The castle of love, translated out of Spanish in to english, by johan Bowrchier knight, lord Bernis, at the instance of the lady Elizabeth Carew, late wife to sir Nicholas Carew knight.  
The which book treateth of the love between Leriano and Laureola daughter to the king of Masedonia.  
¶ Cum privilegio ad imprimendum solum.   

¶ The Prologue.  
FOr the affeccyant desire and obligation that I am bound in, towards your right virtuous and good lady: as well for the goodness that it hath pleased you to show me, as for the nyrenesse of consanguinity, hath pleased me to accomplish your desire, as in translating this present book. And though my so doing, can not be correspondente any thing to recompense your goodness. yet not being ignorant of your will and desire, the which in this cause I take for the hole effect: thinking thereby to do you some small rememoration. And also because the matter is very pleasant for young ladies and gentle women. Therefore I have enterprised to translate the same out of Spanish in to Englysh●, not adorned with so fre●she eloquence, that it should merit to be presented to your goodness. For or I first entered in to this rude labour I was brought into great doubtfulness, and found myself in divers imaginations. For saying the quick intelligence of your spirit, I feared: and again the remembrance of your virtue and prudence, gave me audacyte. In the one I found fear, and in the other surety and hardiness. Finally I did chose the most unveil, for mine own shame, and most utility in any reprehension or rebuke for the moche boldness, in that I have not taken such respite as I ought to have done. yet in consideration of your gentleness, mine affection is always in trust to scape blameless. I have taken this enterprise on me, more be desire to have blame thereby, then to attain by my praise or laud. wherefore right virtuous lady, may it please you of your goodness to accept this little present treatise, and to receive this my good will, or ye condemn the fault. And also to have the more affection to the presenter, then to the valewer of the thing presented: requiring you to hold and repute me always as one of the number of them, that always shall be ready to do you pleasure. And for the surplus, I desire the creator of the first cause long to endure and to increase your happy prosperity. Amen.  
¶ The end of the prologue.   

¶ The Auctor.  
AFter the wars done and finished in my country, being in my poor mansion, in a morning when the son illumined the earth, in a shadowyde dark valley, in the mountain called Serua de Marenus, in the country of Masedonia: as I walked in a straight way shadowed with fair trees Suddenly I met with a knight fierce and furious, whose presence was fearful to regard. Coveryde all in here like a savage creature. In his lift hand he bore a bright schilde of steel, & in his right hand a shining image entaillid in a clear stone, of such pleasure & bewtle, that the clearness troublyd the sight of mine eyen, out of the which there issuyde divers Rays of fire enbransing & inflaming the body of a man. The which the said knight forcibly led behind him, who-with dolorous plaints and sorrowful passions said: By reason of my hope, I suffer all this, and where he approached, and that I was near him, he said with mortal anguish friend, for the love of god I pray the follow me and aid me in this my great be●ynes, and I as then had more cause of fear, than reason to answer, but I set mine eyen on this strange vision, judging in my heart divorce consideracions● as to leave my way, me thought it simpleness, and to accomplish the desire of the patient, I thought it dangerous to follow him was peril, and to leave him in that turbation was pite, so that I wist not which was best to choose, how be it after that fear had left mine alteration in some ease, and that my spirits began to respire, than I considered well that I was more bound to the virtue, then to the life. And then determynyde for the dought that I was in, to follow the way of him who desired mine ayede, and I hastyde me to go after in such sort that shortly I overtook them. Do we went all iii a long space, with no less annoyance, then to be solitary alone fro pleasure or company, and though the desire of the dolorous, was cause of my following, yet to speak to him that led the patient, I faylyde audacyte, and to desire him, me thought nothing available, nor I had not deserved it, though in this case I failed counsel, yet after I had revolved my thoughts in the remembrance of many things, I thought it best to put to him some manner of purpose, to th'intent that according to his answer I should determine further. And with this deliberation I requyrede him in the most curtes wise that to me was possible, to show me what he was: who answered me, & said: Friend, certainly according to my natural condition, I ought to give the none answer: because mine office is rather to assure evil, then to answer well: how be it in that I have been always nourished among men of good nurture: I shall use to the of the gentleness, that I have learned, a●d not of the fierceness of my nature. Thou shalt understand sense thou wilt know it, that I am principal officer in the house of the god of love: and I am named by my right name, desire. And with the force of this child/ I resist & defend all hoops: And with the beauty of this Image I cause the affections where with I broil and inflame the lives as thou mayst see by this prisoner whom I lead in to the prison of love: who all only by death hopeth his deliverance. When this tormentor had showed me all these things, we mounted up a sharp & an high mountain, that further to travail, my for●e failed, and with great pain, we aryvyd to the height. In receiving this answer, than I studied, how to thank him of the grace that he had showed me: and therewith suddenly he vanished fro my presence. This was in the beginning of the night, wherefore I could not keep my way, nor know whether I should draw, for the darkness of the night, & the small knowledge that I had of the country. Howbeit I thought it best not to return, nor to depart fro the place, that I was in. Then I began to course ●yne adventure, abandoning myself fro all hope, abiding there my perdition. Thus in the mids of my tribulation, I never repented of that I had done, for I esteemed better to lose my life, accomplishing virtue: then to save it, doing the contrary. Thus I was all the night in heaviness and travelous contemplation. And when the light of the day discovered the ways, I saw before me, on the most highest place of the mountain, a tower so high, that me seemed it atteynyd to the heaven. Hit was made by such artifice, that of the strangeness thereof, I began to marvel, & I joined myself to the foot thereof. The time offered me more to fear, then to regard or note it, beholding the strange overage & newelte of the edefice. The foundation whereon it was founded, was of a stone clear and strong of nature, whereupon was raised four great pillars of violet marble, so fair, and so high, beyond the common form, that it was marvel how they were sustained. Above the which was fabricate a tower iii. square, the most strongest that could be devised: on every square thereof, on the height there stood an human Image, made of metal, painted with their own colours, one tawny, another black, & the third grey, each of them holding a chain in their hands, made of great force. And on the height of the tower, there was a pinnacle full of great clearness & light, coming fro a ray of light issuing out of the tower. I hard ii watches who never seaced, but still waked. Of these things greatly I mernayled, & could not tell what to think or to say. Thus being in great dought and confusion's I saw joining to the marble a stair mounting to the gate of the tower, whereof the entry was so dark, that to mount up, seemed impossible: how be it, I defouled, willing rather to go to my perdition in mounting, then to save myself with tarrying. Thus taking heart, I began to mount and when I was up iii steps, I found a door of Iron, the which satisfied me rather to taste with my hands, then to attain thereto by sight, by reason of the darkness that I was in, And when I came to the gate, I found there a porter, of whom I demanded licens to enter. He answered, how he was content, so that first I should leave behind me mine armure. I granted him to leave such as I bore customably upon me. Then he said: My ffrend, it appeareth well, that of the usage & custom of this house thou knowest but lytle● The armour that I demand, and those that it behoveth the to leave, are such as the heart is wont to be defended withal, fro heaviness & sorrow, as are: hope, rest, & contentation: for to have those conditions, there may none joy of the demand that thou desirest. And when I knew his entension, without any further advise, I answered & ass●●ryd him, that I was come thither with out any of those armours. Then he granted the opening of the gate, & so with great travail and sore trouble, I arrived to the height of the tower, where I found another porter, who demanded of me as the other did. And when I had made him like answer, he gave me place to enter. Then I went all the length of the tower, and entered in to a hall, where in the mids thereof stood a chair brenning full of fire: in the which sat he who made to me the request, and causer of my perdition. And mine eyen were so charged with regarding of this overage, & my tongue was so oppressed, that I could demand no question of all these marvels. And as I regarded them, I saw the iii chains that the Images held on the height on the tower, were fast tied about this poor captive prisoner, who always brent, and never consumed. Then I saw two sorrowful women, their faces full of weepings and dolours. They ordained to set on his head with great cruelties a crown full of sharp points of steal, without pity, piercing his head to the brain. Also there was a black morion, vestured in yellow, who came often times which a great falchion, to strike him, and ever I saw how the patient received the strokes with a shield, subtly issuing out of his head: the which covered him to the feet. I saw other iii servants right diligent, who brought him meat on a black cloth, and with great fury gave him meet of bitter taste. And on the one side of the table I saw an old man sit in a chair leaning his head in one of his hands, like a man solitary in thought & pensiveness. All these things I could scant see for the darkness of the tower: but by reason of a clear shining light, that issued out of the prisoners heart, which gave clear light over all. And when this prisoner saw me so astonied, to see things of such mystery: And that he saw time to pay me with his words, though he were not in my det yet to give me some rest, & solacious comfort, with his discrete reasons, meddled with piteous weepings, he began to say in this manner.   

The prisoner.  
SOme part of my heart I shall discover, as I ought to do, for the sorrow that I have of thee, according to thy desert, how be it, thou seist well that in my tribulation I have no power, to feal any other man's evil, mine own is so great, I pray the take for satisfaction, not that I do, but that I desire, of thy coming hither I am the cause, I am he whom thou sawest led as a prisoner, because of the tribulation that thou art in, thou knowest me not. Torn again to thy spirits and take rest, and quiet judgement, to th'intent thou mayst be ententyve to that I will say. Thy coming was to remedy me, my words shall be to advertise y●, who I am. I shall show thee, and of the mysteries that thou hast seen, I shall inform the. The cause of my prison, I would thou knewdest, and I require the to deliver me if it be in thy puissance, know for certain, I am Lereano son to duke Guerro, whom god pardon, & of the duchess Colerea, my birth was in this realm, where thou art present, named Macedonia, my fortune ordained that I became amorous of Laureola daughter to king gualo, who at this present time reigneth, whom I should rather have fled fro, then to have fallen in to the trace of love, and specially in so high a place, but as the first moving, may not excuse me in stead of forsaking thereof, by reason I have confirmed it by good will. Also love hath vanquished me, & brought me in to this house, named the Castle of love, who never perdonyth, for he seeing displayed the veils of my desire, hath brought me in to the state that thou seist me in, and to the intent, thou shouldest the better note, and mark the foundation of this, and of all that thou hast seen, thou shalt know that the stone, whereon the prison is founded, is my faith, who determineth utterly to suffer the dolour of this pain, for the wealth of his evil. The great pillars that are assisted to this stone, ary my understanding, my reason, my memory, & my will, whom amours commanded to apere before his presence, or he would give any sentence upon me. And the better to execute on me his true justice, demanded of each of them, if they consented that I should be taken prisoner, because if any of them would not have consented, he would have asoyled me fro pain and blame, to the which demand all four answered in this manner. First understanding said: I consent to the evil of the pain, for the wealth of the cause, wherefore my will is, that he be taken. Then said Reason: & I consent not alonely that he be in prison, out I ordain that he there abide, and die: for it were better for him the happy death, then to live in despair considering for whom he shall suffer it. Then said Memory, sin that understanding & reason, consenteth that without death he can not be delivered, I then pinyse, he shall never forget it, but always have it in his remembrance. Then said will: seeing it is thus I will then be the key of his prison, and determine always to be persecuter, of will and desire. This seeing the god of love who ought to have saved m●e, condemned me, & gave this cruel sentence against me. As for the iii images standing on the walls of the tower each of them of a contrary colour, as tawny, black, & grey, The one is heaviness, the other anguish, and the third travail. The chains in their hands are their strengths, where with they hold fault tied the heart in such wise that it can recover none ease nor rest. The great clearness & shining, that the Eagle hath in his bek & wings as thou hast seen in the highest part of the tower, which is mine inwards thoughts, which hath so great clevenes in itself, that it sufficeth to enlumine the darkness of this cloudy prison, and the force thereof is so great that the strength of the thick walls, can not le● it, but that it will attain to the Egl● in such wise, that they will go together in company, because they are the things that mountyth and ascendeth highest, for the which cause my prison is in the highest place of the land. The ii watches that thou hearest, so diligently watching be Mishap, & Hate. They be of that devise that no hope nor remedy should enter into me. the dark stairs to mount on, is anguish, whereon I mounted, as thou sayst. The first porter was desire, who to all heaviness openeth the gate. Therefore he said to the that thou shouldest leave all thine armure of pleasure. The other porter was torment, who brought me hither, who is of the same condition. The chair of fire wherein thou seist me sit, is my just affection, whose flames always brynneth in mine entrails. The ii women that gave me the crown of martyrdom are called pain & passion, who satisfieth my faith with this present reward. The old man that thou sayst sit in so great study, representeth great thought & pensiveness with grievous care & solicitude. The which (joined with the other evils) manisheth my poor life. The black more ve●●uryd in yellow, who traveleth to take away my life, is named despair, & the shield that issueth out of my head defending me fro his strokes, is my wit, who (saying the despair would slay me) commandeth me to defend my life, considering the desert of Laureola, he commandeth me to desire long life with sufferance, rather than with death to make an end. The black board for me to eat on, is ferme steadfastness whereon I eat. Think & sleep, thereon are the heavy meats, of mine conteplations. The iii diligent servants that serveth me, are named, evil, pain and dolour. One beareth the meat of doubtfulness, whereof I eat. another beareth despair wherein the meat is brought, & another beareth the cup of tribulation, wherein I drink drawing water fro the heart to the eyen, & from the eien to the mouth. Now judge thyself, if I be well served, if I have need of remedy thou sayst. I require the sin thou art here arrived that thou wilt search for me some remedy, & sorrow mine evil, I desire of the none other good, but that Laureola may be aduertysed● & know by the state how thou sayst me, and peradventure thou wilt excuse the because thou sayst me fail power to make the a recompense. I require the let it not be undone for that cause, for more virtue it is to remedy them that be in tribulation, then to sustain them that be in prosperity: let thy works be such, that thou repent not thyself, for lack of doing it, when thou mightest have done it.   

¶ The answer of the author to Laureola.  
THy words show well, that love hath taken and occupieth thy liberty, but not thy virtue, the which I prove by that I see in thee, to be more readier to die, then to speak: how be it, thou hast forced thy will, to prove the weariness of my life, judging what for travels passed, & for my solicitude present, that I have but small hope to live, & without doubt, so it is, for thou causest my perdition, desiring doughtes remedy, and yet thou dost remedy the same, as a perfect judge. And surely. I have had no less pleasure to hear thee, than I have had sorrow to see the. For by thy person is well seen thy pain, & by thy reasons known is thy bounty, in giving succour and aid to the nedy●lyke as thou hast do●e now to me. For I considering the strange mysteries of this thy prison, I doubted of my salvation, believing all had been but illusions done by art diabolycke, rather than by any condition amorous. For this thou hast showed me I thank thee, and now I know what thou art, I think well employed the travail that I have endured for thy sake, the knowledge of the morality of these figures, hath right well pleased me, for though I well regarded them yet for lack of knowledge my heart was in captivity and prison, and now I am out of doubt & fear. And where as thou hast commanded me, that I should give knowledge to Laureola in what cas● I have seen y●, the which to do I find great peril for a man of a strange nation, what manner & form should he find to execute such a message, I have not alonely this doubt but divorce other: The rudeness & dullness of my wit, the difference of our speech & tongue, the nobleness of Laureola, and the gravity of this be synes, so that in this case I find but small remedy, but alonely my good will, which vanquyssith all other inconuenientes and dangers for to thy service I offer myself as much as though I had been thine own servant all the days of my life. And I promise the that with good heart I shall accomplish to my power all thy commandements. I pray to god, I may be as happy as I am desirous to serve the so that thy deliverance may bear witness of my true diligence so great affection I bear to thee, & so much I am bound to love thy nobleness that if I might remedy thy tribulations I should repute myself well rewarded for all my travyls, so that in the mean time thou wilt bear all manner of assaults patiently in trusting upon me that when I return and bring that any remedy that thou mayst take such courage in thy life, that thou mayst feal the sparkels thereof.   

The Auctor.  
WHen I had ended mine aunsewre to Lereano, than I departed fro him and learned the way to the city of Suria where as lay the king of Mazedonia, which was half a journey fro the prison fro whence I deptyd. Thus I came to the court, & went to the palace to treat, and to see the manner of the people of that court, and to regard the form and situation of the palace, and how I might resort, go, come, or abide, to enter in to the enterprise, that I had in hand. And this I did divers days, to learn and to see, what way should be best & most covenable to my purpose, & the more I studied the less disposition I found to attain to that I desired & when I had searched all manner of ways I thought most available to my purpose to acquaint myself with the young courtiers and with the principal of the court: for generally among them is found good manner and courtesy, and thus I drew so long to their company with in a breve time I was estemydde among them as though I had been one of their ppre nation, and at last I fell in aquayntance among the ladies, and little and little I fell in acquaintance with the lady Laureola, and divorce times I recounted to her of the marvels of spain and of other places, where as I had been. The which she greatly delyghtyd to here. Then I seeing myself in manner with her as a servant I tho●ght then I might show her that thing that I desired, and on a day as I saw her apart fro other ladies I kneeled down and said as followeth.   

The Auctor to Laureola.  
IT is less goodness to pardon the great & puissant persons, when they have deserved trespass then to be revenged upon the simple & small psonages, when they have done injury, for y● one will make amends by reason of their honour and the other are pardoned by virtue, the which is due to be used, among great personages, and most specially to noble ladies & gentle women having noble hearts according to their birth, they ought naturally to have pity in their conditions. Lady I say this for peradventure in showing to you mine intent, I shallbe reputed to bold, not having respect to your great magnyficens. In the beginning or I was determined to speak to you, I was in great doubt. But at the end I thought it for the best, that if ye entreat me, inhumaynly, to suffer the pain for my speaking, rather than to endure in dolour for being still. Lady ye shall know that riding on a day among sharp mountains, I saw by the commandment of Amours, how Lereano son to duke Guerro, was taken & led to prison as a prisoner, who prayed me to aid him in his trouble and business. By whose occasion I left the way of my rest, and took the dangerous way of his travail: and after that I had long gone with him, I saw how he was put in to a sweet prison as toward his will, but it was right bitter, as to his life: for there he sustaineth all the evils and pains of the world: Dolour turmenteth him, passion followeth him, despair distroieth him, death manasheth him, pain executeth him, thoughts waketh him, desire troubleth him, heaviness condemneth him, his faith will not save him, & I knew by him, that all this ye are the cause. And I judge by that I saw him, his dolour (which he keepeth secret in his mind) to be more greater, than he hath discovered to me by weepings, but by reason of the sight, that I see of your presence, I find that his torment is not without a just cause. And with sore sighs issuing fro his heart, he desired me to give you knowledge of his evil: his request was with pain & dolour, & my obedience, of pure compassion of his pain & torment, though I judge you cruel● yet by the frequentation of your gentleness I see & think ye be piteous, & not without reason: for by reasou of your excellent fairness & dignity, he believeth the one, & by your noble condition hopeth on the other: & his pain whereof ye be causer, if ye will remedy which pity according to his deserving, ye shallbe then praised above all other women that ever were. Remember now, & behold whether it is better to be praised for giving remedy, or else to be blamed for slaying of him. Consider how much ye be bound to him, that for all his passion & adversity, yet he doth serve you, & if ye remedy him, them he is the occasion to cause you to do as much as god may do, for it is of no less esteem, the redeemer, then is the creator: for in taking fro him the death, ye shall do as much, as god to give him life. I know not what excuse ye can make not to remedy him, without ye believe that slaying is a virtue. I desire of you none other good, but to be sorry for his evil and pain. This desire shall be to you nothing grievable: for he had rather endure in himself still pain and adversity, then to cause you to feel any pain & displeasure. This my bold speaking condemneth me, but the dolour of him that hath sent me, assoileth me again, his pain is so great, that none evil can come to me to be equal to his pain. I require your gentleness, let your answer be comfortable to your virtue, and not to the fierceness that ye show by your regards And in your so doing, ye shallbe praised, and I reputed a good messenger, and the painful prisoner Lereano, delivered quite fro all payne●   

¶ The answer of Laureola to the auctour●  
Likewise as thy reasons be temerous and fearful to declare, semblably they are great and grievous to pardon. if thou were of Macedonia as thou art of spain, thy reasons and thy life should finish together, but thou being a stranger shalt not receive the pain that thou deseruyste. And as for the pity that thou thinkest to be in me, I would thou knewest, that in such like cases, doubtful justice & cruelty is as rive and dew, as is clemence or pity, the which if. I should execute upon thee, should be cause of ii wealths. The one, thereby all other should take ensample of fear. And the other, all noble women should be esteemed and reputed according to their demerits. How be it, if thy fool hardiness, require punition, yet my meekness and benignity consenteth to pardon thee, though it be against the right way of justice: for not alonely for thy fool hardiness thou oughtest to die, but also for the offence that thou hast done against my bounty and virtue, that which thou hast set in the balance of doubt, because this that thou haste said to me, if it came to knowledge of sundry persons, some would believe that thou foundest me ready appareled to accomplish thy desire, as in having pity of the pain of Lereano. Thou oughtest to think that my dignity should have put the in fear, rather than his fool hardiness to have made the so bold. if thou intend any further to procure his liberty, thou mayst well seek for his remedy, and fall thyself in peril: therefore I advise the saying thou art a stranger, seek for thy natural sepulture, and not in Macedonia, and to common with the in such matters, I offend my tongue, therefore I will say no more, but I will thou know that this that I have said is sufficient, and if any hope be in the to speak any further in this case, thy life shallbe short, or if thou think to come to me with any more such ambassades.   

¶ The Auctor.  
WHen Laureola had ended her words, I saw well her reasons were short, but long was her trouble & displeasure. So I departed fro her, & thought upon many things, the which grievously tormented me, I remembered how far I was out of Spain, & of my long tarrying thence. Also I called to my mind the great dolour of Lereano sore mistruting his health, & I perceived well I could not accomplish that I was purposed to do, as to bring Lereano to liberty without great peril yet I determined to follow mine enterprise, during my life, or else to bring Lereano some hope of relief. And with this purpose, the next day I went to the palace to see what countenance Laureola made: and when she saw me, she entreated me as she was accustomed to do before, without changing of her port or cheer: whose sure demeanour brought me in great suspect. I thought she did it to prove if I would return again to enter in to my first reasons, I feared lest she had dissimuled to cause me to take courage to have spoken again for Lereano, and then to have punys●hed me for my foolish enterprise. So I could not tell whereto to trust, thus I passed that day and divorce other, and ever me thought by the appearance that I could see by her, that I had more cause to be bold, than reason to fear. And in that believe, I waited a time convenient, & spoke with her again, showing, myself fearful, though I was not so indeed. For in such business, and with such persons, it is behovable to find some doubtful turbation: for in such cases, to much boldness is reputed folly, for thereby might be thought that the dignity, nor authority of the person were not esteemed. Therefore to save me fro that error, I spoke to her with no great audacity, but in a fearful manner So I showed her all that I thought convenient, for the remedy of Lereano, but her answer was according to the first saving she was not so force, nor in such displeasure with me, as she was before. How be it, in her words, she gave me knowledge, that I should be still and hold my peace, but yet me thought her continance gave me licence to speak. And thus ever when I found time & place, I required her to have pity upon Lereano. And so divers times I found her answers sharp in words, & meek in countenance. And when I had well advised all her demeanour, I hoped upon some profit, scing in her divers things, whereby an amorous heart might be known: for ever when I saw her alone, she was pensive and full of study. And when she was among compavy, she would not be merry, she abhorred company, and to be alone was her pleasure, often times she would fain herself sick, to eschew other pleasures and if she were espied, she would fain some dolour or pain, and often times she would give sore sighs. And if Lereano had been named in her presence, she would suddenly start, and leave her coming, and blush red as a rose & again pale: her voice would change, and her mouth wax dry, and though she covered her thoughts as much as was possible, yet her piteous passion, surmounted her discrete dissimulation, (I say) pitefulnes, for without doubt, according as she showed after, she received these alterations, more of pity, than of love. Howbeit I thought otherwise in her, saying the tokens that I saw in her, I thought myself half sped of some good hope, and therewith I sped me to Lereano, and after that I had showed him all that was passed between me and Laureola. Then I counseled him to write to her, offering myself to bear the letter, and though he was as then more readier to remember what was best for him to do, to write or not. At last he took ink and paper, and wrote such reasons as followeth.   

¶ The letter fro Lereano to Laureola.  
IF I had as good reason to write to you, as I have to love. Then without fear, I durst be bold to do it but to think to write to you troubleth my wit, so that I lose mine understanding. Therefore or I begin, I find myself at a great confusion: My believe saith I may do it boldly: and your highness putteth me in fear & doubt. In the one I find hope, & in the other despair: at the end I agreed to write, but mine unhap is to begin in the hour of sorrow, for overlate it is, now to complain me● for I am now in that case, if I have deserved any grace or merit, there is nigh no thing left living in me to feel it saving alonely my true faith, which can not die, as for my heart is without strength, and my soul without power, and my wit without memory. How be it if it would please you to show me so much mercy, as to these my present reasons, to make some answer: the true faith that I bear you, should then suffice, to restore again in me, all the parts that are destroyed, I repute myself culpable, to demand of you any reward, and never did you service, and though ye take my service & pain in good gree, yet ye pay me always with doubtful thoughts. ye may say: how am I so bold to write to you, yet have no marvel thereof, for your beauty causeth mine affection, and the affection mine desire, and desire the pain and the pain causeth the boldness. And for this that I have done, if ye think I have deserved death, command to give it me: For it were better for me to die for your cause, then to live without the hope of your good will. And to say the troth, without ye give me the death, I shall give it myself, to find thereby the liberty, the which living I have searched for. This would I do, and it were not that I should leave you defamed, as to be renowned a murderer. Unhappy should be that remedy to deliver me out of pain, and to cause you to bear blame. Therefore in eschewing of all such inconuenientes, I require you send me your letter, as a reward for all mine evils, that I slay not myself, for I can not live with that I suffer, & my death should so toche your honour, that all the days of your life ye should be defamed. And if it may please you to do me any relief tarry not, nor be not slow lest ye shall have no time to repent you, nor no place to redeem me.   

¶ The auctor.  
ANd where as Lereano according to the gravity of his passions would further have executed his writing, but then using prudent discretion, for all hi● pain wrote no larger, for that he had written was sufficient to cause Laureola to know his evil and pain, for when letters be written at length, that is used when the writer thinketh, that the rede● hath as good will to read them, as th● sender hath to write them, but Laureola was quite delivered fro that pnsumption wherefore he extended his letter no larger. The which when it was ended, I received. with great heaviness, to see the sore weeping that Laureano made, the which I felt more, than I can express Then I went fro him and sped me to Laureola, & when I came there as she was, I found a time propyse to speak to her, and or I delivered the letter, I said to her as followeth.   

¶ The auctor to Laureola.  
Right excellent Lady, first or I say any thing to you I require you to receive the dolour & pain of me your poor kaytive, for the discharging of mine importunate suet, for where so ever ye shall find me of custom, I shallbe ever more ready to serve you than to be importunate. And surely Lereano endureth more pain for the trouble that ye receive, then for the passion that he suffereth, whereof he would excuse himself though his will desire to suffer it, to the eutent that it should not trouble you, yet his soul desireth not to suffer but rather to be in rest. The one commandeth him to be still, and the other biddeth him put out his voice. But trusting in your virtue, his dolour is oppressed, desiring to put all his evil in to your presence, believing on the one part ye should be dangerous, & on the other part that it should cau●e you to have compassion. Behold now many ways he deserveth merit, to forget his trouble he desireth the death and not without ye consent thereto, and because it should not be said that ye consent thereto he desireth the life, in that he received his pain to be happy, and for lack of his desire, he loseth his understanding, and to praise your beauty, he desireth aid of all the world. Behold how moche ye are bound to him, for he praiseth them that destroyeth him, he hath all his remembrance upon that thing that is the occasion of all his evil, and by adventure I should be so unhappy that he should lose his love by my intercession, which he hath deserved by reason of his faithful heart: yet I had rather I were deed, wherefore I require you to receive this letter fro him, and in the reading thereof to show him some mercy, for the pain that he hath suffered, and if ye blame him ye are more culpable than he, for that ye have suffered him to endure pain so long, ye perceive well the sorrow that he is in, by the words in his letter, the which though his mouth spoke them, & his hand wrote them, yet his dolour did ordain and devise them, & as god send you part of heaven as ye have deserved in the earth that ye will receive this his letter, & make him an answer, and alonely with this reward ye may redeem him, and thereby do away his debility, & minish his torment, and favour his sickness, and bring him in to that state, that he will desire no more wealth, nor endure no more pain, and if ye will not thus much do for him, to whom ye are so much bound, nor at my request, I may then well repute you cruel, but I hope so moche in your virtue, that according to your old custom, ye can do no thing but virtue.   

¶ Thanuswere of Laureola to the Auctor.  
THe perseverance in thy pursewt bringeth me to so straight a case, that many times my thought is dow what to do, other to banish the out of this land, or else to jeobarde my fame, in giving the place & leisure to say what thou list, yet I am agreed not so to do, nor to put the to that extremity, by reason of the compassion that I have of thee: for though thine ambassade be evil yet thine entensyon is good as to find remedy for the sorrowful. And the other way I will not take because of mine honour, for he can not be delivered fro pain, without I be defamed. if I could remedy his evil without danger or blotting of mine honour, I would do it with no less affection, than thou desirest: but thou knowest well how that women are bound to preserve their good fame, rather than their life, at the lest they should esteem it more than their bounty: for though the life of Lereano, should finish by death, yet judge thyself, whether I ought rather to be pitiful to me self, or to his evil. And if all women ought thus to do, then specially such as be of noble blood ought so to do: for all people sooner regardeth a small spot in noble persons, than a great fault in low psonages. Therefore in thy words confirm the to reason, for thy demand is unjust: thou thinkest I am pleased with thy comoning, which is contrary, though thy demand trouble me; yet thy condition pleaseth me, & I have pseasour to show the mine escuse with just reasons, to save me fro charge, blame, & slander. The letter that thou wouldest have me to receive may well be excused, for my defence is of no less power, than the perseverance of his hope: but sin thou haste brought it, I am pleased to receive it, but hope not of any answer, travail no more to desire it, nor at lest speak no more thereof, less that my displeasure trouble that not asmuch as thou now prayseste my patience & suffering I blame myself, & that in: two. things, because I common so long with the. The one is because the quality & heat of the cause hath brought me in trouble. The other is because thou mayst think that I am well pleased to speak with the in this matter, and believest how I should agree to Lereano though thou think so I have no marvel: for words is the Image of the heart. Go thy way, content the with thine own judgement, and carry with the good hope, of that thou desirest, and not to be condemned in thine own thought: for if thou return again to make new request, thou wilt repent it, I will advise the let this be the last speaking of that matter oreles thou mayst well know thou shall repent it, for seeking remedy for another, shalt fail remedy for thyself.   

¶ The Auctor.  
THe words of Laureola did bring me in to great confusion, for when I thought best to understand her then I knew lest of her will: when I had most hope, than I was farthest out of the way. And when I thought myself most sure, than I was in most fear for the diversity of her. gesture & behaviour blinded mine understanding. The receiving of the letter satisfied me, but the end of her words put me in despair, so that I know not what way to follow, nor how I should find any hope. And thus as a man without counsel, I departed fro her, & went to Lereano thinking to give him some counsel and to seek the best means that I could devise to remedy part of his evil, and when I came to him I said as followeth   

¶ The Auctor to Lereano.  
FOr the expedition that I bring, ye may well know where words fail, diligence can not prevail. Thou dyddyst recommend thy remedy to me, but fortune hath been to me so contrary, in that she would not be to me so favourable, as to satisfy me in any thing that is passed, but fortune is rather mine enemy. Though in this case I had good excuse to aid thee, for tough I was the messenger, thine was the business. The matter that I have passed with Laureola I can not understand it nor can not show it, because it is of so new and divorce conditions, a thousand times I thought to have been at the point, to have given the remedy. And again as often, to have given the thy sepulture: all tokens of her will, (won & vanquished) I saw in her countenance, and all the foolish frowardness of women without love, I hard in her words, judging upon her demeanour. I was joyful, and hearing her words, I was sorrowful. Sometime I thought she did prudently dyssimule, and again I thought she wanted love, but finally when I saw her so movable & changeable, I believed then verily that there was no love in her: for if a person be taken with love, the heart shall be constant, and where as love lacketh, there is mutability. On the other part I thought she did it for fare of the cruel heart of the king her father what shall I say she hath received thy letter, & manyshed me to the death, if I speak any further in thy cause, behold now this grievous case, There seemeth in one point ii differences, if I should show the all that was passed between her & me, I should want time to speak it. I require the enforce thy wit and assuage thy passion, for in following thy pain, thou hast more need of sepulture then of comfort: for without thou take some repose, thou shalt leave here thy bones, in stead of thy true faith, the which thou oughtest not to do: for satysfying of thyself, it were more convenient for the to live rather than to die, for to be out of pain. This I say, because I see the glorify in thy pain but in suffering pain, thou mayst attaygne to the crown of laud & praise In that it may be said, that thou enforcest thy self to suffer pain for the ladies sake. Such as be strong & virtuous in their grettyst misfortune, show greatest heart. There is no difference between the good & evil, without the bounty be tempt and proved. Consider that with long life, a thing may be won: have good hope in thy faith. Think that the purpose of Laureola may change, and thy farm steadfast love never. I will not say all that I think for thy consolation, for I perceive by thy weepings & complaint, that ardent death hath lightened his flames, but what so ever thou thinkest that I can do for thee, command it: for I have no less will to serve the then I have to remedy thy health.   

¶ Lereano to the auctor.  
THe disposition that I am in, the sayst. The privasyon of my understanding thou knowest, the turbasyon of my tongue thou mayst well note & mark: therefore have no marvel though mine answer be more with weeping, then with ornate words, because the Laureola putteth fro her heart, the sweet appetyght of my will, the things that be past between that and her, for all that thou art at thy liberty, yet thy judgement can not understand her meaning, how should I then know them for I am so passioned: than I can not live but alonely to praise her beauty & to repute my last end happy. I would these should be the last words of my life: because they be to praise her● what greater wealth can I have then that if I were so happy to be rewarded therewith, as I deserve by reason of the pain that I suffer. who then should be like me? better it were for me to die, sin I have served her, them to live causing her to have any trouble or dyspleasour. The thing that most shall grieve me, is when I die that the eyen shall perish that hath seen her, and the heart that remembreth her. The which considering what she is, all my wits are past, the order of reason. I say thus because thou sayst, that in the work of my heart in stead of faint love, my steadfast love increaseth if in my captive heart they consolations could take any fruit. This that thou hast done to me, sufficeth to enforce me but as the hearing of them that be in heaviness and locked in passion, in to whose soul can entre no words of comfort, and where thou sayst I should suffer none evil, give me the strength thereto, and I shall put to my good will. As for things of honour that thou showest me I know them by reason, and I deny them again by the same reason: I say I know them, for a man fire in liberty, should use honour, and again I deny it, as concerning to myself: yet I seek in my grievous pain to choose an honourable death. The travail that thou hast received for my sake, and the desire that I see thou hast to deliver me fro pain, bindeth me to offer for the my life as often as it were needful. But sin there is but small life left in me, take for satisfaction my desire, and not my power: yet I require thee (sin this shall be the final good deed, that thou canst do for me, & the last that I shall receive) as to bear fro me another letter to Laureola with such news as she shall be glad of, and whereby she shall know how I dispose me to pass out of this transitory life, and no more to trouble her: & to the intent that with good will thou shouldest bear it to her, I will begin it in thy presence whereof the matter shall be as followeth.   

¶ The letter of Lereano to Laureola.  
Sin that the sepulture is the reward of all mine evils, I am ready now to receive it, belove that death shall not displease me, for he is of small wit that abhorreth that thing that giveth liberty: but one thing displeaseth me, that is in dying I shall lose all my hope ever to see you again, the which sore grieveth me. It may be said in so short a space as I have been your servant, how should I so soon lose my puissance: ye ought not to marvel thereat, for the hope that ye have brought me in, and small comfort, with my great passion, sufficeth to put away & to destroy greater force, then mine, yet I can not believe, that ye are cause thereof, without your works do certify the same, but always I have believed, that your condition piteous, should surmount your obstinate will, but sin ye will that my life shall receive this damage, the fault thereof is mine own misfortune. I am sore abashed that ye sorrow not in yourself, your own ingratitude. I have given you my liberty, & entirely have given you my heart, nothing retaining to myself: for all that, I can have no reward of love, yet I desire to serve you. Who would think that ye should destroy that thing that is your own certainly ye are your own enemy with out ye find some remedy to save me. This ye ought to do, or else ye condemn yourself, for my death & perdition can not profyght you. But I desire that ye would sorrow for mine evil: yet if your sorrow should do you any pain, than I desire it not, sin that living I never did ye service. It were no right that dying I should cause you to have trouble. They that look against the son, the more they regard it, the blinder they be. And so the more I remember your fairness, the blinder is mine understanding. This I say to th'intent that of this my rude writing ye should have no marvel, for in the hard case that I am in, according to my will, I am better disposed to end my life, then to make any reasons: yet I would that thing that ye ought to regard, were so ordered that ye should not occupy your understanding on a thing so fair fro your condycio●. if ye consent that I shall die because ye would have it published, ye have the power to slay me● then be ye evil cousayled, for without hope your beauty hath sertyfyed me thereof. And if ye esteem my death to be good, because I am not worthy to receive your grace, the which I have ●●●pyd to win, by reason of my true faith, the which I lose for lack of deserving, and with this thought I think to suffer all my pain. And if it seem to you that the pains that I endure for your sake can not be remedied, with out offence to your honour. Thyuk that I will never desire the thing, that should torn you to blame: what profit should any thing do to me that should be evil to you. Alonely I desire your answer: for my first & last reward & to be brief, I require you, sin ye make an end of my life: yet at lest honour my death, for in the place where as the desperate souls becometh, if there be any wealth: There I desire, to feal none other joy, but that ye will honour my deed bones that I may joy a little with that great glory.   

¶ The auctor.  
THe words and letter of Lereano finished, In stead of words myn● eyen were satisfied, with great weeping, & so without power to speak, I departed, thinking my judgement that it should be the last time that I had any hope to see him again alive. And as I was on my way I wrote a superscription upon the letter, to th'intent that Laureola should be in doubt fro whence it came. And when I came in to her presence, I delivered her the letter, who believing that it had come from some other person, received it and began to read it. And all the season that she was reading, I regarded still her visage, & when she had made an end, I saw well she was sore troubled as though she had suffered a great evil: yet the regarding of her turbation, excused not my trouble Then to assure myself I demanded of her other questions no thing concerning to that purpose. And to deliver herself fro company, that which in such case is perilous, less that the manifest mutations discover not the secret thoughts of the heart. Therefore she withdrew herself a part and all that night she was without speaking of any word to me, as touching that purpose. And the next day she sent for me & showed me many virtuous reasons to discharge herself fro any thing consenting to release the pain of lereano, howbeit, she said that she thought great inhumanite to lose such a man as Lereano, for so small a price, as in writing of a letter, how be it in the reading of his letter I take but small pleasure. Therefore here I have written a letter, not with so pleasant and sweat words, as be in his reasons: for who so ever here the words in this my letter, may well know that I have little studied in the art of eloquence. So for shamefastness suddenly her face was inflamed, and as suddenly again pale, she was so sore altered and short wyndyd, that in manner she breathed for the death: her heart & voice so sore trymbled, that her discretion could not enforce herself to speak therefore her answer was short, and also the place required no longer time. So she took me the letter, and kissed her hand, and I received it. The tenor whereof ensuyth.   

¶ The letter fro Laureola to Lereano.  
THe death that thou lookest for, by reason of thy pain I have rather deserved it, if I should put my will to thine: but that is not so, for this my writing is more to redeem thy life, then to satisfy thy desire, what should it profit me to accomplish it, for if I were accused thereof, I could have no witness to salve me, but alonely my pure intention, which is so principal a pertye, that his words should not be taken nor believed And with this fear, I have put to my hand to this paper, my heart & mind being in heaven making him judge of my mind, to whom the truth of all things is, manifest & known. The cause why that I doubted to answer thee, was, because without my condemnation thou canst not be assoiled, as thou mayst well see: for though no creature know of this letter, but thyself & the bearer: yet I know not what judgement, any of you may make upon me, though it be but good, yet I am spotted with the suspect thereof. Therefore I desire thee, when thou hast seen mine answer, remember the fame & revome of her that hath sent it, of this I heartily desire thee, for often times such fawors, are publyshyd, for some hath more regard to the victory, then to honour of them that she with such favour. And whether it were better for me to be blamed for cruelty, or to be spotted or defamed for being to piteous, I report me to thyself: & yet to give the some remedy, I use now the contrary, thou hast that thou desirest: & I that I fear, I require the to turn & wind, and keep secret my letter in thy remembrance, for if thou do believe it, than it need not to be seen: for that I have written if it were seen, it should be thought that I love thee, and if thou be leave, the reasons that I have sayde● to be spoken rather by dissimulation, then of troth: then art thou beguiled, in that believe, for it is clean contrary, for surely I say them rather with a piteous entenstion then with any amorous intent And to cause the to believe this, I would further extend my words, if I had leisure. But to put the in to none other suspection, I make an end of my letter and to th'intent that my work should receive, a just reward, thus will I endure my life days.   

¶ The auctor.  
WHen I had received this letter of Laureola I departed to go to Lereano, thinking then to have with me some company to aid me in the glory of mine ambassade, & to encourage thereby Lereano, I called then to me, the greatest enemies that we had before, as contentation, hope, rest, pleysour mirth and comfort. I took these with me for fear that the keepers of the prison would resist & defend me the entry. Wherefore I thought to go in order of battle: and when I came to the height of an high hill, I had a sight of the prison, than I dysplayed my banner all of green, so that our enemies took them to the flight in such wise that he that fled fastyst thought to be next the jeopardy. And when Lereano hard this great rumour not knowing what it was, he came to a window of the tower, and spoke more with weakness of spirit, then with hope of succour, and when he saw me coming in battle with such a goodly company, than he knew what the matter ment, & what for his feebleness, & for his sudden joy, lost his feeling, and fell down in a trance in the house, where he was. And when I came to the steyres whereon I was wont to mount, Rest, advanced to march on before, who gave clearness & chasyde away all the darkness of the tower, and when I came to him & saw him in that mortal manner, I feared I came soon enough to weep, and to late to give him remedy. Then with great diligence, hope stepped to him, & cast a little water of comfort in his face, and therewith he returned again to himself, and the better to strength him, I delivered him Laureolas letter. And all the season that he red it, all such as I brought with me procured for his health, Mirth gave joy to his heart: rest comforted his spirits, hope brought him in to good remembrance. Contentation cleryd his eyen. Comeforte restored his health and strength. Pleasure quyckenyd his understanding: they treated him in such wise, that when he had red over the letter, he was all hole, as though he had never felt passion, and when he saw that my diligence gave him liberty, he took me often times in his arms, offering himself to be mine, and thought that but a small reward, for the deserving of my service. His offers were to me in such manner, that I wist not how to answer him, as I ought to have done according to his degree, and after that many things were passed between him & me, he determined to go to the court and first we went to a town of his, and tarried there a certain season, to recover his strength, and to new apparel him against he should go to the court. And when he saw his time, he set forth on his journey. And when his coming was known in the court, many great lords and young courtyaers went to receive him, but he took more consolation of his secret glory, then of all the open honour that was done to him. Thus he was nobly accompanied to the palace, and his duty done to the king, he kissed the hand of Laureola, wherein was many things to be noted, and specially to me who knew the matter between them. The one was overcome with tribulation, the other failed colour. He wist not what to say, nor she to answer, such force hath the passions of love, always it draweth the wit & discretion down under his banner, the which I saw there by clear experience. And though that no man saw their demanour, nor had no suspect between them: yet Persio son to the lord of Gania beheld them, and was as far in love, as Lereaon was. And by reason that all jealous suspect disordereth all things secret, he regarded over their words & contenaunces, in so much that he gave full credence to his own suspect, & gave not alonely faith to that he saw, the which was nothing, but also believed it surely in his imagination, & with that evil thought of jealousy, without deliberation or counsel, he fyding the king in a secret place, said to him (affirming that Laureola & Lereano loved together) how that he had seen them together, divorce nights, when the king was a bed, saying how he showed this for the honour and service, that he bore to the king. The king then being sore troubled with those news was in great doubt, and studied long or he was determined to answer. And after he had slept on the matter, he believed Persius saying to be true, considering his virtue and authority, he would show no thing, but of truth. Then the king determined what he would do, and thereupon he sent his daughter Laureola in to a tower in to a prison, and then sent for Persio, & commanded him to accuse Lereano of treason, according to his laws, of the which commandment he was sore abashyde, but the heat of the business enforsyd him to grant it. Then he accepted the kings commandment and said, how he thanked god that he was offered such a case, that his hands might bear witness of his bounty & virtue: and because that in Macedonia such deeds were accustomed to be done, by writing & not in the kings presence by words, therefore Persio scent a writing to Lereona with such reasons as ensue.   

¶ Persius' writing to Lereano.  
Sin that of good works, proceedeth virtuous renome and fame it is a just thing that evilness be chastised, to th'intent that virtue may be maintained, and with great diligence bounty aught to be exalted. So that the enemies thereof, when there wilful operations be to the contrary, they ought to be constrained to use bounty's: for dread and fear of punishment. I say this to the Lereano, for the pain that thou shalt receive, for the trespass that thou hast committed, shallbe a chastisement to thee, and an ensample for all other to fear, for if such things should be perdonyd, and left unpunished, villainy should then be no less favoured in them that do evil, than nobleness in them that be good. Certainly evil hath it profited y●, all the gentleness & honest of thy lineage, who gave the ensample to follow bounty, and thou followest the works of treason, thy progenitors bones would be ready to rise against the if they knew how thou defoilyst (with such error) their noble deeds, therefore now is the time come that for thine evil deeds, thou shalt receive the end of thy life, and defoyll thy fame. cursed be all such as thou art, that canst not choose an honourable life, and thou not regarding thy service nor duty to thy king. To be so bold without shame as to fall in love with Laureola the kings daughter, with whom with out shame, thou hast spoken divorce times alone, after the kings being a bed not following the clear lineage, by which reason I appeal the as a traitor, and upon that quarrel I think to s●e thee, or else to drive the out of the field, or else to cause the confess with thy mouth my saying to be true, the which as long as the world endureth shallbe an ensample of my troth. And thus I leave, trusting to prove thy falseness, and to verify my truth. chose thou the manner of our battle & armour, and on the kings part I shall make the assurance   

¶ The answer of Lereano.  
MOre shallbe my misfortune then the malice without the fault that thou chargest me withal of falseness shall give the pain by justice according to thy desert: if thou were as discrete as thou art evil, in eschewing of such perils. First thou shouldest have known mine entension or thou hadst given sentence upon my works, but now I know by the that thou semyst better than thou art in dead. I thought surely to have commoned with the as with my friend, having confidence in thy virtue, but now thou showest thine evil condition, like as here before thou shewydyst thy bounty with friendly amity, in likewise now thou discoverest thy falsehood, wherefore thou causest enmity between us: or I may say by reason, enemy to thyself for by thine own witness thou levyest the good memory of thy life with infamy and shalt end thy life with shame. why hast thou put thy serpentine tongue upon Laureola, whose alonely bounty sufficeth, that if bounty were lost throughout all the world, it might be recovered & found in her. Thou mayntaynyst a celre falsehodde, and I shall defend a just cause, and shall deliver & discharge her fro all faults and shall charge thine honour with shame. I will not answer thine unmeasurable wordes● for I repute it a more honest way, to vanquish the with my hands rather than to sacisfye the with words. I desire no thing, b●t alonely to come to the case to try our debate. Thou accusyst me of treason afferming how I have been divorce times in the secret chamber with Laureola after the kings being a bed & at his rest aswell to the one as to the other. I say thou falsely liest: yet I deny not but that I have regarded her beauty with an amorous desire. But though the force of love order the thoughts, yet the virtue of troth causeth, clenlynes of honest, I would be glad to have her favour, but for none evil thought. And moreover I shall defend the quarrel, and say that I alone never entered in to her secret chamber, nor never spoke words of love to her: so that when the entension synnyth not, the judgement than should always be hole without deformity. And sin the determination hereof can not be without death of one of us, and not determined with our tongues, therefore let us leave railing with our tongues and abide upon the day of our sentence the which I trust in god shallbe for my profit, and honour to Laureola, and shame and rebuke to thee, because thy deeds of malice: and I to defend by reason, the trough shallbe determined by justice. The armure that we shall choose shallbe all pieces according to the custom of our country. Our horses bardyd with like spears and sword, and with any other armure or wepyn that is used, with the which I trust to s●ee the or to cause the to deny, that thou hast said, or else to chase the out of the field.   

¶ The auctor.  
THus evil fortune, envious, of the wealth & prosperity of Lereano, using against him her natural chaungeale condition, she gave him a torn, when she saw him in his most prosperity, whose misfortune to behold, was great passion, and constrained the hereto pain. Thus leving to speak of this trouble. After Lereano had answered Persius' letter, the king knowing the covenant of this battle, assured the field, assyngned out the place where the battle should be determined & all things necessary was ordained, that pertained to such deeds, according to the custom of Macedonia. And on a day the king went to his stage, and the knights came in to the field, each of them accompanied as they were favoured, and as they had deserved, saving the equalness of both pertyes honours. They were like brought in to the field, so they (after their reverence done to the king) ran each at other, so that by the force of their strookes, they showed the virtue of their hearts. And their spears broken at their first encounter: then they drwe on't their sword, and fought so fiercely, that it was m●ruayll to behold their deeds and compassion for that they suffered. And to be brief in this history, Lereano in giving his heavy strokes at a stroke struck of Persyus right hand, so that it fell to the earth, sword and all. When Lereano saw, how that Persyo had lost the best part of his defence (said) Persyo to th'intent that thy life pay not his duty, for thy falseyes, reny that thou haste said. Then Persyo said: do as thou oughtest to do, though mine arm fail me to defend, yet my heart faylyth not to die. Lereano hearing the answer pressed to him, and gave him many sharp & heavy strokes. And when Persyus friends saw him in jeopardy of his life they required the king to cast down his batone, assuring him that Persyo should be brought forth to abide such judgement as it should please him, if he were found culpable and guilty. To the which request the king condiscendyd, & so they were departed, wherewith Lereano was sore aggrieved, & not without good reason. For he had great marvel, why the king dealt so with him. Then they were conveyede out of the field with like seremonyes: how be it, they were not like in fame & honour. So they were brought to their lodgings and there tarried all night. The next day in the morning, Lereano determined to go to the palace to desire the king in presence of all his court to restore his honour, & to do upon Persio rightwise justice. But Persyo, who was malicious of his condition, and sharp witted, to th'intent that he might by some means attain to his purpose, whiles that Lereano spoke which the king, he called to him iii false men like to his own conditions, & took their oath that they should show them. To the which they agreed. Then he gave to them moche money, so that they should say, and swear to the king that they had seen Lereano speaking with Laureola in places suspect, and in time dishonest: which they proffered to affirm, and to swear it, to the lefing of their lives. I leave to speak of the dolour that Laureola suffered, by cause the passion should not trouble so my wit, but that I might make an end of that I have begun, for I have no less pain to remember her sorrow being absent, then as thought I were present, and saw it with mine eyen: but I will torn to Lereano, who had more sorrow for her prisonment, than glory of his victory. When he knew that the king was ryson he went to the palace, & in the presence of the knights of the court he said to the king as followeth   

¶ Lereano to the king.  
SIr of surety with better wyll● I would have suffered the chastisement of your justice, than the shame to have come to your presence, if I had not atteygned yesterday the better of the battle: The which if ye had taken well, I should have been clean quite & delyveryde fro the false accusation of Persyo, for in the sight of every man I should have given him the reward, that he deserved, It is great difference to have power to do a thing, and to do it in dead. Great advantage ye showed him, the reason why, I can neither think nor imagine● ye commaundyde to deperte us, and specially sin our debate touched yourself so near, as he that should desire to be revenged for the love of Laureola, like a pitiful father, and I believe well that as now ye be well satisfied of her dycharge and ignorance. And sir if ye did it for compassion, ye had of Persyo, ye ought as justly to have regarded mine honour, aswell as his life, seeing I am your natural subject. And if ye did is by reason of the inportunate● suet of some of his friends, ye ought aswell to have remembryde the service that I & mine have done you, sin ye know which what constance of heart, many of them in divorce bateyls have lost in your service their lives, which none of them have done, the iii part. Therefore sir I require you that by vistice ye will satisfy the honour that I have won with my hands. Sir keep your laws if ye think to conserve your natural subjects, nor sir consent not, that so false a man, should live that keepeth so evil pre-eminence of his predecessors, to the intent that his venom do not corrupt them, that be his part takers. Certainly I am culpable in no thing, but in that I have been so good a friend, to my wrongful accuser, and if for this I have deserved pain, let me have it, yet my clear innocency shall assoyll me. I have conseruyde his amity, believing he had been good, and not judging his evil nor falseness. If ye suffer him to serve you, I say he shallbe the best servant to make discord and lies, that shallbe in all your court. Sir remember in yourself how ye be bound to do right to every man. Wherefore determine this cause with prudence, and give sentence with your accustomed justice. Sir the things of honour ought to be clear, and if ye pardon him for any request: though it be by the principal of your realm, or for any other thing at your pleasure, I will not then abide the judgement of divorce of your men, to be taken as clean discharged. For thought some believe the troth by reason, yet some willbe troubled, and say the worst. And though in all your realm, the troth be not known, yet commonly the fame of the troth by reason of favour of the party will not be borne far of: so that I can not be clean discharged out of all men's fantasies, if this man scape without open punishment. Sir for godsake set mine honour with out any disputation, & as for my life ordain at your pleysour:   

¶ The auctor  
TO the saying of Lereano, the king gave good intent, and answered that he would take counsel what was best to do, and said that in such a case delybertion would be taken, or any sentence should be given. Of troth the kings answer, was not so sweet, as it ought to have been: for by that I saw, if the king had put Laureola at her liberty, Lereano had enduryde no trouble. For he thought to serve her, for all that he was reputed culpable, though his intent were clear without fault, Thus the king to eschew the rumour and business that was likely to fall between Lereanos' friends & Persius, commanded Lereano to go to a town of his own, a ii leagues fro the court cally● Susa, and there to tarry till he had set a direction in the matter. The which Lereano died with a joyful heart, thinking that ●aureola was clearly dy●chargyd, which was the thing he most desiryd● But than Persyo who always travelyde to offend and to shame his honour and to defend it by malice, he sent for two. of his complyses, or Laureola was delivered and said to them: That each of them a part should go to the king, and of themself to show him, how that the accusation of Persio was true and to bear witness that they had ●een Lereano divorce times speak with Laureola alone suspyciously. The which witness and affirmation, whe● the king hard it, he was sore troubled therewith, and examined each of them a part by subtile & sharp persuasions to see if they any thing swerved in their sayings. But they were such persons, that if a man should have wastyde all his life in falseness, could not be like them. They were so sure of their words, the more they were examynyde the surelier they fortified their false lies. So that thereby the king gave to their false sayings, faith and believe. And by reason of their information, the king reputed Persyo for true servant and believed that it was more by reason of his fortune, rather than by his untrue quarrel, that he lost the battle. O Persyo better it had been for the to have suffered the death at one time, then to deserve so many death. So the king in purpose to punish the innocency of Laureola, by reason of the treason of the false witness, ordained that his daughter Laureola should have the sentence of justice. The which when it came to the knowledge of Lereano, he was there with near out of his wit, and wi●h great fury and passion desperate, determynyde to go to the court to deliver Laureola, and to slay Persyo, or else to lose his own life in the quarrel. And when I saw him willing to follow that fantasy, wherein was more peril than hope. Then I desired him to work sagely, and so by reason of the alterasyon that he was in, he was in a great perplexite. And when I saw him stand in such a dismayed trance, I thought then to serve him with my counsel, to th'intent he should not do that thing in haste, whereby to repent him after. And considering the way that I tho●ght most sure, I said to him thus.   

¶ The auctor to Lereano.  
SIr I desire you to be discrete to th'intent that I may praise your wit, that ye may so deal to remedy your evil, that ye may be joyful as I desire, and praised as ye deserve. This I say for the sage patience that thou shouldest show in the time of thine adversity: for though I see well the thine understanding be occupied with passion: yet thou shouldest consider what thou wilt do, and with what discrete knowledge. Thou shouldest rather follow my simple counsel, then to put to execution thy foresaid will. Thus: thou shouldest do by thine own natural in tysement. Moche have I studied on that thou oughtest to do in this thy great fortune: And according to my power judgement. The first thing to accomplish it for thee, to take rest, the lack thereof trowbl●th the in thy present case. And after mine opinion thy first determination shallbe the last to put to execution: for as thine enterprise is great and weighty, according there to, demuer deliberation should be determynyde or it were executed all ways in a thing doubtful. The most surest way would be taken. And if thou be disposed to slay Persyo, or to deliver Laureola. first thou must consider by what ways thou mayst do it, & scape away with both your honours, for her honour is more to be esteemed, than the life. For if thou canst not accomplish thine enterprise, thou shalt leave her condemned, and thyself dishonoured. Thou knowest that men workyth, and fortune iudgith. And if things pass well, than they be praised: if they fortune evil, than they be dispraised, and taken for evil. If thou deliver Laureola thou shalt be callyde valiant: if thou assay and fail, then thou shalt be reputed a fool. Cary here a ix days, for then shallbe the execusion of the sentence against Laureola. In the mean season let us prove & assay all other remedies, that any hope is in. And if we find no remedy in that, then execute thine intent, though thou lose thy life thereby, yet it shallbe to thine honour and fame. One thing thou shulde●te provide for, or thou begin, I put case thou hadst now broken the prison, & taken out thereof La●reola, and carried her away, into thine own land: yet she should be condemned and reputed culpable, and where soever thou shouldest set her, yet she should suffer pain, the which then should be greater evil, then the first. Therefore the best way as seemeth me is to do after this manner. I will go in thy name to Galleo, brother to the queen, who for part desireth the deliverance of Laureola, asmuch as thyself dost. And I shall show him what is thine intent: and desire him (to the intent he should bear no charge nor blame) that he would be ready with a certain number of men, the same day that thou shouldest do thine enterprise, that if thou fortune to get Laureola out of prison. Then to put her in to his hands in the presence of every man, in witness of his ignorance, and of thy cleanness, and so he to receive her till the king have proved the troth in every thing, and to keep her in his castle: whereby this business may come to a good end: but as I have said this way must be the last shoot ancre. Therefore first I will go to the court, and speak with the cardinal of Gaula and with other lords & prelate's that I can find ther. And I shall desire them to speak to the king, desiring him to grant Laureola her life. And if we find no remedy in this, than I will desire the queen that she with all other ladies & honest women of her court and of the city, to go to the king, and desire pardon for her daughter. To whose weepings and petitions, I can not believe that pity shallbe denied. And yet if that can not avail: then I shall cause Laureola to write to the king her father, certifying him of her innocency, and if all these ways will not serve: then shall I offer to the king that thou shalt find a person that shall do deeds of arms against those iii false witnesses and if none of these ways can prevail Then prove thy strength, and thereby peradventure thou shalt find the pity in the king that thou seekest for. But yet or I deperte me thinketh thou shouldest write to Laureola in strengthing of her fear, with surety of her life. The which thou mayst well do: sin heaven disposeth, that is wrought upon the earth it can be none other wise, but that god will receive the weepings of innocentes, and thy just petitions.   

¶ The auctor.  
SO Lereano swaruyde no point fro mine advise, because he thought it the most sure way, for the expedition of his purpose. Howbeit his heart was not sure: for he dough●yd lest the king in his ire should have given sentence upon Laureola or the day came. How be it by the laws of the land she should have ix days respyght. Though his heart feared this it was no marvel: for they that be true lovers, all that is contrary to them, they lightly believe it. And that they desire most, they think themself thereof most uncertain. How be it he concluded to write to Laureola with great dought, that she would not receive his letter. The tenor whereof was as followeth.   

¶ The letter of Lereano to Laureola.  
RAther would I put my hands to rid mine own life, then to begin to write if I knew that my works were cause of your prison, as much as mine evil fortune is, the which is to me so contrary that it can not cause me to die well without I may save you. The which I purpose to do. And if I die in that quarrel (ye shallbe delivered quite out of prison, and then I clean rid fro all my mysaduentures: and so the death of one shallbe cause of ii liberties. I require you take me not as your enemy, for any thing that ye suffer sin my merits are not the cause, but rather it is mine evil fortune. And ye may well believe that though your dolours be never so great, yet I feel more torment in the thinking upon them, than ye do in the suffering. Would to god that I had never known you, and yet thereby I should have lost the sight of you: the which to me is the greatest wealth of this world. I should have been right happy, and I had never seen nor hard, of the dolour that ye suffer and I am so accustomed to live in heaviness that I am fain to take counsel for your cause: but in the pain that I feel now I take no counsel, nor I have no rest, nor my heart can not be quit for the pain that ye suffer: Fear not the death, for my proper hands shall save you therefro. I shall search all the remedies that I can find to appease the kings ire. And if that fail, trust in me that for your liberty I shall deal in such wise, that as long as the world endureth, there shallbe remembrance and ensample of hardy valiantness. For this that I say is no great thing to be done for besilde your excellent valeure. The cruel justice of your prison causeth my hardiness, who can resist my strength sin I have it by your means. What thing is it that the heart dare not enter price, your beauty being fixed therein. There is alonely but one evil in your salvation, the which may be bought with an easy price according to your desert that is, losing of my life. And though I so do it is but a small loss, so it may deliver you. With my good hope, strength your feble●es: for and ye should set your thoughts upon all ieoperdes ye might soon thereby end your life: whereby ii great inconuenientes should ensue. The first and principal is your death. The ii is I should then be prevailed fro the greatest honour that any man might have, as in that I should not then save you. Lady, believe in my words and trust my promise, do not as some other women do, to take great fear: for a small cause. If your feminine condition accuse you with fear: Then let your discretion strength you again, which ye may well do by mine assurance: and because this that I say shallbe well proved. Therefore I require you believe me, I write not to you at length as I would do, but I shall prove to further your life.   

¶ The auctor.  
While Lereano wrote his letter I made me ready to deperte and received his letter, and made all the diligence that I could, till I came to the court and did my devour that in me was to have spoken with Laureola, to have given her some comfort: but I was denied to see her. Then I was enfourmyde of the chamber where she lay, where was a window with a great grate of iron. And at night I came thither, & wraped the letter together, and set it on a spear point, & so with moche travail I did cast the letter in at the window in to her chamber, and the next morning I came thither again, and saw the window open, and I saw where Laureola stood, but the latyse was so thick, that I cold have no perfect sight of her. Finally I aprochyd nearer to the window, and when she saw me marching for by the window. She cast suddenly out a letter, without speaking of any word: because of the press that was near hand. And as I was going away, she said: Take there the reward of the pite that I have showed, and by cause her keepers were near about her I durst make none answer: but her words did put me in to such passion, that who so had followed me by the trace of my weeping, might well have found me out. The tenor of her letter followeth. ¶ Laureolas letter to Lerea.  
I Cannot tell the Lereano, how to answer, and where as every man lawdith pite and reputith it for a virtue, and in me it is taken for a vice. And according thereto I am chastised, I do as I ought to do according to pity: & I have as I deserve according to my misfortune. For surely thy fortune nor thy works is no cause of my prison, nor I complain not of the nor of none other person living, but alonely upon myself, who to keep the fro the death, charge myself culpable, howbeit, this compassion that I have of the is more painful, than charge. I do remedy as innocent, and yet I am punished as culpable. How be it, moche more pleaseth me this prison being without error, then to be at liberty, & infectyd therwt. And though it be painful to suffer, yet I am eased again that I have not deserved it. I am she that among all living creators, ought lest to live, without the king save me. I hope upon no thing but death: for if thou deliver me, or any of thine, in what so ever manner it be, I shallbe dolorous. And if thou do not remedy me, I am sure to die: and if thou deliver me and take me away I shallbe condemned as culpable. Therefore I require the to travail to save mine honour and fame, rather than mine life: for the one must end, and the other will endure. As I have said, search to appease the furor of the king my father: for otherwise I can not be saved without the destruction of mine honour. How be it, I remit all to thy good counsel and adnyse. Thy wisdom can choose the best way: thou mayst see the reward that I have for the favour, that I have showed the. I am put in prison where as murderers were wont to be kept: and I am tied with chains, and with sharp torments, my tender flesh is tormented, and with force of arms I am kept, as though I had the force and power to scape away. Thus delicate is my suffering, and my pains so cruel, that beside the sentence of death, my father might otherwise have taken vengeance upon me, then to suffer me to die in this cruel prison. I have great marvel how of such a cruel father, should issue so patient a daughter: if I should be like him in condition, I should not fear his justice, sin he will do it so unjustly. As to that touched Persio I will make none answer, because I will not defile my tongue, as he hath done my fame and renown. I had rather he would revoke and deny his words that he hath said, rather than he should die for them: but what so ever I say, determine thyself as thou list, thou mayest not err in that thou wilt do.   

¶ The Author.  
Right dowtious I was when I had received and red the letter sent fro Laureola to Lereano, whether I should send it to Lereano, or else keep it still, till I weut myself. At last I determined not to send it for two considerations and inconveniences. The one was, I feared to put our secrets in peril of discovering by reason of putting trust of any mean messenger. The other was for fear lest the trouble that the letter should put him unto, should cause him to execute his purpose in haste, before the time agreed between him and me: and thereby all might have been lost. So to turn to my first purpose: The first day I came to the court, I proved and tempted the wills of such, as I thought would be of our opinion, and I found none of the contrary desire, saving the friends of Persio, to whom me thought it but a folly to speak. And then I went to the Cardyna●l, and desired him that it would please him to make supplication to the king for the life of his daughter Laureola. The which he granted to do with no less love and compassion, than I desired it. And so incontinent with divers other prelate's and great Lords together, they went to the king. Then the cardinal in his own name, and in all theirs, said to the king as followeth   

¶ The cardinal to the king.  
Sir it is not without reason that noble princes in time passed ordained their counsaillors, to order by them what was to be done: whereby they found great profit. And though counsel were established for many good causes, yet I find vi reasons that the same law ought to be observed. The first is because that men may much better order other men's matters, rather than their own: for the heart of him that the matter tochyth can not be with out some ire, covetesnes, affection, or desire, or some other like condition. So that he shall not determine the cause, as he ought to do. The ii is when matters be pleated and argued: the traugth is the better known. The iii if the counsellors ordain justly, and bring the matter well to pass: the glory and honour is to them that followeth such counsel. The four is if by another man's counsel the business faileth and taketh none effect: yet he that demandeth the counsel is out of blame & charge: and they that gave the counsel must bear the charge & fault. The .v. is because good counsel often times assureth things that be dobutious. The vi is if a man be faulen in evil fortune: yet in all adversities good counsel putteth the pertye in good hope. Certainly sir it is but a blind counsel, a man to counsel himself, knowing himself in any furor or passion. Therefore sir blame us not, though in the fierceness of your ire, we be come to trouble you: for we had rather that ye should in your ire reprehend us for our coming to you: Then that after ye should repent you and condemn us, because we gave you no counsel. Sir things done by good deliberation and accord, procurith profit, and praise to them that so doth: And things done in haste & with fury, repentance must make amends. Such wise and noble men as ye be, when they should do any work, first they should determine, or they dispose, aswell in things present, as in things to come and aswell in those things that they hope to have profit by, as in those things that they fear the contrary. And if they find themself troublyde with any passion, till they be cleryd therefro, they should give no sentence. And if they debate, and delay their deeds, than they do well: for in all such weighty matters, haste is dangerous, and tarrying is surety. A wise man that will do justly must think on all these things, and or he do any thing, follow reason, and establish the execution honestly. It is the property of them that be discrete, to prove their counsellors, and not to determine upon a light credence: And there as a thing femyth doubtful, hold then the sentence in balance: for all things is not of truth, that seemeth to be true The thought of the wise man, now agreeth & now demandeth, and now ordain, and all ways cast in his mind what may fall, and be jealous of his fame, and keep himself fro erring, and for fear of falling therein will remember that is past and take the best thereof, and ordain for the time present with a temperance, and to remember what is to come, and in all these to take avysement. Sir all this that we have said is that ye should remember your wisdom, and ordain your deeds not furiously: but like a wise man, and torn the force of your natural wisdom against the accident of your ire. Sir we have knowledge that ye will condemn your daughter Laureola to death if her bounty, and goodness have not deseruyde to be iustyfyde: Then of truth, ye are not rightwise judge: never trouble your glorious fame with such a judgement. And we put case though she had deserved this punishment, yet in your so doing, ye shallbe defamyde and reputyde rather for a cruel father, than a rightwise king. ye give credence to iii evil men, & of shameful conversation, certainly as good reason had it been, to have shortyd their lives, as to have given credence to their witness. They be men sore defamed in your court, for they confirm themself to all iniquity. They glorify themself in their false reasons making, & in the beguilings that they make. And sir why give you more faith to their informacio●, rather than to the judgement of god, the which was clearly seen in the battle between Persio & Lereano. Be not the sheder of your own blood: for then of all men, ye shallbe dyspraised and despised: blame not the innocent for the counsel of the envious. And if ye think that for all the reasons that we have said, that Laureola aught not to be saved: yet for that ye ought to do for virtue, & because ye be bound of your royalnes for the service that we have done you, in our most humble wise: we require you to have mercy of her life. And because that fewer words than we have spoken should suffice to your clemency, to convert you to pity. Therefore we will say no more, but that ye will remember how moche better it is that your i●e should perish, rather than your noble fame.   

¶ The kings answer.  
Sirs I repute me, well counsaylyd by you if I were not more bound to punish, then to perdone● ye need not show me the reason, how that great princes ought to receive conusayll, as in that and in other things that ye have showed, I knew them right well, but ye know well, when the heart is charged with passione, then is it locked fro hearing of any counsel and in that time, the fruitful words, to mitigate the passion of ire, causeth it the sorer to increase bringing to the memory the cause thereof wherefore I say if I were quite for that impediment, I think than I should dispose, and ordain sagely for the death of Laureola the which I will show, she hath deserved by just causes determined according to honour and justice, and if her error should be left unpunished, I should then be no less culpable, then Lereano. As touching my dishonour and shame, if it were published that I should pardon such a case, of my neighbours I should be dispraised, and of mine own subjects disobeyed, and of every man smally e●●●ed. And also I might well be accused that I have evil conserved the generosite of my predecessors. And this fault might be so far exstemed, that it might spot & defoul the fame of mine auncettours passed, & blemish the honour of them that be present, and stain the blood of them that be to come: for one spot in our lineage, might confound all our generation. The perdoning of Laureola should be cause of other great evils, the which should follow by reason of my perdoning: wherefore I had rather to cause fear, by reason of my cruelty, then to cause boldness to do evil by reason of my pity. And in my so doing I shallbe esteemed as a king ought to be, by reason of doing justice. Be hold how many reasons there be, that shlude lead, that she ought to have sentence ye know well, our laws hath stablished, that a woman accused in such causes should suffer death, and ye see well, how it were better for me to be called a king in ministering justice then to pardon the culpable. And it ought well to be noted that in stead of concerning the law, if I do break it myself, the which I ought not to do, than I condemn myself. The right way ought equally to be kept & observed: for the heart of a judge ought not to be movede for favour, for love, nor covetise, nor for none other accident: following the right justice is laudable. And if it be favourable, than it is abhorred. justice ought never to go out of the right way, sign it is cause of so much goodness. It cansith fear to them that be evil, and it susteynyth them that be good. It pacefyeth all differences: it determineth all questions it expelith all strives and contentions & it agreeth all debates, it assureth the ways, it honourith the people, it favourith the small people, and of base condition, it bridleth the mighty men, and to the common weal, it is right profitable. Then to conserve such a wealth and that the laws susteynyth it, It is right that I should use justice. if ye desire so much the health of Laureola, and praise so much her goodness, bring forth one witness of her innocency, as I have iii to charge her, than she shall be pardoned with reason, and praised with troth. Also where as ye say that I should give faith to the judgement of god, aswell as to the witness of other men: it is no marvel thought I do not so, for I see the witness certain at mine eye: and as for the judgement is not yet ended, For though Lereano had the better of the battle we may judge the my●●es, but we know not the end. I will not answer to all your alegasyons and sayings, because I will make no long process, and at the end send you away without hope. I desire moche to accept your requests because of your well deserving thereof: and if I do not, yet I require yond take it for none evil, for ye ought no less to desire the honour of the father, than the salvation of his daughter.   

¶ The Auctor.  
THe desperate answer of the king, was to the hearers great heaviness. And when I saw that this remedy was to me contrary, than I sought for another way, trusting that should be more profitable. And that was I thought to go to the queen that she should desire the king for the salvation of her daughter Laureola. So I went to her, who was partaker of her daughters sorrow. And I found her in an hall acompanyd with many noble ladies and other. who were sufficient to have atteygnyde their desires, other just or unjust, though the mttaer had been never so great, yet their desires ought not to have been refused, because of the authority of the queen, who kneeled down and spoke words to the king, aswell laying charge to him for his ire, as also words of pity to appease him. And she showed him the moderation that a king ought to have, and reprehended the perceverance of his ire: and showing him how he was a father, and alleged reasons right discrete to note and full of sorrow: saying, that if he would needs execute his cruel judgement, to do it rather upon herself (saying great part of her years were passed) then upon Laureola in her young age, aproving that by her own death, the fame of the judge should be savyde, and the life of her that is judged, and the mind of the desyrer fulfilled. But the king still was indurate in his first purpose. All the queens rasones could not serve nor yet her bitter weepings. And therewith the queen went in to her chamber with small strength sore weeping, and as ready to die. And when I saw that the queen could get no grace of the king, I went to the king without any fear of his fers●es, and said: how he ought to give his sentence with clear justice, for Lereano should find a man to fight against all those iii false witnesses, or elles to do it his own proper person, and to pay them according to their deserts, and then god shall show where the right is. Then the king answered me, that I should leave mine ambassade for Lereano: saying how the hearing of his name increased his passion and ire. And when the queen knew there was no remedy to save the life of Laureola: She went to the prison and kissed her divorce times, and said, as followeth.   

¶ The queen to laureola.  
O Bounty, by malice accused. O virtue, by ire condemned. O daughter borne of thy mother to sorrow: thou shalt die without justice, and I must weep by reason. Thine unhap hath more pusance to condemn thee, then thine innocency to save thee, without the I shall live accompanied with dolors, the which in thy stead thou shalt leave me. Thy death shall end ii lives, the one is thine without cause, and mine by good reason and right. To live after that should be to me a sorer death, then that thou shalt receive: for it is far greater torment, to desire the death, then to suffer it. Would to god, thou mightest be called the daughter of the mother that should die, rather than to be she that I should see die. Of every man thou shalt be bewailed● as long as the world endureth: all that of the have any knowledge, will set little by this realm, the which thou shouldest inherit according to thy deserts: for all that thou art fallen in to thy father's displeasure, yet all such as knoweth the affirm, that there is none in all this land that deserve thy merits: such as be blind desire to see y●: the doom desireth to speak with thee: the power and the rich to serve y●, all the world is well content with thee, thou art be hated which no creature, but alonely with Persio. if I may live a season, he shall receive for his demerits, just reward: And thouhe I have noon other strength, but to desire his deth● and to be revenged of him if I could: the evil will I bear him, should then soon be uttered. yet this can not satisfy me: for I can not heal the dolour of the spot of the execution of the vengeans. O my dear daughter thy honesty hath proved thy virtue. why doth not the king give more credence, to thy presence, then to the witness of thy false enemies. In thy words, deeds, and thoughts, all ways thou hast showed a virtuous heart. Why then should god suffer the to die, I can find none other cause, but by reason of my sins that I have committed, rather than for any merit of thy rightwiseness. I would my deeds might be compared to thine innocency. Dear daughter lift up thine heart to heaven, take no sorrow, to leave that must needs end, for that thing that is permanent I: assure the our lord god will that thou shalt suffer as a martyr, to th'intent that thou shalt joy in his beatitude. In me have none other hope, but that and I were worthy to go thither, as thou art sure to go, I would shortly bear the company. Thynkyst thou not, that it is a hard trouble to me to remember how many supplications hath been made to the king for thy life, and yet they can not obtain. And at this hour, a sharp knife may rid and make an end of thy life, and thereby leave the father in fault, and the mother in sorrow, and the daughter without health, & the realm without an heritor. O the lantern of mine eyen, I say to the these fearful words to the intent they should break thine heart asunder: for I had rather thou shouldst die in my power by sorrow, then to see the die by justice: for though I should shed thy blood, yet my hands should not be so cruel, as is the condition of thy father. O virgin immaculate sin I can not accomplish my desire, and that I must deperte fro thee: yet receive the dolorous last kissing and blessing of thy sorrowful mother: And thus I will go fro thy sight, and fro thy life, & most desiring to go fro mine own life.   

¶ The Auctor  
WHen the queen had endyde her words she would not abide the answer of the innocent her daughter Laureola, because she would not receive double sorrow. Thus the queen and such lords as were in her company departed, with the greatest lamentations that ever was made. And when she came in to her chamber, she sent to Laureola a messenger, advising her to write to the king her father. Thinking that he would take more compassion by reason of her piteous words, rather than by the peticious of any other that travellyde for her liberty. Who at the commandment of her dolorous mother ●oke pen and ink and wrote with greater turbation, then hope of remedy. Her letter specified as followeth.   

¶ The letter of Laureola to the king  
Dear father I understand, that ye have given sentence upon me to die, and that the term of my life shallbe accomplyshede within these iii days, & I know well the innocentes ought no less to fear their fortune, than such as be culpable to fear the law. And sin it is so that my misfortune hath brought me in to this apparel that I am in, and not for any default that I have done, the which lightly ye moght know, if the furor of your ire would suffer you to see the troth. ye are not ignorant of the virtue that the auncyante chronicles & histories manyfestith of the kings and queens: fro whom I do proceed. Then why was I borne of such a blood that will believe rather the false informasion, than the bounty natural. if it please you to slay me, for your pleasure, ye may well do it: But as toching justice, ye have no cause thereto. The death that ye will give me, though I refuse it for fear: yet by reason of obedience I do consent thereto, as she that loveth better to die under your obedience, rather than to live in your displeasure. Howbeit I require you, or ye determine, take good advise for as sure as god is true I never did thing to deserve to suffer any pain. But sir I say to you, it is as convenient the pity of the father, as the rigour of justice. Without dought I desire aswell my life, because it tocheth your honour so near, as I do, because it pertaineth to myself: for at the end I am your daughter. Co●sidre sir who soever useth cruelty, serchith for his own peril: more surer it is to be beloved, for using of pity and clemence rather than to be feared by cruelty. He that will be feared, must fear. Cruel kings are of every man behated, and such, some time in searching to be avenged, loseth them self: for their subjects rather desire trouble & change of the time, than the conservation of their estates. For good people fear such conditions in a prince, and such as be evil fear their cruel justice: so that thereby often times, their own servants study to put them downe● and to slay them: using with them the same condition of cruelty, such as they used themself before, and gave them ensample. Sir I say this because I desire to sustain your honour and your life. Small hope your subjects shall have in you so cruel against me. They shall fear the same, and there by have you in a marvelous suspect, and he that is not sure, can make no surety. O how freely delivered fro such occasions are those prynces● whose hearts are endued with clemency and pity. Their natural subjects careth not to die in their quarrels, to save them fro peril. They will wake all night, and defends them on the day More hope and strength these benign and pitiful kings h●ue, by reason that they be beloved o●f their people, then in the strength of the walls of their strong fortresses: And other wise, if the king be behated of his subgiettes● if he had need, they that come most slackest to save him, shall have most thank of the people. Therefore sir regard well what hurt and danger, cruelty causeth: and what profit gentleness and pity procureth: Howbeit if ye think the opinion of your furor better than good counsel and natural prudence, then unhappy is that daughter to be borne, to bring her father's life in to condition of slander proved with such cruel deeds. Thus no man shall trust in you, nor ye shall trust no man: for if men procure your death, ye can be in no surety. And the thing that most grieveth me is, i● giving sentence against me, ye do justice against your own honour, the which all ways shallbe reco●dyd, more for the cause, then for justice in itself. My blood shall occupy, but a small place, but your cruelty shall spread over all the earth: ye shallbe called the cruel father, and I the daughter innocent. For sin god is just he shall clear my troth: for I shallbe left with out fault, when I have received the pain of death.   

¶ The Auctor.  
WHen Laureola had ended her letter, she sent it to the king by one of her keepers, who loved and favoured her in such wise, that he would gladly she had been at her liberty: for he was asmuch moved te pity her, as to obey the kings commandment. And when the king had received the letter and red it, he commanded streygthly that the bearer thereof should avoid his presence. And when I saw that, then newly again I cursed my misadventure, & thought that my torment was so great that it occupied my heart in dolour: yet my mind forgot not to do that I ought. And though I had more space to endure pain, rather than to find remedy: yet than I went, and spoke with the lord Gawlo her uncle, and showed him how Lereano was determined to take Laureola perforce out of prison, wherefore I desired him to be ready with a certain number of men, that when Lereano had taken her out of prison, than he would deliver her to his power to set her in safeguard. Because that if Lereano should carry her away with him, it should veryfy the witness of the false accusers. And because that the death of Laureola was as dear to him, as to the queen his sister: he answered me & said, how he was content therewith. And when his will and my desire were confirmable together, than I departed secretly, because that or any brute were made the dead might be executed suddenly. And when I came to Lereano, I showed him all that I had done, and of the small effect thereof. And then I delivered him Laureolas letter, and what for the compassion of the words therein and with the thoughts that he determined to do, his heart therewith was so oppressed, that he witted not what answer to make me. He wept for compassion, any could not refrain his ire, and was sore discomforted by reason of his evil fortune, and yet he hopyde according to justice. When he thought to rescue Laureala, he was joyful. And again when he doughtyde to bring it about, his heart changyde. Finally leaving all doubts, & knowing the answer of Galleo, than he began to study what way to accomplish, his enterprise. And like a wise knight, well provydyde while I had been in the court: he had assembled together of his own servants .v. C. men of arms without knowledging of any of his kin or friends. Some peradventure would have agreed with him with discrete consideration, such as were made privy. Some of them said, the king did evil. And some said it was a ieopdous enterprise and perilous to accomplish. Therefore to eschew all such inconvenients he thought to execute his dead alone with his own men. So the day before that Laureola should have been judged, Lereano called before him all his servants and said to them: how the good virtuous men were more bound to fear their shame, than the peril of their lives. Also saying, how yet liveth the fame of them that be passed, by reason of their deeds that they have done. And he desired them that for covetise of worldly goods the which shall have an end, that they should not for that, lose the glory of them, that liveth perpetually. And he desired them to have in their memory, the reward of well dying, & he showed them what foolishness it was to fear death. And in their so doing, he promised them great gifts & rewards. And when he had made to them a long sermon, than he declared the cause that he sent for them: and all they with one voice proffered to live and die with him. And when Lereano saw their good wills, he thought himself then well accompanied, and so departed in the night, and came in to a valley near to the city, there he tarried all the night, and infourmyd his men what they should do. He appointed one captain with a. C. men of arms, that they should go straight to the lodging of Persyo, and to slay him, and as many as did resist them. Then he apoyntyde other ii captains with each of them l footmen, to go up the two principal streets, going to the prison where as Laureola was `commaunding them that when they came to the preson, than they to torn their faces to the city ward, & keep & defend that no person should enter in to the castle until such time as he with other iii C. men came to take out Laureola. And the captain that he had commanded to slay Persio he cha●gyd him that when he had done to come and meet with him at the prison and they to defend the passage, if any came to enter in to the castle, while he were taking out of Laureola. And all this thus agreed & concluded, when the gates were opened in the ●ornynge suddenly he and all his men entered in to the city and every captains took heed to his charge. The captain that had the charge to slay Persio, executed his commandment, for he slew Persio, & all other that were in his way to let him. Theridamas Persio ended his miserable life, and Lereano went to the preson and what with the furor of his ire, & with the virtue of his force fought so fiercely with the keepers of the prison, and slew so many that he could not get for deed bodies, but with mo●he pain. But as i● all pebbles the bounty encrea seth by force of arms. So by clean force he came in to the preson where as Laureola was, and there he took her with as great seremony and honour as thought it had been in time of peace, he kneeled down to the earth, and kyl● her hand, like the daughter of a king, and with that present turbation, she stood without strength, so that she could not move herself, Her heart dismayed, her colour failed, little part of any life was left in her. Then Lereano took and carried her out of prison, and then met with Galleo her uncle according to his promise, who came thither with a certain number of men, and there in the presence of every man Lereano delivered, Laureola in to his hands, and still his men fought against them that came against him: but he set Laureola upon an hakeney, that Galleo had there ready, and again kissed her hand, and then went to aid his men, that were still fighting, and still he regarded after Laureola, till he had lost the sight of her. So Galleo her uncle led her to a castle of his own not far thence, and when the brute of this dead, came to the hearing of the king, he called for his armure, and sownyd trumpets, and caused all the men of his court to be armed, & many of the city. And when Lereavo saw that of necessity it was time for him to get out of the town in to the fields, than he comforted his men, with sweet and hardy words. And all ways in his recoiling, he defended the multitude of his enemies with a valiant heart, and to keep an honest manner in his recoiling, he went in good order, and not with so great haste, as the case required Thus losing some of his men, and slaying of, many of his enemies, he came thither where he had left all their horses So such order as he had set before was well and truly kept, and so without peril he & his leapt upon their horses, the which was hard to have been done if he had not wisely provided the remedy thereof before hand. Then the horsemen put before them their foremen, and took the way to Suria, fro whence they came And when Lereano saw iii bands of the kings approach near him, than he went out of the way, and conducted so wisely his company by ways of a vantage, that he scaped with as great honour in his recoiling, as he had won in the fighting: so he enteryde again in to the town of Suria without loss of any of his men, which was great marvel: for the king was there in proper person with .v. M. men of arms, who was inflamed with ire: and so beset the town about, in purpose not to depert thence till he had taken vengeance of Lereano. when Lereano saw how he was besieged, he set his men like a wise man of war to the walls, where as was most feblyst part, there he set most defence, and where as he might best issue out in to the field, there he set such men as were meet for that purpose, and there as he feared other craft or treason, there he set such as he trusted best. Thus he used himself like a wise captain. The king thinking to bring his enterprise to an end commanded to fortify his camp, and to provide for all things necessary pertaining to a camp royal, as engyus, bastides and bulwarks to beat the city with artillery, and made great dykes that none should issue out, when the king saw so long tarrying at this siege his ire increased: for he had thought to had taken Lereano by reason of famine, and for all that he saw the town right strong, yet he determined to assault it the which he proved with such fierceness, that they within had great need to put to their strength and diligence to resist. Then Lereano went & visited his men with a. C. men such as were deputed for that purpose, and every where he saw any fighting, he ever encouraged them, and where as he saw valiantness he praised them, and where he saw any evil order he found remedy. Finally the king caused to sown the retreat with loss of many of his knights, & specially of the young lusty courteers who ever seeketh for peerless, to win thereby glory. Lereano at the same assault was hurt in the face and also lost many of his princpal men. This assault past, the king gave other .v. assaults within the space of three months, so that in manner men began to fail on both parties, so that Lereano was doubteous of that enterprise, how be it in his words and countenance, nor in his deeds nothing of fear could be espied, so that the courage of the captain, incoragyd all the other captains, and then to give courage to his men such as were left, he said to them as followeth.   

¶ Lereano to his company.  
Certainly sirs as ye be but few● in number, so our strength is not great I have doubt in our enterprise according to our evil fortune, but in that, virtue is estemyde more than is great number, and considering your noble deeds passed, I think I should have more need of good fortune, then of great number of knights: wherefore alonely in you is all my hope, and sign our health is in our hands, aswell for the sustentation of our lives, as for the glory of good fame, we ought valiantly, to fight, now the case is offered us or else to leave the profit of our inheritance to them that would disherit us. Thus we should be unhappy if for fear & faint courage we should lose our heritage: therefore let us fight, to deliver our blood fro shame and dishonour and my name fro enfamy, this day let us make an end of our lives, or else confirm our honours, let us defend ourself, and not to be shamed, for greater is the reward of victory, than the occasions of peril. This painful life that we live in, I know not why we should so much desire it, the days thereof are but short and long in travail, the which for fear increaseth not, nor for hardiness shorteth not: for when we be borne, our time is limited, the which we shall not pass, thereby fear is subdued, & hardiness lauded, we can not put our fortune in a better state, then to hope of an honourable death. O glorious fame. O covetise laudable the averise of honour whereby is attained greater deeds, than this of ours is, let us not fear the great company that is in the kings camp for at the first encounter, the week ●hall first fight, and overcome them, & ●hey shall abash the multitude & the small number will enforce themself by virtue: many things driveth us to be hardy, bounty and virtue bindeth us, and justice enforceth us, necessity shall reward us, wherefore we ought not to fear, for their is nothing that should cause us to die. Sirs all these reasons that I have said is but superflew to enforce our strength. Synon we have it naturally but I will say to you that in every time our hearts ought to be occupied in nobleness, & our hands in deeds of arms, and our thoughts in good works & good words among company, as we do now I receve equal glory aswell for the amorous good will that ye show me as for the deeds of arms that ye have done, and because I see our enemies prepayre them to fight we be constrained to leave our talking, & every man to get him to his charge and defence.   

¶ The auctor.  
LEreano was answered of his knights with great constance and courage of heart, whereof he thought himself right happy, that he had such men in his company, so every man went to his defence, where as they were appointed and then anon, they hard the trumpets blow, and wihtin short space there came to the walls, a.l. M. men, and began fresly to give assault. Then Lereano showed his virtue, and by reason of their defence, the king thought they within had lost never a man. This assault endured fro the mids of the day, till it was night, the which departed them: there were slain & hurt of them without a iii M. and as many of them within, so that Lereano had lefet no more with him but. C.l. persons and yet by his countenance, he seemed as though he had lost never a man, how be it he was inwardly sorry for them that he had lost. All that night he buried the deed bodies, and praised and lawdyde the valiantness of them that were left alive and giving no less glory to them that were deed, then to them that wer● a live. The next day at the relief in the morening, Lereano determined that l of his men with him should issue out, and sit upon a lodging that joinede to the walls pertaining to a kynnesmans' of Persyos. Lereano died this because the king should not thy●ke that he lacked men. And this he died with ferme boldness and so brent the said lodging, and sleu many such as made defence. And as god would in the same business there was taken one of them that had accusyde Laureola, he was brought to Lereano, and was put to pain till he was caused to show all the troth of the hole matter, and so he confessed the hole circumstance of the matter. And when Lereano was informed of the troth, he sent him to the king, beseeching him to discharge Laureola fro all blame, and to do justice upon them, for the pain that they have caused Laureola to endure. And when the ●yng knew the certainty, he was right glad, and thought it was reason that he required, and to make short process The king did justice upon the iii falc● witnesses according to their deserts, then incontinent he raised up the siege and reputed his daughter Laureola discharged, & Lereano without fault and so went to his city of Suria, & then sent for Laureola by the greatest lords of his court, and she was brought with equal honour according to her deserving, and was joyfully received of the king & of the queen, who wept for joy and there the king discharged her fro blame, and the queen kiss her, and all other served her Thus the pain passed was turned to great joy present. Then the king sent to Lereano commanding him not to come to his court till he had appeased the kinsmen & friends of Persio, the which commandment he received which great sorrow, because he might not se Laureola. And when he saw none other remedy, he felt himself in a strange manner, and saying himself departed fro her. He left the works of chivalry, and returned again to his old amorous thoughts and troubles desiring to know what case Laureola was in. He desyrede me to find some honest manner, how he might see & speak with her, and yet his desire was so honest, that he desired not to speak with her in such wise that any suspect should be laid to her, of the which he deseruyde to have had great thank. And I who was glade to follow his desire departed fro him, and went to Suria: and when I came there, and had kissed Laureolas hand, than I showed her Lereanos' desire, And she answered me and said, that in no wise she would speak with him, for divorce causes that she alledgyde. And though she was not content to grant me at that time, yet ever after as often as I might speak with her, I made still my supplication, and fynaly at last she aunswerede me & said once for all, that if I spoke any more to her in that matter, she would be utterly displeased with me. And when I hard her answer, and saw her displeasure then I went to Lereano with great heaviness and dolour, and when I had showed him how it was: then he began newly to complain, and sorrow, for his misadventure: so that with out doubt he was in the condition to have despaired. And when I saw that yet to entertain him I said & counseled him to write again to Laureola, recording therein what he had done for her, and marveling of her change, saying she had rewarded him before with her writing. Then he answered and said how he was well content to write but not to recite therein any thing that he had done for her: the which he said was nothing according to her deserving. Nor also he said he would make no remembrance in his letter of any reward that he had received of her. For he said, the law of love defendeth any such thing to be written. What satisfation should I receive thereby: for the great peril that might fall, if the letter were seen. Thus not touching those matters I will write to Laureola The tenor of his letter followeth.   

¶ The letter fro Lereano to Laureola.  
Fair lady Laureola according to your virtuous pity sin ye know my passion I can not believe but that ye will consent to my demand, sin I desire nothing that shall be to your dishonour seeing ye know mine evil, why do you dow, without reason I die. ye know that great pain occupieth so mine heart, that I feal the evil, and can not show it: if ye take it for good that I should die, thinking to satisfy me with the passion that ye give me, sin it proceedeth fro you, it is the greatest wealth that I can hope for, and justly I shall take it for the end of my reward, if ye judge me uncourteise in that I should not be content with that ye do to me, giving me cause of so glorious thoughts● yet blame me not for though the will be satisfied. The understanding maketh quarrel, and if my dolour do please you, because I never did you service that might attain to the highness of your deserving. when I remember these things, & many more, I think that because that ye will not grant my supplication, because I can do nothing that should deserve it, yet hardiness hath caused me to hope upon mercy, not according to my deserving, but according to your bounty that may give it. And I think that your virtue, compassion, & pity, should aid me, because they be agreeable to your condition. When a man hath any business with a great parsonage: thinking to attain to have grace: first he must win the good wills of the servants, whereby a man lightly shall come to his intent. But as for me I can find no remedy. I have done my devour to search for aid whom I have found always farm & stable for all they have required you to have mercy upon me: the soul because he sufferet, hand the life because it su●teyneth, the heart because it endureth, the understanding because it feeleth. And sin ye will give no reward for all these, in that they desire, and by reason have deserved, I am the most unfortunate of all other unhappy. The water refresheth the earth: but my weepings can not molefye your endurat hardness. The water giveth liquor to the fields, herbs, and trees, but my weeping can not enter in to your heart. As I find myself disposed, despair should rid my life, if I might be alone. But always I am accompanied with the thoughts that ye give me, and with the desire that ye ordain me. Also the remembrance of that I would do comforteth me: remembering how they kept me company, in such wise, that what soever cause I have desperation yet it keepeth me fro despairing: if it be your pleasure that I shall die, let me have some knowledge thereof, than I shall not be all unhappy: for than I shall pass it the more willingly, and at the end it shallbe to me, the more ease: because it is for your gift. And sin ye will not see me, I must be enforced to go that trace.   

¶ The auctor.  
This letter I bore to Laureola, with moche pain she received it, and to dispache her fro Lereano honestly she wrote again in this manner with full determination never to receive again fro him other letter or message The tenor of her letter followeth.   

¶ The letter fro Laureola to Lereano.  
LEreano the displeasure that I have of thine evil should be satisfaction for thy love, if thou knew how great it is. And this alonely take for thy remedy without demanding of any other. Though it be but a small payment, for that thou hast deserved against me. For as I am bound to do if thou wilt demand of my goods and riches, as thou dost desire against mine honour, I would gladly give it the. I will not answer every article of thy letter for I considering that I do thus write to thee, the blood rynneth fro my heart and my reason vanisheth fro my judgement. There is no cause that thou hast written of, that causeth me to consent to be sorry for thine evil, but it is alonely by reason of my bounty yet I have no doubt, but that thou endurest moche evil: for the peril that thou hast been in, beareth witness of that thou hast suffered. Thou sayest, thou didst me never service. That thou hast done for me, I shall never forget, but alway desire to satisfy it, but not as thou desirest, but according to mine honesty. The virtue pity and compassion, that thou thinkest should aid the against me because they are agreeable to my condition. How be it in this case they are enemies to my fame: & therefore thou findest them contrary. When I was taken thou savedest my life, & now that I am quite, thou wouldest condemn me which thy desire. Rather I ought to seek thy pain with mine honour: then to remedy the with mine own fault & shame. Believe not that the people live so holily, but & they knew that I spoke which thee, they would judge our clear entensions to the worst: for the world is so divorce, that men will rather defame bounty, then to praise virtue. Thus thy demand is excu●syd therefore take no hope therein, though thou shouldest die as thou sayest. For better is honest cruelty, then pity culpable Hearing this peradventure thou wilt say I am movable, because I began to show the some mercy, as in writing to thee, and now determined not to remedy y●, Thou knowest well under what manner I did write to thee, and for what intent, and though it had been for any other cause, yet as convenient is the mutation in things that be hurtful: As is ferme steadfastness in things that be honest. I require thee, strength thyself, like a valiant knight, and remedy thyself discreetly. Put not thy life in peril, and mine honour in disputation, sin thou so much desirest it. What shall be said if thou die, that I do reward service done to me with taking away their lives, to the which I will show y● contrary if I outelyve, the king my father, for than shall I give the what part of the ream that thou wilt desire. And I shall increase thine honour, & double thy rents, and enhance thine estate, & all that thou wilt ordain, nothygne shallbe denied. And thus by thy life I shallbe judged a good rewarder. And if thou die I shallbe reputyde of evil conditions, and if it were for none other thing but for this. Thou shouldest enforce thyself, but for the trouble that thy pain putteth me unto, I will say no more to the. Because thou shalt not think that in thy demand I should give the counsel, or put the in any hope. Would to god, that thy desire were honest. Thus I conusayll the on the one part, and satisfy the on the other. And at this point I send to the this letter on the purpose never to answer, nor to hear the speak more.   

¶ The auctor.  
WHen Laureola had written this letter she said to me with a determinate answer that this should be the last time that I should apere before her presence● saying that her comning with me caused moche suspect, and that in my going & coming, there was more peril to her, then hope to me of any remedy. Then I saying her determinate will, it seemed to me that my travail was more painful to me, than remedy to Lereano. So I went fro her which more weeping then words. And after I had kiss her hand, I went out of the place with sobbing, and gulping in my throat, that I was near strangled to keep in my weeping, and to th'intent to cover my passion. And when I was out of the city alone, than I began to weep in such wise, that I could not retain my voice fro braing, so that I thought it was better for me to die in Masedonia, then to return into Castille, the which desire was reasonable, for by the death, mine evil adventure should make an end: and with life, my sorrow should increase, Thus all the way weeping and sighing feylede me not: & when I came to Lereano, I delivered him the letter fro Laureola, and when he had red it, he said he would nother take strength nor receive any counsel, sin it was so good reason that he should die. Then he said to me, that always he would take me, for more than his friend, because of the good counsel that I had given him. Then with voice and colour mortal he began to complain, not blaming his weakness nor dispraising his fall, for every thing that might shorten his life, he praysede, he shewyde himself, friend to dolour, and took recreation with torments, he loved sorrows, all these he called his wealth, to be messengers to Laureola. And because they should be entreatyde according as fro thence as they came, he fixed them in his heart, he joinyde them to his understanding and conveyed them with his memory, he desiryde them to make a short end of that they had to do, to the intent that Laureola might be seruyde, and thus being without hope of any wealth, and troubled with mortal pains, could not sustain himself no longer, but perforce constreynede to lie down, upon his bed where he would neither eat, drink, nor s●epe, nor take any thing for sustentation of his life, ever calling himself happy to come to the case to do some service to Laureola, as by his death, to bring her out of all trouble, so anon it was published abroad in the realm, and in the court how Lereano was like to die. Theu his kin & friends came to comfort him, and to torn his purpose, they said and died asmuch as they could imagine to prevail his life, & because his infirmity was to be cured by wholesome reasons, every man sharped their wits to do the best they could. And there was a knight called Teseo a great friend of his, he considering that his sickness was for love, though he knew not for whom it was, he said and shewyde to Lereano all the evils of women that he could devise, and to confirm his own reasons, he alleged as many things as he could, in the defaming of women, thinking thereby to have restored Lereano to his healths when Lereano had well hard him, and consyderyde that Laureola was a woman, he rebukyde greatly Teseo for speaking of such words, and though as then his disposition was not much to speak, yet he enforced his tongue, and with the passion of great iris: said as followeth.   

¶ Lereano against Teseo, and against all evil speakers against women.  
Friend Teseo if another man, that owed the not so good love as I do hard my words, it would cause the to receive pain according to thy desert: howbeit my reasons shallbe to the such an ensample, to cause the to keep thy tongue, and it shallbe a chastisement in stead of thy pain, in the which I shall follow the condition of a true friend, for if I showed the not thy fault by quick reasons, peradventure thou wouldest utter forth again in other places such like words as thou right now said, it shallbe most for thy profit to amend thyself by my contradictions rather than to shame thyself with perseverance, the intent of thy words was as a friend, the which I well considre thou sayedest them, because I should abhor them that hath brought me in to the case that thou seist me in. And by reason of thy saying evil of women, thine entension was thereby to give me remedy of my life, and thereby thou hast given me the sooner death: for the shameful words that thou hast said, putteth me to such torment, because it is a woman, that hath put me to this pain, therefore by reason of hearing of thy words, I shall live the less season, whereby I shall receive a great wealth for the receiving of this dolorous death were better to be shortly, then to sustain the life any longer: for it is a thing delectable to suffer, and with a sweat rest to make an end of this life, the which sweet end shallbe by reason that these my last words shallbe in the press of women, and my will is somewhat to satisfy her in whom resith all the cause, & to begin to show the thine error, I will allege xu points against all them that erreth in speaking evil of women, and twenty other reasons I shall lay whereby we are bound to say well of all women, with divorce other samples of their bounty & goodness. And as to the first let us found our reason, how that all things made by the hand of god, are necessarily good: for according to the warkeman, the work ought to proceed: then knowing that wome● are his creatures, they that speak evil of them, offend not alonely them, but also they blaspheme the workman, the which is god. the ii cause is, the before god & man there is not a more abominable sin, nor harder to be pardoned, then is ingratitude, for where can there be a greater sin, then to put out of knowledge, and to forget the wealth that is to come to us by reason of the virgin marry and daily cometh: she delivered us fro pain, and causeth us to merit the glory of heaven, she saveth us, she sustaineth us, she defendeth us, she guideth us, she giveth us light of grace. Then saying she was a woman, than all other for her sake ought to be crowned with laud and praise. The iii is, because it is defended to all men according to virtue, to show any strength against the week sex feminine. And this is observed among brewt beasts, wherefore men should follow the same, yet some such as list to speak evil say, though that women can make but small resistance with their hands, yet they have no less liberty with their tongues. The iiii. is, a man ought not to say evil of women, without he dishonour himself because he was creatyde and noryshede in the womb of a woman, and is of her substance, and also because of the honour and reverence, that every child ought to do to his mother. The .v. is, because of the disobedience to god who said with his own mouth, that father & mother should be honouryde, therefore such as do other wise do serve sore punishment & pain, The vi is because noble men are bound to occupy themself in virtuous deeds aswell in words as in works, then if fowl words defoul clenlynes then in peril of slander and defamy, is the honour of such persons that wasteth their life in such vain words. The vii is when that the order of chyvaylry was first stablished among other things, who soever should take the order of knighthood, he should be bound to keep & defend all women, and to give them all reverence and honest and who so doth the contrary, breaketh the law of nobleness. The viii is to defend honour fro peril, the ancient noble men with great diligence and study, kept and observed always such things as pertained to bounty, and they reputed that so great that they had no greater fear, of any thing in the world than they had to leave behind them the remembrance of infamy and reproach, the which they kept not, the preferreth turpitud & foulness before virtue, putting spots in their fame, by reason of their evil tongue. For oftentimes a man is judged to be according to his wor●es. The ix & most principal is for the condemnation of the soul: all things wrong fully taken, may be satisfied, but the fame robbed and taken away, the satisfaction thereof is doubtful, the which is more completly determynyde in our believe. The ten is to eschew hatryd for such as bestow their time in evil speaking against women, they make themself not only enemies against them, but also to them that be virtuous: for like as virtue & vice are contrary, and have dyfferente properties so the evil speaker can not be without hate and evil will and many enemies. The xi because of the hurts that by such malicious deeds are increased, for words giveth licence, and are joined to the hearing, of the rude people, aswell as to them the be discrete, and hearing of such tails, such as be but of small spe●yte will reprove the evil speker, & cause them to repent their words, & entreat them evil, ye & peradventure slay them the causes may toche so near. The xii to eschew the murmurations, the which every man ought to dought: for a man being defamed, and called an evil speaker in every place aswell within houses as a broad in the fields, men will speak shame of him, & murmur at his vice. The xiii is for the peril that may ensue, for when such be taken for evil speakers, they are behated of every man, and some peradventure to please their ladies, will set their hands upon them that speak evil of any woman. The four ●s for the beauty and grace that is in women, the which is of such excellence, that though they had all such other vices in them, as the evil speakers do slander them withal yet it were better to praise one thing of troth, then to dispraise all with malice. The xu and the last is for the great wealth and goodness, that women be causers of, for of them are borne emperors, kings, lords, and all other noble men, and all other virtuous men doing deeds worthy of praise, and also of them proceedeth wise men, who seeketh to know, what is good, in whose believe we be saved. Also of women cometh these inventive persons, who maketh cities and strong buildings of perpetual excellence, & by them are brought forth such men as seek for all things necessary for the sustentation of the human lineage.   

¶ The other twenty reasons that Lereano showed, whereby that men are bound to love women.  
NOw Teseo sin thou hast hard the causes wherein thou art culpable, and all other that follow such erroneous opinion, let us leave all prolixity, and here twenty reasons whereby I will prove that men are bound to women. The first is because by their means, the simple & rude persons dispose themself to attain to virtue, and to prudence, and not alonely, they cause the simple to be discrete, but they cause them that be discrete to be more subtle: for if they be lured with the passion of love, they study then so much for their liberty & in suffering of their dolour they study & imagine to speak reasons so sweet and so meet for their purpose, that often times for compassion thereof they are delivered: & such as be simple, and rude of nature, if they be entered in to love though they begin rudely, yet they quicken so their understanding, that often times they come thereby to wisdom. This they have by women thought their natural reason fail. The ii reason is that by reason of justice they cause men to have the virtue of sufferance, for such as be in the train of love and suffer pain out of measure they take it in manner for a comfort, justifying, that they suffer it ryghtwy fly and yet they make us not alonely joy for this virtue, but also for other as natural. For they that be steadfast lovers, to be praised of them that they serve, they seek all the ways they can to please, for which cause they live justly not exceeding in any thing, in that is honourable nor meet to be done, because they would not be famed to be of evil conditions, or to use any evil customs. The iii cause is they make us worthy in the virtue of atemperance, because they should not abhor us, nor that we should not be behated of them, they cause us to use atemperance in eating and drinking and sleeping, and in all other things that perteynith to the virtue of atemperance aswell in speaking as in all other work, so that we will not exceed in no point from honesty. The iiii. is, they that lack strength, women do give it to them, and such as hath strength by the means of women, it doth increase, they cause us to be strong to suffer, they cause hardiness to enterprise, they cause the heart to hope, when they put their lovers to any ieopedy, they cause them to be ● glory, they cause us to repute fear, a great vice, for we esteem more the praise of our lover, than the price of long life. For their sakes they begin, & make an end of many great enterprises, putting their strength in the state as they deserve: wherefore we may well judge, that we be bound to them The .v. is they endue us with no less virtuous theogecals, than they do with virtuous cardinals. And to speak of the first, the which is faith, if any man be in dought of his believe, if his mind be ones set in love, than he shall truly believe in god, and laud his puissance to create such a creature as his lover is, with so excellent beauty, and they will be so devout, that the apostles in holiness shall have of them none advantage The vi reason is because they engender in our souls the virtue of hope, so though the subgiettes to the law of love endure moche pain, yet always they hope in their believe, they hope in their steadfastness, they hope in the pity of them that cause their pain, they hope in the condition of their lover, who destroyeth them, they hope in the adventure saying they have so moche hope upon them that giveth them their passion, than they must needs have hope in god who offerith and promiseth perpetual comfort and rest. The vii reason is, they cause us to deserve charity, the property there of is love: this resteth in our will, this we put in our thoughts, this we draw in to our memory, this we farm in our hearts. And though it be so that we use this love towards our loveres, yet it redoundithe to the sovereign utility, and wealth in time to come, so that with quick contrition it shall bring us to god: for love at the pinch of death causeth us to do alms deeds, and commandeth to say masses and occupieth us in chartable work to th'intent to deliver us fro our cruel thoughts, and by cau●e that women naturally are devout and because we would be partakers of their deeds, it enforsith us to do such good work as we do. The viii reason because they make us contemplative, for the prisoners of love, do give themself to contemplation, in remembering the beauty grace and excellence of them that they love, and so much they think upon their passions, that often times they remember god, & set so their hearts upon him, that they think themself well worthy to receive their pains & torments. Thus it may be known clearly that women help & aid men, to win the glory perdurable. The ix reason is they make our hearts contrite, not which standing that some be sore pained, by cause they can not attain, to their wills and desires, then with weepings and sighings they desire of their ladies, some remedy. And the accostuming of this doing bringeth them to go confess their sins with weeping and wailing in such wise that they deserve pardon and absolution of their sin. The ten is the good counsel that women giveth us, often times it falleth that we find i their ready counsel, that we have long studied for before, and sought for with great diligence: and by their peaceable counsaylls without slander, they have withstand many evils, & savyde many lives: they conserve the peace, they refrain ire, & appease furiousness, and set amity between enemies. The xi. is men be honoured by them, they cause great marriages which great riches and rents, some peradventure will say that honour resteth not in riches, but rather in virtue, I say thereto, they cause aswell the one as the other. I presume, that there be great virtue in us yet the great honours and praise that we desire to have cometh by them, because of women, we esteem more shame, than our lives, for their sakes we study to do all work of nobleness. The xii reason is, they separate fro us all averise the which is the rote of all evil, and causeth us to be accompanied with liberality, whereby lightly we get the good will of every man: they cause us liberally to spend that we have, whereby we are praised & fast tied to every man with good love, so that in what soever necessity we fale in, we shall receive aid and service, and not alonely they profit us, as in cau●ynge us to use liberality as we ought to do, but thereby they cause us to be moche set by and made of, and what surer thing can be then to have the good will of the people. The xiii reason is women increase and keep our goods and rents, and that we have gotten, they conserve it with great diligence. The xiiii is the cleanness that they procure us to use aswell in our persons as in our habylymentes, and in every thing that we meddle with. The xv. is for the good bringing up of children, the which is a principal thing, whereof men have great need, for if we be well brought up we shall use all courtesy, and eschew the contrary, thereby we shall honour the small, and serve the great, & not alonely they cause us to be well brought up but also to be beloved, for if we entreat every man as he deserveth, they shall entreat us according to our deserts. The xvi is they cause us to be galant and fresh in our aperell, for their sakes we study how to aperell us, and what we may were, and for their sakes we array us by good industry, and craft to bring our personages in to a dew form, the which sometime peradventure nature denieth, then to hide that deformity, craft must be used and occupied, devising the aperell according, some time long, some time short, some time straight, some time wide, as best may become the person, these galantes for love of women devise new entayles● and cuts with discrete borders, and diverse other new invensions. The xvii reason is often times they cause music to be had of all instruments, & many of them occupy the same, so that we joy of their sweet armony, for their sakes are song these sweet romanses in as subtile ways as can be devised. The xviii is they cause our force and strength to increase, for when men come before ladies, and gentle women, they enforce them to cast stones, bars, and darts, and to wrestle, run, and leap, and the sight of the women uttereth their feats with more force, then if the women were absent, & all this is to th'intent, to attain the love of their lady. The xix is they quykken the inward spirit, aswell as the body for if we know that our lover take pleasure in any thing, other in singing, dancing or playing, upon any instrument, they will then apply themself to learn it and to travail their spirits there about, and though they were but dull before, yet with such diligence, they will attain to the perfection of the art, thereby to give recreation to their lover. The twenty and the last reason is because we be women's children by the which respect we are most bound to women, rather than for any other cause said before or to be said. For pleasure of women, are ordained these jousts royal and pompous tourneys and these banquets, and joyful feasts, for them is begun things of gentleness, there is no cause why they should be by us disprayede. O trespass of grievous chastiment, what woman is there in all the world that will not have compassion of the cries & lamentations that we show them, or of the painful words and sighs that we utter before them, or of the swearings and promises that we make to them, or what is she, that will not believe the steadfast faith that we promise, what heart can be without fruit hearing the commendable praises that we give them by ferme heart and will, and by none adulasion nor malice. what woman is she of so farm and stable a mind that can defend herself, if she be continually pursued, considering the deeds of arms, wherewith they be fought withal, though they make but small defence, it is no marvel, and yet such as can not defend themself ought to be praised & named pitiful, rather than to be reputed culpable.   

¶ The proof by ensample, of the bounty & goodness of women showed by Lereano  
TO th'intent that laudable virtue of the sex femenyn, should be declared according to their deserts. I purpose to allege certain ensamples, howbeit my desire was to have restyde with this that I have said to th'intent that my ignorant and rude tongue should not have troubled their clear bounty by reason of my unwysedome: howbeit my praise can not increase their goodness, nor my dispraise can not abate their, property, if I should make rehearsal of the chaste virgin's time past and present I had need to have the divine revelasion, for therebe and have been so many that no human wit can comprehend them. And to be breve I shall show of some as I have red, aswell christened as gentiles & jews. I will make ensample by the few, to comprehend the virtue of the more, as for such as be authorized to be saints, I will not speak of them for iii causes. The first because it is manifest, and openly known, than it were but simpleness & waste to rehearse it. The ii cause is the church giveth them universal praise. The iii because I am not worthy to put in my rude words, their excellent goodness, & specially of our blessed lady. All the doctors and devout contemplatyves, could never speak nor praise her as she is worthy nor reach to the least part of her excellent wherefore I will come lower and declare of them that I may speak more liberally. I will begin at the chaste gentiles, Lucresia chief crown of the nation roman wife to Colatyne, knowing herself enforced & defouled by Traquyne, she said to her husband Colatyne, dear spouse, know for troth that a strange man hath defouled thy bed. Howbeit though my body be enforced, my heart is innocent, though I be fire fro the trespass, I can not be assoiled fro the pain, and to th'intent that no lady nor other woman hereafter by mine ensample should err, and so with speaking of those words with a sharp sword she rid her own life. Also Porcia who was daughter to the noble Catone and wife to the noble & virtuous Bruto, and when she knew the death of her husband she took such grievous sorrow, that to the end of her life, she did eat hot coals, to make sacrifice of herself. Penolope wife to Ulixes, she knowing that he went in to war against the Trojans, knowing that young men of Italy were sore enamoured upon her beauty, in the absence of her husband, dyverce desired to marry with her. And she desiring to keep her chastity, & to defend herself against them, said how she would make a web as ladies used in those days: & when it was finished, she promised her wooers then to accomplish their desires. And when she had granted this, by her subtle wit asmuch as she made in the day, she broke it again in the night. And by that means she drove of the season xx. year, and then Ulixes came home alone old & in great poverty, yet the chaste lady received him add though he had come in great prosperity. Also julia daughter to Cesar first enperour being wife to Pompey she loved him so entirely, that on a day she finding his clothes bloody, believing that he had been deed fell suddenly to the earth and died for sorrow. Atrenisa among other mortayll creatures worthy to be praised, she being married to Mansall king of Icaria she loved him with so farm a heart that when he was deed, she gave him sepulture, within her own breast, she brent his bones, and the ashes of them she drank little and little, and the ceremonies made of his obsequy thinking that she would go to him, slew herself with her own hands. Argea daughter to king Adastro and wife to Polymytes son to Egisto king of Thebes, when Polimites was slain in a battle by the hands of his brother, she knowing thereof (without fearing of her enemies, or of any other wild beasts, nor fearing the emperors' law) went out of Athenes in the night in to the field, and found out among the deed bodies her husbands body, and carried it in to the city, and caused it to be brent according to the custom with bitter weeping, putting the ashes in to a coffer of gold, and then promised her life to perpetual chastity. Ipola of Grece sailing by thy see, by her evil fortune she was taken by her enemies, and they would have enforced her, and she to conserve her chastity, went to the one side of the ship, and willingly fell over the board in to the see, and there was drowned. Howbeit the fame of her dead was not greatly laudable. No less worthy of praise was the wife of Amede king of Thesale, she knowing by the answer of the god Apollo, that her hu●bnad should receive the death, without voluntarily some other person would die for him, and so willingly to save the king, she disposed herself to die. Now of the nation of the jues. Sara wife of father Abraham, when she was taken, and in the power of king Pharaoh, defending her chastity with the arms of prayer, desired god to deliver her out of his hands. And when the king thought to have fulfilled his enyll dead, god hearing her petetion, the king waxyde seek, in such wise that then he knew well it was for his wanton desire. Then he commanded to deliver her quite without any spot of unclennis. Delbora endued with so many virtues, deserved to have the spirit of prophesy, she showed not alonely her vounte in arts femenyne, but also in strong battles fighting against her enemies with a valyante and a virtuous heart. And she was of such excellence that xl year she ruled the people of the Jews. Hestere brought in captivity in to Babilone for her virtue & fayernes she was taken to wife to king Assuara who at that time ruled a. C.xxvii. provinces And by her merits & prayers delivered the Jews, fro their captivity. Also the mother of Samson desiring to have a son, deserved by her virtue that an angel shewyde the nativity of Sampsone, Elisabeth wife to Sacarias, as she was the very servant of god, for her deserving she had a son sanctified or he was borne which was saint john. Now of old stories of christian women, I can not write them at length: but to be breve to show some of a latter time of the nation of Castille. Don Maria Colonel by whom began the lineage of the Coronelles, because her chastity was praysede and her bounty not hid, she was accusyde of a crime, wherefore willingly, she brent herself having less fear of the death then to be found culpable. Also Done Isabella mother to the master of the order of Calatrane. Done Rodigo and mother to ii earls, of Urema. Done Alonso & Don john, she being a widow fell in to a sickness, and the physicians to procure her health said how she could not live without she married, or had the company of man then her children knowing what case she was in, desyryd and counseled her to take an husband, she answered and said, by the grace of god that shall I never do for I had rather die, to be called mother to such children as ye be, then to live and to be called wife to another husband. And with this chaste consideration, and by the pleasure of god, when she died, there were mysteries seen of her salvation. Also Don Maria gracia the blessed woman borne in Toledo of the greatest lineage in all the city, she would never marry, keeping her virginity four score year, at whose death were seen divorce miracles, the which yet in Toledo be had in perpetual remembrance. O what may a man say of the pure virgins of gentiles. Atrisalya Sybela borne in the city of Babilone for her merits she prophesied by divine revelation many things to come after always conserving her vyrginytie till she died. Pallas & Mynerua first seen about the river of Tritonia, new inventors of many offices pertaining to the feminine sex, and also to men, always living as virgins. And so ended Atalanta she that first struck the pork of Calydonia, in virginity and nobleness she continued. Canulla daughter to Macabeo king of the Bostos, she did no less than other did in keeping of her virginity. Calandea, Uesta, Clodya, Roman they kept the same law till their death. if it were not to length my trouble if I should live this M. year, I could not recite the ensamples, that I could rehearse: therefore Tesio according as thou haste hard, thou and such other as do blaspheme the nature feminine, are well worthy of just punysion, the which I counsel the not to abide to receive it of another, but rather punish thyself if thou do it of malice condemn the shame thereof.   

¶ The auctor.  
ALl such as were present had great marvel of his words saying by his speaking to be so near the death as he was for when he had ended his words, his tongue began to fail, and his sight near lost, than his servants began to cry, and wail, and his friend began to weep, and his subjects crying out in the streets so that all joy was turned to sorrow, and the lady his mother being absent, for his sickness was kept fro her knowledge, howbeit she giving more credit to her fear, then to that was showed her with boldness of maternal love, she departed fro her own house and came to Susa, and when she entered the gate every person that she saw gave her evidence of dolour with words of extreme passion, rather than with words well ordered, she hearing how her son Lereano was in the extremities of death, her strength failed her so that she fell down to the earth in a trance, & so long she lay that every man thought that the mother and the son should take their sepulture at one time: howbeit with hard remedy she came again to herself, and then went to her son and when she saw him in that estate, with great weeping and passion of death she said as followeth.   

¶ The complaint of Lereanos' mother.  
O Lereano, the mirth, comfort, rest and support of mine old days O sweet companion to my will, this day I am like to leave calling the any more son, nor thou to call me mother, of this I have great fear by the signs that I see of thy short days, often times I had such dreams, where with I have been in great fear all the night during, other times, when I have been in my oratory, praying for thy health my heart hath faylede me, and a cold sweat hath taken me in such manner, that of a long time I wist not what to do, also the bes●es have cretified me of thine evil, for on a day as I came out of my chamber there came to me a dog and made suddenly such a howling that for fear there of, I lost the strength of my body, and could not speak, nor could not remove out of the place that I was in. And thereby I gave more credence to my suspect, then to thy messengers, and to satisfy myself, I am come to see the. O the light of my sight and life. O blindness of the same if I see the die & I can see none occasion of thy death, thou being in age to live, thou hast always been fearful of god, & lover of all virtues, and enemy to all vices, friend to friends and belovyde, think for certain, this day the force of thine evil fortune taketh away the right of reason, sin thou diest or thy time, without any infirmity. Happy be they, that be of low and base condition, and rude of wit for they feal no thing, but take every thing as it cometh. And unhappy be they that by subtle wit and sharp understanding know every thing. would to god thou wert one of the rude and dull, for I had rather to be called mother to a rude person having thy life, then to have thy death, being never so wise. O cruel death enemy to all mortal creatures thou wilt pardon no sinners, nor a●soyll the innocentes, thou art such a traitor, that no man can make defence against thee, thou thretenyst age, and takest away yough: the one thou slayst by malice, and the other for envy, though thou tarry long, yet thou wilt not forget to come at last, thou governyst thyself with out law or reason, it had been better for the to have conserved my son being of xx. years rather than to leave me his mother of lxx years of age, why dost thou turn the right upsy-down. I have lived long enough, and he is young yet for to live: pardon me that I thus say to thee, for thou by thy cruel work causyste dolours, yet again thou givest comfort taking away them shortly, that thou leavest behind them, that thou takest away: for the which, if thou wilt so do with me I were much bound to thee, that I might go with my son Lereano, but if he might live, and I to die, it should be my comfort. O son what shall become of my age remembering the end of thy yough, if I live it shallbe rather to weep and bewayll my sins, then by reason to have any will or desire to live with what thing could I receive more cruel pain, then to live long, thine evil is very great, that there can be found no remedy, what avay lieth now the strength of thy body, or the virtue of thine heart, or the hardiness of thy courage, all these things that should avail the faylythe, if for the price of love, thy life might be bought, I would desire death to do his office upon me, and to deliver the quite fro him, but thy fortune will not suffer it, nor I can not therefore sorrow shallbe my drink and my meet, and my thought my sleep until the time that the force of death, and my desire shall bring me to my sepulture.   

¶ The auctor.  
THe weeping that Lereanos' mother made, increased the pain of all them that were present, and all ways Lereano had Laureola in his remembrance, of that was past he had but small memory, and considering that he should joy but a short space with the sight of the ii letters that Laureola had sent him, he wist not how to order them, when he thought to break them, he thought he should offend there by Laureola, in casting away such words of so worthy price as was written in them, and when he thought to put in to any of his servants hands, he feared lest they should be se●e, whereby peril might follow, then in all these doubts he took the surest way, he called for a cup of water, and then broke the letters in to small pieces, and so set up in his bed, and drank up the water with the pieces of the letters, and so he satisfied thereby his will and then drawing to his end ward, he cast his sight upon me & said, friend now all mine evils be endyd● and therewith gave up his life in witness of his true faith. Then what sorrow I felt, and what I did is lightly judged, the weepings that was there made of his death, are of such esteem, that me think it cruelty to write it: them his obsequies and burials were done most honourably, according to the deserdes of his virtues, & as for myself, with a better will I would have departed this life, then to have tarried on the earth alive: so with sighs I went my way, and departed with weeping, and with lamentation I sore complaynyde, and with such thoughts I went to my lodging. And when I saw that the consenting and desiring of my death could not remedy him that was passed, nor could be no comfort to myself, them I determined to deperte, and to go in to mine own country, and yet first I purposed to go to the court to here and see what was said for the death of Lereano and to see how Laureola took the matter: Thus I thought to go thither, what for this cause, & for other business that I had there to do with some of my friends also I purposed to speak with Laureola if I might, to know if I might see in her any repentance, and to see what true lovers would say of her cruelty used against him, that deserved high reward And also I was glad to deperte fro the place where as Lereano died to put part of my sorrow out of my mind. So I came to the court more accompanied with sorrow, then with any desire to live remembering how he that made me begin this matter, was in his sepulture. At the palace I was receyvyde with moche heaviness of many that knew the death of Lereano, than I resyted to such as were his friend, the secretness of his death Then I went in to the hall, where I was accustomed to speak with Laureola to se if I might see what cheer she made. And I who by reason of sore weeping had near lost my sight, I looked all abouts but I culde not see her, yet when she saw me● like a discrete lady suspecting that I would have spoken with her weening that I had not seen her she tur●ed toward her chamber and as she came by me. I spied well it was she, who had brought Lereano fro his life & me almost without knowledge than I with sore weeping and painful sighs began to speak to her in this manner.   

¶ The auctor to Laureola.  
LAdy moche more it had been better for me to have lost my life, then to have know●n your cruelness and small pity, I say this because I had rather with reason ha●e praised your gentleness, with being you to have satisfied the se●uyce that hath been done to you by Lereano, then to praise your beauty & great deserving gyvyuge death to him that so often times with so good will to do you service hath desired to die, but sin your mind was to give him the death, ye have not beguiled him nor me, for ye have paid him there with, ye have bleared the cleanness of your lineage. Remember that such as be of so high blood as ye be, are as much bound to satisfy the least service that is done to them, aswell as to keep and defend their honour. And certainly I say that if ye had seen his death, all the days of your life, ye would weep. Remember now what charge of conscience ye brought him in, for when he died where as he should have had most memory upon his soul, and what should have been done with his body, he then remembered more the letters that ye had sent him, the which he took and tore in pieces, & drank them in water because they should never be seen, and because he would carry with gym some thing that had been yours, to the intent that ye should have more compassion of his death than ye had of his life. I show you for certain thus I saw him die, because ye showed him no compassion Now ye show yourself to be sorry that in the absence of your small love was clean forgotten. O how many now do weep for his death, and yet they know not the cause. But as to me (fro whom the secretness was not hiden) then much more it must needs grieve me, remembering, how in your hands rested his life, and saying your cruelty and his small remedy, ye caused him to die & cause his mother to live in sorrow because she can not die, and as for me living, I am always dying: and I believe ye covytte not greatly your own life, to remember what ye have done, but that ye know well there be but few persons that know what ye have done. I think ye fear but little the fame of your evil name, for ye see clearly how I am like to die, therefore ye fear not that I should publish you cruelty, think not that I am in fear to say thus to you, for if I trouble you with the quality, content you then with the quantity, sin I have so great reason to speak, and not to end properly, and for this my boldenes● if I deserve any punishment, cause me to be slain, for ye shall better reward me with death, then to suffer me to live in this case.   

¶ The auctor.  
Sore troubled stood Laureola, yet for all that every I said, her face showed no alterasion of her heart, howbeit like a discreet lady, refraining weeping dissimuled her sorrow, and not blamyuge my boldness with an heavy cheer she answered me as followeth.   

¶ Laureola to the auctor.  
I would I had asmuch wisdom to satisfy thee, as I have reason to discharge myself, and if it were so thou shouldest find me aswell discharged as I repute the diligent. Thou sayest thou wouldest thou hadst asmuch case to praise my pity, as thou hast cause to blame my cruelty, and on that condition y● desyryst no longer to live: thou blamyst me saying how I thought to slay Lereano, and that begylyde him, and weryde the. I would thou knewest I never thought to give him the death, for doing as thou sayest, what is it that I have done, I never broke any promise what do I own the or him, that thou didst trawayll for: or what died I to satisfy thine entension, I died put him without doubt, and the without charge, if I had been believed, then mine is but a small charge: thou sayst I aught to regard the cleanness of my lineage, looking profoundly thereon, hath causyde me to do as I have done, thou knowest well, all women are more bound to regard their honours, rather than to accomplish any amorous will or appetight. Then sin all women are bound to this how moche more than by reason, are those bound that be dyscedyd of a blood royal think not that I receive any pleasure for the death of Lereano, nor believe not that it can so moch grieve y●, as it sorroweth me how be it the fear of my honour, & the fear of my father did more in me, than the evil will that I bore him, nor think not that the knowledge of his service, was forgotten, but that I gave him great thank, and if which any reward I might have paid him, saving my honour, it should have been done, and cost him nothing then both he and thyself should asmuch have praysede as now thou blamest me for unkindness in his life without the loss of life I could not reward him according to his desire, I will thou know, that his death causeth me to live always dying, now shalt thou see how much it sorroweth me and how moche he pleasyde me, now thou shalt judge what love I bore him, and know if I did well to suffer him to die thou knowest well that with his life he might have won, that by his death he dysparyd and lost it, but sin I can not now pay nor reward him, I shall satisfy the & make the bear witness, if I reward not service as I ought to do.   

¶ The auctor.  
SHe ended her words with such heaviness, that she could scant make an end for sorrow: then she went fro me subbing, and sore weeping whereby her tongue was sore troubled, & changed colour, and so went in to her chamber with sore inward lamentation, for fear she should have been hard. Then I went to my lodging which so great sorrow that often times I was desperate of my life, with mine own death I would have been revenged if I could, not putting myself in despair. And thus being alone without pleasure aswell as with out friends to speak unto, for weariness I laid me down, and as though I had seen Lereano before me present, I said to him as followeth.   

¶ The auctor to Lereano.  
O Lereano enemy to thy adventure, and friend to thy myshape, who can be cause of thy life with this ambassade, as I was cause of thy death with my message, for now if thou knewest the repentance of Laureola, thou wouldest change the glory celostyall, for thy life temporal: for by thy death, thou hast lost thy desire, if thou hadst saved thy life without doubt, thou shouldest have won, that by thy death thou hast lost. Did I not say to thee, when thou lay a dying, that by thy death thou shouldest lose all, and by thy life thou mightest attain to thy desire. O unhappy that I am, that I were not in the place where as I might show the all that Laureola hath said to me, and of the thought that she taketh for losing of thy life, though which the death thou hast won the desire of thy will, by that she showeth now, thou oughtest to think thy death well bestowed, great joy I should recene, if I knew that thou diddest here me and believe m●: for thou mayst see that alonely her repentance sufficeth to pay that thy reward. if thou hadst lyvyde, thou shouldst have had no cause to have been in trouble now thy pain shallbe without hope of sufferance, now thou needest not to be troubly with thy life, nor take no joy of thy death. O what wealth should it be for me, if god would suffer me to lose my life to recover thine, why doth god leave me here without the. who can lose thee, and live after, would to god, that the good will that I have in thy life that thou mightest pay me with my death that which I hope thou shouldest do, if thou hadst as good will to see me, as I have desire to serve the .Thus I will leave, any further to trouble the.   

¶ The authors dream.  
THus I was so weary that I left my talking, and as he that wist not what he did, I fell in a slombere and among other things I began to dream, whereby I had more pain than pleasure. I dreamed that I saw Lereano before me appareled after this manner, he had on his head a bonnet of scarlet with a green ribbon of an evil colour, with a word enbrowdered saying thus: hope is dead with his colour slain by your unkindness, and when he came near me, I saw he had on a shirt wrought with black silk with a border of letters, saying: increasing my steadfastness, at the end I found death. Also he had a doublet of yellow satin enbrowdered with this word: my passion with my joy satisfied, in doing that I have done. Also he had on a iaket of black veluyt with a border of satin of the same colour, and thereon a writing that said: in my steadfastness showed is mine evil, and your trespass. Also he had a gerdell of gold with letters reporting: more rather was my death, than life, if ye would be served therewith. He had also a dagger, the knives and pommel of azure, with letters saying, right sore was the passion that ye gave me, and yet ye never repentyde it. Also he had a sword with the sheath & girdle of silk enbrowderyde with this word (given to my life such torment) that dying and living I was content. Also his hosen one white another blew with this word: chastity ielus of my life & could not be suffered to serve. And over all this he had a cap of black embroidered with dark tawny with a word that said: heaviness can not so travail me, that it should change my steadfastness. His slippers were enbrowdered with small letters that said: mine evils are at an end for my service, and denied me is the benefit. And on his gloves was written: thus beginneth and endeth the name that most deserveth. So when I had at length regarded his apparel, and the steadfast thoughts that by likelihood he endured, I beheld his face, and I saw his gesture so beautiful that it seemed he had never taken thought, and with an amorous semblant. After he had courteously saluted me with the same voice, as he was wont to speak, me thought he began to say in this manner.   

¶ Lereano to the auctor.  
O Thou my true friend, thou hast thought that my presence hath been long fro the so that I could not tell what thou didst nor hard what thou hast spoken, think not so, for I shall never be so far fro the, but that I shall always be joined with thee, for though by adventure in my life I departed fro the, never in the death I shall deperte fro the, I shall always be ionyed with the. And all that thou hast said of Laureola and of me I was present and hard it, god knoweth if I might I would have spoken to thee, but I could not, nor fear would not leave me, for I certify the that this that I do, though my speech be short, yet it tormenteth me, and therefore according to the trust that I have in thy great virtue I will not put the to the pain with long words therefore I will go to the effect of thy words and to my answer. Thou sayest thou wouldest gladly put me again in to life as thou puttedest me to death, believe not that thy message gave me the death, nor I in the beginning can not be excused fro coming to this end: thou sayest thou wouldest that I were in the disposition that I might joy me for the repenting of Loureola. I can not thank the therefore, because I can not make y● a recompense, for the greatest service that I could make is not so great, but the lest deserving that I have received of the is moche greater. As for her rewards I desire them not, for I can have as now no joy of them, though I desire them never so much, and though now with her repenting she think to satisfy me yet her cruelness was so trobelous, that though she did more, yet I can not be rewarded. Thou sayest I should think my death well enployede, sin I have won by her that without her I lost, now would I do it, if life were left with me, for though I might joy therewith what profit should it be to me to believe this without I might see what she doth, and I believe if she might see me again to live, she would give me more pain and less hope, but the best to be delivered fro hope is death, for it is better to suffer a good death, then to endure with an evil life, believe not but and I had believed that I should have served her, better living then to die, I would not have died yet, but sin that with my life I could not prevail, I thought then with death to remedy me, think not that I was so far without wit, that I knew not that it was good to live to serve her, though I could have no joy of her, but I could never know by her answer, that she was content with my service as thou knowest right well, but she did let me die, for I desiryd life to leave me, also thou seist that thou desirest to recover me & to lose thy life, I believe y●, and I thank y● thereof, though I can do none other thing thou desirest me to pray for thy death, because we might like friends joy together sin we could not in our life be not of y● believe for I had rather her speaking of thy life without sight of thee, then to know thou shouldest be with me deed, howbeit by thy death thou shouldest but change thy life, for thy fame should never die but ever live, thus I will leave thee, not because I will go far fro the. wherefore I require the take it for none evil that I speak no more to thee, for though I would I can not.   

¶ The auctor.  
WHen Lereano had made an end of his words I thought to have answered him, but then in my dream me thought I saw Laureola entre into my chamber as visible, as though I had been waking me thought she was in a strange apparel, and with a new companion, and in the regarding of so new a vision I left answering Lereano, and began to mark the manner of her aparell● and I so regarded her● that I left looking upon Lereano. She had upon her head a fresh atyer frete & enbrowdered with letters saying: my cruel condition giveth no death to service, nor yet reward. Her smock wrought with white silk tied with letters saying: thy death is so fastened to my life that I can not scape without death. Her kertell of black satin with a folyage of tawny with letters saying: thy steadfastness might have given me such pain, that at the end it might have won me. Her girdle was wrought with threads of gold reporting: Moore rather should have been my glory with thy life, then with thy death. Her mantle was of ii colours the one part red, the other blew, with a writing that said: now joy can not enjoy me without great thought. She had a tabard of blue russet with letters saying, with thy death my memory is certain so that living my glory is deed. Also on her gloves was written thus, with that I began I make an end though I deserve no death: her slippers were enbrowdered with this word: I have more pain for thy pain then for mine own, yet more deserveth my shame. So when I had well regarded her apparel, and marked well the significations of the writings, I saw how with moche sorrow and small pleasure (by semblant more likely to die then to live) she turned her face towards Lereano where as he stood and began to say in this manner.   

¶ Laureola to Lereano.  
Friend Lereano never think that the force of thy strength for so little an inconvenience, that I should consent to lose, for as thou hast said to be desirous to serve me, more honour thou shouldest have done me in living, than I to give the death, for surely thy weakness nor thy pain, nor yet thy love could not make me believe, that thou shouldest have died, therefore thou mayst clearly see what evil thou hast done, if thou think, that I did was to mock the or to prove thee, what error then I have done to thy purpose, if true lovers can not suffer, how shall they come to their desyrs he that can not suffer, can not joy, nor but seldom attain to his glory, there is no virtue, but in suffering of pain thereby to have joy of their good adventure, thou oughtest more to be blamed, being discrete for that thou hast done, then to be praised for a true lover. And believe surely that if I had not been surer of thy faith I would have given no credence to thy steadfastness nor yet have given the none occasion at the beginning to have come to this end, and more to show thee, the truth then to reward the of thy pain, I make the sure if I had believed that thou shouldest have died I would rather have taken the death myself ● then to have consented to thy death, for it should have been great conscience to me to have sffuered the to die, for the trust that I had, in that thou didst for my service caused me in manner to believe thy writing, but then again the surety that I thought had been in thy wisdom and discretion, caused me to doubt it, and in this manner I gave more credence to thy discretion, then to thy determined death, Lereano it ought to have suffysid the to remember in what case mine honour stood in and peril of my life, and to have been content to know that I ought the my favour, for thy evil grieved me worse, than mine own, though I showed it not to thee, if thou wilt deny this, remember what I was, and how small necessity I had of thy service, ones writing to the should have sufficyd, though I did not put the in no surety for thou knewest well, that my writing proceeded of no fear, but of mine own good will, & thou canst not deny, when of my message, thou diddest despair and died, did I not put the in hope when I said, that if I lived longer than my father, then shouldest see how I would reward thy deserving, so that thou shouldst not blame me for any unkindness, I will speak no more sin I shall no more see thee, and by cause I can receive no more passion than I do for thy death, therefore I make short my words, though my pain be large making the sure, I shall reward thy soul, sin by mine unhap, by reason of thy death I can not reward thy body.   

¶ The auctor.  
WHen Laureola spoke these words to Lereano I stood in a strange manner right sore abashed to see her great pite and joining her wisdom and knowing her will, and hearing of her amorous reasons, these over came my strength, though she spoke not to me, yet I praysede much her saying, though it availed but little, how be it me thought her reasons were so just that Lereano could make none answer, to satisfy them, not for the small confidence that I had in his wisdom, but because of the trouble of his spirits in saying present before him the creature whom he most desired, yet me thought he cast up his eyen to heaven, and with great courtesy he answer her in this manner.   

¶ Lereano to Laureola.  
O Dear lady if I had the wisdom to show you the case and quarrel of mine evil, aswell as I have reason to suffer it, I could then aswell answer you as if I might live to serve you, ye say, ye could never believe that the force of my death could overcome my strength: Have no marvel thereof, for without my desire I could find no thing to defend me, but of that ye blame me, ye deserve the pain, for ye might have given me remedy, & ye consented that I should die. And where as ye say I erred, because I would not defend myself affirming that I should have sought all the ways thereto, if ye did it to prove or to mock me, judge what ye say, and behold what case I was in, & ye shall say that a heart full of sorrow never taketh good news: for certain and of evil news it maketh no doubt and all this that ye have said, I believe it true, of your own part knowing your great cruelty and my small hap think not that the small travail that I took was in defending of my life, but that it was to serve you, for it had been more pain for me to have defended myself fro the death, then to suffer it, remembering myself that I had no desire to live, but alonely to serve you, and when I ●aw that I erryde and that ye would not of my service living, them I thought to serve you with my death, and think not that I joy so little of my death, but that I think it well employed, sin ye have now discovered your pity, the which in my life always ye denied, ye say the hope that ye gave me should have suffisyd me, I deny it not according to that ye be, for one look of you had been sufficient for any service that I could have done, for where as the less hope appeared certain, then much more was your deserving, and of my deserving I was in doubt: for the greater that the reward was, the less I believed it, and therefore I did as ye have seen, And where as ye speak of, is honour and life, ye know well for certain, if ye forget it not what small charge it was to you, and the experience which geemd me ye know yourself, the work are witness, Also ye say that at the beginning ye were without any charge, and after what peril I saw you in, and that I was ready to have given occasion to have brought you in to suspect. I beguiled you not, for afterward I showed your cleanness ye never said in your writing any thing for certain, but always I was in doubt of any reward, and the less I ●o●yd the more I feared, and thus ye may see that by your own excuse, ye condemn yourself, and sin I can not serve you, I will not trouble you, nor speak no more, save I desire of you in reward of my true faith, to let me kiss your hand, because with that glory, I may joy in my death, seeing I co●ld not in my life, nor ye would not suffer me, and thus I will deperte fro you, beseeching you as ye say to have remembrance of my soul, sin ye have forgotten my body, nor I desire no more to trouble you, nor to be inportunate with any more words, thus I make an end, desiring you of pardon, & if any thing may presume to avail for the riches of my service, that ye will remember my troth and good will, the which I set●e before your eyen, to th'intent that of my death ye should have some compassion, sin ye had none of my life.   

¶ The auctor.  
WHen this matter was thus passed between them I stood and beheld the courtesy that Lereano made and the small thought that he showed of his death for then he knowing, that she was no less sorrowful for his death then him self was, therefore to th'intent not to trouble her, he suffered the pain, and would speak no more of his death, and asmuch as it pleased me to see them together, asmuch it grieved me the remembrance of the death of Lereano, and according to their reasons, they joyed me so that I would their reasons should neur have ended, for than I knew well that Lereano received glory to see her, and Laureola received no pain to see him, though he were deed I desire that their speech should never have ended, nor their ●yght departed a sounder, but always the things of pleasure, seldom end●rith long. And as I thus lay dreaming at last me thought I hard a heavy voice that said, come away Lereano and tarry no longer. And then with adolorous sigh Lereano with his bonnet in his hand went to Laureola, and kissed her hand, and she to give him some glory sufferyde him the which in his life time she would never do, and so kissing her hand he said O the death thou hast slain my memory yet to my death is given glory● & therewith he vanished away. And when I saw I could see him no more, than I regarded Laureola to se what countenance she made, I saw her stand in great heaviness, her eyen bathed in water, & her beauty ●adyd of colour pale and wan, and had lost her speech, and I saying her in such manner of disposition, had compassion to see her, than Lereano that was deed what with the sight of the one, and of the other, was in such peril, and so desperate, that to say the truth, I desired rather to have followed Lereano deed, then to have followed Laureola living, who with great heaviness, asmuch as she might, dissimuled her pain that she endured for the death of Lereano, & discreetly she did refrain her weeping and said to me as followeth.   

¶ Laureola to the author's  
Friend truly with a better heart and will I will continue this life, rather thenne to go out of thy chamber without it wered that I believe in my going away, my soul shall depart, for surly, if I had believed to have seen Lereano i that case, as I have seen him now I would never have come hither to see him, but rather have suffered pain with his absence, than glory to see him seeing I can not remedy him, I had thought never to have had such pain for him, for the more that the greatness of estate withstood & denied yet for all that, I thought to have done the contrary, or my life had departed, for with great travail, I thought to have sued to the king my father for his liberty it was not by my consent, that he was commanded, not to come in to the court, where as he might have place to have seen me, yet for all that he needed not to have died for the time might have come that he should have had no cause to have disparyd, for thought I by my cruelty had consented to have put him to passion, yet I might aswell again have rewarded him by my bounty and pity, as to have denied him, I will as now make no quarrel to my will, sin his service & good work I thought to have rewarded, but I quarrel with the bautie that god hath given me, and so might Lereano have done: for that more beguiled him, than other condition or will: But because the time is short and the passion great, I will no more say but I make the sure, that thought Lereavo were not worthy of a state nor lineage, to have had me to his wyfe● yet he should not have been in despair there of, but sin I can not as now reward his work and good service, I desire the not to departed fro the court, thouhg thy desire be in to thine own natural country, & so doing thou shalt know, by the rewards that I shall give thee, what honour I bore to Lereano living   

¶ The auctor  
WHen Laureola had ended her words she was so heavy, and so full of weeping, that in a manner her painful life grevyde me as sore as the death of Lereano. And to all this that she had said I would have answered her, and thanked her of her great bounty to me showed, aswell as for the courtesy of her meek speech. And so me thought as I was moved suddenly with a great sigh she depertyde fro me, and with a loud voice said: I can no more sorrow the death which is ever certain, than the loss of the life of him that is deed: them I looked all about, and saw how I was left all alone, and therewith awoke out of my dream, than was I so sorrowful, that I witted not what to do, nor think of my dream, and when I saw no man to speak unto, I was so pensive that often times with mine own hands I thought to have ride my lives thereby thinking to have found that I had lost, and when I remembered that with my death I could not recover the life of the deed, than I thought it a great error to lose mine own soul without the joying of his body And as it is a sure xeperience that music encreasith pain to him that is in sorrow, so like wise it encreasith pleasure in the heart of them that be content and in joy, than I took an harp and song as followeth. Harte take no pain in this life for it may be overcome, for it can not endure long because we be mortal the evil that showeth her force, is ready to take the death, sin that life is most evil, them I counsel the show no strength against the overcome, for who that sleith the life, with death is pleased, therefore that life is good, that taketh death after the best sort, he that dieth living hath not moche to suffer, but he that liveth dying his evil & pain is strong, who can not suffer evil, when they be satisfied with evil, and though they be mortal, yet the sorrow is equal, thus I make an end of my song, and then without any more studying that I had to do. I commanded to saddle my horse for I thought it was time for me to deperte to go in to my own country, And thus I departed fro them that I met in the street more acompaned with sorrow and weeping yes then with any other consolasion of pleasure my heaviness so increased, and my health so paired that I never thought to come a live in to my country, & when I was well entered on my way there came so many things to my fantasy, that thinking on them I was near out of my wit, howbeit at last remembering myself that it was no profit to muse on them I traveled myself as much as I might to bring them out of my remembrance So I traveled my body in this journey and my soul in sundry thoughts, and finally I arrived at my own poor mansion, and thus I bid fare well & adieu all true lovers. And all the readers an hearers of this process, desiring them where they find fault to amend it. and I shall pray to god for their prosperity and at their end to send them the joys of paradise. Amen.  
Finis.   

¶ printed at London in Paul's churchyard, by johan Turk, at the sign of the bible.