commanded them to say what they would he would hear them.  
This comfort obtained, the Easterling bewailing their ill fortunes, which through the cruelty of the Turks, were compelled to forsake their Saviour, alured thereunto oft by threatening, and menased with grievous torments, and oft with promise of large possessions, so that in the end to their great sorrow and more shame of themselves, they repent their folly and great sin committed against God, beseeching the knight to have mercy upon them, who being now in his hand, might either deliver them by death from that sting of conscience, which continually gnawed as the hungry Tiger on his prey, or granting them life, accept them as his slaves, so that they might thorough a repentant mind, obtain the favour of God, whom so highly they had offended.  
With this pitiful suit, the Knight whose heart was always inclined to mercy (moved with remorse of saving their souls, whom none but he that gave them life could pardon) forgave them their death, and the Spaniard also, and with the help of the Page, carried them unto his lodging, where he played the Surgeon, binding and dressing their wounds: which done, with such Balms and eyntmens' of rare worth, he trimmed his own griefs, giving God thanks for his safety in those extremes, and fréeing him from those dangers, for the ease and recure of all which, he made his stay there, some three or four days, releasing the Moor which lay bound, who served to dress their horses, on whose examination, and the Easterlings, he had knowledge, that his intended evil proceeded from the Bashaw, who hired the jenesaries of purpose to slay him, for whom God continually fought.   

CHAP. X.  
How the Knight of the Crosse-arriving at joppa, through the treason of those that fled, was there imprisoned.  
WHen this most famous Knight, and mirror of honour, had reposed himself with those wounded people, some four days, and had gotten strength to travail, he purveyed him for his journey, and set forward as his way lay to joppa. To this place, some of the jenesaries which escaped from the fight, was come before, laying watch there, as also at Rome, and other places, for stay of the Knight in his passage. At this town, the General no sooner arrived, but by those tokens was given, he was well known, and had entertainment by the Bashawe, which sat in the gate daily, of purpose to entertain such travailers as came.  
When the Knight had declared what he was, and his occasion of travail, doing all customs that to the place appertained, delivering his weapons, with which, no man being a stranger, is suffered to enter, having him naked, and at advantage with nothing to defend himself, or offend them, the Bashaw suffered him to enter the Town, appointing his lodging as the custom is to do. But before he recovered the place, an ugly monster of men, with a face as griestie as a Bear, came unto him, accompanied with a train of rakeshames, which attended him, all weaponed: and laying violent hands upon him, calling and reviling him at his pleasure, commanding him to go with him.  
The knight and his company that saw this extremity and wrong offered him, being now in such a place, where it was bootless to resist them, hoping the best, yielded himself unto their mercies, who carried him to a most wild and stinking prison where the room was scarsty able to lodge two dogs, having nothing but the bare earth to lodge on, neither could he be suffered to have any, his trunks, bedding, and such money and goods as he had, they confiscated to the bashaws uses, who would not departed with one ospéere of his duty.  
The knight in safety, they laid hands on the page, who being a proper young man, they sought to have him a Turk: But he who scorned his life, in regard of God's favour and love, on which he builded, resisted all their devices, sometimes speaking fair, and other times, daring them to do what they durst, respecting nothing what they could devise to do him harm, such was his constancy and firm hope in God.  
The Spaniards and the two Easterlings, were fain to stick still to their old consorts for favour, whom they won with such gentle speeches, to favour the knight, that they obtained leave to bring him his viands, which was so good as any they could get for their moneys, ever chéering him in his extremities, vowing themselves his, so assured, that their lives should be offered for their safety, which comfort he took so kindly, as if they had done him all the good he could himself desire, promising a good requital, if God ever released him of those troubles.  
Thus leave we the noble Edward in his imprisonment, for a time: the Page to the favour of the Bashaw, and the Easterlings employing all their best power for his deliverance, to let you hear of the lady Vallia, & her company, what happened them.   

CHAP. XI.  
How the Emperor with all his train, set forwards from Rome, to conduct the Lady Vallia unto Rome.  
THe Emperor having made the atonement with the Pope for his people, omitted no time for purveying all things, which might any ways tend to his honour, or please his most noble friends lady, whom in his absence he took a princely care of, which ordained as he could best devise, he dispatched two noble men of his Court, with great presents unto her, to signify his coming, which took the easier journey, his age requiring it, commanding those nobles to see each thing with such honour to be furnished, as if himself were present. With this charge the Nobles departed, desirous to see the Lady, of whom for her rare vertures, and most excellent graces was so much spoken of, as also for her lords sake, whose followers in the Emperor's wars they sometimes were, delaieth no time for performance of what they intended: so as in very short time they arrived at Cenita Vecha, & were suddenly brought to the lady's presence, unto whom doing all the reverence they could, or as their country's use is, they declared the great care of the Emperor for her, the joy he conceived of her safety and good arrival in his confines, and how much his desired the presence of her Lord and husband, whose welfare he wished as his own, and whose company he more desired, than all the Princes of the world. This said, and the Lady returning hearty thanks for those Princely favours, as also for her honourable presence, the nobles desirous to be certified of the knights safety, began to question with her of many sundry matters, who were with such wisdom and honourable courtesy answered, that they admired her, giving her the praise of all the Ladies that ever they had seen.  
The nobles delighting in her company, never were satisfied with her speech, but as times convenient served, with much pleasant parley and speech of importance, as occasion was ministered, they passed the time two or three days. After which tune, the Lady, who had often felt such fits as to young women are incident, though unaccustomed with those passions, and being acquainted with none but her Alinda, which had as small skill in such causes as herself, she put that off often with good countenance, which began now to increase so on her, that she could no longer hide: all which she attributed to her travail, and such other cares as she endured, that to be assured of her disease, and to seek relief for her, being in very weak case, they acquainted the Physician of the cardinal with her water, who by all his skill, found the cause no other, but breeding child, for which having a careful regard (commanded strictly unto it by his Lord) he prescribed order of diet and government for her, which he gave with great charge unto Alynda, to execute. In this careful heaviness of the Lady's sickness, a messenger arrived at the palace, which brought tidings of the Emperors coming, who was within half a days journey, and meant God willing to sim with them that night. At hearing of which, a great stir began in the city, making all the preparation for his most honourable entertainment. The Cardinal with all his crew mounting themselves, with all the nobles and burgesses of the City, in good and most commendable order, issued the City to meet him, at whose coming, such a general joy was seen in every place, as of long time had not been the like.  
What kind and loving embracing was between the Cardinal & him, the Bishops, abbots, and all the rest, with shows of love and duty, and how honourably the same was requited, I omit, bringing him to the palace gate; his long desired place to be: where the Lady Vallia with her Alynda, and all the Ladies of the nobility and honour met him, unto whom Vallia prostrating herself on her knees, besought his excellent highness, to accept the humble service of her lord and husband, who rested his in all duty, beseeching his imperial majesty to pardon his negligence, and lusse ofher Lords letters, by which she was commended unto his favourable custody, not omitting each particular action, which chanced her and her company, with the cause of their loss, of all which she entreated his majesty to inquire of those merchants, and that reverent father the Friar, to whose charge she was committed by her Lord.  
The Emperor full of majesty and honour, making great shows of hearty welcome to her and her people, most honourably entertained them, giving those Ladies and nobles of his country gracious thanks, in honouring him so much as they had done, in entertaining this welcome Lady to his country. These welcomes of each side given, the time until supper was ready, they pleasantly spent in discoursing of sever all matters, the most part tending to the honour and high commendations of the knight of the Holy Cross, of whose valour, courtesy, and resolution, they all affirmed none could sufficiently speak. At hearing of which, suppose you Ladies and women of what esteem soever, that have men of person, valour, and honour, endowed with many good parts, as this noble Edward, if Valia were proud yea or no, you are made judges of her thoughts, which by your own thoughts can best censure of hers, if she be proud, it is not her fault, for by him his country's honour thorough the world is increased.   

CHAP. XII.  
How the Emperor taking care for the Lady his charge, after great honour done unto her, set forwards to Rome.  
THe Emperor whose honourable thoughts was most in giving due honour unto the Lady, was joyful in her presence, but more joyful in that she was with child, which he hoped should have his beginning in the world in his dominions, for whom as for the Lady he was not a little careful, taking an especial charge on himself, for her easy convey to Rome, whither after some stay made, as well for the ease of his aged body, as for dispatch of such business the lady had then in hand, when by his excellent bounty at her entercession, the Merchants for their goods lost, were satisfied, and those Christian prisoners with good rewards set free, and all things sorted to such happy event as she desired, every one content, and the Emperor best pleased in his charge, hearing by general report, her most godly behaviour, and her resolute courage, in their and her own defence, lovingly embracing her, he saith: welcome the flower of womanhood, to thine own Empire, where thou shalt not live to be commanded, but to command: whatsoever I possess, in all places where I have any command: therefore honourable Lady, set fear and care apart, and frolic it with those whose care is now for you and your welfare.  
For whose gracious offers, Vallia rendered her most hearty thanks, beseeching God to endue her Lord with life, and safe return to Rome, that he might acknowledge the like.  
This finished, the Emperor commanded to prepare for their journey, which was in all readiness against the next morning, when with all the honour might be shown, she was accompanied, with all the estates of the country, both Ladies and others: at whose departing the city, great gifts were presented unto her, which she most thankfully accepted, and the Emperor for her sake most honourably and bountifully required.  
Thus leaving the city of old Rome, by very easy journeys they proceed, passing the way with all devices might be procured, to beguile the weariness of the journey, as hawking, hunting, and other pastimes and pleasing discourses, in which, the Emperor desirous to know of what country she was, for that she spoke his own language so perfectly, required it at her hand as an especial favour, which Vallia with great reverence and courtesy answered, discoursing briefly unto him the long and hearty affection she bore him, being but a stranger, and how she left her father's court, with her woman then attending on her, disguised both in man's attire, not omitting his deliverance from the Spanish imprisonment, with all their proceedings, until their marriage. Which wonderful discourse the Emperor was never wearied to hear: when she had all finished, with such hearty love and more zealous affection, if more might be, kissing her tender cheeks, which he bedewed with his tears, proceeding from the entire joy of his most honourable heart, he saith. Thou lamp of honour, & wonder of the earth, how may thy most deserved praises be eternised as they merit? my noble friend in so honourable a child, and thy country thrice happy is renowned wherein thou hadst thy being: blessed by the loins from whence thou procéedest, & a world of happiness betid those, whose tender paps gave thee nourishment. Honourable friend duke Philip, happy father, eternally shall thy name live, in this gracious and noble child: oh Philip, joy of thy loving friends and kin, didst thou know thy daughter, whom long sithence it may be, thou reckonest among the dead, where living and so near thee, what joy would it bring thy drooping aged heart: methinks I see thy spirits how they would skip, to hear thy Vallia liveth, which thou shalt know, with such speed as I best may, or can give thee notice thereof, if you gracious Lady say Amen, to what I intent. Vallia seeing the joy of the Emperor, for her father's good, could not forbear shedding tears at his kind offers: which passing over as she best could, prostrating herself, she in all humbleness, besought his Majesty, to think how much she had incurred her father's high displeasure so to leave him, without giving any notice of her departure to any one, which she doubted would never be recovered without his special suit, which if by his most honourable means she did obtain, how she should hold herself blessed of God, and honoured of his highness, modesty caused her conceal: viewing by the honour of her husband's name, that all the favour he could do her, was not, neither could it be so acceptable unto her as this.  
The Emperor noting her heaviness for her father's displeasure, comforted her all he might, assuring her on his honour, to recover what she required. And calling for pen, ink, and paper, wrote as followeth.  
To the most gracious and noble Prince Philip, Duke of Genua, and Naples, health, and continual happiness.  
Thrice honoured Duke, a longing desire hath moved us oftentimes, since our last being together, to see your excellency: but the consideration of your age and imbecility, vomeete for travail, hath made us forbear to trouble you, until this instant a cause of importance to our joy, and your great comfort happily chancing, (at least) if thy fatherly love be such, to see thy supposed lost child, the Princess Vallia, of whom we have certain tidings, she is in health and safety, for whose pardon we have undertaken to become a solicitor, and hope of success in our suit: the offence being the more pardonable, in that it was affection, and entire love of that noble Gentleman, the knight of the holy Cross your soldier, and our long-friend, whose wife, to thy comfort, and honour of your house she is, Therefore, if thou rejoice in her happiness, as thy age, and ability will give leave, come unto us, who in person, will accompany you to her presence, who as we here, groaneth with the pains of another, as our physicians inform us. And so expecting what we desire from you, we bid you heartily farewell. At our imperial court, signed with our royal signet.  
Augustus Magnus.  
These letters written, he read the contents unto the Lady Valya, who praying for his long life, she hearty thanked him for his gracious favour and care of her, which done, & she there with well pleased, he signed and subscribed the same. Then calling one of his Nobles, which was grave, and of honourable account, he delivered the same, with especial charge, for the speedy convey thereof, and secret conscealing of the Lady. Which done (commending him to his journey, and good performance of his charge) he bid him farewell, whom we leave to his travail, and the Emperor and the Lady, unto their pleasure, until her time of deliverance, of which you shall here, as soon as the midwife hath done her office.   

CHAP. XIII.  
How the Knight of the Cross, by the industry of the two easterlings and the page was freed from prison, and what chanced to them.  
THe Noble Edward cloyed with his mishaps, and harsh usage in his imprisonment, thought every month a year, and every minute a month, until he was at liberty. Oftentimes persuading himself to great hazard in fréeing him from that captivity: And then by entreaty of those, one whose trust he relied his determinations ceased, attending his pleasure, which never left him without comfort, his poor followers doing for him what they could. But as long looked for, comes at last, so the time of his delivery drawing nigh, and every thing effected securely, his guides by whom he was to be ruled, pretending a journey to Sylo, obtained his horse and armour of the bassa, for a present to their Bashaw, from whence they came, which closely they conveyed away out of the city, to a place of secrecy, which they in their idle walk had found, leaving the Page in his lodging, which was in a jews house very secret. For the Page they ordained Turkish attire, and him furnished very orderly, with a counterfeit mustacho, the better to disguise him for being known, having another for the knight, unto whom before their going they had imparted their devise, which was so slay his keeper that evening, when he came to bring him water, and in his apparel to escape, appointing him a place without the City, where they with the Page would tarry his coming. This done, first conveying the page in his attire, which escaped the watch without suspect: they sought the gaoler, of whom pretending to take a solemn farewell, they carried him to a Baniard, a place where the Christian Captives were kept, plying him so with Aqua vitae, or as they call it Rakcaye, that he forgot himself, that with kindness and shows of love, they procured him to the prison, to take their leave of the knight, wherein the keeper was no sooner entered, but the Easterlings thinking that the fittest time, gave him the word to make him away, whilst they kept sure guard for his safety. By whose devise being ruled, the Jailer ended his life, with a weapon which they gave him: which done, long stood not our knight attiring himself in Cerberus apparel, who being furnished, and disguised with a counterfeit beard, he adventured thorough the gate all alone, feigning a manner of stumbling and réeling in the gate, and passed the ward, who seeing him in that manner dressed, cried out Buracho, which is to say drunken. This done, his companions seeing all well effected, made no long stay, but presently followeth, and brought him unto the tave, where the Page with the Spaniard and Moor stayed: they presently mounted themselves, and away they go, praising God for his deliverance. The haste was made, is not to be forgotten, who never ceased gallowping until they came far without danger of the Town, where night overtaking them, they found place fit for their purpose, where they alighting, gave God praise, and refreshed themselves awhile. Here the knight armed himself with his armour, girding his sword of great worth close to his side, which done, they again mounted themselves, and taking a course as they thought, far from sight of any their old acquaintance, or keeping any ready way for fear of entercepting, they travailed by aim. Two days, and some, what more well near was spent, since their coming from joppa, when they met with a Moor, borne near Algeere, in Barbary, who coming from Myca (the place where their Prophet Mahomet was buried) was that day spoiled by a rout of Arabian thieves, which kept those mountains. Of those spoiling people, the Moor warned the knight and his company who were all dismayed at his tidings: yet by the most noble knight comforted, relying on his valour, more than their own manhood, they proceeded, travailing all that day, yet never heard any news of them. The next morning, the knight having taken some extraordinary sleep, it was long before they put forward, when they had not ridden by their account one league, but they espied a crew of horsemen which were so far from them, on the side of a huge mountain, as they could well desearne. This sight caused the company to doubt of some ensuing evil, which the knight perceiving, again encouraged them, so comforting those his companions with his speeches, that they cast all fear apart, to take part with him that was not to be dared with every naked bug. In this mind continuing, these faint hearts looking about them often in their travail (for fear they should be backed) they espied another rout, which had them in chase, acquainting the knight withal, of whom he took little care, but commanded them to hold on their way easily, that if they followed them, they might overtake them, before the foremost could come to help them.  
Long had they not ridden, following the knight's directions, but one of the gallants that pursued them, was come forward with them, who viewing their strength, which he supposed was far to weak to encounter them, began in scoffing terms to flout them, especially the knight which he saw armed.  
Edward, which brooked all offences unwittingly committed, and courteously reconciled, seeing the peremptory doings of this base groom, drawing near unto him, said. Base fugitive, who was thy schoolmaster that learned thee no more good: here after when thou chancest to meet strangers, salute them with more courtesy. And therewith all lifting up his Battelaxe, gave him so sound a blow on the head, as the brains started about his horse neck. And he having no power to sit, forsook his horse, falling dead under his feet. His company which saw him fall, and had noted the blow he received, 'gan all at once to assail the knight, bending their lances upon his breast, which like a man of power, and policy, he cunningly awarded, and drawing his curtelar, which before he had bathed in the luke warm gore of many those hellhounds, he so behaved himself, that in few hours he left not many of them to stand: but leaving their horses masterless, exchanged such as they best fancied, and left the rest to their own liberty. The other company, which from the top of the mountain had feene the feats of Arms done by the knight, thinking to rescue those that lived, and to revenge those that were slain, came amain upon them, sparing not their horse sides from the spurs, to learn them a swifter pace, (but in ill time) to soon came they to the after reckoning: for they were feign to pay the host, who gave them such entertainment, as they had never power to departed from him, so honestly did this honour of knighthood deal with them, whom he found so cruel without cause offered them. In this company there were four Portugal merchants, whose Camils these villains had spoiled, taking their goods, and kept them captain, intending to sell them as slaves, to the first cavaliers of that country. These merchants being under the charge of their horsekeepers, left far off, seeing the ill success of the robbers, made way for themselves, recovering such weapons as the slaves had, from whom being clear, they mainly followed the knight, crying unto him for succour, and earnestly beseeching his favour, which the knight perceiving, caused the rest to stay, spurring his horse to meet them, to give them rescue from the slaves that pursued them, from whom they fled with all the hast they could make, but with too slow speed, for some of them were feign to stay behind their legs being too weak to carry their bodies. The knight returning from spoil of those slaves, inquired of the merchants of whence they were, they answered of Portugal, and were bound for traffic, with an hundred Camils laden with spice and silk for Constantinople, of all which they had been spoiled by these villains, of which fraternity, there was as many more as he had slain. The knight which saw the heavy countenance of the poor Merchants, could not forbear to pity them, & commanded them to horse themselves, upon the best of theirs which he had slain, which done, taking care for their relief of victuals, for their horses, and for themselves, they were conducted to the place, where the store of those thieves lay, where they furnished themselves with such viands as they lived with. And after taking choice of all manner of furniture, money, spice, and jewels, so much as they pleased, they fired the rest, and departed, holding their journey by the Portugals directions, who were very well acquainted in those mountains, applying still to recover the holy City of jerusalem, never daring to enter any town or place of force, as you shall hereafter understand.   

CHAP. XIIII.  
How the Bashaw of joppa missing his prisoner, pursued him, and how he escaped.  
NOw the covetous Bashaw, which had the custody of this honourable knight, was persuaded by the Easterlings his friends, that the Bashaw of Silo, would give for his prisoner, ten hundred thousand ducats. In hope of which, at their earnest suits he kept him alive, sending his horse, armour, and furniture by them, unto their Bashaw for a present (as before you have heard) but when he miss the Knight, the Page, and those Runagates, he was like in choler to have slain himself, by desperation to send his soul to the Devil before his time, from which extremity, no persuasion of his best and dearest friends, might any way prevail, but that in a fury he would mischief himself, seeing that by his too much trust, he was so deceived of a prisoner, and a bedfellow of so much worth, as the Knight and his Page, whom he intended to yield to his pleasure.  
The Bashaw which fared in such frantic manner, bethinking him of all the Devilish practices could be intended, called to mind an ancient Necromancer, which kept in the Mountains, between joppa and Rama, in the way to jerusalem. By this good fellow he thought to be revenged, what soever it cost him, and so comforting himself in that hope, he ceaseth his raging fury, dispatching two of his best approved friends in search of this devilish practiser, who used such diligence in their business, that in short time they found him, in whom this Bashaw reposed his whole confidence for revenge.  
This devil incarnate, they entreated with all courtesy, and best pleasing speeches they could frame, to go with them to joppa, to the Bashaw, promising great sums of gold for his pain. But all their entreaties or persuasions prevailed nething with him: if the Bashaw have aught with him to do, he must be messenger himself, or surcease his business: which peremptory course of this Archdivell, unto the Bashaw made known by his friends, though he were in mind grieved at his denial, yet he wisely considered, how vainly he should spend his time in seeking revenge on him. Wherefore, without any further trouble (accompanied with a garrison of jenesaries, and his two friends for his guides) he set forward froin joppa, and in time convenient, came before the Cave, where the Necromancer kept, who knowing of his coming, thought to be somewhat pleasant with him, to try his manhood. When the Bashaw had a while attended, & saw none stirring unto whom to speak, he commanded a soldier to knock: which done the Cuniurer transformed into the likeness of a monstrous devil, breathing flames of fire from his nostrils, came out unto them, whose ugly shape caused them all to such fear, that they wished themselves again in joppa, and were ready to take their heels to be gone. But seeing their timorousness, he took another way from them, and invisibly returned into his cave.  
Once again making trial what was in them, took on him the form of a little goat, thinking they would be doing therewith, if any occasion should be offered them. To prevent therefore what danger in this disguise might ensue, he anointed his head and body with an ointment, which so hardened his skin, that no weapon would pierce it.  
This done, he issued again amongst them, which durst not knock any more. And approaching near the Bashaw himself, began furiously to fling fire upon him: which his company seeing, armed them to his defence, whom the supposed goat ever assailed with fire, sometime flinging on him so furiously, as he would tear him in pieces, many times clawing him, that he enforced him to run away, leaving his message to do for which he came.  
This conjuror when he had plaids his part with him, and saw that he would be gone, thought to speak with him, to see how he liked his entertainment, and shifting him to his wearing apparel, met him on the way, as if he had no knowledge of his being there.  
The Bashaw his kinsmen which did know him well, when first they had sight of him, showed the Bashaw, who coming towards him, after the country fashion saluted him, and alighting from his horse, briefly told him the cause of his coming, beseeching his favour and help for recovery of the lost knight, for which he promised to reward him to his content.  
The sorcerer which saw the envy of the Bashaw in hope of gain, promised him to do what art could, for accomplishing his will, craving respite of time four or five days, that he might find what way he took, which said, and they both thereupon agreeing, they take leave each of other, whom to their devilish practice we leave, returning to the Lady Vallia.   

CHAP. XV.  
How the Emperor's message being done to the duke of Genua, for very joy of his daughter's life he dieth, and what else chanceth.  
HEre Gentles the story showeth us of the emperors safe arrival in Rome, where the many courtesies offered to the Lady was such (as well for her own sake, being daughter and hair to the noble Duke of Genua, as for the love and entire affection of the renowned knight of the Cross, her honourable and beloved husband) that the Emperor thought himself greatly bound unto all his nobles and commonalty, and highly contented the lady his charge, for whose pleasure and content so much cost was employed. The recounting of each particular I omit, leaving the Lady to the solitary thoughts of her best beloved Lord, and her gracious father the Duke, from whom the Emperor expected hourly the return of the noble man, his ambassador, who being as careful of the charge to him committed, spareth not his hard and diligent travail, night nor day, until he recovered the end of his long wished for journey: which finished and come to the emperors presence, prostrating himself on his knee, was most graciously welcomed of the Emperor, whom he questioneth of the Duke's health, and welfare of his state. The noble man which imagined how heavy the news he had to report, would be to his highness, and all the hearers, humbly besought the Emperor to hear in secret what he had to deliver, which the Emperor granted, withdrawing himself of purpose, which done, he saith.  
Tell me (noble friend) what chance hath befallen thee in this travel of thine, and how fareth our honourable friend the duke. Gracious liege, and my dear Lord, answered this noble gentleman, to keep from your highness, what you must know in time, though with a heart full fraught with grief, it cumbereth me greatly, to become the heavy messenger of such tragic news. Know (most excellent Prince) the duke hath left this life, to seek the joys of the heavenly Hierarchy. The Emperor whose thoughts were surprised with heaviness, hearing his long deferred answer to his questions, breathing out many sighs at the delivery of the same, with sighs and bitter tears (after he had a while lamented, with many mournful cries, and pitiful shréekes, the Duke's death) he straitghly chargeth the noble man, to deliver unto him the time of his departure from this world, and the cause: whether of any old grief, or sudden action: commanding him (all dread set a part) to tell the truth.  
The noble man (whose heavy heart by his outward sorrows might well appear, thought he could well have sorborne the revealing thereof, yet not daring through silence, to incur his highness displeasure he faith. Most gracious sovereign: thus, and in this manner, fared it with the duke at my first arrival at his princely Court, who frolic with the best, joyful and pleasant to hear of your majesties health, as his love might well appear, by those welcomes I received from him, and his Nobles, by his command, of whom I was so entertained, as well might beseem a state of great account and majesty, reucrencing your highness, in those honours done me. But too soon (dread and excellent Emperor) was the gleaming joys of this courtly Nobility overshadowed, with mists of direful sorrow, chancing by the duke's sudden death, who as it is supposed by his people, most in account with him, over joyed at your excellent kind tidings of his supposed lost child, surprised with a simphanie of exceeding gladness, left his honourable life, to the great heaviness of his subjects, as well his Nobles as Commons, who with most bitter and grievous complaints, spend their time in such continual lamentation, as might move the heart most hardest, with tears, to accompany them.  
The Nobles for the comfort of their Duke, with whom they were every where (only there reverend duty reserved) companions in all exercises. The Commons he oppressed not: the wronged, he by law justly restored to right: the widow and fatherless, he carefully provided for: the maimed soldier, most bountifully maintained. In brief, (most excellent, and my gracious sovereign) there is no state, no subject, or any under his government, which hath not great cause to implore the loss of this good Duke.  
This doleful discourse he finished with so deep a sigh, as pressed tears from his over-grieved heart, which restraining his tongue, caused him to be silent, and moved the Emperor at his sorrow to shed many tears, which being suddenly overpast, the grieving and most gracious Emperor, raising the Noble man from the ground, lovingly embracing him, said.  
A tale of sorrow, and much grief hast thou delivered, which moved my heart to lament, the death of such a most honoured Prince, and to grieve for those subjects, whose loss is so great. But tell me, who governeth the Dukedom? and how affect they the return of the Princess? Most gracious Low (answered this sorrowful Noble man) the state by a general consent, is in the rule of Don Sebastian Andrea, a Noble Gentleman, of grave countenance, very politic, wise, and most nobly inclined, who forced unto it by the importunate suit of the subjects of all estates, in most honourable sort carrieth himself: so that by his rule, their Prince late dead, is in justice and all other good parts before remembered, little missing, to be equal only, the nobility of his house acknowledged: so that the happiness of the Country is the more, in so provident a governor. The like of whom, I heartily wish your highness, and all other Princes: for where such live, which prized honour, and the public common weal, before their own covetous and private commodity, where laws are not sold for Lords pleasures, nor bribes corrupt justices, where through the poor are oppressed, the Commons undone, and the state impoverished, there is God honoured, and the Prince truly served. And where such blessings be, there is love of Subjects, and faithful hearts to their princes. Well hast thou said (quoth the Emperor) and in thy speech hast comforted my spirits, to hear thee discourse the honours of this noble Governor, whom I will honour ever for thy honourable report: on which meditating, he committed the secrecy of his answer to the Noble man his great wisdom, loath that the sudden news should any way discomfort the Lady, whose welfare he prised before his own good. And so betaking the Emperor to his careful study for the Ladies quiet, and the noble Messenger to his repose amongst his friends, we return again to our noble Edward, who is now in the way to the holy City.   

CHAP. XVI.  
How the Knight of the holy Cross, accompanied with the Portugals, and his other companions journeyed to the city of jerusalem, and what happened them.  
WHen the noble Edward had by his prowess, and honourable feats of Arms, by death of those miscreants, released the Portugal Merchants from their captivity, storing themselves with such needful provision, as they could conveniently carry. They sped themselves with all the haste they could, to end their desired business, and fulfil their vows in the holy City, keeping the way continually by the Mountanes, without any adventure happening, until one of the Easterlings, fell into such danger of death, that there was no way to recover him, which the pitiful Knight perceiving, and hoping the best for his recovery, making his stay to see the end, what would become of him, he applied himself by all means to seek his recovery, which was past all remedy. In which extremity, our brave English Cavalere, playing the part of a heavenly Physician, comforted his weak patient, in the promises of Christ jesus, and his passion, earnestly persuading him, to remember his time evil spent in this world, and how many and grievous sins he had committed for any danger, or hope of worldly promotions, to forsake his Saviour, whose mercies was more to be regarded, than a legion of lives, or all the Kingdoms of the world.  
In which comfortable words the distressed Easterling taking great pleasure, when the hour came of his latest farewell to the world, embracing the Knight between his arms, when his faltering tongue had lost the use of speech he showed by signs, the hopes he had to be a copartner of the heavenly kingdom, and therewithal refined his breath, whom after the Christian manner in those mountains, they entered as they best could, which done (forrowing for the loss of him whom from death they cowl not recall) they proceed on their journey, in which they had not long travailed, but resting themselves in the deserts by a pleasant rivers side. The Moor which before he had taken to attend their horses, descried coming with great speed towards them, a very fair and beautiful woman, attired in a petticoat of crimson damask, which was pursued by two Negro's slaves, which would violently have abused her body. This strange sight in a place so uncouth, when the Moor had showed the knight, like himself moved with pity of distressed people, especially of her sex, presently mounted himself, and met her, whom he questioned of whence she was, and what moved her to fly so swiftly from those villians. The Lady whom fear had almost doomed to death, being in a grievous ecstasy, could not forbear to show the sine of joy by her gesture, albeit her heart restrained her tongue speech, which the knight perceiving, taking her in his arms, and brand ashing his sword, thereby showing to revenge her wrong, he comforted her in such wise, as taking assured hope on him, which seemed by his habit to be a christian, she said. Honourable knight, whom God hath raised for the comfort of a poor distressed captive, know that I am wife unto a noble Grecian knight, called Mathatias, governor of roads, who travailing with a small train to perform our religious vows in the holy City, now two nights past, taking our lodging in these deserts, our tents pitched, and our guard having fire, as well for our use, to dress and make ready our viands, as to defend themselves from the wild beasts that haunt these mountains, a crew of cruel and most brutish heathen, that keep these places to disturb the quiet of such passengers as they met, guided by the fire (as I said) came unto our tents, whilst we sleeping, dreaded neither them, nor any other evil. By those caitiffs was my most noble husband slain, and such of our company, as resisted their devilish intents: which done, making me their Captive, they horsed me, and to their hellish mansion lodde me, with some of our followers, where perforce they would have bereft me of that most precious ornament which all good Women hold in more regard than then their life: yet preserved by God's favour, my tears and piteous cries did so penetrate the hearts of those homicides, that they have pardoned me that ill, until their return from a spoil which they have undertaken, meaning to visit their home within three or four days, leaving me to the custody of their Villains, who with more villainy have menaced me to obtain their pleasures, from whom having escaped by flight, I entreat you, that showeth to be of gentle image, if thou be no worse than thou seemest, either to preserve my chastity from their rape by flaying me, or like thyself, defend my innocency, by avenging me on those accursed villains that pursue me.  
The Knight which during her long talk, had noted her gesture and modest demeanour, uttering her sad lament, pitying her distress said. Gentle Lady, thy distress my heart pittyeth, seeing thee in this unfrequented place, so hardly beset with companions of base conditions, of whom fear not, for myself by the power of him that sent me for thy comfort, will so revenge thy just cause, as well on these, as on their masters, as they shall never take pleasure in wronging a Lady any more: and thereon assure you, as I am a Knight and a Christian. And without taking longer pause, willing the Lady to stay her there, without dread of any man, he mounted his horse, and with his Sword pursued the villains, who fearing him, fled as fast as they could, but in an unhappy time, for his legs being of more swiftness, he easily overtook them, paying them their due recompense for a fact so odious, with death. Which finished, cutting off their heads, he brought them with him to the Lady, who thanking God for her deliverance, rendered the like to the noble knight, unto whom prostrating herself, she submitted the care of her safety, beseeching him as he was a knight at arms, not to dishonour her, nor to leave her until he came where Christians inhabited. Unto which, gauging his honour, by many solemn oaths, he took her from the ground, comforting her with all kindness, protesting withal, that he would not leave those deserts unsought, until he found the dead body of her Lord, to inter him with Christian rites, and revenge his death on the robbers.  
The Lady which found such unexpected comfort in her distress, after she had with many kind requitalles of friendship, and shows of love, gratified the knight, breaking her from her protestations, he caused her to mount his horse, conducting her to his Tents, where their dinner, by those that held him in more regard than their own lives, was prepared, unto whom the Lady was welcome, wanting nothing of their store which was needful, nor such honours as to her estate required. In this better content we leave them a while, with sundry discourses to beguile the time, to let you know of their further adventures.   

CHAP. XVII.  
How the Knight of the Holy Cross in search of the dead body of Mathatias, governor of roads, found him alive, with other adventures.  
THe remain of that day and the night following they spent in reposing themselves, the knight after he had taken such directions for his course in search of the Governor, her husband, as she could give, puruaying them of victuals for two days provision, accompanied with two of the Porttugall merchants, taking leave of the Lady, and commending the trust of her safety unto the rest of his followers, he left them: posting from mountain to mountain, prying and viewing where he could discern any Tent, or show of any. So long rid he in this manner, that in the evening, about the going down of the Sun, he might descry a troop of Camilles laden, guarded with three or four naked mountenaries, to these the knight sped him in all the haste, making such way, that he soon overtook them, whom encountering, he said. Tell me villains of whence ye are, yea, and where had ye these Camilles with those merchandise in your keeping. The villain mounteners' hearing the knight use these speeches, uttered with a hoarse voice and a look threatening death, trembling as though they were ready to receive their judgement and present execution of life, kissing first the ground, and after his feet, besought him to take compassion of them, relating in what sort they had the Camilles, which they had taken from others which had them in charge, belonging to those thieves which had spoiled the Lady of her husband.  
The knight understanding by their talk that they could give him notice of the spoiled bodies, questioned them further, commanding them on pain of their lives, to tell him where the Christians were, that were lately masters of those Camilles, in doing which their lives should go untouched, or otherwise they should there finish their days.  
The villains which would more willingly have been further off, when they saw their lives was to be saved for a matter of such small importance with them, said. The sun hath not yet two times declined his power, since certain Christians travailing these mountains, were encountered by robbers, that have their continual being not far off, who slaying the people, left these Camilles and goods in possession of their slaves to conduct them to their cave, which we have slain, and humbly beseech thee of pardon.  
Recreants (quoth the knight) you shall not so escape me, but you shall likewise die, if you bring me not presently to the place where those slaughtered bodies lie, wherefore I advise you do this and live, or denying it receive your deaths.  
The villains which saw how bootless it was to persuade, yielded their consents, and hastened with so good speed, that they shortly arrived at the place, where they found the mangled carcases of the slain Christians, weltering in their gore.  
This pitiful sight moved the knight of the Cross to much ruth and sorrow for their deaths, yet knowing how bootless tears are to call again the dead, dismounting himself, he surveyed the bodies, turning, and so often tossing, to search the body of the dead governor, that with often removing he found it, and viewing his parsonage, noting each linament, with his countenance, showing a man of prowess, bedewing his bloody face with his warm tears, he might perceive a panting breath to possess him, unto which taking good heed, washing his face, and clearing it from the congealed blood, he opened his jaws, pouring into his mouth, of that wine which he brought for his provision, and after rubbing & chafing his victual powers, he recovered his life: so comforting him with the heat of his hands, rubbing and other careful handling, that his spirit waxing strong, his tongue had some use, when looking ghastly up, as one revived from a new world, he called for his Lady, and missing her, taking good notice of the Knight, which was a stranger unto him, he thus said. Noble Gentlemen, and my friends, what you are I know not, neither can I remember that ever I have had any friendship with you, yet as you are Gentlemen, tell me of my Lady, what is become of her, whether alive or dead? next, what you are, whether friends, or those that brought me to this misery?  
The Knight whose heart was overcome with sudden joy, beholding the supposed dead to live, and speak, answered: worthy and noble Governor of that most honoured Island, know, we are Christians as you are who hearing of thy distress, have undertaken to find thy body, supposed to be slain, by spoilers of such as pass these mountains, and here have their residence. Thy Lady I have received from their tyranny, and on their lives, have revenged the evil offered, by them unto her, and by my maker, whose soldier I am vowed, will not departed these deserts, until I be acquitted, of all your wrongs, or lose my life in your causes. Therefore take comfort, and thank God for your safety, whom I doubt not, but will be so gracious to restore you: your wounds I will undertake by God's grace to recure, and deliver in safety your love and Lady: who living, dieth with very sorrow for your great mishap. The Governor hearing this comfort, well noating the manlike countenance and courage of the Knight, bending himself unto him, rendered many hearty thanks for those kind favours, and embracing the Knight as his weak arms would give him leave, protested by the faith and honour of arms, for ever to become a firm friend and faithful coepartner of his adventures, so pleased him to accept of his love and fellowship.  
The Knight whom no Spaniard could match, either in courtesy or honour of Arms, taking his proffered love as kindly as they were offered, gave him many hearty thanks. Then dressing his wounds with such comfortable Balms as he had, and binding them safe, they horsed him, pacing easily towards the place where his company made their stay: where by the providence of him, who is the strength and conduct of all those that trust in him, they arrived in safety, though not before they were looked for, accompanied with their tennis, camills, and their carriages, to the exceeding joy of the Lady, and the unspeakable comfort of all his own followers. Their friendly embracings, and other talk of their fortunes, passing between the Governor and his Lady, I omit: to recount what other adventures happened to them.   

CHAP. XVIII.  
How the Knight of the Holy Cross, accompanied with the Easterling and his Page, followed the robbers: with his adventure.  
FAmous Edward, the honour of his country, whose valour was not not to be matched, held his countries reputation in more regard than his life, whereon now standing, scorning the Spaniards braves, or the scandal that might ensue by his report, if he should leave them in such wise without revenge, which he had promised: wherefore preferring his noble word, early in the morning, according to the directions he had given, taking leave of the governor and his Lady, accompanied with his Page and the Easterling, he set forward in search of those bloody minded reprobates, following the direction of one of the villains he had last taken, whom he taketh for his guide, all that day riding without any adventure happening, yet wearied with travail, desirous to refresh himself with taking some sleep, he caused his Tent to be prepared, and his viands to be ordained: and when he had refreshed himself, not daring to commit the trust of his person, to so vile a slave, which was not to be trusted. After their horses were used as they ought, he commanded the slave to be bound, taking order with his company that one should watch whilst the other slept, and to take diligent care of their welfares, that they were not surprised at unawares.  
This charge the careful attendaunts faithfully kept and performed, the day appearing, they loosed the Villain from his bonds, ordering the horses and each thing in readiness: which done, they awaked the Knight, who seeing the morning well spent, was not long preparing, but hastening with all the speed he might, betook him to his intended pursuit of those homecides. So long they travailed, that the heat of the day increasing, they alighted, and seating them close on the bank of a pleasant river (taking such viands as they had, merrily spending the time with pleasant parley) they might perceive those gallants, who returning from the death of a heathen Prince, and spoil of his people, missing their Lady, vowed by all their gods never to surcease their travail, until they had recovered knowledge of her. For which, coursing like men possessed with a fury in pursuit of the Lady, the knight hath gained his desires, who requiring of the slave what they were, mounted on such swift coursers: he recounted unto him what they were, advising him to regard himself, and to fly while he had time, for that they were many, and men of great puissance, having done many great outrages, and surprised sundry troops of gallant men, travailing that way. Peasant (quoth the knight) it is not thy speech of their valour that can daunt me, or cause me to turn my back, upon those devilish companions. But as I am a Knight, and a true English man, or ever have hope to behold my native Country, were they a thousand to myself alone, armed as I am, in the name of my God, and hope of my rightful cause, I would assail them. And so arming himself, cheering his Page, and his associates, he mounted his horse, couching his staff in his rest, he put forwards to meet the company of robbing thieves, who was no sooner espied of them, but without word speaking most furiously they all assailed him, who were all so well resisted, and so eagerly encountered of the Knight, as they had small cause to boast them of their gains. Every blow, with blow, redoubled this noble Britain on the robbers, doing such feats of honour and chivalry, that it amazed them to see: but more terrified they were, that must of force abide his fury, who sparing not his strength, laid on them with such courage, crying Saint George, that after many sharp alarms on either part, many of them were sent to seek their passports in hell. Thus our noble knight encouraged with the hope of victory, so behaved himself, that they were all well near brought to end. The Captain of which rout, with four others his confederates, being men of valour, and resolution, seeing the massacre of their company, sought to revenge their bloods with their greatest power. And enclosing him on each side, laid about them in such manner, that the Knight was by them greatly endangered. In this assault was his horse slain, when fight a foot, espying his best advantage, he gored their horses as they came, and gave them that their mothers never provided for them: yet in despite of what he could do, as the mightiest many times be forced to yield, fight on the ground, and in the greatest danger of life. The Page which singled himself from the broil, wherein he left the Easterling, bestirred him, whereby he had leave to breath, and being somewhat refreshed, reaching violently one of the robbers by the leg, pulled him perforce from his horse, mounting himself thereon, and dashing out his masters brains with his heels.  
The Knight now again mounted, so bestirred him, in that the most bravest of them that lived, could well have afforded to been further off, but they which are bound must obey. The game was now vied, and they must needs see it. So long vied and revied was it by the Knight, that not one was left to count the stake.  
The broil ended, and every act in this massacre performed, the Knight beholding those braving hellhounds, weltering in their blood, first thanking God for his favour, in strengthening him in that distress, resting himself after his weary travail, he disarmed himself, refreshing his weary body for a time: which done, he hasteneth him unto the place where they Governor and his Lady remained, whom in the company of his beloved wife was comforted, where with great joy he was welcomed, to all his followers, who with the Lady, ceased not to pray for his good success.  
Thus leave we this frolic company, joying in the good fortunes of the Knight, who reposed himself with those friends, until the Governor had recovered his full strength, to travail, when leaving the deserts, they proceeded on their journey to the City of jerusalem. In which travail we leave them, to show you the fortunes of the noble and virtuous Lady Vallia, remaining with the Emperor in Rome.   

CHAP. XIX.  
How the Lady Vallia, sorrowing for the death of her father, traveled with child, and what then chanced her.  
Now the time and place of the History serveth us to leave the noble Edward and his company, to let you hear of the virtuous Lady Vallia, who travailing with women's ordinary grief, had not long to look of her time, wherein she expected an heir so the worthy knight of the Cross: which caused the Emperor to detain the heavy tidings of her father's death from her. But as novelties have wings, and fly with the light breath of every tattling tongue: so this lamentable story came unto the ears of Vallia, who for her recreation and pleasure, walking in a Park adjoining to the Palace, was encountered by a simple Soldier, who having lost his limbs in service, awaited to impart his suit unto the Emperor for relief.  
With this Soldier, the Lady questioning what services he had seen, as one that had knowledge of many honourable services done, but especially glad to hear of her Lord and husband, whose demands the Soldier answered with much courage, not letting for his own good to utter all: in which his speech, declaring the worthy conquest of Philip her father (where he was,) a sudden fear so possessed him, that his tongue with grief denied further speech: which of the Lady being perceived, moved with pity of his sorrow, inquired diligently what moved him on such a sudden to stay his talk, beginning now the most delight, willing him to say on whatsoever he had: for sure she was, that nought but honourable should be said of her father, or her love, who was with him in all those services.  
This blunt companion recomforted by her honourable counsel, and good encouragement, seeing he must utter his heart's grief, albeit he had no thought or knowledge to whom he spoke it, after some small pause, he said. Pardon me, gracious Lady, for my heavy tidings, and account me no dastard for daring to speak, what is my heart's grief, to utter the subject of my tragical swonding sorrow, to all the hearers. For the loss of our noble general, whose untimely death hath caused such heaviness and hearts discontent amongst all those of his government, that will never be blotted from their minds, so long as any one breatheth that did know him. The sorrowful Lady hearing these doleful tidings of her father's loss, could not answer his talk, nor had power to speak, but as one ready to leave this life, presently fell in a trance to the ground, whom her grieved attendants Alynda, and the rest, by their careful industry revived again, though with much extremity. The poor soldier which saw how ill his talk was taken, brooked no longer stay in that place, doubting his Prince's displeasure, but got him from the City with all speed.  
Vallia her sudden grief urged her pains, that her Midwives were sent for, and with great peril of life, was not long after, delivered of two goodly Sons, whose sight, and other comfortable persuasions of the Emperor, and those Ladies that were about her, removed a little her heaviness, which she most honourably endured to all their joys, for this good fortune of the Lady, solemn Processions were made, Bells were rung, and Bonefices were plentiful throughout the City, with all other shows and signs of gladness that might be devised. But to whom so ever these two new borne Gentlemen was most welcome, there could none take more pleasure in beholding them, than the Emperor, who would never have any time from his affairs of state, but the Nurses were sure of his company, to their joy, and pleasures. In this offspring I leave them, to recount the accidenis happening in Genua.   

CHAP. XX.  
How Albert Duke of Milan, hearing of the death of Philip Duke of Genua, supposing his Daughter to be dead, made claim to the signory, and what chanced.  
WHen the high commander of men, had by death taken from his Country the hope and comfort of this most loving and honourable Prince, Philip Albert, Duke of Milan, swelling with ambition, to enlarge their government, supposing Vallia 〈…〉 heir of Philip, to be 〈…〉: first summoned the Vicegerent by his Herald, to accept him, and the little he had, for their sovereign, or abide the chances of wars, which with all the power, both of him and his friends, he would presently inflict upon them.  
This peremptory message delivered, the Vicegerent having care to his oath and promise made, summoned the Nobility, and governors of each port, within those confines, unto whom he recounteth the message received from the Milan Duke, with all the large circumstances, declaring his title to be but usurped, and desiring their aids in the right of the Lady Vallia, heir and lawful inheritrix of their late deceased Lord, whom they should most highly wrong, if dastardlie they should entitle another in her right. Therefore my Lords and loving friends, (quoth the Governor) show in maintaining the honour and right of this Lady, your love to her father, in which you gain more love and honour, then to be invested with title of great worth. For no greater blemish can be to the Noble, then to be termed a coward, especially in a cause of such honour as this. Therefore, if you will join with me in full consent, esteem his threats not worth a pin, and provide to give him such a welcome, as is fit for an enemy.  
The Nobles and all estates there assembled, hearing the honourable resolution of the Governor, with general consent lawding his magnanimity, committed themselves unto him, promising on their honours, to maintain with their bodies, goods, lives, and lands, whatsoever he resolved on.  
This willingness with general consent when the Governor had seen and heard first giving them all hearty thanks for their honourable love to their Princess, and careful regard of their common wealth, which they were all bound by oath to the Church, as well as the figniorie to maintain. After some other speech, he caused the Milan herald to be brought before them, to whom he saith: Herald, thy message from thy Lord so peremptorily sent, and by thee delivered, with grave advise of the whole state of our Province, we have advisedly considered. And finding by law, or natures right, he hath no right nor just interest in the same, we have determined to deny his demand, and with our dearest blood will maintain the lawful issue of our late deceased Duke Philip, whose honourable deserts can not be so suddenly worn out. Thou knowest what we intend, if thy Lord be friend to us, and our state, we will requite his love with the like again, if a foe, he shall find that philip's rightful inheritor shall not be wronged, so long as we shall live. And so finishing his speech, the Herald thus replied.  
Nobles of Genua, whose gravity is spoken of in all places, deceive not yourselves by presumption. My Lord is puissant and mighty, and not to be dared by them of far greater and more force than you: wherefore weighing your own goods, and welfare of your Country and state, consider with whom you are to deal, his honour, state, power, and what is to be required in Majesty, bethinking what a friend he is to his friends, and what a terror to his enemies. In weighing all which I doubt not, but your gravity and wisdom will alter these fond resolutions, before you provoke him to fury, lest when you would submit yourselves, he be as far of from hearing you, as you at peremptory in refusing him. In your answer, consider your welfare, or subversion. Therefore let not overboldness lead you to mischief: I speak as I wish, that you might prevent your own mischiefs.  
The Governor hearing the Herald speak so much of submission, as though his lords countenance might terrify and affright them, even as Bugbears do children, thus said.  
Herald, what weenest thou we of the state of Genua are, that thus thou menacest us with thy masters high actions, power, and friends? Is Albert become such a Bug to fear his bordering neighbours? No, let him dare children and fools, with his threats. If he come as a friend, as he did when our good Philip lived, he shall be welcome: if otherwise, it is neither power, friends, nor his valour we esteem. Our honour we will maintain in despite of his Beard, maugre all the friends Spain, or Italy can afford him. And so thou hast thy answer: reply no more: for what we say, we will perform on our honours, as thy Lord shall find, when he dares make trial.  
The Herald having his answer, like a Malcontent, doing his duty, deprated. The Noble and states of Genua, taking careful order for the mustering of their soldiers, and making force, that there enemy might not take them sleeping, but always in readiness, when occasion should serve to defend themselves, and offend the enemy.   

CHAP. XXI.  
How the Herald returning his answer from the jenowaies, Albert purveyed his armies.  
THe Milan Duke expecting his Herald's return, with the Genoese offer of obedience, after long looking, arrived at the Court, to whom the Duke gave honourable welcomes, inquiring the answer to his embassage. To whom the Herald at large recounted the honourable resolution of the governor, who would not deliver their title of government to any stranger whatsoever, willing him to rest content, or abide what chance war will allot him.  
The Milan Duke raging with fury, at this unexpected answer: vowed by no simple oaths to revenge him on the governor, whom he threatened with great afflictions, if he prevailed: And hasting to see the event of his determinations, presently dispatcheth his embassage to Florence, the prowess of Marcellus and Telone, and other his friends, for their aid in this exploit, willing them to be ready by a day prefixed, at some port of his, to them best beseeming good, and most easy for their convey. With these letters, the messengers being gone, great was the preparation made in his own territories, of men, victuals and munition, whereof there wanted none, such as the Country yieldeth. Such was the haste and care of those unto whom the charge of those affairs were committed, that in short time, allthings were providedin such good order as could be besired, their only stay was, for their expected power, which accordingly was puruaide, some marching by land, others with their provision by Sea, so that in short time they are all well met, at Milan, where they made no long stay, but every man receiving his charge.  
The companies appointed for the land, marched forwards in three battles, the foremost of which, was led by the Duke of Florence, the vauward by the governor of Marcellus, and the Rearward, by the Duke of Milan, who had under his conduct, all the horsemen, with the carriage and provision. For the Sea service, was appointed for to be Admiral, Alfonce Earl of Pyemont, having under his charge of Galleys, Bregandines and foists, one hundred and fifty sails, warlike and well appointed, with all needful provision, having also under his charge, a number apprdoved and Noble Captains, trained to the Sea, all carrying minds of resolution to invest their Noble Friend the Duke of Milan, in his challenged Dukedom.  
The Genoese, whose provident care was to provide for their Country's safety, was not idle in all these times: but making ready what power they could, both of theyrowne, and such other Friends as they could procure, relying on the justice of their cause, and nought at all fearing the multitudes of their enemies, of whose numbers they were all advertised by their own espyals.  
The careful regard of the Governor, had so wrought, that all things were ordered to his content, his Friends, the Neapolitan Duke with his powers being come, and all others that they expect, their Galleys and ships furnished, the conduct of each several company was appointed to men of worth and honourable resolution, who encamped themselves with wonderful great policy without the City, even in the enemies chief passage.  
Their power of ships and galleys likewise appointed at point device, a Council was called, and the Admiral sworn in the open assembly not to yield, nor in any sort to discontinue the fight, but taking all advantage, to do his best for their defence, and discomfiting of the enemy. This done, and the ships halled forth, they harboured every man being aboard, that they had charge of. They chéered their company, exhorting them to valour and courage, not omitting often to recount the right cause of defence, with the enemy's entrution, with all other persuasions that might tend to their encouragement, to the great comfort of all the company, who with one voice yielded signs of great joy, vowing every one to the other, to live conquerors, or die ten thousand deaths, rather than incur the odious name of coward.  
Thus chéering themselves with hope of victory, with a ringing peal of cannons, that made the air rattle, and the earth to shake, they set sail, bidding their friends a short farewell, who attending their enemies coming, we leave them hovering at the sea for a time, till they meet again.   

CHAP. XXII.  
How the two armies meeting at sea, the Milan Duke with his power was discomfited.  
THese honourable Armies well appointed, both by land and Sea, a general expectation was made on both sides, for their meeting, wherein each one hoping for victory, wished for to see the event of their fortunes (long looked for cometh at the last) and time hath brought the two fleets in sight one of the other, which descried, all policy was wrought for the advantage in the fight, wherein those gallants of Genua showed their best skill, keeping in despite of the Milan army, the wind, and in great bravery halled the enemies with their warlike music, in such sort, that the skies resounding the echoes of their noise, which was not unaunswered by the Milan fleet, made as gallant a show as the other, where some time was spent in triumph between them, and the Galleys and ships within shot, their prowess with great courage was discharged, and every man with such weapon as he used did his best.  
Long time and much powder was spent on both sides, with much effusion of blood, either part doubtful of the victory, which the General of the Genoese perceiving, haling his Vice-admiral, and the Admiral and vice-admiral of each Squadrone, with a flag of parley, they drew near unto him to hear what he had to say, who charged them upon their allegiance, without any more forbearing or consuming of time, to board withal speed every man as he could have advantage, and so to make quick and short trial of their fortunes.  
This counsel of the general was welcome to every man, who were very glad and joyful of that commandment, which was that which they expected, for they attended but to see him, being advised to follow his deceivers. And thereupon forcing their Galleys by main strength of Oars aboard, with great courage and valour they gave this onset, in which was many feats of honour and arms achieved, where many a man of worth left his life, others lost their limbs, and many spoiled and wounded to the death. The Galleys fired, and divers sunk, all hazards that day were with great peril espaped, after many bloody strokes and much other mischief on both sides, the hour of the victory befell the Genoese, who took their Admiral galley, flew their chieftain, and burned and sunk many of the rest, such good success followed their just cause, that few of their enemies escaped without great hurt from the fight.  
The fight ended, night approaching, a retreat by the Admiral was sounded, which done, a view was taken of the prisoners, and the gentlemen and commanders of the Millenaries, sent aboard the general, for the rest order was given, that they should remain aboard their several galleys, which done, a general laud was given to God for their victory, and every one following the course of the Admiral, they made their way for Genua, and in short time with the diligence of the Captives, and good encouragement of the commanders of each galley, they had sight of their port, and not long after recovered the same, where their joys were increased by the sight of their friends happy return, as by their solemn shows of gladness was manifest, to the great encouragement of all the adventurers, and increasing of the prisoners great grief, who made such sure account to triumph in their overthrows, and like Lords to command over them, now to be subject to their enemies. Thus their heavy sighs bewraying their sorrow, the general of the fleet moved with pity of their care, being a man very debonair and kind, with a countenance full of pity, his bonnet veiled, came unto the cavalleres, persuading them to comfort themselves, and to extend this unexpected chance as one of fortunes bandies, whose inconstancy was not to be wondered at, for (quoth he) they that gain to day, may lose to morrow, the fortunes of wars are difficil, a clear conscience and a just cause armeth men with courage, & they that fight in right are often fortunate. Our cause God hath righted, whom your duke sought to wrong: he is the giver of victory, to whom be all glory. Yet gentlemen (quoth he) dismay not, neither clog your hearts with too much care of your bad fortunes, you are fallen into the hands of a kind and most noble enemy, who will well entreat you, and for mine own part, which am at the governors command, I assure you, your ransoms shall be so easy as you shall like well of.  
The Milleneres captive hearing their kind enemy use such words of comfort, where he might menace with death and cruel revenge, being at his mercy, with courtesy returned great thanks for his most friendly counsel and good persuasions, vowing themselves his obedient prisoners, never to depart, or offer any manner of discourtesy in word or action, until they were lawfully licenced so to do. Which word the General accepting, each man had free liberty within the City, to go at his or their pleasures.   

CHAP. XXIII.  
How the Armies by land meeting, what happened them.  
AS God sent the sea power of these Princes to try first their forces, so not long after their armies approaching, the Milan Duke being advertised by his espials of their readiness, hearing of the ill succesle of his fleet, loath to put all on hazard without some more pause and resting his people which were very sore wearied with their long and hard travail, for which cause, as well to consult with his leaders and copartners, he caused his Tents to be pitched, giving good directions for sure watch to be kept throughout the Camp: which done, and they having reposed themselves that night, the next day a parley by flag was summoned, wherein every man was heard, both for advise in marshalling the Army, as for policy in surprising the enemy, where in each man's opinion said, the Duke melancholic for his ill success and loss of his fleet was so malcontent, that nothing might be said wherein he took pleasure: yet gave he leave to every one to say his mind, which humours nothing contenting his nobility and such as were drawn thither by his cause, loathe that his headstrong humours should dishonour them, the Ferrara Duke, as one that might be most bold with him, said. Cousin of Milan, for your sake we have gathered bordering neighbours, maintaining no just cause of our own, but your intended quarrel, wherein if we reap any dishonour, we have our deserts, Led by your counsel we have been, as sheep to be slain, and now having had a little cross, dismay you, that our people seeing your discomfort, may leave us here in the midst of our enemies. It is dastardlike to fear in such a cause, and may breed all our everthrow: wherefore resolve either to maintain your honour, and with resolution finish what you determined before our coming from our own homes, or on mine honour, I will draw my forces again to their own habitation, and leave you to your best fortunes: say therefore your intent, for we may not here long continue, the enemy being strong, and in their own confines, where we are strangers, assured of no favour, but what we can purchase with the sword.  
The Milan Duke hearing his cousin of Ferrara so plain, thought best to make show of good content, whatsoever he thought, wherefore without longer pausing, as one that in that extremity desired some counsel, he said. Most honourable cousin, pardon me, that have not showed myself in this action as I ought, and consider the cause I have of discontent, which hath made me forget my honourable good friends: yet good Cousin, dishonour me not so much to adjudge me of cowardice, for ever my heart hath abhorred that odious fault: but what your pleasure is to attempt, I will perform, and thereon giving his word of honour. The Duke consented to his will, who gave in charge the next morning every man with his company to be marching by the break of day, that lying near the anemie, they might by their sedaine scaties see what advantage there was to be gotten.  
According to whose command every thing was effected, and the companies marched near to the City, within half a league where the Genoese camp lay, where they strongly en scanced themselves, and having taken three or four days respite, wherewith their company was well refreshed, a Herald was sent from the Governor of Genua, to know the cause of their coming in arms, against the laws of Christian Princes, to disturb their peace, having no just cause so to do, commanding him and his friends, confederates, and followers, either to raise their camp and be gone, or provide them to battle, and therein try the event of either's fortunes.  
The Milan Duke having attentively harkened to the heralds message, moved with choler at his braving speech, without regard of honour or law of arms, had like to have beaten the Herald, but being persuaded by the Duke of Ferrara from so unhonourable a fact, he saith. Herald, go tell that usurping Governor of my right, that I am come to chastise his insolency, and learn him to know his duty to his liege Lord, neither shall any one of his rebellious companions escape the fury of my wrath, without they come presently in submissive manner, and acknowledge their fault and great offence committed against me, which if they refuse, by that time the sun hath wise made her recourse about the earth, I will meet him, and those sleeping curs his companions, in the plain that lieth Eastward from the city, so God say Amen. Therefore depart, my word shall be thy safe concuct for this tune.  
The Herald having his answer, without long stay hasteneth to the camp, where unto the governor and his compeers in arms, he recounted the Duke's resolute determination, willing him to prepare against the time appointed to meet him, wherewith the governor and the rest were all well pleased, committing their cause to God, and relying on their just Title. And thus resolving to meet him at the time and place appoynied for the same, he presently gave order to dislodge his Camp, to draw more near the place by the Duke appointed, sending his most expert men at arms to view the ground, for their best advantage, which with great care was so accomplished, that the sun nor enemy could not greatly annoy them. The Milan Duke and his accomplises careful of what they had in hand, slept no time, but with great care and regard, proceeded with their companies more near the place appointed, where all things framed by marshal discipline and good advise of the Captains, they expect a happy day of trial.  
Time that finisheth all things, hath brought the appointed day, in which the careful leaders so busily employed themselves, that all things were ordered in most honourable and decent manner, where no policy of either part was omitted for the advantage: which done, and the battles ready to join, a Herald was sent from the Governor of Genua, willing him before he committed the justice of his cause to the battle, to call to mind the justice of God, in delivering his sea powers into their hands, wishing him not so much to dishonour his noble house and followers, to hazard all to fortune. If he would accept this proffer, and confess the wrong offered his estate and commons, he would remit the journey past, and give him free leave to pass in quiet through his country, if not, and he prevailed, he should find in justice what it is to disturb the quiet government of so peaceable an estate.  
This message delivered, the Duke fretting at the governors kind and courteous motion, swore by no small power, to acquit his pride, and learn him to know to his great grief, what it is to move his Prince to fury, and so with a short reply to his message, sent the Herald away.  
Scantly had the the Heraued recovered the Pavilion of his Lord, but a Braveado was made by the Forara Duke, who was the first that began the sight, and was gallantly encountered with the Duke of Naples, who met him hand to hand, each knowing other by their colours. Between those Princes began a fierce and deadly fight, who singling themselves, both hoping of honour, so applied their forces one against the other, that it was doubtful whether should have the glory of the day. Both of them by their prowess giving courage to their followers, between whom many hardy feats of arms were achieved, the battle on both sides being very doubtful. In this conflict, the two Dukes like Lions, bear themselves, until the Ferara Duke, with long continuance of the fight, fell from his horse, who was presently rescued by a Band of his own company, that in the parting, had like to have slain the Duke of Naples, if the Duke his enemy had not been more honourably minded, that rescued from danger by his friends, he left the field that time. Night growing on them, a retreat was sounded on either part, and every man withdrew them to their Tents: in which battle, was taken many Prisoners, on either part, which by compromise of the Governors of both paprts, was redelivered. Thus for a time we leave them to their repose, and hopes of their good success, to tell you of the Princess Vallia.   

CHAP. XXIIII.  
How the two children of the lady Vallia was solemnly christened, with other adventures.  
THe most renowned and noble minded Emperor, devising to honour the Christening of the two children, had invited all the nobility and Princes near bordering on his confines, to be witnesses of that solemnity, appointing for that time, great triumphs to be performed: and for that purpose, caused challenges to be set up, against all comers, to be maintained by his champions, the winners to have rich rewards.  
The day of solemnity being come, many Princes and Noble personages assembled themselves to the Triumph, the Emperor in person, being Godfather to both the sons of the Knight of the holy Cross: unto whom, many rich presents were given, by sundry Princes, that honoured and loved their Father.  
At these banquets, among many others which hearkened of foreign novelties, Alinda, busying herself to hear, & overhear strange tidings, heard two noble gentlemen discourse of the state of Genowaye, recounting at large, the honourable demeanour of the Governor thereof, & his success, in their sea adventures, with each particular chance, happening in these wars, which waited of Alynda, that needed no orator to tell her tale, her tongue carrying a heavy weight, until she had opportunity to reveal the same unto her Lady: which she sought, yet could not obtain it, until late in the evening, when every Guest had withdrawn themselves to rest: when having time fit to her desire, she began first in pleasant motions to feel the humour of her Lady, whether pleasantly or melancholy disposed, and finding her pleasant humour, she said. Madame, since the heavy tidings from Genua, I have not seen one pleasant motion possess you, let me your old servant, entreat this favour at your hands, to say, what you could well frame your feeble and unable hands to do, in defence of your own rightful inheritance of Genua?  
Alinda (quoth the Princes) thy fond prattle will never be left, what moveth these sudden motions, and recounting Genua, say, what occasions are offered in those parts, I pray thee say?  
Madam (quoth Alinda) your Ladyship always is pleased to mistake me, and my simple meaning, what I intend herein, is nothing, you know I am none of those that seek common: wealths benefit, but say good Madam, that I were, as I am never like to be, the rightful heir to the Dukedom of Milan, and should by violence seek to usurp your right in your Dukedom by force, what duest you do for defence of yourself and your people? Alinda (quoth the Princess) seeing thou sayest thy talk begun is in jest, I will as héedlesly answer thy demands.  
Suppose Alinda to be my enemy, and in Arms in my Country, spoiling my commons, and ruinating my Country, thou mightest well accuse me of cowardice, if in Arms I should not meet thee, revenging my just cause on my enemy: for thus, and in this manner, would I chastise the Milan Duke: laying good strokes on the back of her maiden, with a cudgel, which she easily found. Which chaftisment that she could well demean herself, turned in this manner. Madam, if to be Duke of Milan, be so painful, and that to a usurper, there belong such punishment, let them be Dukes that list, Alinda will be herself as long as she can. Then good Duke of Milan answered the Princess, I am very sorry that I should so suddenly untytle your grace: but upon some conditions, I will make your Majesty recompense.  
Madam quoth Alynda, promotion I feel is heavy, the name of Duke is imprinted I fear me in black and blue on my shoulders. But since they be badges of your ladyships colours, and your gift, in hope of better I must accept these. But may it please you to let me know your conditions, that liking thereof, I may deserve your reward. I marry Alinda (quoth the Princess, but first swear unto me to answer justly my demands, and then ask thy reward.  
Alynda hearing the Princess so pleasant, was loath to hinder her begnune mirth: but feeding her vain, of put her from those damps, said.  
Madame, since it is your ladyships pleasure to bring me from a zealous prophesier, using no oath, but yea, yea, and nay nay, cock and pie, & such like, to rend those creatures that God hath made, say by what you will have me swear, and I will perform it.  
How now Alinda (quoth the Princess) where blows the wind now? the Moon I dare gauge my life is in some merry corner, that hath brought thee to this conceited pleasures: but leaving all, tell me as thou tenderest my love: What moved thee to name the Duke of Milan? my mind presageth some unexpected chance hath happened: my people by his means if they have, and thou therewith acquainted, I swear by that love I bear my Lord Edward, never to forgive it thee, unless thou reveal thy meaning therein, and tell me the truth of what thou hast heard.  
The maiden hearing her jest prove so contrary, loath to offend her, which she honoured above all the creatures on the earth, thus said. Madame, I have often heard it amongst the learned, observed for a principle, not to jest with superiors, dreading the mistaking of any simple meaning, whereof I might have taken heed, but seeing my tongue hath been so long hanged to utter the heart's secrets, pardon what I have to say, and I will hide nothing to satisfy your desire. Then proceed (quoth the Princess) and whatsoever thou sayest, I freely forgive it thee.  
Alynda, whom all entreaties might not pardon from telling her mind, said: This day my gracious Lady, the banquet being now furnished, with many an honourable Guest, two gallant youths whose names I know not, questioning one with the other, of the state of Genowaye, and of the Province thereof, coming lately from those confines, a tale of joy, and much lamentations he delivered, which wrong many tears from my heart, at hearing thereof, it caused many exceeding joys to possess me. Yet disposed to cross me (quoth the Princess) leave off I say these fond delusions, and say how both joy and care at one entir time assailed thee.  
Madam (quoth Alynda) when he delivered the pride and incolencye of the Milan Duke, seeking first by entreaty to obtain your right in the Dukedom, by winning the regent to his will, whose trust when he could not abuse, he raised a mighty power by sea, and another huge host by Land, joining with other Princes near adjoining, to accomplish his will. The navy discomfited by your Captains, and they obtaining a most honourable victory, the Duke himself forageth your confines, and hath fought a most honourable battle, each side doing their devoir, in such wise, as it was doubtful whether had the best, and thus they left them: and this hath bred both my care and great joy.  
The Princes who tendered her native Country as her own life, premeditating on her maiden's speech, and recounting each several accident, many times wished her Lord present to chastise those usurpers: vowing to revenge those wrongs on Milan, and all partakers: yet this in her womanish fury, reasonable means she had none to make, without acquainting the Emperor therewith, which she was very loath to do: Yet beating her Brains, to find outsome shift, to behold the manner of their doings, she was ever crossed by some other contrary accident, which made her solitary to abandon the company of all people, only her trusty servant excepted, who seeing her heaviness, lamented her rashness in revealing those tidings, which yet renewed her sorrows.   

CHAP. XXV.  
How the henourable Princess Vallia, performing her Church duties, after her travail, went disguised from Rome.  
THe Princess which sought many means to attain her desire, longing more deeply to see the estate of her commons, then for any worldly benefit, and to yield them comfort in their distress. The time of her Churching being now finished, she bethought herself of one secret intent, which she would assuredly put in proof, if Alynda would thereunto give her consent, denising many ways how to acquaint the maiden with her purpose, yet fearing to discover the simple intent of her former purpose, who knowing her Alynda to be of a most sharp and ready wit, she first by many circumstances bound her to her secrets, which done she said.  
Alynda, in many extremes, thou hast been my faithful councillor, and conselor of my secrets, from whom the deepest thoughts of my heart hath never been hid, and having found thyloyaitie, I doubt not the like at this time, which I will requite to thy content: to hold thee longer from what thou expectest to know, I have since I heard thee discourse the distress of my poor subjects, vowed to GOD my Redeemer to see them, and to lend them all such help as my power will stretch unto, only for furthering my intent herein, advise me what secret course to take, in which thou shalt highly pleasure me: But as thou lovest me, stand not upon any denials, or persuasions to withdraw me from this determination, for whatsoever betid of me, I will execute what I have here intended.  
Alynda which saw her earnestness to perform her will herein: be sought her of pardon, her wits being to simple, to give ready advise in a case so full of danger. But Madam (quoth she) that you shall know, my love is as firm as ever it was, devise you the mean, and I will do my best to enact it, keeping your secrets if I die for it.  
Enough, my own sweet Alinda, I take thy word, and on thy faith, charge thee presently to provide me some trusty friend to accompany me, which an disguised in man's attire, armed like a Knight of the Emperors, will travail, my companion knowing nothing what I am: Wherefore say to him, whom thou shalt appoint for my guide, I am thy Brother, that for some occasions of thy Ladies, is bound for those parts of italy, and on thy word, assure him of a good reward for his pain, to his very good liking. But haste thee, for I can enjoy no quiet content, until I have honourblye performed my will.  
Madam (quoth Alynda) this shift may go as currant as heretofore. But say good Madam, how shall I answer your absence when the Emperor shall inquire for you? Marry this my Alynda, thou shalt give it out amongst the Ladies of the Court, as well as amongst mine own attendaunts, that I have made a solemn vow, to fast certain days: In which time, performing my other penance for my sins past, I will not be seen or spoken unto of any but yourself: this shift, I doubt not, but may suffice.  
Excellent my good Lady, (quoth Alynda,) I see now a willing horse needs no spur, God send your Ladyship well to prosper in your journey: for I never saw your wits so sharpened before.  
But now for horses, where will you speed? Thyself, Alinda shall be my credit, thy honest word shall be enraged to the master of the emperors Horse, for two such as shall be most excellent, if not, mine own assurance shall serve with him, to do thy own adopted Brother any pleasure.  
Believe me Madam, I like your plat well, and doubt not, but that shall be as well performed it. I have bethought me of a proper Gentleman, a wooer of mine own, in sooth he is: whom I will conjure, of that love he hath so often professed, to bear my Brother company, and to provide him some good guide for his conduct: in mean time, I will provide your furniture, which shall all be bought to your own person.  
What sayest then Alinda? wilt thou name me in buying for me those needful things? No Madam (qooth she) you mistake me, leave that to my charge, and cumber you no more with these cares.  
The plat being laid for the Prince's journey, Alynda so apply herself in puruaying each needful thing, that many days were not spent, before each necessary was brought into the Prince's lodging, and exquisitely fitted her, guide and other consorts, to her own very good liking. Which being soon, and the doye appoieted for their departure, Alynda calling her Friend before the Princess, said.  
Most gracious Lady, let your humble servant entreat your Ladyship to grace this friend a kinsman of mine, with your favourable countenance. And seeing I have made choice of him amongst all the gallants of this royal Court, I beseech you witness with me, what trust I repose in him, that commitmine own and only brother to his guiding, in a journey for my good, which he undertaketh. Young he is, and not able to endure such hard travail, without some good guide: and sickness, incident to all men, may oppress him: of which (my good Hortelious, for so was he named) take thou especial regard, for that what thou dost to him, is done to myself, and as great shall thy thanks be in doing him pleasure. To morrow by that time the morning shall give light at the gate, behind these lodgings he shall attend you, where fail not to meet him, and me: and so for this time farewell.  
This kind lover which had no thought what service he undertook, was careful of his charge, loath to be accouncounted negligent at this first entertainment, slept not until he had all things in good sort ready. The Princess minding her journey, was all night, or the better part, in arming and providing herself, attending the coming of her trusty guard, who failed not his hour appointed, where the Princess accompanied with her Alynda, met him. And making small stay, taking their loath depart each of other, we leave them to their journey, and Alynda to her studious thoughts, how to beguile the Emperor, in her Lady's absence, as hereafter you shall hear.   

CHAP. XXXI.  
How the Emperor with great regard of the infants good fortunes, caused a man of Art to calculate their nativities.  
THe Emperor whose felicity was in those noble children, of whom he had more care than of an ordinary friend, desirous to know what in their births was predestinate unto them, sought many ways to attain unto his desire, and acquainted sundry his friends with his intent. Atter long care taking to attain his desire, had intelligence of a reverent Hermit, which had his being on Alps leading from Rome to Naples, whose Art was matchless in the Art Methimaticke. Unto this hermit he sent his trusty councillor Anthony Buscatho, entreating him, (whom he might command) to satisfy his pleasure herein sending, by him, the hour, day, and month, truly set down of their nativities.  
Such haste made this noble man, that he came unto the Cell of the Hermit, whom he kindly entreated to satisfy the emperors pleasure herein, who loathe to be drawn from his heavenly motions, could not a long time be persuaded to it. In the end, so many were the entreaties, and importunate suits of the noble Messenger, that he granted his good will, promising by a certain time to fulfil the emperors suit, and by writing to satisfy him.  
Anthony having what he desired, returned the Emperor his answer, who spending the time in many thoughts of his desires, took no rest until he heard what the Hermit said. As time spendeth, so time brought the limited time to end, of which the Emperor was careful, when calling his Anthony, he caused him to speed unto the Hermit, where making no stay, posted about his business, and in happy time arrived at his Cell: where entering conference with the aged father, touching his questions, he received no words at all, whereon he might take any occasion of judgement. But after some repast taken, he said.  
Friendly Anthony, whose pains hath been such, to see my homely Cell, thanks for your pains, to my gracious Prince hearty commend me, and unto him deliver these few lines, which shall import that small knowledge I can give.  
The noble man having received his message, would not make more inquiry of aught, but taking his friendly farewell, hasteneth unto the Court, of whose coming the Emperor was glad: who calling him into his Closet, inquired the news he had. At which drawing his packet, signed with the Hermit's signet, he delived the same unto his Majesty, who renting the seals, read the contents thereof following.  
The Nobles borne within the stately Court,  
'mongst Prince's great, shall bear a kingly port.  
The latter borne, a stranger hence shall steal,  
By whom great good shall chance thy common weal.  
In arms with many matchless Princes he shall fight,  
Yet never be foiled by any human wight.  
God's glorious name by power he shall advance,  
And shall be known at length by happy chance.  
Who gave him life, of him shall life receive,  
Where he took life, there shall he life bereave.  
In travail shall this worthy champion bide,  
Until this luckless fortune to him shall betide.  
Marry he shall, with a most princely wife,  
And end his days in religious kind a of life.  
The Elder brother like a Lion fierce,  
The Pagans proud his prows shall menace.  
The flying birds his parents shall bewray,  
And raging beast, shall unto him obey.  
Most strange events by him performed shall be,  
Mirror of knighthood, and of chivalry.  
For over East to west, their honours shall be spread,  
And Romans through his might shall be magnified.  
These dark and close couched lines, when the Emperor had read, and overread many times, and could not conceive the meaning thereof, he was more troubled in spirit then before. But when he was warned, that the younger should be borne from him by a stranger, he took order that their nurses should be in one of the chiefest fortresses about the City, where he usually visited them: in whom he took more delight, then in any thing, especially in Constantine the younger, which bore his name, of whom his fear was most. The elder whom had to name Nartelions, he was not so watchful of, yet had he a fatherly care of both. In this great regard, and héedful care, these princes were seven years within the fortress of the City nourished. What after happened them, the History shall show you as it cometh.   

CHAP. XXVI.  
How the Princess Vallia arrived at Genua, and what happened her.  
LOng and weary travail hath brought the Lady in sight of Genua. Before she could recover the City, she was encountered by the Ambuscadoes of the Milan Duke, who took her prisoner, and brought her to the Duke's Pavilion. The Duke seeing so fair and beautiful a face, questioned him (for so we must team her now) of whence he was, and what affairs led him thither, whether he came as a friend or an enemy. Vallia, whose sex are not to seek of ready answers, seeing herself in the hands of him that would not willingly part with her, if he had knowledge of her, dissembling (as well she could) what she was, said. Noble Prince, the desire I have to make trial of my manhood, hath brought me to thee, for that I have heard thy honours spoken of amongst many. A Gentleman I am, desirous to see the manner of war: and if thou vouchsafe it, the price of my service shall be employed for thee.  
The Duke which noted her beautiful face, her kind speech, and affable countenance, held her for nloesse than she seemed. And without using any circumstances, gave her entertainment: appointing her a place near his own person: which kindness she very grateful accepted, returning many thanks for his honourable acceptance.  
Not long had our young warrior remained in the camp, whom in her attire we name Philipo, but a scallie was made by the Citizens, whose victuals waring scant, would gladly seek all possible means to be quit of their enemies.  
The alarm in the camp given, all armed and in array, Philipo was not last, but mounted, in very comely and brave manner demeaned herself, venturing so far in pursuit of the enemy to the gates, that she was with her guide taken prisoner, which the Milan Duke seeing, commending the forwardness of his new entertained soldier, sought to rescue her. But his aid came too late. No sooner was the Lady within the City, but carrying the show of a Cavelere, she had good entertainment, and well entreated. That night the Governor with his commanders being pleasantly delighted at supper, and every man recounting what service they had seen and done that day, the captain whose prisoner she was, acquainted the Governor what a prize he had that day gotten, leaving nothing unremembered that might honour her, whom he made reckoning would purchase him store of crowns.  
The Governor on this report of the Captain, was very desirous to see this prisoner, yet for that night made little reckoning of it, in the morning early, his mind devising of his night's resolution, accompanied with his best friends, took his occasion to walk by the house of signior Vincencio, where she remained, with whom he questioned of sundry occasions. After some frivolous speech, he inquired for the prisoner, who was presently brought before him, whom he saluted very kindly, requiring him to say of what country he was, and what name and parentage. Sir quoth Philipo, for so let her be remembered, what you are I know not, neither desire I to know, but have heard that laws of arms allow not every man to examine, especially a gentleman. Therefore pardon me, for without the governor or his special authority, I will not acquaint any with my estate, and so good sir quoth she rest satisfied. Sir quoth the governor, your peremptory speech showeth some great mind, which I pray God prove so happy for your hosts sake. If then I can entreat the governor to come or send for you, will you vouchsafe to acquaint him with what I have required? True sir (quoth Philipo) you construe my mind right, for which I am beholding unto you. You are very pleasant gentle, man (quoth the Governor) which I wish to continue, & would gladly crave this favour, that I might on mine own authority demand whether you know the governor, which you would see. Sir answered Philipo, the honourable gentleman yet I never saw, but in regard of his virtues and honourable commendations, I both love and honour him.  
Thanks (quoth the Governor) for your good opinion and report of him which you hold an enemy, but happily may prove otherwise, for which, if any have any thing to say, either in secret or otherwise, speak as a friend, I am the man, unworthy though I be of so honourable a place, wherefore if thou have aught to speak, say boldly thy mind, for by the honour of that seat which I do now possess, I will freely hear thee, and pardon whatsoever.  
Philipo which saw how harshly she had demeaned herself, with a blushing countenance which might well have bewrayed what she was, humbly besought him of pardon for her unwilling offence protesting by the honour of a soldier, she had no knowledge of him, which the honourable governor believing and forgiving, she said. Noble minded Governor, hearing of the wrongs offered you and your people, I craved pardon and leave of my sovereign the Emperor, to be partaker of your service, as well to right your injury offered you, as for the love and duty I own this country where I had my being first, and journeying hither, intending what I say, was suddenly surprised by the Ambassadors of the Milan Duke, who taking me at advantage, there was small resistance, but yielding me their prisoner, had entertainment of the Duke, who used me most kindly, yet not content with his favour, being enemy foe your state, and heir of my late deceased Lord Duke Philip, in the last service I willingly advensured myself in that manner to come unto you, and in sign of my loyalty and faith, though I be young and a stranger, whose credit yet is not requisite you should trust too far in a time so dangerous, yet as I am a Gentleman (which title with my life I will for ever maintain) be ruled by me, and doubt not the sudden removing of your usurping enemy.  
The Governor listening to her long discourse, noted her modest countenance and courage in delivering the same, yet holding it wisdom to have better knowledge of any man, whom he should trust in a cause of such importance, thanked him for his proffer, craving respite for his resolution therein. And so after some other courteous speeches, giving his word to his host for his liberty, he invited him to his lodging, where he was feasted with great welcome, the governor delighting much in his company and pleasant parley, which in their secret discourses, was for matters of state, touching the weal of her people, though the governors lest suspect was of her, whose right he governed. To her delight, being now in place of her most chiefest delight, we leave her a time.   

CHAP. XXVII.  
How Alinda taking care to keep secret her Lady's absence, demeaned herself.  
ALynda the trust of her Lady, and the faithful secret keeper of her mistress, after she had carefully provided all things, and seen her horsed to her journey, began now to devise in what a labyrinth of danger she had wrapped her herself, if aught should betide her Lady, but well to avoid her own danger, and to free her Lady of suspect, her subtle pate was not free from careful study, which way she might best keep her secrets close, imagining sometime one way, sometine another: at length a more better presents itself to her memory. But standing in an extafie, holding it wisdom not to be provided if occasion should serve, she gave it out, that her Lady vowing a long fast and secret, would not be seen or spoken to of her Alynda.  
This plot working effectually, Alinda orderly as she was accustomed, went to visit the children, from whence she returning, she puruaid with her own hand her diet, as for her Lady's service, and then attiring herself in her Lady's attire, would show herself. In this manner continued she without suspect of her Lady's absence, until the Emperor pitying the Lady, doubting lest her long solitariness should move her to melancholy, and thereby some dangerous sickness might ensue, when he had often solicited her by her sernant Alinda for the same, and received such answers by her as he liked not, moved with a kind desire to see her, he vowed that if ●he left not her chamber by a time limited, passing the bonds of honour, he would violently break the doors upon her.  
This wind of fury made Alyndaes' heart cold, fearing her Mistress' honour should not by absence be questioned of, and herself without confession of her being where she might not be known, in danger of the emperors displeasure, and loss of credit and life: to annoyed all which, many ways she devised, yet none safe enough, as she thought: but as women have always some shift, if it were to deceive the Devil, so Alynda devised this mean, unto her ladies confessor. In a morning early she went, where after her, many pretty questions and answers passed between them, Alynda to try the constancy of this holy father, charged him on his holy orders, and by the reverent zeal he bore to religion, to say what he would do for her Lady, in maintaining her honour and reputation.  
The Friar who thought on no such matter as the subtle Alinda, willing to make a show of zeal and duty, protested by all holy vows, that whatsoever rested within his power, he would gladly effect for her Ladyship, if the loss ●● life and credit depended thereon. This gear wrought fit for Alyndaes' purpose, which she thus answered. Holy Father, well have you said, in vowing yourself the favouret of so noble a Lady whose reputation and honour dependeth in your secrecy: which seeing your holy vows ought to be held in regard, both with God, and the world, I will reveal a matter most rare and strange unto you, and crave your counsel in the same.  
My Lady (holy Father) hearing of the wrong offered the Governor and state of Genua, whose right the Dukedom is, inspired with courage, sprung from the loins if a noble soldier, and possessing the spirit of her lovely Lord, the knight of the holy Cross determning to try her fortune in those wars, bound me by oath to her secret intent, never for forture of death, or whatsoever punishment, to reveal her will, and noble determination therein: which done, and my vow past, she enjoined me to provide horse and armour for her with a guide. And so decking herself in the attire of a man, only accompanied with a Gentleman of the Court, who knowing her but for my brother, are gone for Genua, since whose departure, my care being great to keep her credit, have given it out, as well to the Emperor, as to all other, that my Lady hath made a holy vow, and observeth a fast for certain weeks, in which time she will have no conference, or be seen of any, but myself. But the Emperor dreading thorough her solitariness, some melancholic infirmity, should ensue, hath sworn, if she come not abroad in a certain time, to draw her perforce into his company.  
To salve all which, let me entreat you, by shalt promise you have made, to morrow morning by that hour the Emperor doth usually walk about his privy garden, to come unto the Court, where I will attend you, and be your guide to her chamber, where myself disguised in my Lady's apparel, will with you feigning great conference, show us at the window where we may be both seen of his excellency. By which means; and your further persuasions to his Majesty, in telling him what vengeance he shall incur of God, in frustrating the holy vows of any religiously made, he may be drawn from a deed so far unseeming his honour, and die charitabley  
Gentlewomen, (quoth she confessor) thy faith to thy Lady, I admire (as well I may) for as rare a matter is it to see a woman of such secrecy, as a million of black swans. Thy words hath won me to execute thy will, what thou hast devised I will (God willing) perform. And I pray that our devises have as good effect for thy Lady's honour, as thine heart wishes. In the morning expect me, when God saying Amen, I will visit thee, until that time farewell.  
Alynda seeing her work have effect to her wish, returned him many thanks for his courtesies, promising large rewards for his friendship: which done, committing him to his devout services, she speedeth to her lodging, about her ordinary affairs. Where we leave her till fit occasion of the History serveth.   

CHAP. XXVIII.  
How the feigned Philipo by good government and behaviour, obtained the good will of the Governor, and what chanced her in the fight.  
PHilipo having a care of finishing her intended business, aught by all means to gain the good will of the Governor: so that leaving no occasion which was offered, he always took oppostunitie to move the Governor, by battle to try the event of their fortunes But the Governor having lost many of his company, expecting some aid from his friends, detracted the time, in such manner, as Philipo wearied with their lingering, and respecting her promise with Alynda, finding opportunity, having the Governeur at conveinent time and place to speak, thus she said.  
Noble Governor if I might without suspect of villainy, or incurring your displeasure, boldly speak, I would then make offer of my simple service to your honour, and your people's great good. The Governor whom affection had won to like him, willed him to say what he would freely, he would hear him, and further his honest suits to his best power. Thanks, (noble Gentleman, quoth Phillipo) seeing you vouchsafe me this favour, I see and note the great disiresses of your people, and pity them, for whose relief from this captivity, and freedom from these enemies, I will adventure my body in single combat, to try my fortune with the best man at arms in that usurper's ●●●ps, if you dare on the goodness of your first quarrel, adventure your right: or if to this, you, or that proud enemy will not condescend, by battle to end the wars in this sort, give me leave to try by policy, what affect God which 〈◊〉 the just actions of men will do.  
The Governor musing at the resolution of Philipo, whose smooth face argued his young years, and 〈◊〉 knowledge in marshal discipline, would not disable his 〈◊〉. But thanking him for his friendly proffer, recounted 〈◊〉 him, the experience of wars the eneme had, 〈…〉 Souldiou amongst them, so that his 〈◊〉 waning strength, was insufficient to encounter the worst of many hundreds, and their policy not too presented. Yet Gentleman, (quoth he,) that I may not show any ungreatfulnesse to you, whose care and offer is such for our good, let me heat your device, and as I like, we will accept or refuse it. Philipo deriding her ill success in her suit, besought the Governor of yardon, unless of his honour he vouchsafed to grant him his suit.  
The Governor seeing his willingness, and what discontent he had at his deviall, and despairing of his good hap, hoping on God, which by the power of David, discomfited a more huge army, granted his request. Whose words no sooner uttered, but he might perceive her hearts content by her cheerful countenance. After a small stay, little néeding long premeditation she said: Know (my good Lord) that during the time I remained in field with the Duke, having an intent to do you and yours, what good I best could, I gave my study to search the secrets of his camp, noting his whole order and manner in every thing, watching by night to see their observation, and warding the day, to know their customs. In which times, I saw how carelessly they demeaned themselves, wishing at some times your honour were acquainted with my thoughts: so with a small power might they have been furprised. In hope of which (good my Lord) give me leave to choose unto me, those whose years require honour by their deserts, such Gentlemen as I can entreat to accompany me, myself will give the attempt, entering first the camp, like a fugetive, having stolen from the City, pretending honourable love to the duke, whom I will with my feigned talk so besot, as until heavy sleep oppress him, he shall never be weary to hear me: which done, and every one in the dead of their sleep, binding them safe, I will with his Signet, command the Officers of the watch to give me the word, pretending the Duke's meaning to visit every watch secretly that night. These things falling so out by showing a flaming Torch, I will give notice to my company, whom I will meet, and unto them deliver the word, which by small companies shall pass the courts of guard, until we 〈…〉 the Duke's own lodging, where having some strength, myself (on my life) will undertake to bring the Duke prisoner, and 〈…〉 (by your help, and God's assistance) your enemies.  
Philipo, devise (quoth the Governor) if it be as well performed, which God grant, to thy industris (noble minded Gentleman) I comment this service, and will myself reposing over thy loyalty: be ready at giving the sign, with five hundred of my trustiest friends to aid thee, the honour whereof, shall be Philippoes', if we prevail, then proceed when thou shalt best please.  
Philippo, having his desire, and the governors good consent, attired like a common soldier, at setting the watch, issued the City, commending the success of his service to GOD: far had he not gone from the City, but taken by the enemy's espyals, he craved access to the Duke, unto whom after they had rifled him, they brought him. No sooner came he to the presence of the Duke, but prostrating themselves at his feet, he saith. Most noble Lord, and my dread sovereign, pardon thy humble servant, who by my overboldness, desirous to gain your gracious love, so far adventured in pursuit of thy enemies: That being past rescue, and the enemy's number less, my strength failing me, with the loss of much blood issuing from my wounds, I was in hapless time, taken Prisoner, where I have there ever since remained, until this time: I then slaying my keeper, taking his apparel and furniture, I thus escaped their fury, who for my harsh speeches, used in defending your noble reputation, was doomed to be shot to death by the soldiers. The Duke glad to see his safe return with life, for whom he had great care, giving him hearty thanks for his good love, and dangerous adventuring for him, and in his service, gave him a chain of gold from his neck: commanding his Master of the wardrobe, to suit him presently in a rich suit which he appointed: which done, seating him by his side, accompanied with the chiefest of his men at Arms, and nobility, he discoursed unto him much matter to their liking: touching the misery of the town, assuring them on his life, before many days were ended, the commons in despite of the Governor would yield themselves, if in time he and his accomplices sought not his highness favour. With these pleasing speeches, & often carousing between them, at finishing of each story, the night was well spent, Philippo for his welcome, was lodged on a Pallet in the Duke's Tent: which done, and every man at his quiet, the Court of guard about the Tent, being half a sleep, as one that regarded his honour with the governor, seeing all sound, searched the Duke's pocket, where finding the signet, he issued out the Tent, commanding the Captain of his guard to send him the word, for that disguised, he would walk that night about the Campe.  
The Captains seeing the Duke's signet, gave him the word, which obtained, about his other business he goeth, effecting all things as he wished. The Duke being fast, thrusting out his torch at the Tent door, as though the Duke intended to visit the Ferrara Duke, which lay not far off, he feigned speech with the guard, until he thought the governors espyals had seen the sign: When making no longer stay, with a Holbart on his neck, taking his way towards the City, he passed with the word without any molesting. The Governor which had hope in his champion, slept not his time, but with his horse, and many other a foot, attended the coming of Philippo, to direct them, which made all possible haste, and in good time to all their comforts, met the Governor: Unto whom he briefly delivered what was done, beseeching him to let his footmen pass, by small companies, to a place by him assigned, whither he would conduct them, and at the allarome given, to make haste with his horsemen to their reschew. The Governor having good hope of success, commending his policy and resolution, appointed his men by him to be led, straightly charging them to be governed by him, who giving them the word, marched on to a side of a small hill, close on the back side: the Duke's tent where they stayed, until their guide Philippo had appointed them what to do.  
Philippo, applying his businesses, bringing the company close to the Tent, having the Duke fast bound, wrapped him in his night gown, accompanied with two or three good follows more of his crew, with their weapons drawn, drew him from his naked bed: with which awaking, and perceiving them strangers which were about him, he would have cried out for help, which Philippo perceiving, thrust his gloves into his mouth, swearing by all holiness, that if he spoke any word, he should presently have his passport, to hell, which was the habitation of such usurpers: Therefore willed him, as he tendered his life, to be silent, and his body should have no harm, which to do, he was enforced: Taking what they would with patience, having him within their power, they cut the cords of the Tent, and pulled him out underneath, bestowing him at their own pleasures: that done, leaving him in safe keeping, they gave the allarome, killing and slaying without mercy. To whose aid, came the watchful Governor, who with his power, did such feats of Arms, that the whole Army was discomfited, some fled, but most plain. The Dukes with the principal were taken Prisoners, with many others, which were delivered presently. But the Duke with his complices, he sent unto the City, to take better assurance of his loyalty.  
Thus the polity of Philippo prevailing, and those Lords of their riches and provision, which they hoped to have made their Captives, the Governor sent unto the Town, the happy success of their services, marching himself by easy paces, doing Philippo all the honour he could. Who being mounted on a beautiful jenet of Spain, led the two Dukes his prisoners.  
The happy tidings of this honourable victory suddenly spread throughout the City: great was the triumphing they made, where no solemnity was left there uneffected for honour of the same, every one lauding the policy of Philippo, and doing him all the honour that might be devised.  
To the exceeding grief and hearts discontent of the Dukes, who blaming their light credence of a stranger, whom they never saw before in their lives, would on his words, uttered of purpose to serve his own turn, admit him to such favour and trust: but after warnings comes too late. They are now to be used at the pleasure of the Governor, unto whom Philippo became an earnest suitor, for their courteous entertainment, and honourable usage.  
The Governor, whose honour was increased by the industry of Philippo, embracing him in his Arms, committed the whole estate of those Princes and Nobles, unto his direction: by whom he solemnly vowed to be governed, for which, as one that could demean himself to all estates like himself, he returned many hearty thanks, and accepted his kind proffer.   

CHAP. XXIX.  
How Philippo gave thesentence on the usurping dukes, and the honour done at his departure.  
PHilipo, praising God for his prosperous success, rejoiceth now to be with her Alinda, whom she greatly feared might incur some danger, by her long absence: to avoid which, she besought the governor of lysence to depart: pretending businesses of great importance. To whose suit, although willingly he would have condescended, yet with earnest entreaty and love he bore him, he besought him to stay with him, promising on the faith and honour of a Gentleman, as himself, he should participate in all living Land and goods, which he had, or should ever have. For which Philippo rendered many hearty thanks, but might not be entreated: for which the governor, as well as many other his followers, and friends, were hearty sorry, surceasing their bootless suits, lest their importunity might breed offence, yet they besought him, to accept the ransom of the prisoners which were to be disposed by him.  
When Philippo saw the honourable minds of those his friends, which he had good cause to love, for maintaining his right, and every way discharging the honourable part of a trusty subject, loath that so great favours should go unrecompensed, he first on their allegiance to the rightful heir of the Dukddome, charged them straightly to fulfil what he should give in charge, being no disparagement to their honours and estate, to which they willingly agreed, confirming by oath what he had set down, and then said. In performance of the words you have given, this shall you do, before thee month is fully expired, you shall in person repair unto Rome, where before the imperial majesty of my sovereign Lord the Emperor, you shall present these Dukes your prisoners, where I will recount your honourable deserts, and deserved commendations, that your Princess Vallia may reward your honourable service. Till when, honourable Governor, wear this ring, by which you shall find me, if you forget the name of Philippo. Which said, and the ring delivered, the governor wondering at the gravity and noble mind of the resolute gentleman, overcome with his noble proffer, could not fallen what way to recompense the least of his deserts, but rendering him many thanks, besought him in the most humble manner, to acknowledge their duties to their sovereign Lady Vallia, whose seruadts thee vowed them in all loyalty. These conditions agreed upon, and every thing with consent finished, the time appointed for Philippos' departure, a band of soldiers were appointed for his convey to Rome, the captain of which company, having great charge for his honourable usage, unto whom ten thousand crowns was delivered at their leave taking of him. The time of his departure being come, Philippo taking a solemn farewell of the Dukes of Milan and Ferrara, with the other noble prisoners, the governor with the most noblest of the country, conducted him on his journey, of whom when they took their leaves, many tears were shed: such was the sorrow for his departure. whom they had no knowledge of. Whom after many loath farewells, we leave to his journey, accompanied with his guard and the governors, to many honourable thoughts of this noble stranger.   

CHAP. XXX.  
How Philippo arrived in Rome, and what chanced Alinda.  
THe Governor having lost our noble Philippo, there needed none to hasten him, whose thoughts was of his Alinda, whom he had engaged for his return. As time worketh many effects, so long travel hath brought this noble lady within one days journey of the City, her long desired place of rest, when calling the captain and his companions, he discharged them from their further travail, largely rewarding them for their pains: where the Captain was loath to leave her, before he had seen her in safety in the City: but when no persuasions might serve but they must needs leave her, the Captain making ready the gold, presented it unto her, desiring her to accept it as the gift of his loving friends of Genua.  
Philippo wondering at the bounty of the Governor, gave them many thanks, but no entreaty might cause him to touch one penny, the Captain on his part loath to offend the, Governor again to return it, protested by his honour in arms, and faith of a soldier, to leave it to his disposition. Which oaths Philippo was not willing he should violate, but measuring his honourable mind, received the Gold, the one half of which, he freely imparted amongst the Soldiers, who accepted it without denial, with many thanks, the other half between the Captain and his guide he equally shared, unto whom yielding many thanks for his bounty, taking their leaves, they left him on his way for Rome, and they returned for Genua.  
The time of her expected return was now near expired, wherein Alynda was to prove her wits yet again as she had done: whose cunning by the good help of the Friar, took such effect, that the Emperor by his godly counsel was reclaimed from his intended purpose, although the Princess' absence wrought his great disquiet, yet patienting himself, he was content with hearing of her good health, for which he diligently inquired every day of Alynda, whom to quiet from further care or discontent, Vallia arrived at Rome, and taking her lodging in an Offria, sent her guide to the court in secret, to give notice to Alynda of her return, willing her in the evening to meet her at the place where they last parted.  
This tidings to Alynda was welcome, who was not a little comforted with that news of her Ladies good success, for which giving GOD thanks for his favour, and keeping and preserving her in her journey, she awaighted with diligence the good hour of her ladies home return, where giving her attendance, she had not long stayed before she had sight of her, the most welcome of the world. What joy at their meeting there was, with their sundry discourses, I omit, until in quiet content she was placed in her lodging, from whence after she had discharged her guide, she was not long absent, where being with her secret Alynda all alone, she questioned her of all the chances that had happened since her departure from thence. Which answered, Alynda forgot not to tell her the perplexed estate wherein she's was at the emperors words, menacing her to see her Lady, no occasions whatsoever so prevent him: with the policy she used, and aid of her confessor. At which discourse the Princess might not forbear hearty to laugh. What other prattle happened, magine you Gentlemen, that are acquainted with wooers merry meetings, to let you hear more of Edward and his company, what in their journey happened them.   

CHAP. XXVII.  
How Edward accompanied with the Governor of the Rhodes, and his Lady having performed their ryttes in the holy land, returned home, and what chanced.  
YOu have heard gentiles of the recovery of the governor of the Rhodes, by the noble knight of the Cross, who gathering strength and some ease of his wounds, by the knight his good recure, arrived at the holy City, where they made their stay, doing such religious ceremonies, as to vowed travailers appertaineth: where their welcome was great for the knight's love, whose honour they wished for the service done, in defence of the holy City. After the governor was well recovered, and all things to their content finished, the knight desirous to see his Lady whom he never heard off since their parting, causing their company to be ready to departed, and their attendants to purvey them of victuals, for provision passing the mountains: which done, taking their leave of the high priests, and the chief of all the city, who conducted them on their way, they travailed without any adventure, until they came to the City of Aleppo, where they stayed to refresh themselves. In this City, there was resident certain Spanish merchants, who envying the good countenance of the knight, and the love was made him by the viceroy there, moved with revenge of his count general, slain by the Knight of the Cross, after their return from the wars, seeking many ways to entrap him, and finding no cause or mean to accuse him of any ill, whereby to procure his trouble, he consorted with his janesaries, who were appointed to wait on him by some policy to do him to death, promising great rewards for his pains. Thy fact being committed, these hellhounds whom no conscience moved to remorse, in hope of gain, undertook the action. And under show of kindness and zeal to him that was a knight at Arms, intruded themselves into his company, admitting him to many banquets, the better to work their wills on him, seeking opportunity to slay him, taking their occasion to quarrel for pledging a carrous: which the Knight refusing, a stir began between them, where he received many injuries, and some wounds, before he offered any offence: when the multitude growing about him, and he unarmed, winding his Mantle about his arm, he reft from one of the Turks his scimitar, with which he made such way, that they held themselves most happiest, that were farthest off.  
The rumour of which broil, was noised thorough the City, that thither they came from all parts, to take parts, and to be beholders of the fight. In which, after many deep wounds given, and many of the ungoverned janesaries sent to hell, when he could make no more resistance, compelled by the heat of the place, and weariness of the fight, he yielded himself unto the hands of the Iwae, chief judge of the City, who promised him to be his warrant from all men, that no danger should betide him: on which promise he delivered his weapon. The Spanish Merchant, whom they called Guido, standing on his house top to behold this tumult, hoped well that the Knight had been slain, but it proved contrary, at which he stormed greatly, but more grieved to pay his promised sums, which for his life he durst not deny, fearing the janesaries should have slain himself. Which second grief, caused the traitorous Spaniard to seek his further trouble, urging these jenesaries, to lay unto the Knight's charge, matters of treason in the state of the City, thereby to cut him off by law, which he, nor the best Cavileres of his Country, durst out look in the face, in any sort to attempt aught against him of force.  
These janesaries suborned by large gifts, wrought others to take part with them, who were near the Viceroy, and the Gawr, which upon their reports summoned the Knight to their judgement hall, from the prison where he lay chained, unto whom matter of great untruth was objected, concerning the state, which he stoutly denied. But those Curs, which had sold his life for money, storming that he had favour to speak, offered to swear by their holy Koran, that he with the rest of his confederates, viewing the City in their secret walks, had taken notice of their forces, inquyring by circumstances, of such as they accompanied which, what numbers of men they had, and how with victuals they were relieved. These accusations so vehemently uttered against him, the Viceroy could not but examine: and finding him guilty of the same by their false judgement, sentence of death should with all severity pass against him.  
The Knight seeing his cause dangerous, putting his hope on him that never left him comfortless, with a bold undaunted spirit, and as one that feared not their threats, knowing death was the worst, thus said. Reverend fathers, judges of men's causes, you have here by your laws condemned an innocent man to death, for no cause justly offered, but falsely and untruely by envy, and of your own imaginations, wrought against me. First, by force they pretending love unto me, in that place where they gave me victuals, they sought to take my life from me. Their intended purposes that way failing, standing on mine one safety and defence, they have here falsely accused me of matter never thought on by me. But say (patrons of justice and honour) that I should have viewed your forces, what may one naked man do, where are thousands of brave and gallant soldiers? If your wisdom would but in justice sift the cause, you should then find the wrong offered me, that am here a stranger amongst you: from whom I appeal to the Grand Signiory for justice, or being a soldier and a man at Arms, in your City, which are most men at Arms, let me in combat try mine innocency. If to neither of these my lawful suits you do agree, the world which hears of your unjust dealing with me, will scorn your laws, and to your great reproof, to report your wrongs done a gentleman and a soldier.  
The King which was a Runnagatho, an Easterling borne, and was not to learn the Christian laws, and good nuriture, hearing his reasonable request, said he spoke reason, and called before his accusers, unto whom he said. Countrymen and fellows, you have here on your words, brought a Christian and soldier to judgement, whom our laws hath condemned by your reports, whether of truth, or in revenge of some of those who lost their lives in the broil begun by you amongst yourselves, we cannot say: but as I am appointed your governor, and expressly charged by his Imperial majesty, whose authority I bear, to use justice to all men without favour: in which, I hope I have hitherto borne an equal hand, neither sparing my friends, nor favouring my enemies: so in this case, you must use what law of Arms requireth. Therefore this is my sentence, which if you be soldiers, and your cause just, you may not deny, that you two his accusers, shall in single combat (according to the laws of our land) maintain your accusation by fight: for which, appoint yourselves against to morrow, or revoke your words before the whole assembly.  
The janesaries, who lest looked for this favour to be showed a Christian, moved some other of their friends to urge against him the slaughter of those soldiers by him murdered, & justice to proceed for breaking the peace in their city, being the principal fort of the land, against the law of Arms: which the knight thus answered. Your grace hath heard the malice of those people, whose intent, if they may have their wills, is my life, of which if your grace consider, that what I did was in mine own defence and safety of my life, having received sundry wounds, which are yet to be seen, before I offered any one a blow: if a worm having no fence, will turn being trodden on, worthy of blame may not that man be, which will defend his life, who once lost can never be recalled.  
The king interrupting his speech, turning him to the accusers, said: You are to maintain your evidence, attend your limited time, or confess your accusation false: which said, he committed the guard of the prisoner unto a Captain, to see him forth coming at the time appointed.   

CHAP. XXXII.  
How the janesaries loath to maintain the fight, laboured the Spaniard to buy his liberty.  
THe fainthearted Villains, who had seen the feats of Arms done by the Knight, doubting their force, which was far unable to encounter a man of such worth and experience in Arms, fearing by their foil ever to be dishonoured, persuaded the Spanish Guido, in friendship to make offer of love unto the Knight, who being a Christian, for a sum of money might deliver him, threatening him, if he wrought not some means for to free them from the combat, they would discover his pretended evil, and cause him for his treason lose his head. The Spaniard vexed at the heart, to see his business take no better effect, persuaded himself of two evils to choose the least: without any more pause taking, accompanied with others of his confederates in the action, sleeping no time, came to the Knight of the holy Cross, whom with great show of kindness, and many courtesies he saluted, feigning great sorrow for the wrong offered, persuading him to patience, for that there was no right to be expected, from them, who sold their laws, lives, and whatsoever for money. And (quoth the traitorous Spaniard) where such government is, accursed is the land, but more accursed the people: wherefore (quoth he) if you will be ruled by me, that am a Christian, and bound in conscience to relieve every man professing God, much more a man of such esteem as yourself, which with your life hath maintained his honour in many places, doing good to all people in distress. Stand not on any thought of your being, or what you have been, but considering where you are, rather yield yourself unto their favour for money: without further trial or danger, I will undertake to buy your liberty. Then (noble English man) prefer not money before your life: for being here, if you prevail against your accusers, yet shall you ever go in danger of secret enemies which will not be satisfied before they have your life. I speak as a friend, whose welfare I esteem. Therefore with wisdom censure of your good, by being counseled, or your peril by being too headstrong: if you accept of my proffer, I will take order for your liberty, without any charge of yours: which done, you shall presently be transported to Valencia, a famous city of Spain, my ship being ready fraughted for that place, attending but a fair wind. When the knight which during his long preambulation, had considered of his speech, he was persuaded that he spoke but truth, yet could not judge his secret intent, which made him that he thought not of any evil to be pretended by him that professed conscience and christianity, making this account, that he were better howsoever, to be with Christians, then in the hands of such reprobates, being but a money matter, which by his friends, wheresoever he became, might shortly be provided. Wherefore, with many kind courtesies returning hearty thanks to his traitorous friend, he said. Kind friend, whose friendship offered I know not how to merit, albeit my conscience persuadeth me I shall prosper well in the combat, assuring myself on God, who protecteth his people, yet in regard of these my followers here present, as for my liberty, I accept your offer, which I will requite, causing the mightiest Prince of Christendom to reward thee with thanks, and myself with large sums, to satisfy thy debt: wherefore if you intend what you say, speed about it, that I may know to what event our friendship will sort.  
The Spaniard glad to hear his purposed determination grow to so good a pass, embracing him, like a second judas, whom he sought to betray, besought him, not to dismay in any thing, for all the goods he had were at his disposing. And so for that time taking his solemn farewell, he left the Knight to many conceited thoughts of his new professed friend, himself speeding to find the traitorous janesaries, who were as feign of his good success in his business, longing to hear what would become of it, whether the Knight cetermined to try the cause by fight, or otherwise by friendship end it, as the next Chapter shall show you.   

CHAP. XXXIII.  
How the traitorous Spaniard Guido, compounded with the Bashaw for the Knight's liberty, with his departure towards Spain, and what then chanced.  
Never was the tidings of pardon more welcome to the condemned prisoner, expecting death, than this good consent of Edward to Guido, who travailing in care as the painful woman labouring with child birth, was in a moment freed from that painful ecstasy where with joy near overcome, his tongue bewraying his hearts content, making small stay, but judas like (as a Spaniard practising treason) taking his farewell, he looketh not behind him, until he came to the lodging of the janesaries, unto whom he came not before he was long looked for: who resting in a quandary, was as fearful to try their accusation by fight, as the Spaniard to abide the hazard thereof, who noting Guidoes' guileful countenance, their guilty minds 'gan presage some good event Being met, as you hear, imagine Gentiles, whether there were any questions left undemaunded of the Spaniard, touching his late accomplished business, which might tend to their welfare, or that the knight intended aught which might breed their discredit. Of all which, when the Spaniard had at large resolved them, recounting from point to point each several accident chancing between the knight and him, with what courtesy he offered peace and friendship unto him, whose death he most desired, cloaking his villainy with such shows of love and friendship of Christianity, they all laughing for great joy at the Knight's simplicity, and the traitors knavery, spent the time froliking together, until the next morning, where in their quaffing & drunken discourses, a matter of more peril for the Knight was plotted between them: whose heart being free from all guile, had not the least suspect of what was intended against him, as you shall hear hereafter, where the History recounteth it, and return now to the janesaries: who drunk with delight of their glad tidings, wished long for the sight of that joyful day to end all their doubts, which no sooner appeared, but the janesaries loath to be prevented in what they intended, speedeth them first unto their commander the Gaw, and unto him delivered the Spaniards suit, and the Bashaw which was for the deliverance of the Knight for ransom, beguiling the simplicity of the Gaw, with the earnest suit of the Spaniard for him. And offering their good consents, so that therewith contented, omitting nothing which might give liking, or gain the good will of those they sought, to their wish. All which reports of them made, was so soothed by Gindo, that the Gaw, moved partly with pity of the knight, and more with gain of the Crowns offered for his freedom and liberty, calling for his company, speedeth unto the Bashaw, whom he found preparing himself with all his bravery to behold the event of those Combatters, who seeing the speedy coming of the Gaw, thought verily that they had been already attending for his presence, and began earnestly to inquire the cause of his sudden coming so early.  
The Gaw which was wise and experienced, as be fitted his authority, be sought the Bashaw to withdraw him from the company when he would deliver what he had to say. Which done, and they all alone, Gaw delivered each particular which the javesaries and Spaniards had moved him with all, with his opinion in the same, all tending to that those traitors desired: and the knight's liberty, of all which when they had advisedly considered, although they could well have given their consent to have ended all matters, yet for fashion sake, they called the rest of their council, who hearing the matter, stood not long on terms, but called for the Spaniard, demanding whether the motion were made by the knight, or of any other of good will towards him: which Guydo affirmed to come from the knight, and besought him of favour therein, undertaking to pay the ransom, whatsoever they would inflict upon him.  
At hearing of the Spaniards large proffer, silence was again proclaimed, and the Spaniard dismissed, between them agreeing on the sum, and days of payment which they rated him: but howsoever the Spaniard must not forsake his word, lest he pay the price of the ransom with his head.  
This done, and the articles by them setdowne, which the Spaniard must confirm, he was again called, unto whom the Bashaw said. signor Guydo, those goods parts and discreet carriage of yourself ever since your coming amongst us, we have diligently noted, as yourself in all your business have found more than all other strangers, and as tofore, so now in this motion you have made for the reléese of this Christian, whom although our laws have condemned for a fact not to be tolerated in any, yet at thy earnest request, and motion of those his adversaries, it is concluded, that for his liberty you pay ten thousand crowns, the one half instantly, and the other at your next return of shipping from your country: which done, and he delivered, you shall awarrant his departure with his companions: the first fair wind to carry your shipping hence, or otherwise on his longer stay to be again apprehended, and judged as before, to endure the penalty of death, as already without further trial. To these conditions if thou agree, prepare thy money, and stay the Combat, which must otherwise presently proceed. The Spaniard which had all that he expected, having his life and possession of him whom he hated decay, humbly thanking the Bashaw for their favour, thought the prize was high which he was for his pretended treasons was enjoined to pay, setting a counterfeit joy on his grieved heart, he departed to his lodging, where, by his own store, and his Country men's aid, he furnished the same: which he presently paid, and had the Prisoner delivered, whom he most kindly entreated, feasting and joying with him, so long as he remained with him, how vile soever he intended he should be used at his departure. In which time, came the ship, as I have already told you, stayed of purpose for his deliverance, to carry him from thence. Whereof, how glad soever the Knight and his company was to be freed from the dangers of those hellhounds, yet was his exchange little amended, as you shall hereafter know further. Only now here resteth to show you his embarking from thence, what success his had, and of his Traitorous usage at Sea, by Guydoes' command, you must a while pardon, to hear of the Arrival of the Governor of Genowaye, with the rest of his Nobility at Rome.   

CHAP. XXXIIII.  
How the Governor of Genua holding his word with the counterfeit Knight arrived in Rome, and of their entertainment.  
IT is here remembered, that Vallia in her Knight's attire, after she had by her policy and valour freed her commons and country from the tyranny of the Dukes of Florence, as you have heard, enjoined by solemn oath, the Governor and the feres of the Country, to appear before the Emperor, who in the behalf of the Princess Vallia should requite their faithful trust.  
The Governor regarding his honour, but more his oath, when he had settled all things in good sort, he paid his own Soldiers, and richly rewarded his foreign friends, with the spoil of his enemies, to every man's good content, having puruaied a rich and most sumptuous train to accompany him: taking good order for the state and welfare of his commons, attended with the chiefest Lords and gentles of the country, he left the City and by easy journeys, passed on the way to Rome beguiling the weariness of their journey with sundry pastimes and sports, until they came by long and diligent travail to draw towards the City, when by their messengers, they advertised the Emperor of their coming: unto whom they all were most heartily welcome, as was manifest by the favourable and kind entertainment of their tidings bringer: Whom the Emperor most honourably feasted, doing him all the honour that could be devised. With this news, the Emperor could not be quiet until he had advertised the Princess Vallia with the same: Who knowing better then the Emperor, the only cause of their coming, settled a show of much gladness at the hearing thereof: then questioning the occasions that brought them thither, wherewith the Emperor was nothing acquainted.  
The Emperor when he had emparted his news to the Princess, summoning his state, and principal of his most honourable counsel, gave strait charge, for the royal entertainment of those states, in the most honourable and best sort that might be devised: taking the like order, that all things with such company as he appointed should be ready. The next morning by rising of the Sun, they were horsed to meet those noble strangers on the way, which accordingly was done in the most gallauntest order that ever could be devised.  
This done, sending their curreres before to give notice of their near approaching, they left the City, riding near, until the son had brought the mid day to an end. At which time, the first intelligencer gave word, they had descried them within ten miles: and so as on their journey they drew near, they were ever advertised, as time bringeth the matters of most moment to end, so these states had end of their desires, time and travails bringeth both companies, in view one of the other, to their great delights: at which enterviewe a pleasure it was to behold the youthful troop of nobles and gentles, how gallantly they demean themselves, doing many brave and commendable feats on their horses, on both sides deserving such praise as was admirable. In this sort doing their kind courtesies they pass by either company, until the governor meet the Emperor: When prostrating himself on his knee, he drew near the Emperor offering to kiss his styrrope: which in no wise the most courteous Emperor would suffer, but taking him with great love and honour from the ground, bid him oftentimes heartily welcome to these confines, which shows of love, the Governor and his people very well accepted, in such manner, as the joy thereof enforced them to shed many tears.  
This done, and every Nobleman and Gentleman have done the like, inquiring the principal of the governors train they equally matched themselves, and passed on their way, discoursing very lovingly of many pleasant matters, until they came to a Castle of the Emperors, called Forte Vencencio: Where that night they were most royally feasted, with all delicacy. The next day, after their repast taken for their breakfast, they left that place, proceeding on to the end of their weary journey, riding so long, and with such pleasure, that they had sight of that City. The situation whereof, they admired to behold, with the beauty of Churches, and state of the houses, of honour: but that which most pleased their delights, was to behold the most beautiful River Tybres from whose flowing streams, so many pleasant Creeks were filled, and whereon floated so many huge ships, of enestimable worth, and whereon showed the Emperors fleet of Galleys, who seeming to be environed with the assailing enemies, most pleasantly, and full of warlike policies, lay battering one the other, with their ordinances, and as the advantage was offered, here they entered, and took, them others they fired: and the Conquerors triumphing, brought the others away Captive, after the manner of the Sea.  
No sooner had this pleasant fight left their labour, wherein every one took great pleasure, passing on thereof discoursing, every man speaking his opinion of the honourable fight, and commending the manner of the same, and good performance of the leaders, when suddenly Ambushed on a greene's side, where they were assailed by a company of soldiers, which came to give them welcome in like sort: from this Ambuscado, discharged they their ordinance, and after issued, bravely assailing the horsemen, who suddenly were encountered by another company, which in like manner first played on them with their field ordinance, and after spent some time in showing their agility and nimbleness in discharging their shots, doing many notable and commendable feats of arms, to the great joy and chéering of their wearied spirits. That pastime in list manner ended, the soylers casting themselves by their captains commandment into warlike rings, marching close to the stirrup of the Emperor, and the Governor, discharging their pieces in their march with great cunning, they bid the strangers all hearty welcome, who with great content and courtesy, returned them all most hearty thanks.  
This show with excellent commendations of all beholders performed, the soldiers marching with their colours displayed, conducted the Emperor and his troop to the city, where with other solemn shows they were by the senate and states, as well abbots as other of authority, both spiritual and temporal, as for the vulgar fort, whose cries and voices of joy might well persuade those strangers for whose sake they were assembled, to be all welcome to them, as to their sovereign. In this content they arrived at the royal court of the Emperor, where their Princess Vallia accompanied with a train of beautiful Ladies, gave them many hearty welcomes: unto whom in all humble acknowledging their loves and duties, by their shows of obedience, they were all conducted to their several lodgings, royally feasted by the Emperor and his nobility, during their stay in the city, of which you shall hear more as it shall be required: leaving them to their pastimes & several discourses of their common weal, and state of their countries, with the princes: to tell you further of the knight, and his hard entertainment at the sea.   

CHAP. XXXV.  
How the Master of the ship, by the commandment of Guydo their Merchant, chained and imprisoned the knight, and what chanced him.  
ALso it hath been in the former history declared of the knight's departure to the sea, where they had not long been, and they from the shore scantly losing sight of the ship, but the master which had his lesson before, calling up his company together, willed them to follow him into the cabin, and there to chain the knight, which he said he must do for his and their security. The company, whose love the knight's courtesy had generally gained, hearing this intended evil against him, who wished them all well, began to persuade the master from this intent, which would not hear them, but prosecuted his will, although to his great cost, as it after happened, for the master whom no persuasions might induce from his rigour, having the chain in his hand, entered the cabin, with him other officers of the ship, and without saying any word unto him, violently laid hands upon him.  
The knight wondering to see this unexpected wrong offered him, who suspected no such matter, and not knowing their pretence, force perforce grasped with the Master, and wring his chain out of his hands, gave him so sore a blow on the head, as his brain was therewith besprinkled, and he lay gaping for that which he never more obtained. The boateswayne and some others of the chief, who who were acquainted with the treason, seeing their Master slain, assaulted the knight, intending with great tyranny to revenge his death, and to make him fast as they had promised: but too easy a reckoning made they, for he was more of account then millions of the slaves, as with their limbs they were compelled to witness, for when the knight who took them all for friends, saw their intents of evil, and could imagine no cause, defending himself, he so manfully bore him, that to the devil he sent them all to accompany him.  
When he had made way in the cabin, and cleared himself of those that there assailed him, taking one of their weapons, he rushed violently out upon the rest, who fled like sheep from a dog: such was the power of an Englishman in multitudes of Spaniards.  
By this time the Page and the knight of the Roads who by treachery was clapped up in a cabin, had made way for themselves, and with such weapons as they could get, was come unto him, who noting the timorousness of the base villains, said. Unfaithful Spaniards, more bruit than beasts, more cruel to Christianity then the enemies of Christ: what wrong have I offered you, that thus you go about to bereave me of life, whom I loved so dearly: But seeing you base grooms (quoth he) thus have without cause moved my patience, I will not leave one mother's son of you all alive, to declare your hapleste tragedies, unless you acknowledge your guiltiness, and timely recount unto me the original of this mischief, which do, and save your lives, or otherwise prepare yourselves to follow those traitors that lie before you.  
The poor Mariners which were as sorry for the wrong which was offered as himself, grieved, humbling themselves at his feet, besought him of pardon, and not to impute the blame of their masters crime unto them, for quoth they, we are his hirelings, unacquainted with any intended evil against you whom we all honour and was glad of, if our master had any such charge by the Merchants, or otherwise had any motion of his own free will to offend you, that is altogether unknown. To show our innocency herein, behold his son that lately commanded us, him before your eyes will we with all cruelty entreat, thereby to find the occasion if we can. And then taking the boy they stripped him, and tying him to the breech of a piece, with cords, whipped him, to make him confess what the cause was of the wrong offered by his father to the knight. But for any cruelty they could show, he would not confess neither his father's intent in the action, or where the merchants letters were bestowed, wherewith the knight was satisfied, and commanded them to rest satisfied: but they which were well used to the boy's subtlety, threatened him with death, without he confessed what they had required, which obstinately he ever refused, until a bold and merciless villain, which in despite of the boy, more than of trust to the knight, heating oil boyloing hot, bedropped his naked skin therewith, which torment the poor boy no longer able to endure, kneeling, cried out for mercy to the knight, and he would not only deliver the letters, but his armour and weapons, so that his life might be saved. At which words, the knight commanded them to cease their cruelty, promising on his word of honour, that no man should do him wrong, but he would protect him, so that he performed what he had promised, and thereon ceasing their punishment at the knight's commandment, they expected now to be satisfied from him, what should clear them from all jealous doubts, wherein the knight held them, for his harsh and bad entertainment, which made them hasten the boy to his business, urging him to that task which he was very loath to be drawn unto, but perforce compelled unto it, he caused the knight to defend the hold of the ship, where enclosed in a huge dryfat, he found his armour & all other his habiliments, and furniture for his body's defence, in which a packet of letters was enclosed, directed to an honourable person, near allied to the Spaniard slain long before, and master to this Guydo, his last hateful enemy. The sight of all which so moved the Knight to pleasure, that forgetting all other occasions, or minding his Packet, he joyed only in possessing his arms, causing the boy to be freed from his bonds, and with good store of crowns rewarded him.  
Now Gentles is to be remembered, the careful love of the Knight's Page, who seeing his masters small regard of those Letters, closely conveyed them into his Pocket, without acquainting any man with them, longing to know the contents, yet loath to make their secrets known to any man.  
In this Labyrinth of discontent rested the Page two days, and more, being very desirous to know the effect of those lines. At last fit opportunity being offered by one of the company, who in the watch singling the Page, which was ever wakeful for his Knight's welfare, he besought the Page of favour in commending an earnest suit he had to his master, which himself durst not utter. To which the Page willingly agreed, on such conditions as he bond him unto. One of the Articles of which was, that he should faithfully read, and interpret unto him truly, either in Italian or French, which the boy best understood, the true effect of those Letters: And having read them faithfully, with great secrecy to conceal them without revealing the least word, syllable, or letter therein contained.  
This done, and his solemn oath for performance made by all holy rites that Spaniards use to swear, he broke the seals, and read the contents of the chiefest, touching our matter, and the knight's occasion of further trouble.  
To the mighty and most honoured Knight Don Philoberto, Duke of Medina, Lord high commander of the forces of the most Catholic King of Spain, in all his wars, kingdoms, islands, and all other his territories, and one of the knights of the holy City of Rhodes.  
MOst mighty Prince, carrying a longing desire to do your highness service, and many ways bending my studious affairs for some matter of acceptance, to your excellency. It happened in this city of Alexandria, to arrive this English homicide, a fugitive from his Country, who making no conscience of murder, killed that most renowned General your Nephew at Rome, after the last wars of the Christian Princes against the soldan Don Whose death, to my hearts great grief I writ, I have often seen your highness with tears to lament, and our most famous king bewail, of whose blood none could ever yet sufficiently be revenged, albeit, there hath sundry attempts been given: whereof with advice and good regard, considreing, finding him in the Cirte of the Turks, where I now remain, as well to requite the wrongs done to that noble Prince by him slain, as to show my duty to your excellency, I first practised with large expense of crowns to accuse him of treason to the state here, and by suborning two perjured janesaries, maintained the actions, for which he had judgement of death by their laws: yet by the Bashaw, and other chief ministers, he had grant of combat against the janesaries, in trial of his innocency, wherein the janesaries quailed in courage, though I offered great sums for their performance: but they dreading the event, or stricken with fear of his puissance, who showed himself at the time of his apprehension, more like a devil then a man, doing many to death, would not by any offers of Crowns be won to continie what they had begun, but enforced me with threats, in such manner, that fearing mine own life, if my pretence should have been known, I feigned a show of most kind Christian love unto the English churl, and won him by my protestations, to become a suitor to the Bashaw, for ransom to redeem him, advising him as a friend that wished him well, how deeply so ever in my heart (for the causes above remembered) I hated him deadly: all which my feigned friendships he accepted for currant, and I gained his good liking to compound for his ransom which I have paid, amounting to the sum of ten thousand crowns. And for proof of my loyalty to your excellency, and duty to your noble house, make him my present unto your highness, with his page and other associates, his armour, weapon's, and what he else here had, not doubting but your excellency will acquit your royal blood by him traitor like shed, or sa isfie you and them by his death, in most extremity, or in his wretched endless slavery, which all the race of your noble house hearty required. And so resting a faithful suppliant to your family, and whole alley, and a hateful ememie to all of that devilish nation, of which he is descended, I commit your excellency to your honourable will, and cruel torment of this hateful English wretch. From Alexandria in Assyria,  
Your highness in all truth and loyalty: Guydo Fredericano.  
The Page, whose heart burned with extreme grief to hear these conspiracies against his Lord, and was assured hereby, that all their troubles proceeded from that canker of humanity, & traitorous Spaniard, their most supposed friend, pouring forth tears like rivers, which restrained his tongue's liberty of speech, after he had a while be thought him on this wretched Guydo, envying against that viper, and his Nation, he said.  
Treacherous and most execrable homicide, scorn of men, and monster of Christianity, which under show of truth hast hatched such damnable treason, Villain that thou art, in place, where all them that profess God is hated, and where love of Christ and Christians should be most holily regarded, there to conspire the death, defame, and subucrsion of a man so honourable and famous as this most noble and well deferuing Knight: for which (perjured wretch as thou art) God's vengeance shall sufficiently requite it, and all those thy abettors and fauourits in this stratagem, false and dissembling Spaniard. And thou my most renowned master, princely Lord Edward, how simple wast thou in crediting so lightly aslave of no more worth than this wild misereant, harbouring in thy simple breast the serpent that sought thy life, not like a man in any valorous manner, but like a Spaniard, by treason and subornation of perjury, for money, buying and selling him, whose worth is more worth than Spain, and all whatsoever is resident within the terrifories of that accursed Nation. But why spend I time exclaiming on thee and them that sought my lords life; and acquaint not his honour with those practices of this slave borne Spaniard, this judas that betrayed the life of this so renowned Knight, that he knowing the treasons conspired against him, may first on these Villains of that crew and cursed fellowship, be extremely revenged, and after on all those Vipers, till he hath rooted from the earth all such as carry but the name of Spaniards: so should the brood and spring of treason be pulled up by the root, and those aspiring enemies, which seek by treachery to invade Kingdoms, and by coin to draw subiertes duties from their Sovereigns, buying Kings, and Countries for money, be laid open to their cursed and devilish practices: from whose deceits, fair promises, and high conspiring treasons, God keep every English heart, confound in his wrath all those practices they intend against the state, and commons of my blessed and peaceable Country England. Whilst he was in his invertive against Spain and Spaniards, the Knight whom regard of his welfare kept from sleep, hearing all quiet abroad, and the night calm and fair, left his loathsome Cabin to take the air, and coming unawares by the Page, heard the conclusion of his long perambulation: with which he desired to be acquainted. But the Page on the sudden being taken, though he would, could not colour with any show those Practices. But drawing those letters, whose contents he so lately had knowledge off, besought his Lord with very earnest suit to peruse them, and as he found, so to take heed how he or any Englishman hereafter, trust any traitorous Spaniard. The Knight musing what moved the Page to these humours, retired again to his Cabin, calling for a light: read their contents, which moved his patience, and cloyed him with melancholy, to which we leave him.   

CHAP. XXXVI.  
How the Governor and Nobles of Genua, in triumph before the Emperor had knowledge of their Champion Don Philippo, and what chanced.  
IT hath been recounted, of the honourable enterfainment of the governor and his company, with the honours done them by the Emperor, who in favour of the Princess Alinda, graced them with all the kindness and honour that might extend to strangers and the subjects of his beloved friend: These noble strangers renowned in the Court, passing the time with all honourable pastimes, night and day, which could be devised. Many ways by their own favourers and followers, they diligently inquired of their champion Philippo, as well to thank him for his service, employed for their good, and fréeing them from their enemies, as to grace him with the Emperor, by their good reports of his deserts, which albeit they had often acquainted the Emperor with all, yet was not that sufficient recompense as they thought, for a man of such worth, and his desert, This strangeness of the knight caused many doubts to arise among them, for that he had joined them on their honours to make their appearance before his Imperial majesty, and he absent, whom they with such loving desire wished to see. But if they grew perplexed thereat, judge the emperors discontent, who measuring all honourable actions, especially the forward adventuring soldier, was more moved at his silence and concealing himself then the rest, and the more for that his service in a time of such danger and hazard of the whole signory, had for his friend's benefit and good of the whole Dukedom, been so employed, that amongst his cogitations and thoughts of discontent, joyed in hearing the honourable adventures of the knight, so largely recounted.  
Resting thus in an ecstasy, often moved to melancholy, through the knight's absence, whom he more desired to know, then to enjoy great riches, the nobles and he in their secret conference many ways devised how they might attain what they so earnestly wished, in the end, after many imaginations how to effect their purpose, the Emperor being verily persuaded he was not of his Court, that had for honour of his excellency favoured him with Title of one of his Knights, for that by their description he could inquire none such, to be resident in the City, or might for any inquiry find any hope of, never knowing him, yet as the desirous mind loving to effect his purpose, leaveth no way unsearched, how hard or unlikely soever.  
The Emperor bethought him to proclaims a general challenge at arms, appointing great prizes for them that best deserved them, believing verily that if he were either in his Court or his regiment, he could not being a man at Arms, hold himself in secret from a place where honour was to be gained: Hereof the whole estate concluding, Heralds were dispatched to all Cities within the empire, proclaiming very diligently the triumph which was to be holden before the Emperor, at tilt, tourney and barriers, with their several prizes.  
Alinda which had often conference with the nobles of her country, took great pleasure to hear them discourse the honour of the knight, which although she could better acquaint them with, yet to show a mind of honour, she wished to know him, to the end she might reward him: but all in vain, the time was not come until she pleased to reveal herself.  
The time spending limited by proclamation, for those that intended to show their forces, and gain honour, brought from all places Princes and Nobles of great account, every one like themselves, desiring the emperors grace, spared no charge, as well in sumptuous furnishing their retinue, as in their excellent devices, and show of rare and incomparable wealth, which greatly pleased the Emperor to behold, who longed for the day wherein he might see the issue of this devise, and end of his hope in knowing the knight.  
The princess Vallia, whose head was not idle, devising what she might best do for her honour, and satisfying the Emperor and those nobles who loved and honoured her in her melancholy dumps, called unto her Alynda her trusty servant, and to her disclosed the great desire of the nobles and the Emperor to meet the knight, which had with such honour behaved him in their wars, earnestly entreating her, as before in many exigents, now she would bethink her how she might in the assembly show herself, and escape unknown. Alinda which was not unacquainted with the princess's conditions, felt her presently, and bethinking how desirous she was to show the nobleness of her mind, took that charge upon her, assuring the Princess that if she would be ruled by her, she would now satisfy her mind herein, and against the time, though it were but short, furnish her with all things necessary to her content: at which consent of her Alynda, without whom she was not herself, embracing her, and after for joy kissng her cheeks, she gave her many thanks, and many bountiful promises of reward, which was as much as Ailnda required, whose care was wholly to win and maintain the Princess' love unto her, as by her dutiful love and service was ever shown.   

CHAP. XXXVII.  
How the Princess, by Alindaes' help, was furnished like: Knight at arms.  
NOw followeth (gentles) that I recount unto you, the care and great regard of Alinda for the Princess, who used such diligence, that against the prefixed time of tourney, the princess was puruaide of all needful things, horse, armour, lance, and curreler, fitting the most accomplished knight in those confines.  
The princess seeing all thing so exquisite puruaide, highly in her heart commended her trusty servant, whose kindness and love she valued of more esteem than all the treasures the earth can afford, contemplating some time on the worthiness of a faithful friend, and the deliverance of a servant: she called suddenly her Alynda unto her, unto whom she said. Alinda, faithful and kind Alinda, in many experiments and great occasions I have found thy loyalty and trust such, that my studies are wholly how to requite thee, wherefore my trust (quoth the princess) and therewithal embracing her in her arms of tender love, bedewing her cheeks with tears, willed her to ask whatsoever was in her power to give, & she should have it. Alinda which saw her Lady in this humour, thought she looked for no less than was then offered, rendering thanks for her gracious opinion, with pretty conceited parley put off their talk for that time, beseeching her to make trial of those things which she had promised, whereunto the princess agreed.  
Alynda first opening her Trunk, suited her first in a doublet and hose: that done, arming her in all points, she seemed second to none, but a knight of as great worth as any. What several speeches of commendations passed at her arming, I omit, let Ladies which for recreation sometimes amongst themselves use like merriment, censure of the rest, only I shall recount unto you Alinda her forgetfulness, that having all other things beseeming what she had undertaken, wanted a shield with some devise to present his imperial majesty, as the manner of men at arms is. This forgetfulness Alinda in herself greatly blamed, that prettily excused herself to annoyed blame, which the princess with a pretty jest put off, laying both their heads together for performance of their want, and fitting their devise answerable, first setting down one thing, than another, all seeming good and very effectual, yet every several counsel surpassing other, they were doubtful which to except, Standing thus astonished, Alinda, which was ever at the dead lift most sharpest witted, thus said. Madame, your grace hath many times carried good and gracious opinions of me, which I desire may ever be continued towards me, if now my credit may be such with you, refer this charge unto me, and doubt not but it shall be effected to your content. Enough Alinda quoth the princess, I take thy word, and on thy care rely, be it as show withlt: so disarming herself, and attiring her in her own attire, accompanied with her ladies and Gentlewomen of honour, entered the presence, where she found the Emperor and those nobles of Genua, unto whom she was most hearty welcome: whom to their pleasant discourses we leave, to tell you further of Alynda, and her careful regard of her promise to the princess.   

CHAP. XXXVIII.  
How Alinda against the prefixed time of trumph, presented her Lady in the appointed place of triumph, and what chanced.  
YOu have heard gentles in the former chapter of the princess fortunate meeting with the nobles in presence of the emperor, wherein was many discourses as occasion was offered, but among all, whether serious matters for the state, or idle toying prattle to beguile time, the remembrance of Philippo, the knight so much of the Genua nobles applauded and honoured was never forgotten, for whom they oftentimes with tears, distaining their tender cheeks, bewailed his want of company, and more grieved for that they all doubted of his welfare, by reason of his breach of promise with them, not showing himself to them, which came only of purpose to meet him there. But to our matter.  
As time nor tide stayeth not, so the long desired day is come, wherein those noble personages, whereof the numbers was great, that from all prince's courts where they there assembled, must try their forces, amongst which there wanted nothing, which to honour and arms appertained, each thing with such cost and diversity of devices, as not only the rareness of the shows delighted, but the cost and exceeding richness was more admired, so that a general plaudite was given the Emperor for his bounty, courtesy, & exceeding cost.  
These things ordered & all other needful matters befitting the time and the place. The princess which were before appointed to be principal beholders of these pastimes, could not devise with what cunning devise to bring her desires to effect, for which she grew so melancholic, that her nearest attendants durst not come near her, fearing to offend her. These passions Alinda well noted, and sought many ways in her subtle shifting head, to disburden her Lady of those great greases: so long devising, that she thought no way so sufficient as to cause her cunningly to counterfeit some distemperature of her body, and hereon resolving, without acquainting the Princess therewith, she presently sent word by the Princess Squire to the Emperor, of the ill distemperature of the Princess, whom she willed further to say as occasions were offered and questions demanded, of the manner of her agony, to tell him, that about the midst of the night, all being in their dead sleep, suddenly the princess started out of her bed, running about the chamber like one lumatike, crying nothing but on her Lord, Edward, Edward, of England, bitterly crying and exclaiming her Lord Edward was slain, that she would come to avenge her on those miscreants that had murdered him.  
With this message the gentleman being parted, hasteneth to the Court, and came so early, as none of the privy chamber were stirring, yet made such means as he best could to deliver his message, which no sooner the Emperor heard, with the manner and strange efficacy of her malady, but nearly touched with the unhappy hearing thereof, he called for his apparel, and sending for his learnedest physicians, he questioned of the occasion of the princess grief and unaccustoined agonies, wherewith they were all astonished, yet taking advise amongst themselves, diversly censuring the occasion, they delivered their opinions thus, that the princess often meditating on her Lord in his absence by some fearful dream, might be in her sleep cumbered, and doubted not after some quiet rest, but she should recover her health again. This comforted the Emperor, who more regarded her health then all the world, of such tender affection was his love to the Princess planted.  
Now Alynda that had plaited her devise unknown to the princess, when she had sent her messenger away, came unto the Princess, and unto her delivered the discourse of her intention, which somewhat astonished the princess, and put her to an nonplus, that not knowing how a matter so began, should be so cunningly effected, but some likelihood of dissembling would appear, she exclaimed on Alinda, rattling and reviling her for her presumption in attempting a matter so nearly touching her honour, without acquainting her therewith.  
Alinda which had endured more showers and greater thunder cracks then the princess could now rattle, quietly digested her extremity of speech, but no sooner 'gan the wind to overblow, and the heat of her rage allayed: but Alynda which held her credit great, and carefully héeding her Ladies good, submitting herself to the princess, she besought her to regard all their goods, who had done this for her ladyships good, and to colour all which, and well effect her desires, feign some long sleep, that if the Emperor should send to see her, they which should come might have no speech with her. To this counsel of her old suresby the princess listened, & promised to perform what she directed. Scantly had they questioned of effecting what they wished, but one knocking easily at the chamber door, brought word that the Emperor with his physicians were come to visit the princess: to whom Alinda returned this answer with out advisement, that she was lately fallen asleep, and besought his highness to pardon her a while, and forbear to cumber her, whom they all hoped would be well amended by her rest. The Emperor whose careful doubts of her health, might not so be satisfied, would have no denial, but taking with him two physicians, entered her chamber, so easily as might not awake her: all which demeanour of theirs, the princess listened héedefully unto, and with great delight noted the lamentable discourse of Alinda, relating the mean of her disease, which made the Princess smile to herself, and oftentimes to frame her fits accordingly, to the great admiration of the Emperor and all the beholders, which more grieved them, especially the emperor, for that the time of pastime was so near, which they might not with honour recall. This despairing of the Prince's health, when the Emperor had been an eye witness of, what was reported, loath to awake her whom he thought slept sound: as quietly without any noise making as he could, he left her to her rest, calling a council amongst his nobility what was best to be done, either for proroging the appointed pastimes, or performing them, according as they were expected. On which they had with diversity of counsel, and sundry opinions debated, it was generally concluded, the triumphs to begin and hold, whereon a trumpet sounded at the court gate, to give every combatant notice thereof, whereat the Princes and Alynda joyed much. The Emperor, though his care was great, and sorrow more for the Prince's sickness, yet showed himself froilike, the better to welcome the Prince's strangers, whom he would not willingly discontent. But framing himself to mirth, as he best could, not without some touch of heaviness, he bade them almost heartily welcome, passing the time of dinner which they made shorter, by reason of their great business, whom to their preparations we leave, to return to the princess and Alynda, who not idle, but busily employed about their affairs: after the Princess by Alynda had given strait charge, that none should be so hardy to come near her lodging, she armed herself, and at the time appointed was fully furnished as she could desire, Alynda being likewise suited, in rich attire, be fitting more the gallantest Courtier, than a Lady. After she had prepared all things and their horses orderly brought to the place by her appointed, the princes attending to hear of the Emperors coming to the place of triumph, word was brought Alynda, by her trusty messenger, which was no sooner heard, but Alynda mounting herself on her hackney with a horn richly bawderickt about her neck, posted towards the Emperor. By which time the tilters were ready to join. But hearing Alinda wind her horn (as the usual manner of pastimes is) they made stay of their courses, and discharged their staves. The Emperor and all the Nobles hearing this sudden approach of a post, sent presently a herald to know the meaning, and what he was that entered the place in such manner, by whom she was brought to the Emperor's presence, where doing her duty as she that could well demean herself, she said. Muse not (magnificent and mighty Prince) at this sudden coming of a stranger: the simple messenger of a Knight adventurous, who on some urgent occasions hath made longer stay, then either he desired, or his duty would allow: yet not willing to lose this opportunity of showing his love unto your excellency, is now, though too too late, arrived in this city, and by me craveth to be accepted into this noble assembly, to show his forces in honour of your highness, amongst those honoured Princes and estates. The Emperor, and all the assembly attentively listening to the messenger, commended highly the audacious demeanour of the supposed young man, thinking his master to be no other but as the messenger reported, and loath to refuse his proffer, without inquiry from whence he was, or of what degree, they willing with a general voice said, he should be most heartily welcome, causing a herald to command the company to stay until the Knights coming. Alynda having made this intermedium to their purpose, made no tarrying, but with all possible haste returned where she left the Princess, who being already mounted, attending her Alynda, who no sooner had the emperors answer, but setting forwards, guided by her trusty Page Alynda, they arrived shortly at the place of triumph, into which entering, bowing herself unto her horse neck, unto those she first met, she passed her horse by the tilt, with such a countenance, and majestical grace, that every one admired, both her person, and good demeanour, every one censuring of her, yet none knowing what he should be: coming near unto the place where the Emperor was, in like manner with three lowly and courtlike courtesies, she saluted him: where staying, Alynda delivered her shield, unto his princely hands whereon was portrayed her own pioure aruied, holding in chains three princes, which subjecteth themselves to her, swearing their loyalty unto her: her word, keep faith with thy friend. The shield delivered, among all the 〈…〉 many times reviewed, as this, 〈…〉 which he much admired, craving of those 〈…〉 of the same, & desirous to know (if they 〈…〉 knight was: The knights having all their company 〈…〉 the stranger knight, desiring him to make choice of 〈…〉 run against, desiring the king of heralds which there waited, to read the names of the the Tilters unto him, which he had in a Catalogue. The princesss humbly thanking them for their love and favour calling Alynda unto her, commanded her to go the Emperor, and to crave at his hands, to try against all comers, his 〈◊〉, for that by oath he was so enjoined, by the Lady he most honoured, beseeching the princes and royal company not to take in any ill part this request of his, which was ready to kiss 〈…〉 humbleness. The Emperor which saw this 〈◊〉 sh●w of body in armour, was loath to hazard him to any great 〈◊〉 or by his too hasty licence, to grant that he might After report knowing the toil, and peril incedent to such assayres: yet considering his vow made, as his messenger delivered, and not knowing what sufficiency the knight found in himself, craved him in his behalf, the company would accept him, whereon they stood not long, put granted: at which the Princess was most joyful: so preparing herself, with such courage she discharged on the Polonian Prince that first met her, as she bore him violently to the ground, with such force, that had not help been near, he had been spoiled of his limbs, so that wearied with this first bad fortune, and dishonour in the action, he gave over that days triumph, in whose place met her Armedes of Tusran, a noble Duke, which she likewise foiled: at which such admiration grew, that there was no speech, but of the white Knight, so called by his Arms, being not otherwise known. Let it suffice, the honour of the day by general consent was given unto her, whom the Emperor and all the rest, desired to know, invited her to lodge within his Court, which she humbly denied, returning many great thanks 〈…〉 herself in such sort, as the 〈…〉 to recount his courtesies, but 〈…〉 gallant courage of himself in arms. 〈…〉 by the Emperor to departed, we leave the 〈…〉 her pleasure, joying in her good fortunes, and 〈…〉 herself, and the Emperor to his imaginations 〈…〉 knights, what sundry speeches at supper passed in court, of her honours gained, I omit, let it suffice all persons, as well that received foil, as others, gave the honour and commendations to her. What other occasions happened her, with the Emperor's knowledge of this feigned Knight, I omit: for that the History leaves them so. The third and last part shall show Prince Edward his success in all his troubles happening in his travails: the meeting of the Princess with her noble husband, and honours of the two young Lords, Nartellion, and Constantine, with their conquest: which shall bring thee more delight, if so thou accept this▪ Till when, and ever, I crave your pardons and good opinions, to be censured of this, which shall encourage me to finish the rest, and ever be at your devotion.   
FINIS.