The Countess of Mountgomeries' URANIA. Written by the right honourable the Lady MARY WRATH. Daughter to the right Noble Robert Earl of Leicester. And Niece to the ever famous, and renowned Sr. Phillips Sidney knight. And to the most excellent Lady Mary Countess of Pembroke late deceased.  
LONDON Printed for JOH MARRIOTT and JOHN GRISMAND And are to be sold at their shops in St. Dunston's Churchyard in Fleetstreet and in Paul's Ally at the sign of the Gun.    

THE COUNTESS OF Montgomery's URANIA. THE FIRST BOOK.  
WHen the Spring began to appear like the welcome messenger of Summer, one sweet (and in that more sweet) morning, after Aurora had called all careful eyes to attend the day, forth came the fair Shepherdess Urania, (fair indeed; yet that far too mean a title for her, who for beauty deserved the highest style could be given by best knowing judgements). Into the Mead she came, where usually she drove her flocks to feed, whose leaping and wantonness showed they were proud of such a Guide: But she, whose sad thoughts led her to another manner of spending her time, made her soon leave them, and follow her late begun custom; which was (while they delighted themselves) to sit under some shade, bewailing her misfortune; while they fed, to feed upon her own sorrow and tears, which at this time she began again to summon, sitting down under the shade of a well-spread Beech; the ground (then blessed) and the tree with full, and fine leaved branches, growing proud to bear, and shadow such perfections. But she regarding nothing, in comparison of her woe, thus proceeded in her grief: Alas Urania, said she, (the true servant to misfortune); of any misery that can befall woman, is not this the most and greatest which thou art fall'n into? Can there be any near the unhappiness of being ignorant, and that in the highest kind, not being certain of mine own estate or birth? Why was I not still continued in the belief I was, as I appear, a Shepherdess, and Daughter to a Shepherd? My ambition then went no higher than this estate, now flies it to a knowledge; then was I contented, now perplexed. O ignorance, can thy dulness yet procure so sharp a pain? and that such a thought as makes me now aspire unto knowledge? How did I joy in this poor life being quiet? blessed in the love of those I took for parents, but now by them I know the contrary, and by that knowledge, not to know myself. Miserable Urania, worse art thou now then these thy Lambs; for they know their dams, while thou dost live unknown of any. By this were others come into that Mead with their flocks: but she esteeming her sorrowing thoughts her best, and choicest company, left that place, taking a little path which brought her to the further side of the plain, to the foot of the rocks, speaking as she went these lines, her eyes fixed upon the ground, her very soul turned into mourning.  
Unseen, unknown, I here alone complain  
To Rocks, to Hills, to Meadows, and to Springs,  
Which can no help return to ease my pain,  
But back my sorrows the sad Echo brings.  
Thus still increasing are my woes to me,  
Doubly resounded by that moanful voice,  
Which seems to second me in misery,  
And answer gives like friend of mine own choice.  
Thus only she doth my companion prove,  
The others silently do offer ease:  
But those that grieve, a grieving note do love;  
Pleasures to dying eyes bring but disease:  
And such am I, who daily ending live,  
Wailing a state which can no comfort give.  
In this passion she went on, till she came to the foot of a great rock, she thinking of nothing less than ease, sought how she might ascend it; hoping there to pass away her time more peaceably with loneliness, though not to find least respite from her sorrow, which so dearly she did value, as by no means she would impart it to any. The way was hard, though by some windings making the ascent pleasing. Having attained the top, she saw under some hollow trees the entry into the rock: she fearing nothing but the continuance of her ignorance, went in; where she found a pretty room, as if that stony place had yet in pity, given leave for such perfections to come into the heart as chiefest, and most beloved place, because most loving. The place was not unlike the ancient (or the descriptions of ancient) Hermitages, instead of hangings, covered and lined with ivy, disdaining aught else should come there, that being in such perfection. This richness in Nature's plenty made her stay to behold it, and almost grudge the pleasant fullness of content that place might have, if sensible, while she must know to taste of torments. As she was thus in passion mixed with pain, throwing her eyes as wildly as timorous Lovers do for fear of discovery, she perceived a little Light, and such a one, as a chink doth oft discover to our sights. She curious to see what this was, with her delicate hands put the natural ornament aside, discerning a little door, which she putting from her, passed through it into another room, like the first in all proportion; but in the midst there was a square stone, like to a pretty table, and on it a wax-candle burning; and by that a paper, which had suffered itself patiently to receive the discovering of so much of it, as presented this Sonnet (as it seemed newly written) to her sight.  

HEre all alone in silence might I mourn:  
But how can silence be where sorrows flow?  
Sighs with complaints have poorer pains outworn;  
But broken hearts can only true grief show.   

Drops of my dearest blood shall let Love know  
Such tears for her I shed, yet still do burn,  
As no spring can quench least part of my woe,  
Till this live earth, again to earth do turn.   

Hateful all thought of comfort is to me,  
Despised day, let me still night possess;  
Let me all torments feel in their excess,  
And but this light allow my state to see   

Which still doth waste, and wasting as this light,  
Are my sad days unto eternal night.   
Alas Urania (sighed she)! How well do these words, this place, and all agree with thy fortune? sure poor soul thou wert here appointed to spend thy days, and these rooms ordained to keep thy tortures in; none being assuredly so matchlesly unfortunate. Turning from the table, she discerned in the room a bed of boughs, and on it a man lying, deprived of outward sense, as she thought, and of life, as she at first did fear, which strake her into a great amazement: yet having a brave spirit, though shadowed under a mean habit, she stepped unto him, whom she found not dead, but laid upon his back, his head a little to her wards, his arms folded on his breast, hair long, and beard disordered, manifesting all care; but care itself had left him: curiousness thus far afforded him, as to be perfectly discerned the most exact piece of misery; Apparel he had suitable to the habitation, which was a long grey robe. This grievefull spectacle did much amaze the sweet and tenderhearted Shepherdess; especially, when she perceived (as she might by the help of the candle) the tears which distilled from his eyes; who seeming the image of death, yet had this sign of worldly sorrow, the drops falling in that abundance, as if there were a kind strife among them, to rid their Master first of that burdenous carriage; or else meaning to make a flood, and so drown their woeful Patient in his own sorrow, who yet lay still, but then fetching a deep groan from the profoundest part of his soul, he said. Miserable Perissus, canst thou thus live, knowing she that gave thee life is gone? Gone, O me! and with her all my joy departed. Wilt thou (unblessed creature) lie here complaining for her death, and know she died for thee? Let truth and shame make thee do something worthy of such a Love, ending thy days like thyself, and one fit to be her Servant. But that I must not do: then thus remain and foster storms, still to torment thy wretched soul withal, since all are little, and too too little for such a loss. O dear Limena, loving Limena, worthy Limena, and more rare, constant Limena: perfections delicately feigned to be in women were verified in thee, was such worthiness framed only to be wondered at by the best, but given as a prey to base and unworthy jealousy? When were all worthy parts joined in one, but in thee (my best Limena)? yet all these grown subject to a creature ignorant of all but ill, like unto a Fool, who in a dark Cave, that hath but one way to get out, having a candle, but not the understanding what good it doth him, puts it out: this ignorant wretch not being able to comprehend thy virtues, did so by thee in thy murder, putting out the world's light, and men's admiration: Limena, Limena, O my Limena. With that he fell from complaining into such a passion, as weeping and crying were never in so woeful a perfection, as now in him; which brought as deserved a compassion from the excellent Shepherdess, who already had her heart so tempered with grief, as that it was apt to take any impression that it would come to seal withal. Yet taking a brave courage to her, she stepped unto him, kneeling down by his side, and gently pulling him by the arm, she thus spoke. Sir (said she) having heard some part of your sorrows, they have not only made me truly pity you, but wonder at you; since if you have lost so great a treasure, you should not lie thus leaving her and your love unrevenged, suffering her murderers to live, while you lie here complaining; and if such perfections be dead in her, why make you not the Phoenix of your deeds live again, as to new life raised out of the revenge you should take on them? then were her end satisfied, and you deservedly accounted worthy of her favour, if she were so worthy as you say. If she were? O God (cried out Perissus), what devilish spirit art thou, that thus dost come to torture me? But now I see you are a woman; and therefore not much to be marked, and less resisted: but if you know charity, I pray now practise it, and leave me who am afflicted sufficiently without your company; or if you will stay, discourse not to me. Neither of these will I do (said she). If you be then (said he) some fury of purpose sent to vex me, use your force to the uttermost in martyring me; for never was there a fitter subject, than the heart of poor Perissus is. I am no fury (replied the divine Urania), nor hither come to trouble you, but by accident lighted on this place; my cruel hap being such, as only the like can give me content, while the solitariness of this like cave might give me quiet, though not ease, seeking for such a one, I happened hither; and this is the true cause of my being here, though now I would use it to a better end if I might. Wherefore favour me with the knowledge of your grief; which heard, it may be I shall give you some counsel, and comfort in your sorrow. Cursed may I be (cried he) if ever I take comfort, having such cause of mourning: but because you are, or seem to be afflicted, I will not refuse to satisfy your demand, but tell you the saddest story that ever was rehearsed by dying man to living woman, and such a one, as I fear will fasten too much sadness in you; yet should I deny it, I were too blame, being so well known to these senseless places; as were they sensible of sorrow, they would condole, or else amazed at such cruelty, stand dumb as they do, to find that man should be so inhuman.  
Then fair Shepherdess, hear myself say my name is Perissus, Nephew I am to the King of Sicily, a place fruitful and plentiful of all things, only niggardly of good nature to a great man in that Country, whom I am sure you have heard me blame in my complaints. Heir I am as yet to this King mine Uncle; and truly may I say so, for a more unfortunate Prince never lived, so as I inherit his crosses, howsoever I shall his estate. There was in this Country (as the only blessing it enjoyed) a Lady, or rather a Goddess for incomparable beauty, and matchless virtues, called Limena, daughter to a Duke, but Princess of all hearts: this star coming to the Court to honour it with such light, it was in that my blessed destiny to see her, and be made her servant, or better to say, a slave to her perfections; thus long was I happy, but now begins the tragedy: for wars falling out between the people and the Gentlemen, the King was by the people (imagining he took the other part) brought into some danger, and so great an one, as rudeness joined with ill nature could bring him into, being at last besieged in a strong hold of his, all of us his servants, and gentle subjects, striving for his good and safety; in this time nothing appearing but danger, and but wise force to preserve men's lives and estates unto them, every one taking the best means to attain unto their good desires. The Duke (father to the best, and truest beauty) would yet bestow that upon a great Lord in the Country, truly for powerful command and means, a fit match for any, but the wonder of women, since none could without much flattery to himself, think he might aspire to the blessing of being accounted worthy to be her servant, much less her husband. She seeing it was her father's will, esteeming obedience beyond all passions, how worthily soever suffered, most dutifully, though unwillingly, said, she would obey; her tongue faintly delivering, what her heart so much detested; loathing almost itself, for consenting in show to that which was most contrary to itself; yet thus it was concluded, and with as much speed as any man would make to an eternal happiness. While of this, and so my misfortune, I remained ignorant, till one day the wars being a little ceased, though not ended, the siege still continuing, I stole from mine uncle to see my heart, which she kept safe with her: but when I came thither, I found, or feared I found no room for it. She who had it, being in the power of mine enemy (for so I accounted him, when he enjoyed my loss, my hopes being frustrate, my joys lost and spoilt, I grew from myself, my senses failed me, a trembling possessing my whole body, so as this distemper was marked, and pitied of all: but what did comfort me, was, that she did seem to pity me. Then did I bless my torments, that had procured me such a favour. There were none, but carefully sought my health, especially her husband, whose diligence was as tedious, as his wives was my only joy. Grieved I was to stay and see my misery, yet sad I was to go from seeing her, who gave me (though a barred) delight in beholding her: but knowing passion the greater Lord over my strength, I took my leave, pretending business, having only taken the opportunity that way afforded me to visit them, passing so near by them; they all seemed sorry for my going, and Limena indeed was so; then by unused paths I got back to the King, often, as I road, looking to that place where I left my soul prisoner. When I had been a while at home, remembering, or rather never letting the beauty of Limena be absent from me, I say remembering her, and my everlasting wretched state in missing her; calling my mischief by his gain to account, I found so much cause to lament, as in short time I was but mournful sorrow; my friends grieved, and generally all did show displeasure for me, only myself found nothing but cause to proceed in this despair, love having truly changed me to that most low, and still unlucky fate. Business of State I neglected, going about as in a dream, led by the cruelest of hellish spirits, Despair, till I was awaked by a command to go and lead some troops which were gathered by the King's friends together coming to raise the siege, yet desiring me to be their head. I went, and thus far willingly, having so much hope left me, as to think I might by this means conclude my afflictions with my end; yet first I resolved to write unto her, that she might know, she had so unblessed a creature to her Servant. When I had written my letter with shaking hands, and yet a more shaking heart, I gave it to a Page of mine, who was newly come unto me, and never had been seen in her Father's house, giving him besides directions how to carry himself, which he discreetly did observe, and found as fit an opportunity as could be wished: for her husband being gone to see an ancient house of his, she walked alone into a little Grove below the place of her abiding; he perceiving her, knew strait it was she; wherefore he followed her, having before hid himself in the uppermost part of the thicket, expecting occasion whereby to perform his Master's command. He then seeing it offered, would not neglect it, though somewhat timerously, esteeming her for her excellencies rather some Goddess of those Woods, than an earthly Creature: but remembering the infinite (yet not sufficient) praises I had given her, concluded, it could be none other than Limena; so as coming to her, he on his knees delivered the letter, saying these words; The woeful Perissus his Lord and Master presented that, with his service to her. This (though but little) was more than I could have said, if in his place: For Lord, how was I afflicted with millions of doubts how it might be delivered; then, whether she would accept of it; and most, what she would conceive of my boldness, quaking when I gave it him, knowing how wretched a creature I must be, if it offended her, yet wishing I might have had the papers place once more to have been touched by her, though, if it brought dislike, for that to have suffered martyrdom. But she for my happiness took it, and with a pretty blush read it, which since I perceived did spring from love, yet blushed to see itself so lively in her cheeks. When she had read it, Good youth (said she) commend me to your Lord: but for his letter, say, It needs no answer till he come himself, and fetch one. With this he returned, and so with much comfort to me, hope being glad to build on any small ground, how much more than on so likely a possibility. I then, Hope's servant, as before only slave to Despair, made all haste I could to see her, having good and welcome means afforded me, being able with convenience to take her father's house in my way to the new-raised Army. Thither I came, which though in a wild Forest, yet it was pretended, I left the great roads for my better safety. Thus was a colour set upon my love, which but for her service, and so the safelier to serve her, would suffer any gloss but truth in affection. Being there arrived, I was extremely welcomed of all: her Father, a grave and wise man, discoursed with me of business of State: after him, and so all supper time, her husband discoursed of hunting, an exercise fit for such a creature. Neither of these brought my Mistress from a grave, and almost sad countenance, which made me somewhat fear, knowing her understanding, and experience, able and sufficient to judge, or advise in any matter we could discourse of: but modesty in her caused it, only loving knowledge, to be able to discern men's understandings by their arguments, but no way to show it by her own speech. This (and withal fear of discovering some passions, which she, though excelling in wit and judgement; yet could not govern, at least, guiltiness forced her to think so) was the reason she held her gravity; yet after she grew more merry. And I finding a fit time by her husbands going out of the chamber, with some company that was there, humbly desired an answer of my letter. She blushing, and as if ashamed so much innocent virtue should be discovered with my Loverlike importunity in her, though strong in constancy; yet woman's affection gained so much by looks, and sweet though-fearing words, as I was resolved, and assured of her love, which made me proud of such a treasure, begin to dispose part of it to my benefit, for looking about, and seeing every one's eyes carried their own ways, I kissed her; she, not offended, yet said; Let not my freedom make you dispose otherwise then virtuously of me: I vowed more than that liberty I would not ask, which I know, if I had offered, her virtue would have refused, nor truly would my dear and worthy affection permit me to demand, and this held our loves more firm, when tied by virtue. But not to hold you long with this (which yet to me is some ease for the present, although the bitterer the conclusion is that follows). We had as many such meetings as true, or feigned means could compass us, still our misery was such, as this wild man her husband (whether out of true consideration of his great unworthiness, or proceeding from his froward disposition, I know not) grew jealous (an humour following base minds as readily, as thunder doth the lightning), then had he rashness to accompany the other, which framed a determination, which was soon altered from that name by performance, that she should stay no longer with her father, but go with him to his own house; this I had notice of, but all that we could do, could not hinder the accomplishing his will, and save her honour, which to me, more dear than mine own life was esteemed. But the night before her going I came thither, where I found the accustomed entertainment, he using me with all show of respect, which in that kind I embraced; our hearts being as far from meaning truth in giving or accepting, as truth is from bare compliment, but greatness in me made him use it; and care in me (of my better self) receive it; my heart swelling with hate and scorn, even almost to breaking, when I did see him. That night I saw her, and but spoke to her, so curiously her husband watched us, yet could he not keep our eyes, but by them we did deliver our souls, he only able to keep her dainty body in his wicked prison. The next day they went, and so went all worth with this odd man to have her delicacy kept like a Diamond in a rotten box: yet she considering it to be to no purpose to contend, where she was miserably bound to obey, observed him, as well as she could bring her spirit to consent to; yet did he begin for her welcome to grow cursed to her; with her Servants he first began, finding, or better to say, framing occasions to be rid of them all, placing of his own about her, which she suffered, only contenting herself with the memory of our Loves: yet wanting the true content which was in our conversation, she grew sad, and keeping much within, grew pale, her rosy cheeks and lips changing to wannesse: but this was all the change, her noble heart free from such a sin. This was but part of her affliction, still vexing her sweet disposition, with speaking slightly of me, and then telling her of her love to me; which brought her to that pass, as at last I was not named, but she would blush; then would he revile her, and vilely use her: but she patiently, and silently bore all, not suffering me to have notice of it, lest it might, as it should have done, move me to revenge her wrong for my sake endured. Thus it rested, she restlessly bearing all the ills that froward Nature (mixed with peevish and spiteful jealousy) could afflict upon the purest mind; using no other means, but gentle and mild persuasions, which wrought no more in him, but that still his madness increased. Now was his house not far from the way which I must pass between the Camp, and the great City of Siracusa, being one of the chief of that kingdom; and which at that time had yielded itself again unto the King. I hearing Philargus (for so was this unworthy man called) was at his house, with his truly virtuous wife, whom my soul longed to see, I resolved to lodge there that night, not (alas) mistrusting the misfortune, but coveting to see her, whom more than my heart I loved, or loved my heart the better for being hers. So I went thither, where I was by him exceedingly well welcomed in outward show, though his meaning was contrary, which I should have found, had his devilish plots been ready, jealousy having now blinded him to all good nature or judgement. She poor Lady (poor only in this fortune) sad and grieved, all her smiles turned into sighs, and think, which made me fear, and wonder, wondering at the change of her beauty, which yet in paleness showed excellency; and fear I did, lest my absence had offended her: but I was deceived, while I lest thought of the true cause, or could imagine such villainy plotted against so rare perfections. Desirous to know the cause, I remained almost impatient, not venturing to speak to her before her husband, for hurting her: but he going out of the room, after we had supped, either to cover the flames which were ready to break out in huge fires of his mistrust, or to have the company fitter for him, affecting still to be chief; his absence, howsoever, gave me opportunity to demand the reason of her strangeness: She sighed to hear me call it so, and with tears told me the reason, concluding; and thus do you see my Lord (said she) the torments I suffer for your love; yet do you more torture me with doubting me, who have no happiness left me, but the knowledge of my faith to you, all afflictions being welcome to me, which for your sake I suffer. Between rage and pain I remained amazed, till she, taking me by the hand, brought me more woefully to myself with these words. And yet am I brought to a greater mischief; with that fixing her weeping eyes upon mine, which affectionately answered hers with looks and tears. I must my Lord (said she) entreat you to refrain this place, since none can tell what danger may proceed from mad, and unbridled jealousy; Refrain your sight? Command me then to die (said I). Have I deserved to be thus punished? Shall his brutishness undo my blessings? yet this place I will, since you will have it so, hoping you will find some means to let me know Philargus' house is not in all places. That I will do, or die (said she). Miserable wretch (cried I), art thou borne to such fortune, as to have this Lady love thee, and her unmatched goodness to suffer for one so worthless as thyself? No, no, my Lord (said she) in this you wrong me, and that judgement which heretofore you said was in me, since if you were unworthy then, my choice was unperfect: but you are worthy, and I worthily chose you; I loved you, and constantly loved you, and in this do I best allow of my own judgement. I hope that love is not clean gone (cried I), (my speech by love directed to say thus), nor will you forget me, though from our most desired meetings, we must be barred. My love, my Lord (said she) had, and hath too sure a ground to know remove, I too truly loved, and do love you, ever to forget it, or to let it have least shadow of lessening, though vailed in absence, but rather (if increase can be where all is already possessed) it shall increase; Love living best where desert, and sufferance join together; and for witness of it, take this (said she, bestowing her picture upon me, which is all the limena's I shall now enjoy, or ever did, more than her loved, and best beloved sight. The case was blue, commanding me withal to love that colour, both because it was hers, and because itself betokened truth. By this time her husband was come, who told us, 'twas time to go rest. We obeyed: and this was the last time that ever I saw my dear, and most worthily accounted dear Limena: for the next morning I was by day to be at the City, and so from thence to return to the Campe. Thus took I my leave, and my last leave of virtuous Limena, whose sad face, but sadder soul foretold our following harm, and succeeding ruin. For within few days after my return to the Camp, there came a Messenger early in the morning, and (O too early for my fortune) whom I straight knew to be limena's faithful Servant. At first, it brought joy to me, seeing a letter in his hand; but soon was that turned to as much mourning, cursing my hands that took it, and eyes that read so lamentable a letter; the contents (nay that itself) being this, and the very same my Mistress sent, and woe is me, the last she ere can send. Urania read it, while he with tears and groans gave the true period to it. The Letter said thus.  
MY only Lord, think not this, or the manner strange I now send, knowing already some part of the undeserved course taken with me; only pity her, who for your sake suffers patiently; accept these my last lines, and with them the sincerest love that ever woman gave to man. I have not time to speak what I would, therefore let this satisfy you, that the many threatenings I have heard, are come in some kind to end: for I must presently die, and for you; which death is most welcome, since for you I must have it, and more pleasing than life without you. Grant me then these last requests, which even by your love I conjure you not to deny me, that you love my poor memory; and as you will love that, or ever loved me, revenge not my death on my murderer, who, how unworthy soever he was, or is, yet he is my Husband. This is all, and this grant, as I will faithfully die  
Yours.  
Alas, fair Shepherdess (said he), is this a letter without much sorrow to be read? and is not this a creature of all others to be beloved? Never let him breath, that will not heartily, and most heartily lament such a misfortune. 'tis true, said Urania, reason and worth being companions: but yet I hear not the certainty or manner of her death, then will I not fail to lament with you. Alas, said he, hear it of me, only fit to tell that story. After my departure from his house to the City, and so to the Camp, the jealous wretch finding my Lady retired into a Cabinet she had, where she used to pass away some part of her unpleasant life: coming in, he shut the door, drawing his sword, and looking with as much fury, as jealous spite could with rage demonstrate; his breath short, his sword he held in his hand, his eyes sparkling as thick and fast, as an unperfectly kindled fire with much blowing gives to the Blower, his tongue stammeringly with rage bringing forth these words; thou hast wronged me, vild creature; I say thou hast wronged me: she who was compounded of virtue, and her spirit, seeing his wild and distracted countenance guest the worst, wherefore mildly she gave this answer. Philargus, said she, I know in mine own heart I have not wronged you, and God knows I have not wronged myself: these speeches, said he, are but the followers of your continued ill, and false living; but think no longer to deceive me, nor cousin yourself with the hope of being able, for in both you shall find as much want, as I do of your faith to me; but if you will speak confess the truth: O me, the truth, that you have shamed yourself in my dishonour, say you have wronged me, giving your honour, and mine to the loose, and wanton pleasure of Perissus; was I not great enough, amiable, delicate enough, but for lasciviousness you must seek, and woe him? Yet Limena I did thus deserve you, that once better than myself I loved you, which affection lives in the extremity still, but hath changed the nature, being now as full of hate, as then abounding in love, which shall instantly be manifested, if you consent not to my will, which is, that without dissembling speeches, or flattering fineness you confess your shameful love to the robber of my bliss: you may deny it, for how easy is it to be faulty in words, when in the truth of truth you are so faulty? but take heed, unfeignedly answer, or here I vow to sacrifice your blood to your wanton love; My Lord, said she, threatenings are but means to strengthen free and pure hearts against the threatners, and this hath your words wrought in me, in whom it were a foolish baseness for fear of your sword, or breath to confess what you demand, if it were true, far more did I deserve eternal punishment, if I would belie him, and myself for dread of a bare threatening; since sure, that sword, were it not for danger to itself, would, if any nobleness were in it, or his master, choose rather to dye itself in the blood of a man, then be seen in the wranglings between us: yet do I not deny my love to Perissus in all noble, and worthy affection, being I think nursed with me, for so long have I borne this respective love to him, as I know no part of my memory can tell me the beginning. Thus partly you have your will in assurance, that that unseperable love I bear him, was before I knew you, or perfectly myself, and shall be while I am, yet always thus in a virtuous, and religious fashion. O God, cried out Philargus what do I hear? or what can you style virtuous and religious, since it is to one besides your husband? hath shame possessed you? and excellent modesty abandoned you? you have in part satisfied me indeed, but thus to see, that I have just occasion to seek satisfaction for this injury: wherefore, resolve instantly to die, or obey me, write a letter strait before mine eyes unto him, conjure him with those sweet charms which have undone mine honour, and content to come unto you: Let me truly know his answer, and be secret, or I vow thou shalt not many minutes outlive the refusal. She, sweetest soul, brought into this danger, (like one being between a flaming fire, and a swallowing gulf, must venture into one, or standing still, perish by one) stood a while not amazed, for her spirit scorned so low a passion; but judicially considering with herself what might be good in so much ill; she with modest constancy, and constant determination, made this answer. This wretched, and unfortunate body, is I confess in your hands, to dispose of to death if you will; but yet it is not unblessed with such a mind as will suffer it to end with any such stain, as so wicked a plot, and miserable consent might purchase: nor will I blot my father's house with Treason, Treason? Nay, the worst of Treasons, to be a Traitor to my friend. Wherefore my Lord pardon me, for I will with more willingness die, then execute your mind; and more happily shall I end, saving him innocent from ill, delivering my soul pure, and I unspotted of the crime you tax me of, or a thought of such dishonour to myself; I might have said to you, but that this cruel course makes me thus part my honour from you; yet can you not part infamy, and reproach from you, nor me, said he: Prepare then quickly, this shall be your last; My Lord said she, behold before your eyes the most distressed of women, who if you will thus murder, is here ready: then untying a dainty embroidered waist coat; see here, said she, the breast, (and a most heavenly breast it was) which you so dear loved, or made me think so, call it purest warm snow; yet never was the colour purer than my love to you, but now 'tis ready to receive that stroke, shall bring my heart blood, cherished by you once, to dye it, in revenge of this my wrong revenge; nay, such revenge will my death have, as though by you I die, I pity your ensuing overthrow.  
Whether these words, or that sight (which not to be seen without adoring) wrought most I know not, but both together so well prevail as he stood in a strange kind of fashion, which she (who now was to act her part for life, or death) took advantage of, and this your cruelty will more appear when it is known you gave no time for consideration, or repentance, said she; you deserve no such favour from me, said he, but rather that I should with out giving care to that bewitching tongue have revenged my harm, but since I have committed this first, like faulty men, I must fall into another: Charity, but in no desert of yours, procures this favour for you; two days I give you, at the end of which be sure to content me with your answer, or content yourself with present death. The joy she at this conceived, was as if assured life had been given her, wherefore humbly thanking him, she promised to satisfy him so fully at that time, as he should (she hoped) be pleased with it. Away she went leaving her to her busy thoughts, yet somewhat comforted, since so she might acquaint me with her afflictions, for which cause grieving that I should be ignorant of the true means to her end, she so prettily gained that little time for the rarest lamp of excellent life to endure. Then called she a faithful servant of hers, and the same who brought me the doleful letter: First, she conjured him by the faith he bore her, to obey what she commanded, and to be secret; then related she this soul rendering story to him, which she enjoined him truly to discover to me, by his help getting pen and paper, and having written that dolorous, yet sweet, because loving letter, sent him to me that day she was to give her answer, which she assured him should be a direct refusal, esteeming death more pleasing and noble, then to betray me, who (for my now grief mixed with that blessing) she enriched with her incomparable affection, giving him charge to deliver it to mine own hands, and beside, to stay with me, assuring him I would most kindly entreat him for her sake, which she might truly warrant him, being Commandress of my soul. He found me in my Tent, ready to go forth; with a wan and sad countenance he gave that and my death together; then telling the lamentable story I now delivered you. With floods of tears, and storms of sighs he concluded: And by this, is the rarest piece of womankind destroyed. Had I grown into an ordinary passion like his of weeping, sobbing, or crying, it had not been fit for the excessive loss I was fall'n into; wherefore like a true Castaway of fortune, I was at that instant metamorphosed into misery itself, no other thing being able to equal me, no more than any, except the own fellow to a cockle shell, can fit the other. This change yet in me, which to myself was so sudden as I felt it not, was so marked by my friends, and by all admired, as those who feared the least, doubted my end; which would it then had happened, since, if so the earth no longer had borne such a wretch,, this sad place been molested with a guest perpetually filling it; and these places near, with my unceasing complaints. Despair having left me no more ground for hope but this, that ere long I shall ease them all, death proving merciful unto me, in delivering this grief-full body to the rest of a desired grave. My Lord Perissus (said Urania), how idle, and unprofitable indeed are these courses, since if she be dead, what good can they bring to her? and not being certain of her death, how unfit are they for so brave a Prince, who will as it were, by will without reason wilfully lose himself? will not any till the contrary be known, as properly hope as vainly despair? and can it be imagined her husband (who, passion of love did in his fury so much temper) should have so cruel a hand, guided by so savage a heart, or seen by so pitiless eyes, as to be able to murder so sweet a beauty? No my Lord, I cannot believe but she is living, and that you shall find it so, if unreasonable stubborn resolution bar you not, and so hinder you from the eternal happiness you might enjoy. Only rare Shepherdess (said the love-kill'd Perissus), how comfortable might these speeches be to one, who were able to receive them, or had a heart could let in one sign of joy? but to me they are rather bitter, since they but cherish me the longer to live in despairful misery. No, she is dead, and with her is all virtue, and beauteous constancy gone. She is dead: for how can goodness or pity be expected from him, who knew nothing more, then desire of ill and cruelty? Thou art dead, and with thee all my joys departed, all faith, love and worth are dead: to enjoy some part of which, in short time I will be with thee, that though in life we were kept asunder, in death we may be joined together, till which happy hour I will thus still lament thy loss. If you be resolved (said the dainty Urania), folly it were to offer to persuade you from so resolute a determination; yet being so brave a Prince, stored with all virtuous parts, discretion and judgement, me thinks, should not suffer you to bury them in the poor grave of Love's passion, the poorest of all other: these invite me, as from yourself, to speak to yourself; Leave these tears, and woman-like complaints, no way befitting the valiant Perissus, but like a brave Prince, if you know she be dead, revenge her death on her murderers; and after, if you will celebrate her funerals with your own life giving, that will be a famous act: so may you gain perpetual glory, and repay the honour to her dead, which could not be but touched by her untimely end. Her honour touched, and touched for me? O immortal God (cried he), thou wilt not (I hope) let a slave live should touch on such a thought, nor me to live after it were borne, if not to sacrifice my blood to wash away the stain. But I pray you since you undertake thus to advise me, how can I do this, and yet obey my Limena's command, in not revenging her death? Why that (replied the discreet Urania) proceeded wholly from the love she bore you, which rather is another motive to stir you, if you consider it, since the danger she apprehended you would run into, to right so delicate, yet unhappily, injured a Lady, and for you injured, forced her to use her authority for your safety. But let not that prevail, nor hinder a deadly revenge for so detestable a fact. Thus shall you approve yourself, a brave and worthy Lover, deserving her, who best deserved: but let it never be said, Perissus ended unrevenged of Philargus, and concluded his days like a Fly in a corner. These words wrought so far in the noble heart of Perissus, as rising from his leavy Cabin, than thus said he: Is Perissus the second time conquered? I must obey that reason which abounds in you; and to you, shall the glory of this attempt belong: now will I again put on those habits which of late I abandoned, you having gained the victory over my vow. But I beseech you, tell me who my Counsellor is, for too much judgement I find in you, to be directly, as you seem, a mere Shepherdess, nor is that beauty suitable to that apparel. My name, said she, is Urania, my bringing up hath been under an old Man, and his wife, who, till lately, I took for my Father and Mother but they telling me the contrary, and the manner of their finding me, makes me find I am lost, and so in truth, is much of my content, not being able to know any more of myself: I delighted before to tend a little Flock, the old pair put into my hands, now am I troubled how to rule mine own thoughts. This do I well credit, said Perissus, for more like a Princess, than a Shepherdess do you appear, and so much do I reverence your wisdom, as next unto Limena, I will still most honour you: and therefore, fair Urania, (for so I hope you will give me leave to call you), I vow before heaven and you, that I will never leave off my Arms, until I have found Philargus, and on him revenged my Lady's death, and then to her love and memory, offer up my afflicted life: but first shall you have notice of the success, which if good, shall be attributed to you; if ill, but to the continuance of my ill destiny. But if your fortune call you hence before you shall be found by them, I will employ (since the world hath not a place can keep the beauty of Urania hidden, if seen, then will it not be adored), they shall not leave, till they have found you; nor will you scorn that name from me, who shall now leave you the incomparable Urania. With these words they went out of the Cave, he strait going to a large Holly tree (the place rich with trees of that kind), on which at his coming to that melancholy abiding, he had hung his Armour, meaning that should there remain in memory of him, and as a monument after his death, to the end, that whosoever did find his body, might by that see, he was no mean man, though subject to fortune. Them he took down and armed himself, but while he was arming, Urania entreated him to do one thing more for her, which was to tell her how he came to that place. And that was ill forgot most fair Urania (said he): then know that as soon as I had received that letter so full of sorrow, and heard all that miserable relation, I was forced, notwithstanding the vow I had to myself made (of this solitary course you have relieved me from) to go against the Enemy, who with new forces, and under a new Leader, were come within sight of our Army: I thinking all mischiefs did then conspire together against me, with an enraged fury went towards them, hoping (and that only hope was left me) in that encounter to end my life, and care together in the battle, yet not slightly to part with it, in my soul wishing every one I had to deal withal had been Philargus. This wish after made me do things beyond myself, forcing not only our company and party to admire me, but also the contrary to be discouraged, so as we got the day, and not only that, but an end of the wars: for the chief Traitors being either killed or taken, the rest that outlived the bloody slaughter, yielded themselves to mercy, whom in my Uncle's name I pardoned, on condition that instantly they disbanded, and every one retire to his own home. This done, and my Uncle quietly settled in his seat, in the midst of those triumphs which were for this happy Victory, I stole away, leaving a letter with my new Servant, directed to the King, wherein I humbly asked pardon for my private departure, and with all the entreats that I could frame, persuaded him to entertain that servant of mine, and to accept of him as recommended by me, and accordingly to esteem of him. Then took I my way first to her Fathers, to know the manner and certainty, where I found unspeakable mourning and sadness, her Mother ready to die with her, as if she had brought her forth to be still as her life, that though two, yet like those eyes, that one being struck in a certain part of it, the other unhurt doth lose likewise the sight: so she having lost her, lost likewise all comfort with her; the servants mourned, and made pitiful lamentations: I was sorry for them, yet gratefully took their mourning: for me thought it was for me, none being able to grieve sufficiently, but myself for her loss. When her Mother saw me, who ever she well loved, she cried out these words: O my Lord, see here the miserable Woman deprived of all joy, having lost my Limena, your respected friend. Full well do I now remember your words, when with gentle and mild persuasions, you would have had us stay her going from this place unto his house. Would we had then feared, or believed: then had she been safe, whereas now she is murdered. Murdered (cried I), O speak again, but withal how? Her husband, said she, led her forth, where in a Wood, thick enough to shade all light of pity from him, he killed her, and then burned her, her clothes found in the Wood besmeared with blood, and hard by them the remnant of a great fire; they with such store of tears, as had been able to wash them clean, and quench the fire, were brought to the house by those, who went to seek her, seeing her long stay; not mistrusting harm, but that they had forgotten themselves. The rest seeing this doleful spectacle, rend their hair, and gave all testimony of true sorrow: then came these news to us; how welcome, judge you, who I see feel sorrow with us: her father & brothers armed themselves, and are gone in search of him, who was seen with all speed to pass towards the Sea. Thus hear you the Daughter's misfortune, which must be followed by the mother's death: and God send, that as soon as I wish, my Lord and Sons may meet with that ungrateful wretch to revenge my miserable child's loss. This being done, she swooned in my arms, myself being still in my transformed estate, helped her as much as I could, then delivering her to her servants, I took my leave, buying this armour to go unknown, till I could find a place sad enough to pass away my mournful hours in. Many countries I went thorough, and left (for all were too pleasant for my sorrow), till at last I lighted on this happy one, since in it I have received as much comfort by your kind and wise counsel, as is possible for my perplexed heart to entertain. By this time he was fully armed, which made the sweet Urania admire him; and if more pity had lodged in her then before, she had afforded him; his goodly personage and doleful looks so ill agreeing, had purchased; for she did pity him so much, as this had almost brought the end of some kind of pity, or pity in some kind love: but she was ordained for another, so as this proved only a fine beginning to make her heart tender against the others coming. Now was he ready to depart, wherefore they came down from the rock, when being at the bottom they met a young shepherd, whose heart Urania had (although against her will) conquered. This Lad she entreated to conduct Perissus to the next town, which he most willingly consented to, thinking himself that day most happy when she vouchsafed to command him; withal she enjoined him, not to leave him, till he saw him shipped, which he performed, coming again to her to receive thanks more welcome to him, then if a fine new flock had been bestowed on him. Perissus gone, Urania for that night drove her flock homeward, giving a kind look unto the rock as she returned, promising often to visit it for brave Perissus' sake, and to make it her retiring place, there to pass some of her melancholy hours in. The next morning as soon as light did appear, or she could see light (which sooner she might do then any, her eyes making day, before day else was seen) with her flock she betook herself to the meadow, where she thought to have met some of her companions, but being early, her thoughts having kept more careful watch over her eyes, thought itself grown peremptory with such authority. She found none come, wherefore leaving the flock to the charge of a young Lad of hers, took her way towards the rock, her mind faster going then her feet, busied still, like one holding the Compass, when he makes a circle, turns it round in his own centre: so did she, her thoughts encircled in the ignorance of her being. From this she was a little moved by the coming of a pretty Lamb towards her, who with pitiful cries, and bleat, demanded her help, or she with tender gentleness imagined so; wherefore she took it up, and looking round about if she could see the dam, perceiving none, wandered a little amongst bushes and rude places, till she grew something weary, when sitting down she thus began to speak: Poor Lamb, said she, what moan thou mak'st for loss of thy dear dam? what torments do I then suffer, which never knew my mother? thy miss is great, yet thou a beast may'st be brought up, and soon contented having food; but what food can be given me, who feed on nothing but Despair, can that sustain me? No, want of knowledge starves me, while other things are plentiful. Poor innocent thing; how doth thy wailing suit with mine? Alas, I pity thee, myself in some kind wanting such a pity. Then she did hear a noise in the bushes, looking what it should be, she saw a fierce she-wolfe come furiously towards her: she, who (though a spirit matchless lived in her) perceiving her, wished the beast further, yet taking her wont strength of heart, and virtuous thoughts together, she thus said; O heaven defend me miserable creature if thou please; if not, grant me this blessing, that as I shall here end, not knowing any parents to sorrow for me, so those parents (if living) may never know my loss, lest they do grieve for me. As she thus religiously gave her thoughts, and her last, as she thought to the highest, the beast running towards her of the sudden stood still; one might imagine, seeing such a heavenly creature, did amaze her, and threaten for meddling with her: but such conceits were vain, since beasts will keep their own natures, the true reason being, as soon appeared, the hasty running of two youths, who with sharp spears, soon gave conclusion to the supposed danger, killing the wolf as she stood harkening to the noise they made. But they not seeing Urania, who on her knees was praising God, said one to another, Alas, have we hasted to kill this beast, which now is not for our turn, little help can this give to our sick father. Urania then looked up, hearing humane voices, which she so little expected, as only death was that she looked for: but then perceived she two young men, whose age might be judged to be some seventeen years; faces of that sweetness, as Venus' love could but compare with them, their hair which never had been cut, hung long, yet longer much it must have been, had not the dainty natural curling somewhat shortened it, which as the wind moved, the curls so prettily played, as the Sunbeams in the water; their apparel Goat's skins cut into no fashion, but made fast about them in that sort, as one might see by their sight they were wild; yet that wildness was governed by modesty, their skin most bare, as arms and legs, and one shoulder, with part of their thighs; but so white was their skin, as seemed the Sun in love with it, would not hurt, nor the bushes so much as scratch; on their feet they had a kind of shoes, which came up to the ankle. Thus they were before the Prime of Shepherdesses, who coming to them, and saluting them, they stepped back in wonder to see that beauty, which yet in the masculine they came near to, then laying admiration so far a part, as to keep themselves safe from rudeness in some kind, one of them began: Divine creature, pardon this our boldness, which hath brought us thus rudely to your presence, if we have offended, let our humility in sorrow excuse us; or if this beast we have killed was favoured by you, take us who are rude men, to serve you in that stead: in the mean time accept our petition to be forgiven our fault. Urania, who had before in their outsides seen enough to be wondered at, hearing their speech, bred more admiration, she answered them; Your beauties mixed with so much mildness and sweetness, might plead for you, if you had offended, which I saw not: but in having given too much respect to me, the most miserable of women; nor any rudeness see I, but in that beast which you have so manfully destroyed: if your habits show wildness, your speech takes away that error; nor have you committed any fault, if not in saving me to live to greater miseries. The young men then blushing, humbly thanking her, were taking their leaves, when she courteously desired them, that since they had rescued her, she might know the men that saved her, and the adventure brought them thither. They answered; Withal their hearts they would satisfy her demand, but for that time desired to be excused, since they were sent by their old weak father to get some food for him, which when they had done, they would return to her. She hearing this; Alas (said she), shall you who have kept me out of the throat of a ravening wolf, want what I may help you to? Go to your father, I will accompany you; this Lamb shall feed him, at this time sent of purpose without doubt, to cherish so good and blest a man, as is father to two such sons: and then may I know your story and his together. They happy to see so fit a dish for his age, on their knees would have thanked her, but she hindered them; and so together they went towards the place where he remained, which was in a Cave under a great rock near to the sea; when they arrived at the place, the elder of the two went in, telling the old man of the fair shepherdesses coming, and her kindness to him. Wherefore he sent out a young maid, who was clothed in plain (but neat) apparel: of such beauty, as who had seen her alone, would have thought her incomparable, but Urania excelled her; meeting of her, knowing by the youth she was his sister, most sweetly saluted her, taking her by the hand, went in, where they found the old man so feeble, as he had but his tongue left to serve himself or them withal: and well did it then serve him for the good of the young men, thus beginning to Urania: Admired Shepherdess, and most worthy to be so; since the inward beauty of your mind so much excels the peerless excellency of your outward perfections, as virtue excels beauty, see here a poor sign of greatness, overwhelmed with misfortune, and be as you are, all excelling, a happy means to aidean else destroyed hope of rising; sit down here, and grudge not me that honour; for before the story be ended, you will see more reason to pity than scorn, and you my sons & daughter come near, for now shall you know that, which I have till this present kept from you, for fear I should not else have held you in this poor, but quiet living. They being ready to sit, & hear the story, a man's voice made them stay, & Urania entreated (as in less danger if seen then the other) to go forth, she perceived a gentleman of that delicacy for a man, as she was struck with wonder; his sweetness & fairness such, as the rarest painters must confess themselues unable to sergeant such perfections, & so exquisite proportion. He had a mantle richly embroidered with pearl and gold, the colour of that and his other apparel being watchet suitably embroidered, his hair fair and shining, so young he was, as he had but the sign of a beard; Arms he had none, save a sword to defend himself, or offend his enemies, he came softly and sadly on towards the rock, but his eyes to the seaward: she beholding him, said; O sweet Island, how may'st thou indeed boast thyself for being the harbour of all excellent persons. He whose mind was distant from him, held his eyes and thoughts as at first fixed, beseeching the sea, if she had Amphilanthus in her power, she would be pitiful unto him: after he had concluded these words, he (whose soul was absent from him) looked towards the Island, when his eyes were soon called to admire, and admiringly behold the rare Shepherdess, who in the same kind of wonder looked on him. He ravished with the sight, scarce able to think her an earthly creature, stood gazing on her. She who poor soul had with the sight of Perissus, given leave for love to make a breach into her heart, the more easily after to come in and conquer, was in so great a passion, as they seemed like two Masterpieces, framed to demonstrate the best, and choicest skill of art, at last (as men have the stronger and bolder spirits) he went unto her, not removing his eyes in the least from hers, and with a brave, but civil manner thus spoke unto her. If you be, as you seem an incomparable Shepherdess, let me be so much favoured of you, as to be permitted to ask some questions: but if you be a heavenly person as your rareness makes me imagine, let me know, that by the humble acknowledging my fault, I may gain pardon. Alas Sir, said Urania, so far am I from a heavenly creature, as I esteem myself the most miserable on earth; wherefore if any service I can do may pleasure you, I beseech you command me, so may I receive some happiness, which I shall obtain in obeying you. What I will demand, said he, shall be such things as you may easily grant, and by that make me your servant. I desire to know what this place is, but most what you are: for never can I believe you are as you seem, unless for the greater wonder all excellency, should be masked under this Shepherdess attire. For the perfections in me, as you call them, said Urania, were they not made perfect by so excellent a Speaker, would be of no more value, than the estimation I make of my poor beauty; touching your demands, I will as well as I can satisfy you in them. This Island is called Pantalaria, governed by an ancient worthy Lord called Pantalerius, who having received some discontent in his own Country, with his family, and some others that loved and served him, came hither, finding this place unpossessed, and so named it after his own name, having ever since in great quiet and pleasure remained here; himself and all the rest taking the manner and life of shepherds upon them, so as now this place is of all these parts most famous for those kind of people. For myself I can say nothing, but that my name is Urania, an old man and his wife having bred me up as their own, till within these few days they told me that, which now more afflicts me, than the poverty of my estate did before trouble me, making me so ignorant of myself as I know no parents. For they told me, that I was by them found hard by the seaside, not far from these rocks, laid in a cradle with very rich clothes about me, a purse of gold in the cradle, and a little writing in it, which warned them that should take me up to look carefully to me, to call me Urania, and when I came to sixteen years of age to tell this to me, but by no means before, this they have truly performed, and have delivered me the mantle and purse, that by them, if good fortune serve, I may come to knowledge; enjoining me beside, not to keep this my story secret from any, since this sweet place enticing many into it, may chance to bring some one to release me from this torment of Ignorance. It could not be otherwise, said he, since such sweetness, and peerless loveliness are matched together. But now, said Urania, let me know I beseech you, who I have discovered myself unto; Let us sit down, said he, under these Rocks, and you shall know both who I am, and the cause of my coming hither: Nay, answered Urania, if it please you, let us rather go into a Cave hard by, where I have left an old weak man, ready to tell me his Story, having with him two of the finest youths, and a Maid of the rarest beauty that eye can behold, and desirous he is to speak, for long he cannot endure. So together they came into the Cave, the grave man reverently with bowing down his head, saluting him thus; Brave Sir, for Majesty do I perceive in your countenance, which makes me give you this title, Welcome to my poor abiding, and most welcome, since now I trust, I shall dispose of my Sons, according to my long wish and desire: sit I beseech you down, and tell me who you are, that then I may discourse to you the lamentable fortune I and these my children are fallen into. The stranger sat down between the old man and the excellent Shepherdess, beginning his Tale thus. My name said he, is Parselius, Prince of Morea, being elder Son unto the King thereof, which Country I left with a dear friend of mine, who besides the untying band of friendship we live linked in, is my kinsman, and heir to the Kingdom of Naples, called Amphilanthus, resolving not to return, till we had heard news of a lost Sister of his, who in the first week after her birth was stolen away, since which time an old man, whether by divination or knowledge, assured the King her Father, she is living. Wherefore the most brave of Princes, Amphilanthus, resolved to seek her, myself loving him as well, or better than myself, would not be denied to accompany him: for having been ever bred in nearness of affections, as well as in conversation together, it could not be, but we must like the soul and body live, and move: so we betook ourselves to the Sea, leaving Morea, passing many adventures in diverse Countries, still seeking the least frequented, and privatest places keeping to the West, for that way we were directed by the wise man. At last we arrived in Sicily, which Country we found in great trouble, wars being broke out again after the departure of Perissus, Nephew to the King, who had settled the State in good peace and quiet. But their hearts either not fully reconciled, or only reconciled to him, after his departure, which as we heard was strange and sudden, being never since heard of, they rebelled again; but we soon appeased the business, settling the King in his seat with all quiet and safety. Then did Amphilanthus and I, though against my heart, part our bodies, but never shall our minds be parted, he in one ship, taking I know not justly what course, but I trust the happiest: myself guided by fortune, not appointing any one place to bend to, was brought hither, promising at our parting to meet at his Father's Court in Italy within twelve months after. But shorter I hope now my journey will be, since I verily believe, you most fair Shepherdess are the lost Princess, and rather do I think so, because you much resemble Leonius, the younger brother to Amphilanthus, whose beauty in man cannot be equalled, though surpassed by you. When he had concluded, the old man with tears thus said: O Almighty God, how great are thy blessings to me, that before I die, thou doffed thus bring the most desired happiness I could wish for, in sending hither that Prince, who only can restore our good unto us. Most mighty and worthily honoured Prince; see here before your royal presence, the unfortunate king of Albania, who in the wars between Achaya and Macedon, taking part with Achaya, was beaten out of my country, and forced to wander, seeking safety far from the place, where my safety ought most to have been. I came to your father's Court, it is true, poor, and unlike a Prince, which sight took away so much as pity; Courtiers, rather out of their bravery, contemning, then compassionating extremity: beside, your Mother, being Sister to the Macedonian king then living, would not permit me any favour, my kingdom in the mean while spoilt, and parted among such, as could prevail by strength and policy to get shares. When I found myself in this misery, with my wife and some few friends we went away, leaving Morea, and all hope of gaining any good in Greece, following what course our stars would guide us to, we came hither, where it pleased God to bless us with these two boys, and this daughter, after whose being seven years old, she died. Yet for all it is, and was a joy to me, to see of my own for my posterity, finding that likelihood of princely virtues (as I hope) shallbe one day manifested, it hath grieved me to think how I should leave them; but now my hopes are revived, since I trust that danger is past; your noble, and magnanimous virtues being such, as to take pity of any, how much more than will your honour be, to assist distressed Princes? And now may you well do it, since a servant of mine, who I have often sent thither, to see how things pass, doth assure me, your Uncle is dead, and a mighty Lord being next heir-male, which by the laws of the country was otherwise, hath got the Crown, having enclosed your fair young cousin, right heir to the kingdom of Macedon, being only daughter to the late king, in a strong tower till she be of age, & then to marry her; or if she refuse, to keep her there still, and this is the best she can expect. Wherefore sir, thus you are bound to rescue her: then I beseech you take these two young men into your protection, who till now, knew no other, then that they were mean boys, I not daring to let them know their birth, lest those great spirits which live in them, should have led them into some dangerous course: but still I have kept them under, making them know hardness and misery, the better still to endure it, if so cross their fortunes be; or if they come to enjoy their right, they may know the better to command, having so well learned to obey and serve. And most delicate Shepherdess, do you I pray accept of this young maid for your friend and companion, since if you be the King of Naples daughter, or any other Princes, you need not scorn the company of the Albanian Kings daughter. Parselius taking the old King in his arms; And is it my good fortune most famous King of Albania (said he) to have it in my power to serve so excellent a Prince? Doubt not then but I will with all faithful love and diligence (as soon as I have concluded this search, with meeting my dearest friend in Italy) go into Morea, and from thence carry such forces as shall (with my other friends I will join with me) restore you to your right, and pull down that Macedonian Usurper, were it but for wronging you. But since I have so fair an occasion to revenge such injuries offered so virtuous a Prince as yourself, in keeping a kingdom, and usurping another from his rightful Queen, I am doubly bound: your sons I accept to be my companions, and as brothers to me will I be careful of them; the like did Urania's promise for the young Lady. Then the old king before overcharged with sorrow, was now so ravished with joy, as not being able to sustain, bursting into floods of kind tears, and his soul turned into a passion of joy unsupportable, being only able to kiss the Prince Parselius and Urania, embracing, blessing, and kissing his children, giving them charge faithfully and lovingly to observe, and love that brave Prince, and sweet Shepherdess, like a child for quiet ending, gave up the ghost in their arms he best did love. Great sorrow was made among them for his death; but then growing almost night, Urania for that time went home, leaving the three to attend the King's body till the next morning, directing Parselius to the sad abiding of the perplexed Perissus, promising to come to the Cave by Sun rising to dispose of all things.  
Urania's being come home, little meat contented her, making haste to her lodging, that there she might discourse with herself of all her afflictions privately, and freely, throwing herself on her bed, she thus began: Alas, Urania, how doth misery love thee, that thus makes thee continually her companion? What is this new pain thou feelest? What passion is this thy heart doth entertain? I have heard my imagined Father, and many more, talk of a thing called Love, and describe it to be a delightful pain, a sought, and cherished torment, yet I hope this is not that: for slave am I enough already to sorrow, no need have I then to be oppressed with passion: Passion, O passion! yet thou rulest Me. Ignorant creature to love a stranger, and a Prince, what hope hast thou, that because thou art not known, thou shouldst be known to love in the best place? I had rather yet offend so then in a mean choice, since if I be daughter of Italy, I chose but in mine own rank, if meaner, ambition is more noble than baseness. Well then, if I do love, my only fault is in too soon loving; but neither in love, nor choice: Love plead for me, since if I offend, It is by thy power, and my faults must, as made, be salved by thee. I confess, I am won, and lost, if thou, brave Prince, pity not, and save me. Sweet Chastity, how did I love, and honour thee? Nay, almost vow myself unto thee, but I have failed, Love is the more powerful God, and I was borne his subject: with that she rose up and went to the window to see if it were day, never knowing before, what it was to wish for any thing (except the knowledge of herself) now longs for day, watches the hours, deems every minute a year, and every hour an Age, till she again enjoyed Parselius sight, who all that night took as little rest; hope, love, and fear so vexing him, and tyrannising over him, as sleep durst not close, nor seize his eyes to any the least slumber, all his content being in thinking on Urania; wishing from his soul she were the lost Princess, that then they might happily enjoy; which wish by love was chid, since love was able in him to make her great enough, and those wishes were but to add to that which ought to be so perfect, as itself should of itself be sufficient to make happiness, which is the greatest greatness. Then did he resolve, whatsoever she was, to make her his Wife; his Father, Country, Friend, and all must love Urania. Thus all must yield to her, or lose him already yielded. He whose youth and manlike conversation scorned the poor name and power of love is now become his Bondman, cries out on nothing but Urania; thinks of nothing, hopes for nothing, but the gain of her perfections to his love: accusing this night for spitefully being longer than any other that ever he knew, affection and desire making it appear tedious unto him, and why? because it kept Urania from him. O (would he say) how happy wert thou Parselius to land on this shore, where thou hast gained the Goddess of the earth to be thy Mistress, Urania to be thy love? But than would a lovers fear take him, making him tremblingly sigh and say; But if she should not love again, wretch of all men, what would become of thee? Courage then joining with hope, would bring him from that sad despair, giving him this comfort; Yet sure (said he) her heart was not framed of so excellent temper, her face of such beauty, and herself wholly made in perfectness, to have cruelty lodged in her: No, she was made for love, than she must love; and if so, pity will claim some part; and if any, or to any, who more deserves it then myself, who most affecteth her? With that he went to the mouth of the rock, from whence he might discoverall the plains, carefully and lovingly beholding them: You blessed Plains (said he) which daily have that treasure, which the rest of the world wanting, confesseth sense of poverty; dull earth, ignorant of your riches, neither knowing, nor caring how to glory sufficiently for bearing, and continually touching such perfections, why dost not thou with all excellencies strive to delight her? sending forth soft and tender grass, mixed with sweetest flowers when she will grace thee, suffering thee to kiss her feet as she doth tread on thee? but when she lies on thee, dost thou not then make thyself delicate, and change thy hardness to daintiness and softness? Happy, most happy in her sweet weight; and yet when she doth leave thee do not the flowers vade, and grass die for her departure? Then he perceived her coming a far off down the plains, her flock some feeding but most leaping, and want only playing before her. And well may you do this most lucky flock (said he) having such a Commandress, and so fair a Guardian: well doth joy become you, showing you sensibly do know the blessing you enjoy. But what will you do when she shall leave you? leave this pleasure, pine, starve, and die with so great misery. Alas I pity you, for such a change will be. And what wilt thou, sweet Island, do? let in the sea, be drowned, and lose thy pleasant solitariness. Having thus said, he left the desolate rock, and went to meet her, who with equal love and kindness met him; such indeed was their affection, as can be expressed by nothing but itself, which was most excellent. When the first passion was past, which joy governed for sight, love taking the place of speech: Ah Urania (said he); how did the Sun show himself in his brightest and most glorious habits to entertain thee in these meads, coveting to win thy favour by his richness triumphing in his hope of gain? What moved thy sight then in my soul? Think you not it grew to ravishing of my senses? The Sun (said she) shined (me thought, most on you, being as if so fond, as he did give himself to be your servant, circling you about, as if he meant, that you should be the body, and himself serve for your beams. With that he took her hand, and with an affectionate soul kissed it, than went they together to the Cave where the two young savage Princes, and their Sister attended them: then did they privately bury the old King, promising (if businesses went well, that they by Parselius favour might recover their right) to fetch his worthy body, and lay it with the other famous Kings of Albania.  
This being agreed upon they went out of the Cave, Steriamus and Selarinu (for so the young Princes were called) went first in their savage habits, which they resolved to wear till they came where they might fit themselves with apparel, and Arms befitting their Estates: Parselius then promising to knight them: Next after them went the Morean Prince leading Urania, and she holding Selarina by the hand. Being come into the Plain, Parselius again speaking to Urania, urged the likelihood of her being the lost Princess, beside, assuring her, howsoever, of no lower an Estate if she would go with him. She made him this answer. A Prince, said she, can demand or promise but Princely things; I believe you to be so, because you say so; and that face, me thinks, should not dissemble, out of this I credit you, and so consent to go with you; then nobly and virtuously, as I trust you, dispose of me. He casting up his eyes to Heaven, Let me, nor my attempts prosper, said he, when I break faith and virtuous respect to you; now let us to the Ship. Nay, I beseech you first, said she, permit me to take my leave of my good friends, and formerly supposed Parents, lest my absence bring their death, if ignorant of my fortune: beside, we will carry the mantle and purse with us. He soon agreed unto it, and so together they went to the house, the late abiding of the matchless Shepherdess, where they found the good old folks sitting together before the door, expecting the return of Urania. But when they saw her come so accompanied, they wondered at it; and though poor, yet were they civil, wherefore they went towards them, and hearing by the fair Shepherdess who the Princes were, kneeled down, and would have kissed the hand of Parselius: but he who respected them for their care of Urania, would not permit them to do so much reverence, lifting them up, and embracing them, told them the same story of his travel, and cause thereof, as he had done to Urania, and then concluded, that the likelihood of her being that sought for Princess, was the reason why they agreed to go together, he promising to conduct her safely into Italy, and if she proved the Princess, to deliver her to her father, which verily he believed he should do; and seldom do men's imaginations in that kind fail, especially having so good grounds to lay their hopes upon. The old folks sorry to part with Urania, yet knowing she was not ordained to tarry with them, would not seem to contradict their wills: wherefore fetching the mantle and purse with the little writing delivered them to Urania, whose good disposition was such, as she could not refrain from tears when she parted with them, they wishing their age would have permitted them to have attended her, but being feeble it was not for them to travel, especially to go so uncertain a journey, but in their place they desired their daughter might serve her; which she willingly consented to.  
Thus everything concluded, they took their leaves, and way to the Ship, which they found where Parselius had left her, but not as he had parted from her; for much more company was in her, and a strange encounter, he found his Servant's Prisoners, his Arms possessed, and all his goods in the hands of a Pirate: yet had he governed it so, as this misadventure was not dicouered till they were aboard. Parselius alone in regard of his company and some women, would nevertheless, have ventured his life to have kept Urania free, such was his love, by none to be surpassed: his compassion likewise was great on the other Princess; in himself, feeling the just cause, as he thought, they had to mistrust him, and his promises to be valuelesse, this accident being the first of their hoped for joys.  
But she, whose truth in belief would not permit her to have the least part of suspicion to enter, much less, lodge in her breast against him, hindered that brave (but doubtful) attempt, using these speeches to him.  
Be satisfied, my dearest friend, said she, and hazard not yourself in this kind, seeking to alter what is ordained by Fate, and therefore not to be changed: but rather give us example, as confidently, and mildly to suffer this adversity, as happily we might have enjoyed the other we expected. He only with a languishing, but (to her) loving look, answered her, when the Pirate, contrary to their expectation, came, and kneeling down before Urania, used these words.  
Let not, fairest Princess, this accident trouble you, since your imprisonment shall be no other than the command of me, and mine: neither most noble Sir, be you, or these other offended; for sooner will I do violence on myself then any way wrong those that come with this Lady: Be patient, and you shall soon see, the cause of my taking this noble prey; this said, he rose, and placing them all on fine seats in the Cabin, where lately the Prince had sat free from both the bands of love, and imprisonment, himself sitting before them began his discourse in this manner (while the ship under sail was guided the way which he directed the pillar) My name (said he) is Sandringall, borne and bred in the land of Romania, being servant to the King thereof: this King lived long as one may say, the favourite of fortune, being blest in his government with peace, and love of his people, but principally happy in two children, a son, and a daughter, younger by some years than her brother, he being called Antisius, and she Antisia; promising in their youths all comfort to succeed in their age: but destiny herein commanded, disposing quite other ways, and thus it was. The King my Master having in his youth been a brave and valiant Prince, giving himself unto the seeking and finishing adventures, a strict league of friendship grew between him, and the King of Achaia, for whose sake he left his country, with a great army assisting him against his Macedonian enemy: after returning with honour and content, the Achaean King grateful for such a courtesy, being grown in years, sent Ambassadors to demand his daughter in marriage for his son, and withal to have the Princess sent unto him, to be brought up together, to the end, that conversation (a ready friend to love) might nurse their affections so well, as she might as contentedly be his daughter, as it was affectionately desired of him. His son, as towardly a Prince as those parts had, called Leandrus, with whom few Christian Princes will compare, except the two Cousens Parselius and Amphilanthus: but to my discourse. My Master soon consented to the Achayan kings demand, which although for the farnesse of the country he might have refused; yet the nearness of their loves was such, as he could not deny him, or his request, resolving instantly to send the one half of his happiness to his old friend; and for this end he sent for me, but herewithal begins my misery, caused by my treachery, which heartily I repent, and am ashamed of. I being arrived at his Court, out of an ancient confidence which he had of my loyalty to him, committed this charge unto me, to see his Antissia carefully conducted and delivered to the king of Achaya: giving me directions, and counsel how to carry myself; besides sole authority and power in this embassage. Thus we departed, my wife attending on her person; accompanied we were with most of the nobility, their loves being such, as they parted not till they saw the young Princess shipped. Covetousness (a dangerous sin in this time) bred in my wife (seeing the infinite riches the father had sent with his child); her persuasions beside (or rather joined to the devilish sense of gain) made me consent to detestable wickedness. Led by this wicked subtlety, we resolved not to take our way to Achaya, but to put in to some Island, there to sell the jewels, and leave the Princess in a religious house, not to be known while her dear Parents should esteem her lost, we using the gain to our own profits. More cunningly to carry this, we sent a servant of ours before into the ship, with such provision as our plot required, towards night, the sweet young Lady embarked, with belief to go into Achaya; we purposing nothing less: for in the dead time of the night we set the ship on fire, having before (when most slept) conveyed the treasure into the long boat: then with as much amazement as any (nothing like the bellows of that fuel) I took the Princess in mine arms leaping into the boat, calling to my wife to follow me, withal cutting the cord, lest others should leap in: she leapt, but short, her fin so heavy drowning her, and my trusty servant, with all the knights, in number twenty, and the Ladies sent to attend Antisia were drowned, or burned, or both. Then played I the waterman, making towards the next shore we could discover; day breaking gave us sight of one, yet only for flattering hope to play withal, not to be enjoyed, for instantly were we set on by rovers, who kept about these coasts. The Princess they took from me, and all the treasure, leaving me in the boat, and towing it by the ship in the midst of the sea, left me with bread and water for two days, but without oar, sail, or hope; yet such, and so favourable was my destiny, as within that time a Pirate scouring the seas took me up, who not long after was set upon by another. But than did the first arm me to serve him, which in gratitude I did, and so well defended him, as we had the victory by the death of the other, slain with my hand: for requital hereof, he bestowed the new won Bark upon me, and men to serve me. Glad was I of this, having means to search for the Princess, which I vowed with true and humble repentance to perform, never giving over, till I had found the lost Antisia, or ended my life in the service. And this is the reason I took you, for having landed here, and by chance seen you, I strait remembered your face, wherefore I determined by some way or other to compass the means to get you before my parting hence; and had not this happy occasion befallen me, some other had not failed to achieve my purpose. Then tell me where have you been these ten years: for so long it is since you were lost: and with all I beseech you let my submission and repentance gain my pardon. Truly (said Urania) you have told so ill a tale, as if I were the lost Princess, I should scarce forget so great an injury: but satisfy yourself with this, and the hope of finding her, while you have in your power one, who (alas) is lost too. The Pirate at this grew much troubled and perplexed, for so unadvisedly having discovered his former ill: thus they remained, the Pirate vexed, Urania grieved, Parselius in soul tormented, the others moved as much, as respect in them to the other two, could move in noble minds, lest, or not at all, thinking of themselves, in comparison of them: all sitting with arms crossed, and eyes cast down upon the earth, except the Pirate, whose mind was busied with higher thoughts, none knowing to what end they would have ascended, had not a voice awaked them, which came from a Sailor, who bade them prepare. This called not the rest from their sorrow, nor moved Urania so much as to hear it, who sat not tearless, though speechless, while her sighs accompanied the wind in loud blowing. Sandringal looking forth, saw the cause of the cry proceeded from the sight of the great Pirate of Syracuse, whose force was thereabouts too well known: then did he take his arms, delivering Parselius his own into his hands, entreating his aid. Parselius lifted up his eyes, and as he raised them, he placed them on Urania, as the sphere where they alone should move, using these words: Now have we some hope, since once more I possess my arms: those (in show) savage youths helping him. By this time was the other ship come to them, when there began a cruel fight between them: being grappled, Parselius encountered the chief Pirate, Sandringal a black Knight, who was so strong and valiant, as Sandringal gained much honour so long to hold out with him. Parselius killed his enemy, when at that instant the black Knight strake the head of Sandringal from his shoulders; which Parselius seeing, Farewell Sandringal (said he), now are Antissia and Leandrus well revenged for thy treason. With that the black Knight commanded his part to be quiet, himself throwing down his sword, and pulling of his helm, ran and embraced Parselius, who knowing him to be Leandrus, with as much affection held him in his arms: thus was the business ended, all growing friends by their example. Then were all the prisoners brought forth of both the ships, amongst whom he knew one to be the Squire of his dear friend and Cousin, Amphilanthus, and two Gentlemen who had mortal hatred (as it did appear) one unto the other: for no sooner came they together, but they would have buffeted each other, wanting weapons to do more; the one of them Leandrus took into his custody, while the other began his story thus. My Lords (said he) first let me beseech pardon for this rudeness; next, claim justice on this villain, who hath not only wronged me, but in his unmannerly discourse injured the bravest Christian Princes; and that you may know the truth, give me liberty to speak this to you. My name is Allimarlus, borne in Romania, and Page I was unto the King thereof; but being come to man's estate, and so much knowledge, as to see and commiserate my Master's misery, which had the flood from two springs; the first was the loss of his daughter Antissia, being sent under the conduct of his faithful (as he esteemed) servant Sandringal (who so well he trusted, as he would have ventured his life in his hands; which appeared in putting the fair Antissia in his power, who as himself he loved) to be delivered to the King of Achaia, desiring a match between her and the king's son, called the hopeful Leandrus; but in the way the ship was spoilt by an unlucky fire, and she (as it was conjectured) lost, which since proved otherwise, not being swallowed by the unmerciful sea, but betrayed by her Guardian, and stolen again from him by Rovers; since which time little news hath been heard of her, saving hope of her living. The other, and greater affliction was, and is, a wicked woman he hath made his wife, after the death of his virtuous Queen, who died as soon as she had seen her worthily beloved Son Antissius blessed with a Son, whom they called after his own name, who having endured a long and painful search for his Sister, at his return took a sweet and excellent Lady, called Lucenia to wife; who, though she were not the fairest, yet truly was she beautiful, and as fair as any in goodness, which is the choicest beauty. But this second marriage made them first know misery, the king old, and passionately doting on her: she young, politic and wicked, being the widow of a Noble man in the Country, whose beastliness and cruelty cost the Prince his life, and bred the ruin of the State, as I have since my departure from thence, understood by a Knight of that Country. But to my discourse: The King one day after he had banished his son Antissius the Court, and by her damnable counsel put such jealousy into his head, as he now feared and hated him, that once was three parts of his joy. This and the loss of his other comfort Antissia, did so perplex him, as one day being at dinner, he began with tears to speak of Antissius, blaming his unnaturalness to him in his age, who had so tenderly and lovingly cherished his youth: but little of that she would suffer him to discourse of, lest his deserved pity might have hindered her ends, and so her plots have failed, or been discovered. Then spoke he of his young friend and once hoped for son Leandrus, who in search of Antissia, was said to be slain, by reason that his Squire returned to the Court (after long seeking his Lord, who by misadventure he had lost), bringing his armour shrewdly cut and battered, which he had found in a meadow, but no news of his Master; only this probability of his loss a country fellow gave him, telling him, that gallant men in gay armours had not far off performed a gallant fight, wherein some were killed, and one Knights body carried thence by a Lady, who followed the Knight, having but one more with her, whither they went, or more of the matter, he could not tell. With this and the armour he returned to the old King, who the kindest of fathers, did accordingly suffer for this too likely disaster. From that he fell to the last and first of his misfortune, speaking of Antissia, and bewailing her loss: concluding, How miserable am I of all men, that do live to lament for these many afflictions? one child dead by his living undutifulness, the other lost by treachery in a man I most trusted; and to be beside, the occasion to bereave my dearest friend of his only comfort, which as one of my equal sorrows I esteem. I seeing his vexation, and just cause of mourning, offered my best service in seeking the Princess, who not being dead, I might hope to find, and bring some content unto his age. He hearing me say this, fell upon my neck, kissing my forehead, and yet weeping so, as they resembled the watery and parting kisses the sweet Rivers give the sweeter banks, when with ebbing they must leave them: so did his tears, so did his kisses on my face, both meet and part; at last his ioy-mixt sorrow let him speak these words: And wilt thou O Allimarlus do this for me? shall I yet find so true a friend? a servant, and a faithful one (said I) who will not live, if not to serve you, and so my faith to live in me. Then he took me up in his arms, and calling for a sword of his, which he had worn in most of his adventures, gave that with the honour of Knighthood to me; then kissing his hands and the Queens, I took my leave. He, though glad to find my loyalty, and hoping to hear some news of his daughter, yet was sorry to part with me: so few were left that he could trust, his kind wife having taken care that her Minions and favourites should most attend his person.  
Long time was I not landed in Greece, in that part called Morea, before I met an old man, who told me something of the Princess, but nothing of her certain abode: yet I rejoiced to hear of her, not doubting but to bring her to delight her grieved father, who never indeed tasted of true happiness since her loss, that being the thread to his succeeding miseries. That old man likewise told me, I was in my way of finding her, if I held on to Laconia. I earnestly desired his company, which he afforded me, and so we went together, resolving still to inquire, and to leave no likely place unsought in all Greece, till we had found her. A pretty space we thus continued, the old man passing away the time with good discourse, which made the way seem shorter, telling me many adventures which had befallen him in his youth, having led the life that most brave spirits use; but one I best remember (being his own story, the place wherein we then were producing it), it was this, and in truth worthy of note. Whatsoever I now, fair Knight, (said he) appear to be, know I am in birth quite contrary: poor, and alone now, once a Duke, and one of the mightiest, richest, ancientest, and sometimes happiest of these parts; this country wherein you are, being mine, only subject in homage to the famous King of Morea; my education had been most in the court; my time, some spent there, some time abroad: but weary at last of either, as a hound will be, who never so well loving hunting, will at last take rest: so did I lie down at mine own home, determining to end my days in quiet plenteousness, taking my own delight; to add unto which, I brought with me a virtuous Lady, and such a one, as might for goodness equal any of her rank, and truly not unbeautifull: yet so much was I besotted on a young man, whom I had unfortunately chosen for my companion, as at last all delights & pastimes were to me tedious and loathsome, if not liking, or begun by him. Nay, my wife's company in respect of his, was unpleasing to me. Long time this continued, which continuance made me issue-les, wherefore I made him my heir, giving him all the present honour I could in my own power, or by the favour of the king (who ever graced me much) procure him. But he the son of wickedness, though adopted to me, esteeming possession far better than reversion, gave place so much to covetousness, as murder crept into credit to attain the profit, wherefore he practised to make me away: my friends and kindred had before left me, expecting nothing but my ruin, seeing me so bewitched with my undoing. The plot was laid, and I thus betrayed where most I trusted; the time being come for the execution, the hired man (being mine more for justness, than his for rewards) came unto me, and upon promise of secrecy discovered the truth unto me, making me besides promise, to be persuaded by him; which was, for some time to retire myself, till a party were made in the Country strong enough to pull down his pride, who had gained such power, as he was grown more powerful than myself, than might I be myself, and rule in safety. I consented to the concealing, but never could be won, to think of harming him, whose ungratitude I believed sufficiently would one day burden him. But how often did I entreat and beseech him to perform his part, and satisfy his Master in killing me? whose falseness and wickedness more grieved me, than ten deaths (could I have suffered so many) yet his honest care overruled me, and I submitted to his Counsel. Then took he my clothes, apparelling me fit for the change of my fortune: He, (poor man) returning to my Castle, for so till then it was, credibly reporting, that I going to swim, as often I did in this sweet River which runs along this Valley, I was drowned (we being then in that place, and indeed, the sweetest in the world.) This in some kind was true, said he, for drowned I was in sorrow and tears: which, could they have made a stream for bigness answerable to their swift falling, had questionless made his framed report true. This being told the Duke, as then by my imagined death, imaginarily he was, did make show of insupportable grief being so possessed, as he seemed dispossed of senses, furiously, and suddenly stabbing the good man, who for my life lost his own: This was counted a passionate act, Love transporting him so much beyond himself, as he was not able to resist his own fury, while his devilish cunning did both set a Gloss upon his brutishness, and keep his Treason unrevealed: the poor soul falling dead at his feet, while he said, take this for thy detested news bringing. Then did he make a solemn funeral for my dead mind, though living body, He apparelled himself, and his Court in mourning, which gave much content to the people who loved me, while indeed, their black was but the true picture of his inward foulness. My wife did presently retire to a house herself had built: but when he had (as he thought) sufficiently played with the people, he began to exercise his authority, beginning with my wife, picking a quarrel to bereave her of her estate, which he in short time did, turning her to seek her fortune: Patiently she took it, having yet some jewels left her, she bought a little house in a thick and desert wood, where she was not long before I came unto her, discovering myself to both our equal passions of joy and sorrow. Privately we there continued many years; God in our poverty giving us an unexpected blessing, which was a daughter, who grew up and served us; for a servant our means would not allow us, though our estates required it. Seventeen years we thus concealed lived, but then, as joys, so tortures will have end; The Duke in all pleasure and plenty, I in misery, and povery. One day the young Prince accompanied with his most noble companion Amphilanthus, (who for the honour of Greece was bred with him) and many other brave young Nobles who attended them, went forth to see a flight at the brook; when after a flight or two the Prince's Hawk went out at check, which made them all follow her, and so long, as at the last (for rescue of my afflictions) they were brought to my poor abiding, which by reason of the farrnesse from the Court, and foulness of the weather, (a sudden storm then falling) they accepted for their lodging: which although so mean as could be, yet they pleased to like it, rather looking into my heart for welcome (where they found it) then into the meanness of the place.  
After they had refreshed themselves and discoursed freely with me, it pleased my Prince to say, that my estate and life, agreed not with my conversation: wherefore he would not be denied, but needs must know the truth; which out of obedience, more than desire, with heart-tearing grief I discoursed to him. He gave few words for answer, but commanded me the next day with my Wife and Daughter to attend him to the Court, which fain I would have refused; foreseeing (that which soon after followed) the destruction of my once most loved friend: who, though he had changed gratefulness to the contrary, and love to hate, yet my affection could not so much alter itself as to hate where once so earnestly I affected, or seek revenge on him, whose good I ever wished. But we obeyed; then the sweet young Prince presented me to his Father, who instantly called me to mind, remembering many adventures, which in our youths We had passed together: pitying my fortune as much as he had in younger days affected me, yet glad in some kind, to recompense my faithful service to him; instantly sent for the Usurper, who by reason of a journey the King made to see his Realm, and show it to his Son before his departure, who was to go thence with his excellent Cousin in a search by them undertaken, was come near to the place of the Tyrant's abode. He refused to come, but soon by force he was brought before the King; who with mild fashion, and royal Majesty examined the business, which he confessed: but rather with a proud scorn, then repentant heart: wherefore the King with just judgement degraded him, committing him to a strong Tower, whereinto he was walled up, meat given him in at the window, and there to end his days: which were not long, pride swelling him so with scorn of his fall, as he burst and died.  
The Dukedom after this sentence was restored to me: but truly, I was not able so to recover my former loss, wherefore humbly thanking the King, and his Son, besought them to give me leave to bestow it on my Daughter; which was granted me, my wife thinking she had seen enough when I was myself again, departing this life with joy and content. Besides, I made one suit more, which was, that since the Prince had with so much favour begun to honour me, it would please him to proceed so far as to bestow one of his young Lords in marriage on my Daughter. The King and Prince both took this motion most kindly, wherefore choosing a hopeful young Lord, and him the Prince most loved, gave him to her: the marriage was with much honour celebrated in the Court, at which for their unspeakable honour, Parselius (for so the Prince is called) and Amphilanthus Prince of Naples, were made Knights; and bravely for the beginning of their succeeding glory began those sports of Field, as since have made them famous over the world. This ended, I went away kissing the Kings and Princes hands, undertaking a Pilgrimage: which performed, I returned to this place, where like an Hermit still I live, and will continue while life is in me; this Valley, those sleepy woody Hills, and the Cave I rest in, shall be all the Courts or Palaces that these old eyes shall ever now behold. As thus we traveled on, determining to conclude that day's journey with the end of his story, and resting in his Cell that night, we were called from that resolution by a noise within the wood, of Horse, and clashing of Armour, which drew me to see what the matter was. Arriving at the place, we found two gentlemen cruelly fight, and by them many more slain: but that which most amazed us, was, that hard by them on the ground, was one of the Mirrors for beauty to see herself lively in, so fair indeed, is she, and such a fairness hath she, as mine eyes never saw her equal, if not that rare Shepherdess by you, or the incomparable Lady Pamphilia, Sister to the noble Prince Parselius, who I need but name, the world being sufficiently filled with his fame. This Lady lay along, her head upon her hand, her tears ran in as great abundance, as if they meant to preserve themselves in making some pretty brook of truest tears, her breath she took rather in sighs and sobs, then quiet breathing, yet did not this alter the colour, or feature of her heavenly beauty: but resembling the excellent workmanship of some delicately proportioned fountain, which lets the drops fall without hurting itself: or like a shower in April, while the Sun yet continues clear and bright and so did she seem to our eyes.  
As we were admiring her, there came a Knight in black Armour, his Shield suitable to it without any Device, who not seeing the Lady, stepped to the two Combatants, willing them to hold their hands, till he did understand the cause of their enmity; They refusing it, turned both on him, one striking him forcibly on the shoulder, he seeing their rudeness, and feeling himself smart, forgot parting, and made himself a party, sticking one of them such a blow as made him fall dead at his feet. Whereupon the other yielded, delivering his Sword, and turning to the Lady, who now the Knight saw, with admiration for her fairness and sorrow, unbinding her and sitting down by her, finding I was likewise a stranger, called me, and the good Hermit to hear the discourse which the vanquished man delivered in this manner.  
Two of these which here you see lie slain were half brothers, Sons to one mother; the one of them my Master; who on a day, after a long chase of a Stag, happened into a Merchant's house, not far hence, where this Lady did then remain: They were civilly and courteously entertained for being Gentlemen well borne, and in their fashion pleasing, they were respected, and beloved of most; never having attempted, or to man's knowledge embraced, or let in a thought contrary to virtue till their coming thither, where they resolved of a course worse than man could of man imagine, if not proud by experience. For there they saw that Lady, desired her, and plotted to obtain her, purposing with all ill meaning to enjoy her, nothing being able to give other end to their wicked minds but this: whereto their beastliness, and true justice hath brought them: having made this place their bed of death, as it was meant for their lascivious desires. Great they did imagine her of birth, by the honour done unto her; this was another spur to their devilish longing; yet to be certain, with a good fashion dissembling their inward intent, (as well they could, for they were Courtiers) entreated the Merchant to tell who this Lady was, that they might accordingly honour and respect her. He told them her name was Antissia, and that she was daughter to the great king of Romania, betrayed by her Guardian, taken from him again by Rovers, and sold by them on this coast, at the Town called S. Anzolo, where I a Merchant (said he) bought her; they not knowing who they sold, nor I what I had bought: till some days after she herself (entreating me no more to suffer her to be made merchandise, but to carry her to her father, who would reward me sufficiently for my pains) told me the unexpected secret. The brothers hearing this, inflamed more than before, beauty first enticing them, than ambition wrought to compass a king's daughter to their pleasure; much commending themselves for placing their loves so worthily, yet still forgetting how unworthy and dishonourable their love was. Desire makes them now politic, casting all ways how they might betray her; consulting together, they at last concluded, to get the Princess into the Garden to walk, having before appointed these slain men to attend at a door, which opened into the field, which they opening, persuaded her to go out a little into so sweet an air: she fearing nothing went with them, when no sooner she was forth, but she found she was betrayed; crying for help would not avail her, yet the pitifulness of it brought forth most of the house, who perceiving what was intended and near acted, no fury could be compared to theirs (and fury indeed it was) for they but five, and unarmed, attempted to rescue her from us, being all these; and two of them so amorous, as they in that raging passion (love being at the best a mild frenzy) would have been able, or thought themselves so, to have withstood them, and many more, especially their Mistress being in presence. This noise also brought forth the good woman, wife to the honest merchant, where began so pitiful a moanful complaining between her and this Princess, as truly moved compassion in all, my heart I am sure weeping for them: yet the mad Lovers had sense of nothing but their worst desires. With these words the Princess fell into a new sorrow, which the Knight perceiving (whose heart was never but pitiful to fair Ladies) persuaded the sad Antissia so well, as he proceeded; Then being possessed of the Lady, my Master led the way, bringing his brother and us to this banquet; this place being set down for her dishonour, but destined for their graves. Then grew a strife for the first enjoying of her, so far it proceeded, as from words they fell to blows, and so in short time to this conclusion: for they fight, we following our Master's example, followed them in death likewise all but myself, and I now at your mercy. He had but concluded his story, when I pulling of my helmet, kneeling down to the Princess, told her who I was, and likewise my search for her, which she (with as much joy as on a sudden could enter into so sad a mind) received with gracious thankfulness. Now had the black Knight in like manner discovered his face, which so excellent in loveliness, I cannot say fairness, as the whitest beauty must yield to such a sweetness; and yet doth his mind as far excel his person, as his person doth all others that I have seen, and so will all allow, for this was Amphilanthus; who with mild, yet a princely manner, told the Princess, That she might leave her sorrow being fall'n into his hands, where she should have all honour and respect, and within short time by himself be delivered to her father. But first he was to perform his promise to his dearest friend and Cousin Parselius in meeting him in Italy, the time prefixed being almost expired, and his search utterly fruitless. But I pray sir (said Parselius) how came that brave Prince again into Morea? By a violent storm (said he), wherein he suffered shipwreck. This done, Amphilanthus, Antissia, the Hermit, and myself, took our ways to the Merchant's house, whom we found returned, but ready again to have left his house, filled with discontent and passion for the unhappy accident: his wife in that desperate grief as hardly could she have endured with life, had not the blessed return of Antissia given comfort, like life unto her sorrows. The servant to the slain Knight guided us within sight of the house: but then with pardon and liberty of going his own way, he departed.  
That night we rested there, the next morning parted ourselves; Amphilanthus, Antissia, the Merchant and his wife, took their journey together towards the Court, there to leave her till he had found Parselius, and so end his vow; the old Hermit returned to his private devotions, myself took my way to the next port, to ship myself for Romania, in the same ship was also this man, who hearing me discourse of my adventures with the Master of the ship, gave ill language of Amphilanthus, then of Parselius, saying, they were Cozeners, and not Princes, but some odd fellows taking good names upon them, since it was very unlikely so great persons should be so long suffered abroad, and travel in such a sort alone, and more like runne-awaies, than Princes. These much moved me: but to put me quite out of patience, he went on, giving vilder, and more cursed speeches of my own Lord: this made me strike him, and so we fell together so close, as one or both had died for it, had not the company parted us; and after we had again gone to it, but that this ship came and took us, and so made us Prisoners to save our lives. But now Sirs, if you do not justice, you wrong yourselves, in not revenging so great an injury done to the bravest Princes.  
Parselius replied: We were not worthy to live, if we did not right so worthy a Gentleman as yourself, and revenge the wrong done to so great Princes, whose greatness yet cannot keep ill tongues in awe sufficiently, but that in absence they are often wronged; and therefore friends must revenge that, which they ignorant of otherwise may suffer. But herein we may be thought partial; for this Knight you see is Leandrus, myself Parselius, one of the cozening Princes (as it pleased his honesty to call me): I would advise therefore, that this rare Shepherdess should appoint him his punishment. The young Knight kneeled down to have kissed the hands of the two Princes: they taking him up, gave him thanks for his discourse, commending him much for his loyalty and valour.  
Urania, (who was as heartily angry as the Knight) seeing her Parselius thus wronged, could find no less punishment for him, than death. But then the Prince did with sweet persuasions mitigate her fury: but brought it no lower then to public whipping, submission, and recantation: Lastlie, humbly on his knees to ask pardon of the Romanian Knight.  
All now satisfied but Urania, (who could not easily forgive an injure done to her other self) sent him a shore to the next land they saw, Then did the knight again speak: My Lord Parselius, with your leave, I beseech you permit me to take so much boldness, as to beseech my Lord Leandrus to do me so much honour, as to tell me the adventure, which caused the report and suspicion of his death: they both agreeing, Leandrus thus began. After I had left you most noble Parselius, I went to my own country to visit my father, where still I heard the noise of Antissia's loss, the likelihood of her beauty, the grief of Parents, and the wrong done to myself: these did not only invite, but command me to be diligent, in making all these pieces join again in the first body of content; which I persuaded myself able to do, by seeking and finding of her. The one I resolved, the other I nothing doubted: then with my father's consent I left Achaya, taking my way among the Greek Lands, and passing the Archipelago. I left no Island that had a league of land unsought, or unseen: then shipped I myself, and past into your Morea; so after I had seen all those places, I went again to Sea, resolving afterwards to take towards Italy, whither for farnesse it might be the traitors had carried her; my companion then leaving me to go to his heart, which he had left in Cecillia. But being in the Island of Cephalonia, there was a solemn and magnificent Feast held, which was by reason of a marriage between the Lord's daughter of that Island, and the Lord of Zante's son, a fine and spriteful youth; justs, Tilt, and all other such warlike exercises being proclaimed. Hearing this, I would needs show myself one, as forward as any stranger to honour the Feast. The first day (which was the wedding-day) Arms were laid aside, and only dancing and feasting exercised: after supper every one preparing for the dancing again. With the sound of trumpets there entered one in habit and fashion like a Commander of horse, who delivered some few lines to the new married Pair, dedicated as to their honour and joy, which they received most thankfully, promising freedom and welcome to the whole company. Then entered in twenty Gentlemen presenting soldiers, and so danced in their kind, making a brave and commendable demonstration of Courtship in the bravest profession, honour abounding most, where nobleness in valour, and bounty in civility agree together. After they went to a rich banquet: the brave Masquers discovering themselves, were found to be gentlemen of both Lands, equally divided in number, as their affections ought to be to either, and therefore had put themselves into the evenest and perfectest number often, and ten. But to leave sport, and come to earnest; the manner of that place was, that from the banquet the Bride must be stolen away (to bed the meaning is), but she took to the fields. Most did miss her, for there wanted no respective care of her, but all were satisfied with the fashion, correcting such as spoke suspiciously, and expecting to be called to see her in bed, waited the calling. But the time being long, some hastier than the rest went to the chamber, where they found she had not been. This was instantly blown abroad; all betook themselves to Arms who could bear any, the Ladies to their tears, every one amazed, and chiefly the Bridegroom perplexed. The old fathers vexed, the mothers tore their grey locks, such disorder in general, as cannot be expressed, but by the picture of the same accident, Some mistrusted the Masquers, but soon they cleared themselves, putting on Arms, and being as earnest as any in the search. I a stranger, and loving business, would needs accompany them (which the favour of a Nobleman, with whom I had got some little acquaintance, did well aid me in) whose fortunes were in finding them, more happy than any others, overtaking them, when they thought themselves most secure, being together laid within a delicate Vineyard, a place able to hide them, and please them with as much content, as Paris felt, when he had deceived the Greek King of his beautiful Helen; laughing at the fine deceit, and pitying in a scornful fashion those, who with direct pain and meaning followed them, commending their subtleties and fine craftiness, in having so deceived them. Kissing and embracing, they joyfully remained in their stolen comforts, till we rudely breaking in upon them, made them as fearfully rush up, as a tapist Buck will do, when he finds his enemies so near: yet did not our coming any whit amaze them, but that they were well able to make use of the best sense at that time required for their good, which was speech, uttering it in this manner.  
My Lords (said they), if ever you have known love, that will (we hope) now withhold you from crossing lovers. We confess, to the law we are offenders, yet not to the law of love: wherefore as you have loved, or do, or may, pity us, and be not the means that we too soon sacrifice our bloods on the cruel altar of revenge, while we remain the faithful vassals of Venus. Let not your hands be soiled in the blood of lovers; what can wash away so foul a stain? You may bring us (it is true) unto our just deserved ends: but then take heed of a repentant gnawing spirit, which will molest you, when you shall be urged to remember, that you caused so much faithful and constant love, to be offered to the triumph of your conquest, over a lover unarmed, wanting all means of resistance, but pure affections to defend himself withal, and a woman only strong in truth of love. For my part, she won me, my companion was by him gained; so as promising assistance in place of arms, and help in stead of force, we sat down together, he beginning his discourse in this manner.  
To make long speeches, striving to be held an Orator, or with much delicacy to paint this story, the time affords not the one, our truth and love requires not the other; wherefore as plainly as truth itself demands, I will tell you the beginning, success, and continuance of our fortunate (though crossed) affections. I loved this Lady before she had seen this young Lord, she likewise had only seen my love, and only tie herself to that, before he saw her; love made me her slave, while she suffered as by the like authority. I sued, she granted; I loved, she requited; happiness above all blessings to be embraced. Our eyes kept just measure of looks, being sometimes so enchained in delightful links of each others ioy-tying chain (for so we made up the number of our behold), as hard it was to be so unkindly found, as to separate so dear a pleasure. Our hearts held even proportion with our thoughts and eyes, which were created, nursed, and guided by those, or rather one hearts power. But Parents having (were it not for Christianity, I should say) a cruel & tirannical power over their children, brought this to us disastrous fortune: for discovering our loves, set such spies over us (scorning that I being the younger brother to an Earl, should have such happiness, as to enjoy my Princess) as we could never come to enjoy more than bare looks, which yet spoke our true meanings after it was discovered. This course enraged us, vowing to have our desires upon any terms whatsoever, always considered with true nobleness, and virtue. Thus resolved, We continued, till her Father concluding this match, shut her up in a Tower, wherein he then kept (in her) his choicest Treasure, till this day of her Marriage: which opportunity we took, purposing; More he would have said, as it seemed, truly to manifest the virtuous determination they had, in their accomplishment of their desires, when he was hindered by the rushing in of others with their Horses. Rising, We discerned the deceived youth with some others in his company; Fate, like his Love, having guided him to that place. In charity we could not leave our first professed Friends, nor could I part myself from such and so true Love: wherefore resolutely taking my companions part, defended the Lovers, pity then taking the place of justice in our Swords; the Husband being unfortunately slain by my Companion, truly I was sorry for him, and glad it was not I had done it. But soon followed a greater and more lamentable misfortune: For one of the young Lords Servants, seeing his Master slain, pressed in, unregarded, or doubted, upon the unarmed Lover, who was this while comforting his Mistress, and not expecting danger, was on the sudden thrust into the back, as he was holding his only comfort in his arms. He soon (alas, and so forever) left his dear embracement, turning on him who hurt him, repaying the wrong with giving him his death: but then soon followed his own, the wound being mortal which he had received, yet not so suddenly, but that he saw the destruction of his enemies. We being as fierce, as rage, and revenge could make us, than he remaining alone (besides myself) alive, and yet dying, giving me infinite thanks for my love, and willing rescue lent him, with many doleful and (in affection) lamentable groans and complaints, he took his leave of his only and best beloved, then of me; to whom he committed the care of her, and his body, then kissing her departed. But what shall I say of her? imagine, great Prince, and all this brave company, what she did; You will say, she wept, tore her hair, rend her clothes, cried, sobbed, groaned; No, she did not thus, she only embraced him, kissed him, and with as deadly a paleness, as death could with most cunning counterfeit, and not execute, She entreated me to conduct her to the next Religious house, where she would remain till she might follow him. I admired her patience, but since more wondered at her worth. O women, how excellent are you, when you take the right way? else, I must confess, you are the children of men, and like them faultful. The body we took with the help of a Litter which passed by (having before conveyed a hurt Knight to the same Monastery next to that place) and in that we conveyed it thither, where we buried him, and almost drowned him in our tears. Thinking then to have removed, she fell ill, not sick in body, but dead in heart, which appeared; for within two days she died, leaving this world, to meet, and once more joy in him, who more than a world, or ten thousand worlds she loved, and still desired; which made her choose death being her then greater joy, burying them together a little without the house (the order of that place not permitting them to be laid within it.) After this sad (but honest) performance of my word, I went on in my journey, meeting within few days after, a Page belonging to my dead friend, who with his Master's Armour followed him, love and obedience bringing it into his mind. The armour was good, being that which I now wear, mine own hacked and cut in many places. With much sorrow the youth received the woeful tidings of his Master, than obtained I so much, as to have those arms, which with violent sorrow he consented to, helping me to arm myself in them, though so, as had I been any but his dead Lords friend, he sooner and more willingly would have wound into his funeral shirt. He took my armour, and laid it together under a tree which grew in the midst of a fair and pleasant plain: then (although against my will) he kissed my hands, and with as much true-felt sorrow as could lodge in so young years, took his leave of me; only beseeching me, when I remembered my unfortunate friends, I would also with some pity think on his misery: this was my adventure. And then passed I by sea, till on a rock I suffered shipwreck, being taken up by this famous Pirate whom you so valiantly have slain, being I assure you, none of your least victories, he having had as much strength and skill, as in any one man need remain: but knowing me, and some power I have with the king of Cecile, my dear and worthy friend Perissus his Uncle, whose excellent company I gained in Achaya, he then being there, and with whom I traveled many months, almost years, till I began this search: this man, on condition I would mediate for him to the King, or his Nephew, let me go at liberty, and armed in his ship, till such time as we fortuned to land; always concluded, that while I was with him, I should defend him with my best means. This made me resist you till heaven told me my error, which I repent, and heartily ask pardon for: and this sure was the reason that my Page imagined my death, if he found (as by all likelihood he did) my arms.  
Then did Parselius again embrace Leandrus: turning to the Squire of Amphilantus he demanded what he knew of his Master. Truly (replied he) nothing but the joy I conceive to hear by this gentle Knight that he is living: I parted from him in a great storm, having been in Germany sent thither with an army from the Pope to assist the Emperor against the Duke of Saxony, who was slain by his hand, and for this act was by the Emperor and the other Princes made King of the Romans, having protected the Empire against such an enemy; since till now never having herd news of him: but he meant to seek still for you, and therefore left Germany, and in the Mediterran sea, myself, ship, and all my Lords treasure was taken by this Pirate, whom your valour hath destroyed. Thus with prosperous wind and infinite joy for Amphilanthus his new title and honour, they sailed towards Italy, hoping to land not far from the Town where the king of Naples at that time kept his Court, which was at that great City: but being within the sight of the shore because it then was evening they resolved not to land till the next morning, and so take the day before them. This thought the best (like men's counsels) proved the worst; for in the night rose a terrible and fearful storm, being so violent, as it took not away rest only, but knowledge from the Pilot, being only able within some hours to assure them, that they were far distant from Italy. The tempest continued in as great (if not greater) fury, nor any more comfort had they, save that now they enjoyed light, and yet could that light scarce be counted day, being but as daybreak before the Sunrising; so as it was but as to distinguish the time of day from night, or as if it were to hold a candle to them, the more to see their danger, so thick, cloudy, and uncomfortable, as they could discern nothing, but what was nearest them, which was peril. Cunning now prevailed not, for the most skilful confessed, that now he was artless, heavenly powers working above the knowledge of earthly creatures, which way they were by force carried, was utterly unknown to them; sails, tackling were gone; the mast, either by force, or hope of safety cast overboard; thunder, lightning, wind, rain, they wanted not; none being able to express the desperatenes of this storm, but by saying, it was the picture of the last day for violence, but like the world for strangeness and uncertainty. Thus they continued in the day (having only the shadow of a day) and in the night fearful flames, which yet they thanked, because by them they could discern themselves. When heaven did think this storm had lasted long enough cross to those, though crost, yet still most loving lovers, it commanded the seas to be at quiet, which being performed, the Pilot again began to use his skill, which first had means to let him know, that so far they were from the place resolved on, as in stead of the coast of Italy, they were within sight of the Island of Cyprus: this not only amazed them, but much troubled them, considering the barbarousness of the people who there inhabited, and their extremity such, as of necessity they must land to replenish their wants, caused by the rigour of the tempest: yet were they come to such a part of the country, as there was no harbour or port to ride or land at; wherefore they were forced to coast the country; night again like an evil spirit possessing them, almost all tired and weary with the length and violence of the storm. Some were laid down to see if rest would possess them: others fall'n asleep, none enduring it like the excellent Urania, which brought comfort (though in sorrow) to the loving and noble Parselius, never showing fear or trouble: encouraging all. And yet she did fear, but seeing his, she dissembled hers, in care of not further harming him, She, I say, when all were gone to rest, stood as Sentinel, but by her own appointment, love commanding her soul to take no advantage of restful hours; which she obediently did, sleep never but by love's liberty possessing her eyes: which freedom her passion had not yet allowed her, but molesting her patient sweetness caused her to walk up and down in the maze of her trouble. The Moon (though coldly) smiling on her, and her love; she perceived a great fire, whereupon she called the company, demanding what their opinions were of it; they could not give her a direct answer, till being come somewhat nearer, they pereeived it was a Ship was fall'n a fire in the midst of the Sea, and right against it a very good Harbour. Pity, and noble compassion strait moved in them, so as they haled to the burning Bark, to know if there were any by ill fortune in her, and if so, to succour them, but hearing no answer, they concluded she was empty: wherefore passing on they landed in the Island, which no sooner was done, but their former wonder was increased, by the sudden falling a fire of their own Ship, which had but delivered herself of them, and then as a Martyr suffered for the pain they had in her endured. But this past, admiration brought new sorrow to them, considering they were in a strange Country, among barbarous people, deprived of all hope to get thence any more, but there to continue at the mercy of unchristened creatures. Parselius wished, but still found himself further from succour of any but his fruitless wishes: all his tormenting grief being for Urania. Urania did as he did, justly requiting his pain, for all hers was for him. All lamented and pitied Urania, and the dainty Selarina, who mildly, yet with a more Woman like manner suffered these afflictions, loving and pitying Urania, being an obligation they were all in their hearts, as they found, bound unto. Leandrus sorrowed for her, and bewailed the two young Princes, whose Father had lost his Kingdom, for his love to his Father, which stirred in him a commiserate passion. Thus, all for others grieved, pity extended so, as all were careful, but of themselves most careless: yet their mutual care, made them all cared for. Parselius with a brave courage, at last advised them to go on, yet left it to their own minds, fearing to persuade, lest harm might after follow, grieve, fear, persuade they did and all distractedly, so much they feared, and most was for Urania: so much can worth, sweetness, and Beauty work in noble minds. His advice was to go on, and this was allowed, for what could he propound that Urania liked not of? And if she consented, what spirit could deny? Thus, on they went (but as in a Labyrinth without a third) till they came within sight of a rare and admirable Palace.  
It was situated on a Hill, but that Hill form, as if the world would needs raise one place of purpose to build Love's throne upon; all the Country beside humbly plain, to show the subjection to that powerful dwelling. The Hill whereon this Palace stood was just as big as to hold the House: three sides of the Hill made into delicate Gardens and Orchards: the further side was a fine and stately Wood This sumptuous House was square, set all upon Pillars of black Marble, the ground paved with the same. Every one of those pillars, presenting the lively Image (as perfectly as carving could demonstrat, of brave, and mighty men, and sweet and delicate Ladies, such as had been conquered by love's power: but placed there, as still to maintain, and uphold the honour, and House of Love.. Coming towards it, they imagined it some Magical work, for so daintily it appeared in curiosity, as it seemed as if it hung in the air, the Trees, Fountains, and all sweet delicacies being discerned through it. The upper Story had the Gods most fairly and richly appearing in their thrones: their proportions such as their powers, and qualities are described. As Mars in Arms, weapons of War about him, Trophies of his Victories, and many demonstrations of his Warlike Godhead. Apollo with Music, Mercury, Saturn, and the rest in their kind. At the foot of this Hill ran a pleasant and sweetly passing river, over which was a Bridge, on which were three Towers: Upon the first was the Image of Cupid, curiously carved with his Bow bend, and Quiver at his back, but with his right hand pointing to the next Tower; on which was a statue of white Marble, representing Venus, but so richly adorned, as it might for rareness, and exquisiteness have been taken for the Goddess herself, and have caused as strange an affection as the Image did to her maker, when he fell in love with his own work. She was crowned with Myrtle, and Pansies, in her left hand holding a flaming Heart, her right, directing to the third Tower, before which, in all dainty riches, and rich delicacy, was the figure of Constancy, holding in her hand the Keys of the Palace: which showed, that place was not to be open to all, but to few possessed with that virtue.  
They all beheld this place with great wonder, Parselius resolving it was some Enchantment; wherefore was the nicer how they proceeded in the entering of it: while they were thus in question, there came an aged Man, with so good a countenance and grave aspect, as it struck reverence into them, to be showed to him, by them. He saluted them thus: Fair company, your beholding this place with so much curiosity, and besides your habits makes me know you are strangers, therefore fit to let you understand the truth of this brave Building, which is dedicated to Love.. Venus (whose Priest I am) thinking herself in these latter times, not so much, or much less honoured then in ages past, hath built this, call it the throne of Love.. Here is She daily served, by myself, and others of my profession, and here is the trial of false or faithful Lovers.  
Those that are false, may enter this Tower, which is Cupid's Tower, or the Tower of Desire: but therein once enclosed, they endure torments fit for such a fault. Into the second any Lover may enter, which is the Tower of Love: but there they suffer unexpressable tortures, in several kinds as their affections are most incident to; as jealousy, Despair, Fear, Hope, Longings, and such like. The third which is guarded by Constancy, can be entered by none, till the valiantest Knight, with the loyallest Lady come together, and open that gate, when all these Charms shall have conclusion. Till then, all that venture into these Towers, remain prisoners; this is the truth. Now if your hearts will serve you adventure it.  
They thanked the old man for his relation, but told him they had some Vows to perform first: which ended, they would adventure for imprisonment in so rare a prison. The old Priest left them, and they weary, laid them down near the Tower of Desire, refreshing themselves with some little meat, which Urania's maid had in her Scrip: but wanting drink, they all went to the River, whereof they had but drunk, when in them several Passions did instantly abound.  
Parselius forgot all, but his promise to the dead King of Albania, for the settling his Sons in that Kingdom. Leandrus afflicted with the loss of Antissia, must strait into Morea to find her, and take her from Amphilanthus; Steriamus and Selarinus would not be refused the honour of Knighthood, Mars having so possessed them with his warlike disposition, as worlds to their imaginations were too little to conquer, therefore Albania was already won. Urania, whose heart before was only fed by the sweet looks, and pleasing conversation of Parselius, loves him now so much, as she imagines, she must try the adventure, to let him see her loyalty is such, as for his love, and by it she would end the Enchantment. Selarina, thought she saw within the Gardens, a young Prince with a Crown upon his head, who beckoned to her, wherefore she would go at such a call. Vrania's maid beheld as she believed Allimarlus in the second Tower, kissing and embracing a Blackmoore: which so far enraged her, being passionately in love with him, as she must go to revenge herself of that injury. These distractions carried them all, as their passions guided them. Parselius having knighted the two Princes, took their way to the next Port: Urania now not seen or thought on. Leandrus hasting another way, to find means for his journey. Selarina to the Tower, and knocked with that fervent desire to accomplish her end as the gate opened; all the three rushed in, striving who should be first. But Selarina was then soon made to know she should not contend with Urania, wherefore she was locked into the first tower, burning with desire to come to that sweet Prince, which still she sees before her: he calling, she with uncessant desire striving to go to him. Urania went on, when entering the second tower, guarded by Venus, she was therein enclosed, when as thus much sense came to her, as to know she had left Parselius, which strak her into a mourning passion, confessing that, an unpardonable fault, and what he in justice could not excuse. Then despair possessed her so, as there she remained, loving in despair, and despairing mourned. The shepherdess her servant continuing her first passion got into that Tower too, where she still saw her affliction, striving with as much spiteful jealousy, as that fury could vex her withal, to come at the Moor to pull her from her knight. Thus were the women for their punishment, left prisoners in the throne of love: which Throne and punishments are daily built in all humane hearts. But how did the honest Allimarlus carry himself in all these changes? Alas, with much grief and sorrow for this misfortune, he not having drank, being the onely sensible man left; wherefore fearing more the harm of Parselius and his companions then the Ladies, who were (without question) safe, though far from being free, he followed them, lest harm might from those furious humours grow. They made such haste, as no rest could invite their stay, till they were tired with their own minds travel, and then all three lying down in one another's arms, they yielded unto sleep. In which, new torments vexed them: for than did they come a little to themselves (or a little more from themselves in another kind) and as men long held in a trance, awaked. Parselius weeping for Vrania's unkindness, who had (as he dreamt) forsaken him, and left him sleeping, while she went with another. The two Princes bewailing the death of their Sister, who they imagined taken violently from them, and sacrificed to Venus.  
Thus they again fall into strange and new distractions, which grieved the young Knights very soul to see, but having no hope of seeing them restored, while they continued in that Island: soothing them up in their own opinions, knowing it dangerous and idle to cross mad men, with gentle peswasions gained Parselius to go with him, when he promised to bring him where Urania with her new friend did abide, and then he might recover her, and kill his enemy. The other he likewise gained, promising they should have the means to kill their adversaries likewise.  
Thus he got them thence: travelling in this sort, till they came to the sea side where they found a small Bark, and in her two persons, an old man, and a little Boy being Fishers: and having taken some, had then newly put a-ashore to dress, and so to satisfy their hungers with their gain. The Romanian Knight saluted the old man, entreating, that that company might go into his boat, and time it was to prevent the coming harm, for than were they ready to run into the sea; but by force they got them into the Bark, where no sooner they were, having freed themselves from the land (which was the nature of those charms), but their good spirits again possessed them. Then did Parselius bewail Urania, cry out of his miserable fortune in having lost her, beseech every one to pity with him so great a mischief. The knight wept to see these changes, but then mildly told him all that had happened. Grieved Parselius did remain; but considering heavenly powers had caused this, he the more quietly endured it, yet not without a bleeding hart, and often showering eyes: O Urania (would he cry), how justly mayst thou hate me, for leaving thee? Damned country, can it be that thou wert ordained for love to have a Throne in, and yet to be the hell of lovers? Much more he cried, and sorrowed out, while the old man had gained the knowledge of this adventure from Allimarlus, who was by him known, so as beseeching Parselius to lay by his mourning, or at least to give ear to this story, said he, which will increase compassion, and passion in you; with that the grave old man began thus. Lamentation (brave Princes) is that which I must treat of; but first I must tell you, as one of the parts of this story; I am called Seleucius, brother I am to the king of Romania, Lord to this young knight: and thus from me (the most unfortunate of Princes) hear the woefull'st and most disastrous history, that ever Princely ears gave attention to. I was brother, and sometime heir to this unhappy king, being thought lost: but after found in such an adventure of enchantment as this seems to be. Returned, married, and was blest with two children, of whom I am sure this Gentleman hath already discoursed unto you, wherefore that part I will leave, and come to the last. My Nephew Antissius being come from the fruitless search of his sister Antissia, my brother would needs marry him to a Lady in the country, which he (although never having been in love) might have questioned; yet he ever loved to obey his father, and so they were married. O Antissius, worthy Antissius: with that the tears ran down his long white beard, resembling drops in snow, stopping his breath, that scarce the last word could be heard. In this time did all the Princes join, concluding it with sobs, and groans, every one having equal feeling of sorrow, though for several things. At last he cried out these words: Pardon great Prince this sad interruption in my story, which I am forced to do, heartrending sorrow making me ever do so, when I think of (much more name) my dearest Nephew, and his unfortunate loss; being such a wound to that country, as none can imagine but ourselves, who daily feel the misery. He being married by his father's command, who longed to see some fruit from so worthy a stock, his obedience having mastered his affection, which rather was to follow Arms, then fall into the arms of Love: he worthily loved his wife, and lovingly lived with her; within that year being blest with a Son, whom after his father they called Antissius: with this ioy'd-at birth began the ruin of all (yet not because of his birth, for in him we have yet our last hope) but by reason that the Grandmother lived but to kiss her babe; after whose death the king again married, and her, whose wickedness I am sure hath come unto your ears. This malicious creature, after she had caused Antissius to be banished and most honest men to lose their lives, or places, she yet not satisfied with such sins, as never the earth suffered in one body the weight of more; treason, adultery, witchcraft and murder, were plentifully in her, yet while he lived she was not contented. Wherefore to bring this to pass, was now her only study. In this time some one or two honest hearts were left, who gave the king warning of her, venturing their heads to save his body from harm; her immoderate desires so much known, as they cried out against her; she being a Queen salved not, nor covered her sin, which in her greatness appeared the greater fault; a spot being more marked in a Diamond, then in an ordinary piece of glass. Long time it was ere his honest and unspotted love would believe it, or hearken to it, while she delighted herself in her own shame, and his dishonour. At last (though extreme loath) he seemed to see it, slaking his violent love to her, & oft refraining her bed, made her discern it, though delighting herself so much with others, had somewhat blinded her from seeing, what but for policy, she cared little for. But than did she never leave the poor man with her flatter and disfembling falsehoods, till she had gained the cause and ground of his most just offence, and deserved mistrust, and unusual strangeness, which at last (undone by her bewitching fawn) she gained. Then had she enough, vowing to be revenged on all, and under this colour to execute her malice, and purge her spleen upon the famous Prince his son; which by her cruel practices, she at last unfortunately brought to pass. For first (by means as she pretended that she was slandered) she got her good honest husband to banish any, who had in the least, spoken of her lightness; putting into that number those whom she hated, having suffered (as she alleagd) as much by their slanderous reports, as almost if it had been a truth she had merited, wishing she had still continued widow, rather than to come to this height of honour; and having it, to fall so low as into the shame of dishonour: beseeching him throughly to revenge her, or to permit her to retire to the most lonely and private life, rather than there openly to sink under shame and infamy: or if she could be found faulty, then to cut off her head, far unfit to live wife to so virtuous and good a king. To satisfy her, whose dissemble were of force to bring new heat into his aged heart, which like old wood will presently kindle, he struck off the heads of those loyal servants, who had honestly (though undiscreetly) told him of her sin, men, not loving that discourse of any. This done, he came to receive thanks: but she telling him this was nothing, and unless he would do more to right her, so shamefully wronged, she would go away, and execute some mischief on herself; her spirit and conscience not being able to sustain themselves enduring such abuse: and then (if ever he loved her) he would be sorry, he had wronged so true and faithfully loving a wife, while he did credit pickthanking Counsellors. He seeing this passion in his dear wife, vowed revengeful justice on all she could accuse. Upon this vow, and some other assurance which was given by execution, her holy Majesty seemed somewhat satisfied, and then contented (as it were) to live, having new life given in her justice, and faith-trying honour. She came abroad, but ofttimes blushing; modesty was the colour put upon it, when indeed it was affection to a young Lord in the Court: who after she found she could not win with all enticements and love-showes, she accused him for seeking her, and so with many more lost his head. Now was Antissius and his virtuous wife confined to a Castle, some twenty miles from the Court, he being accused of popularity, and aspiring to the Crown. This was the power of that insatiable Monster, as she could, and would banish from him his best, and only true comforts. My Nephew's misfortune increasing, and his hate to live, growing every day stronger in him, he gained for all this the Queen's leave to go, and live with me. She willing to it, hoping his former ill usage would provoke him to that he might die for, else she would find a means to compass it. But few plots needed, this being the beginning, and his soon following overthrow; for the people finding her government absolute, and that being bend to the ruin of the land, followed the virtuous Prince in great numbers, and at all times, which he as much as in him lay, did put off & avoid: yet not so, but that the Queen wrought cunningly enough upon it, to mix jealousy with the father's love to his son, she never ceasing to wish the subjects love as great and firm to his Majesty, as she, and all others saw their hearts were placed upon his worthy son, which though he for his affection to him, did not yet make use of, yet it is a fine thing, said she, to be a king, and a terrible matter to be tempted: were you not safely blessed with so honest a son. And therefore you must trust more to the loyalty of Antissius, than the faith of his people, who, he might perceive, regarded nothing less than their due respect to him. Sparingly she spoke well of him, but freely to make suspicion. Thus now was he fall'n into the path, which led to the court of her malice: for buzzing these things in his old, and fearful ears, she at last brought to this fullness of ill. One day as she had appointed (being privately with the King in a Gallery) two of the Counsel came in, in haste, yet a dissembling fear in their faces, counterfeiting need, but doubt and unwillingness to discover what moved in them this sudden approach. The King urged them, when with tears they told him, that they had gained knowledge of a dangerous conspiracy, which was plotted, & to be instantly executed upon the persons of his Majesty, and his most royal Queen, by Antissius and myself, the treason being this: to depose him, kill the Queen, banish the Counsel I make himself Monarch of Romania, dispose the offices, already disposed of, among his favourites, and the whole realm, as he best liked to his followers, and associates, and in this kind make a conquest of it. Then alas sir (said they), what will become of poor Romania, when your virtue and wisdom shall be put by, their government, and his green capacity, and those young wild headed Counsellors shall rule over us, who were fitter at school to learn obedience and loyalty, then to sway a Sceptre, besides the wrong and sin, of taking the lawful Prince from among his people. This related and seconded by the Queen, who still in a double manner cleared, & condemned poor Antissius, whose just and virtuous heart never thought of such a treason, nor of her (if not with sorrow for her wickedness). It wrought so far in the jealous breast of the old man, as he manifested his crediting it, and with all the fear he conceived of it, expressing as much hate to his son, as such a wicked practice might justly challenge. Then hastily (as fear is always sudden) he demanded advice, with the best and readiest way to avoid the danger. They yet having gone but half way of their devilish progress, replied: That since it pleased him to have such confidence in them, as to ask their advice in so great a business, they would as honestly discharge themselves, and this they held the safest, and the best course; which was, that the Prince (who they must still love and reverence, and whose fault cut their hearts to think of) should be sent for, but in such manner, as he should have no cause to distrust, lest then he went about to gain by force, what they before had been informed, he hoped to compass by a private conspiracy. This advice, and the plot itself, he imparted to some more of the Counsel, who already were sufficiently instructed in their parts, and so accordingly agreed; consenting, nay commending the grave, careful, and honest advice of the other two. Then was a Messenger strait dispatched to the Prince, (who like a brave, but innocent Hart came into the toil) with order to come himself, his wife, and son unto the King, whose age, and weakness being great, and his affection only left strong in him, towards him, and his, would have them nearer to him, and for that he would recompense him, for the injuries in former times done to him: I was not at home, for had I been, the journey surely had been hindered, while Antissius doubting no treason, his noble heart being free from thinking any, in haste (hoping that way to express the joy he felt by these unexpected glad tidings) posted to the Court, leaving word, that I (who was to return in a very short time after) should with all convenient speed accompany his wife, and son to the King. Few days he had rid, before he was encountered with a troop of horse, under the command of an ancient friend of his, and a friend indeed he was in this action, being betrayed as well as he, sent under colour of love to the Prince, who since he had (or at least it being thought he had) so much disliked his father, as he had forbid him his once heeld-deerest sight, and that the people had taken notice of it in a dangerous kind: to prevent any bold or hazardus attempt might happen by a rude multitude, the Queen had sent this troop to guard him, and that she knowing the love this Gentleman bare Antissius, had made choice of him to conduct his person thither. Antissius was somewhat troubled with this accident, wondering why she should be on the sudden so kind, knowing that there was none whose ruin she and her godly crew more shot at: yet could not he (who saw only with the eyes of virtue) pierce into this plot. Mildly and graciously he saluted the Captain and his men, yet telling them, his innocency had been guard enough for his person.  
They went on, but when they were within sight of the great City of Constantinople (the Court then being there) they perceived a far greater number of Soldiers, with which sight he saw his end, and soon heard he sentence of his death: for than did they set upon him, crying, Down with that Traitor, that disobedient child, the incurable grief of his loving father, the dishonour of our Country, and the Canker of the States quiet. With these cries they rushed violently upon the Prince. The first troop seeing this Treason, did their best to defend Antissius; but their lives could not buy his safety, in vain striving to alter destiny: the period of his days being come with a blow given him by a traitorous villain, which strake his head in two. Grief of this accident turned to fury, his party fighting as if Antisius had been in every one, and so to be defended; but that was past, their loves only living to him. Yet died it too, for none were left of the whole Troop, but the Captain, and some ten more. The Queen's men having gained almost what they sought, fully to give her satisfaction in his death; yet wanted part, since they could not get his body, to be made a present to her cruelty. For the Captain perceiving their drift, hindered them of it, taking him up when he saw the unluky blow given, and in the heat of the fight fled away with it, knowing this a better piece of service, then to have lost his life in revenge at that time: since to better purpose he might save it in serving his Son, to have a just, and fit requital for such a wickedness, on those shameful murderers. They came with this body (of the most beloved Prince, while he lived, and the most pitied and honoured after death) to my house. Just as I returned, did I encounter this sad and disastrous adventure; In stead of a brave, courageous, and (with it) pleasing presence, I met his bloodless, pale, and martyred body. There I saw the hope of our Country, and comfort of mine age, changed again into our first being: So much it afflicted me, as I stood amazed with grief, speechless, and senseless of sense, but sorrow: till sorrow being pleased to make me have more feeling of her power, gave me leave to let these words come from me. O Antissius, hath life been lent me to see this day! Miserable man, miserable Country, wretched age, wherein such cruelty doth reign; O Antissius! but then by their honest good persuasions (telling me the necessity, and ensuing dangers, if not prevented, that the rest living might fall into) I strove to endure this calamity with as much patience, as so miserable a man could let sink into him, and indeed for this young youth's sake, who is the young Antissius, heir to these miseries, and the overthrown estate of Romania. But than followed a second cause of grief; For his virtuous wife came to us, who hearing such loud cries, and distracted noises, left her Chamber, following the cries till they brought her to that most lamentable spectacle. When she saw the cause of their wailing, she put them aside, going to the body, and kneeling down by it, used these words; My dear, was it for this, that unnatural Father, and monster of women, sent for thee? That no sooner thou shouldest see thy Father's house, but with it thou must see thy house of death? Alas, wert thou too good, too hopeful, too full of all virtues to live among us, who can now but assist thee with our tears? But long shall not this worldly sorrow triumph over me in thy loss, for I must, and will be with thee; with that kissing the pale lips of her dearest love, and as it were breathing her (though not last, but foretelling) last breath into him, she rose, and rising, a little seemed to smile, joy within her (for assured going to him) having caused that countenance; which by some was disliked, not being, to their weak apprehensions, sad enough, for such a cause of woe. As soon as she had left the body, she came to me, earnestly entreating me, that I would suffer none to trouble her, she having some private devotions to perform, which being ended, I should be welcome to her. For my part, I so little mistrusted her intent, or imagined a Woman had so strong a spirit, as to dye when she would, granted what she asked, being confident, her goodness would keep her from doing any violence on herself. Having left me, she went to the room where her young Son lay, and then fast sleeping, when as weeping over him (as the Maid's since told me) well mayst thou sleep, dear heart, said she, for long, I fear thy quiet will not last; thy being Son to so worthy a Father, and unfortunate a Mother, must cast some storms on thee, it being fault enough in thee to have such Parents: at least, thy wicked Grandmother will think so, who hating truth will make thee suffer for thy Father's sake. Sleep then quietly, my sweet, and lost Antissius, nor now look up to see thy woeful Mother, or to take her last farewell: but thus receive her blessing, which as the blessing of her own soul, she wishes may come, and stay upon thee, God sending thee a more happy life than thy valiant Father had: let his gifts of virtue, courage, and magnanimity live in thee, and his misfortunes take their grave in me; Alas, Antissius, my only sweet Babe, I must leave thee, then again kissing him, she said. This is the difference in affection, 'twixt a Husband and a Child, otherwise no fear of misfortune should carry me from thee, but my sweetest I must go, leaving Antissius, to fly to Antissius. And good maids, said she, have a kind, and just care of this young Prince, he may live to requite your pains, and revenge the wrongs done to his distressed Parents. They vowed all faith and dutiful service to him; then again, as loathe it must be the last, she kissed him, and so went to her Chamber: yet at the door, turning back, affectionately, and with watery eyes, cast her last, and kindest farewell look on him. When she came into her Chamber, She locked the door, not suffering any to stay or come to her: where she continued till (I thinking her stay long, beside, having business with her concerning the dead Prince) I went to her Lodgings, where long I knocked, and indeed, so long as it vexed me: but after fear possessed me, when I considered what the danger might be, and her freedom, and liberty, such as none had ever received that dishonour, of being barred her presence. Wherefore I sent for some of my Servants, who by my command broke open the door. Entering the room, We found her laid upon her bed, newly dead, yet her own accustomed sweetness in her, lying as strait, and unmoved, as if death had only then shown, he could in his pangs be mild, yet receive his gain: so as well it may be said, he deprived her of her life, yet left her own beauty and grace to triumph over his fury. By the bed side stood a Table covered with a Carpet of Crimson Velvet, and on the board a Letter, which I took up, and seeing it directed to me, I read it, and here (brave Princes) you may see the very same, my dearest Niece left to me, which never will I part with, till time give end unto my days, or life to accomplish her desires. The Letter was this.  
SInce it hath pleased God for the overthrow of this Land, and grief of all good hearts, (among which you, and I, hold the nearest places in sorrow) to cut this thread of admiration in sunder, and leave the heavy burden of lamentation upon us, taking away our joy, our comfort, our only Hope Antissius, I feel myself altogether unable to sustain so great, and killing a loss, then let me crave this of you (which the assurance of your love to your dead Nephew, and dying Niece, imboldeneth me to ask) that you will grant these three things, and see them accomplished: Let the love you bore to your dead Nephew continue and live in the same strength to your living Nephew. Let nothing hinder you from seeking a deadly revenge on his Murderers. Lastly, let me be here privately buried with him. Let these requests be welcome to you my dearest Uncle, and not deny the dying Lucenia.  
No Stranger I think would have denied so just requests, proceeding from a Lady of her worth, and being dying; what then wrought in me, who wanted not love, or resolution of revenge? One of her desires I instantly performed, for I buried her with her busband, and then upon the Tomb, myself, the Captain, and the Servants to the lost Antissius, took a solemn oath to have revenge: but by the bravest Princes, whose worths must needs abhor so detestable practices; other means, though they deserved the worst, and basest, honest and noble hearts did detest them. This done, we parted every one a several way, and to a several King, to make our misery more manifest; out of justice demanding their aid, to pull down wickedness, and again settle worth in Romania, myself remaining one whole year after, ne'er the Hellispont disguised, and almost begging my living, with this my last hope. Still they sought us while we were among them, but then perceiving the continual hazard, and ableness in this latter Antissius to travel; We left Greece, myself alone going with him: But how this was difcouered, or that this young man must inherit his Father's misfortunes, we hardly did escape taking. Upon the missing of us, Ambassadors were sent in all haste to all the near Princes, to whom with much falsehood, their false fault was covered with as foul a veil, working so far as belief, or fear of war made show of, so much as prevented the succour we had hoped for. Finding this, we took this Boat, coasting (not daring to stay any where) till we could be secure, Many places we have seen, but found none to rescue misfortune: not caring whither we went, so we were freed from her malicious power. Hither Fate hath brought us, and here we have found, and served some Noblemen, and good Princes, who have promised their help: so as, if you (brave Prince) Parselius, and these with you will likewise assist us, I fear not, but assure myself of our hoped-for comfort. Thus if pity dwell in you, you will pity us, and this Allimarlus is your Lord, and Prince. Parselius then embraced him, so did Steriamus and Selarinus: all promising (their former vows, and business ended) they would attend and rescue them, in the mean time, they would advise them to leave that shore, for fear of danger, considering the Charms, which yet to any but such as adventured the Towers, or unfortunately drank of the River were nothing: yet that scarce known, made cause of doubt. So they resolved and betook themselves to the Sea, when they saw floating upon the water, a man past sense or power to help himself, being now subject to the Sea, and the disposition she might be in to destroy him, or succour him. Parselius in Charity willed them to go towards him, the Tide bringing him a pace (as in love of him) that way. Being near, he perceived the man to be his dear Friend Leandrus, who (in the same fury they had before fall'n into, but wanting such help as they had) ran into the Sea, missing a Boat to convey him, but not fury to cast away himself, crying out he would have Antissia in spite of the valiantest black Knight. But quickly was he cooled with loss of strength, to save himself from loss, senses were come to him, but alas, too soon to lose them again, and life with them, if this happy adventure had not come unto him. For than cried out Parselius, O take up that worthy body, save that noble person from such loss; with this they made to him, taking him up, and after much care, getting life again, to put itself into the Cage of the body, when knowing his friends, but forgetting all things else, they embraced, as souls would (if not by a greater joy hindered) rejoice in the other world, for encountering their best friends. On they rowed, sometimes Parselius and the other Princes aiding the old man; taking their turns till they discovered a Morean Ship, to which they haled. She coming, and her rulers knowing their Prince, with all joy and duty received him, and his company into her. Then securely they sailed towards Greece: where being landed in Morea, they determined, that since instant aid could not be given them, they should there in a strong Castle remain, not Prisoners, but Commanders of that place, being an impregnable Fort, and in such a place, as none could land without their favour; so might they use the opportunity of place, and time. The Romanian Knight, after this place was by the Prince delivered to Seleucius and his Nephew Antissius (in the same ship had thither brought them) took again to the Sea, intending to go into Romania, and so hired them for Constantinople. But soon were they altered: for meeting another ship which desired to know something (the cause of that ships journey being for discovery) he found in her the ancient servant, and the same faithful Captain who had so loyally served the first Antissius. Finding him (and by him, that the Prince was to be found) he with him returned to the Castle: where being received, and ready to make his discourse, I will leave him, and go again to Parselius, who took the directest way to the Court, which was then kept in Arcadia, being a time the King had in pleasure made a journey that way, to delight himself in that most delightful Country. Being there arrived, no joy could be compared to the Kings and Queens, seeing their dearest Son returned: but little joy felt he, Urania being lost, which only to Pamphilia he discovered, who out of a dear and sisterly affection, the like bewailed absence. Sports and pleasures were every day offered, while he still knew of none, being in them as in another World; only wherein his own person was required, there his valour failed not, though his Soul which governed that, was otherwhere. Some days this lasted: but Parselius, whose love still urged him, could have no rest, colouring his pain with the loss of his friend and cousin, which indeed was the cause, but in the feminine gender. The King was the less displeased, because it was on so worthy a subject; yet he was sorry, being the lovingest of Fathers, that his dearest son should be displeased, and most troubled, when he saw he would not stay, but again go seek his Friend. Yet before his depart, he gained the promise of his Father, to raise men to assist Steriamus in his journey, to conquer his right: which was granted both for that just Cause, and likewise, because the fair young Princess Meriana, Queen of Macedon, by right should be unto her right restored. Thus departed Parselius, leaving Steriamus and his Brother to attend their business, and see the men raised, himself promising within fit time to take their journey to return. Leandrus likewise accompanying Parselius to the Court, gave his word to use his best power in gaining forces from his Father, to assist in this deserved occasion, they having suffered for their Parents loves. To which end he went into Achaya, giving his hand to Parselius, to be with him in Morea within six months, which was the time appointed for their marching forwards towards Macedon, or Albania, as at their next meeting they would agree on. Thus they parted: Parselius as his destiny would guide him, Leandrus to Achaya, and the other Princes remaining in Arcadia with the King, very much esteemed of.  
But soon after the Court removed nearer to the Sea; while Amphilanthus, who hath been too long forgot, not being time enough remembered, being the most matchless Prince with the fair Antissia, being in the Merchant's house as the Romanian Knight told Parselius, finding fit time, and longing to meet his friend, with the Princess, and the honest pair, took their way towards the Court where the king lived: by the way it was Antissia's fortune, to mark (with so yielding a heart) the loveliness, sweetness, bravery, & strength of the famous Amphilanthus, which in many adventures he made testimony of in her sight, before their gaining the Court, as this (alas) made her acknowledge, she had seen but him, who might be thought a Prince, she had heard of none but him, all others virtues being single in them, but knit in one in him. This made her like, that made her love: and so she did (poor Lady) to her lost liberty; he, the more he saw her respect to him, answered it with his to her: kindness then betrayed them, she showing it, he (as a kindhearted Prince to Ladies) receiving it. By this time they were content to think they loved, and so to know those pains. He was not unexperienced, therefore soon saw remedy must be given: and cruelty he imagined it would be in him, who discerned he might by his art help her, if he refused that good, to one so fair, and so kindly loving. This made him in charity watch his opportunity, or at least not to lose any, being most with her; and contentedly, because lovingly passing the time, entertaining themselves with fine discourse many hours together. The good people weary with travelling or seeking other necessaries for them, necessarily leaving them then, not with much complaining of their absence.  
At last they came unto the Court, being two months after the departure of Parselius, and the next week after the secret departure of Steriamus, which was such, as hereafter you shall hear. His arrival was as pleasing to the People and Prince, as fair weather is after a storm, or plenty following a great dearth: so generally and particularly was he beloved; his enemies (for no great man, nor good man lives without) being forced in truth to confess he deserved much admiration. He came pleasantly thither, and for some days continued so: but after, whether miss of his friend Parselius, or some other private cause to himself moved him, is not known: but sad he grew, and shunning all other company, would retire himself with Antissia into Pamphilia's chamber, where he would, when he speak, direct his speech to her; still blaming her brothers for so strangely leaving their Country, he could not offer speech to her, which she received not with much respect, yet was she generally the most silent and discreetly retired of any Princess. But one day as they were alone together, some discourse falling out of the beauty of Ladies, Amphilanthus gave so much commendations of Antissia, as she between dislike, and a modest affection, answered, he had spoke sufficiently in her praise: for truly my Lord, said she, me thinks there is not that beauty in her as you speak of, but that I have seen, as fair and delicate as she; yet in truth she's very white, but that extreme whiteness I like not so well, as where that (though not in that fullness) is mixed with sweet loveliness; yet I cannot blame you to think her peerless, who views her but with the eyes of affection. Amphilanthus gave this reply; That he till then had never seen so much Womanish disposition in her, as to have so much pretty envy in her, yet in his opinion (except herself) he had not seen any fairer, Antissia with that came to them, which brought them into other discourses, till they were forced to part. They gone, Pamphilia alone began to breath out her passions, which to none she would discover, resolving rather so to perish, then that any third should know she could be subject to affection. Alas, would she say (weeping to herself) what have I deserved to be thus tyrannically tortured by love? and in his most violent course, to whom I have ever been a most true servant? Had I wronged his name, scorned his power, or his might, than I had been justly censured to punishment: but ill Kings, the more they see obedience, tread the more upon their subjects; so doth this all conquering King. O love, look but on me, my heart is thy prey, myself thy slave, then take some pity on me. Being heavy, she went into her bed, but not with hope of rest, but to get more liberty to express her woe. At last, her servants gone, and all things quiet, but her ceaseless mourning soul, she softly rose out of her bed, going to her window, and looking out beheld the Moon, who was then fair and bright in herself, being almost at the full, but rounded about with black, and broken clouds. Ah Diana (said she) how do my fortunes resemble thee? my love and heart as clear, and bright in faith, as thou art in thy face, and the fullness of my sorrows in the same substance: and as thy wane must be, so is my wane of hopes in my love; affections in him, being as cold to me, as thou art in comparison of the Sun's heat: broken joys, black despairs, incirkling me, as those dissevered clouds do strive to shadow by strait compassing thy best light. When she had (as long as her impatient desires would permit her) beheld the chaste Goddess, she went to her bed again, taking a little Cabinet with her, wherein she had many papers, and setting a light by her, began to read them, but few of them pleasing her, she took pen and paper, and being excellent in writing, writ these verses following.  

HEart drops distilling like a new cut-vine  
Weep for the pains that do my soul oppress,  
Eyes do no less  
For if you weep not, be not mine,  
Silly woes that cannot twine  
An equal grief in such excess.   

You first in sorrow did begin the act,  
You saw and were the instruments of woe,  
To let me know  
That parting would procure the fact  
Wherewith young hopes in bud are wracked,  
Yet dearer eyes the rock must show.   

Which never weep, but killingly disclose  
Plagues, famine, murder in the fullest store,  
But threaten more.  
This knowledge cloys my breast with woes  
T'avoid offence my heart still chose  
Yet failed, and pity doth implore.   
When reading them over again; Fie passion (said she) how foolish canst thou make us? and when with much pain and business thou hast gained us, how dost thou then dispose us unto folly, making our choicest wits testimonies to our faces of our weaknesses, and, as at this time dost, bring my own hands to witness against me, unblushingly showing my idlenesses to me. Then took she the new-writ lines, and as soon almost as she had given them life, she likewise gave them burial. And yet, said she, love must do thus, and sure we love his force the better for these fancies. Then putting out the light, lest that should too soon waste, beholding her passions, which in hotter flames continued (than the united one of the candle could aspire to comparison with the smallest of millions of them) turning her in her bed with a deep love-sigh, she cried: O love, thou dost master me.  
Thus did the love wounded Princess pass that night, or the greater part of it; convenient time for sports in the morning being come, the king sent for her to attend him and the Queen, to see a match which was made at the justs only, partly to please the king, but most to welcome Amphilanthus. Pamphilia and Antissia were placed together; Antissia dear loving her for her cousin's sake; whom so well she loved, as she gloried to have all ears and eyes partake the knowledge of it. Pamphilia did embrace her company, being excelling in sweet conversation, as far as pleasant and harmless mirth could extend: and fit was such a companion, for the melancholy which abounded in the Princess. Being at the window, and all having once run over, Amphilanthus gained the first honour. Whereat Antissia being joyful, Well may it be bestowed on him (said she), for sure none can in all brave exercises come near your matchless Cousin, for delicate fineness, and peerless power. 'Tis true (said Pamphilia): yet if you saw my brother Parselius, you would (and indeed must) confess, he comes the nearest to him, and nearly matches him. I know not him (said Antissia), but if he do but second this, you may boldly say, no Princess living can compare with you for a Cousin and a Brother. By this the match was ended, and the Knights coming to the king, he gave them thanks, embracing his best beloved Nephew. Then went each one to his Mistress, to receive their opinions in the defence of their favours: Antissia telling Amphilanthus, that in her mind, he alone deserved the honour of that day. He replied; Her wishes and favour did purchase him that honour, more power living in them, then in his arm or skill. Then did all return, the Knights conducting every one his Lady, Pamphilia went alone, for she not enjoying her love, loved to be alone, as she was alone in perfect and unfortunate loving; thinking so slight a thing as a Knights leading her, might be a touch in her thoughts to her spotless affection, nor would she ever honour any one, with wearing a favour in those sports; having vowed, that only one should enjoy all love and faith from her; and in her constancy (this not being known, her passions so wisely governed, as she was not mistrusted to love so violently) made her of many to be esteemed proud, while it was that flame, which made her burn in the humblest subjection of Love's meanest subjects; yet was her choice like herself, the best. No day passed without some exercises on horseback, wherein Amphilanthus did still add fame unto himself, by that to make Antissia the more his Prisoner: But now is the time for his depart in the search of his friend arrived; if it grieved the Court to part with him? it surely heartily perplexed her, whose life depended on his sight; so it tormented her, as with the flowing of tears, her face was martyred so much, as she was not fit to come in company, having turned her delightfulness to sorrows, feigning herself ill, and so keeping her chamber, being seen of none but of Pamphilia, to whom she had freely discoursed both her affection, and success in her love; who like a worthy friend, accompanied her in this sorrow. The night before he was to go, he came into her chamber to bid her farewell, and to entreat her to remain there till his return; the king having given him his promise, that all honour and respect should be used to her; the Princess Pamphilia (he durst say) would do the like; and for his own part, care and diligence should not want in him to make his speedy return. The poor Lady could but with a speechless mourning behold him, holding his hand fast in hers, at last sorrow brought forth these words for her. My Lord, God knows how I lament for your going, how much more must your absence afflict me? As you see the one, and may judge of the other, have pity in hastening hither to her, who till then daily will find a deathlike life. So he took his leave of her, promising to perform her commands: then turning to Pamphilia (who had all this while beheld this so sad, but loving parting), Madam (said he) is there any thing left to make me so happy, as that it may be in my fortunes to serve you, and so to be blest with your employments? My Lord (said she) it is sufficient to be commanded by one, and so beautiful a Lady: for my part, I will entreat your speedy return, and that you bring my brother with you. With this he left the Ladies, one to lament, the other forced to comfort. His journey he took directly toward the sea, meaning at the first convenient Port to take shipping, and so to pass into Italy, whether, it might be his friend was gone, according to their first agreement. But coming into a place not the richest, but well distant from the worst of countries, in a part within some leagues from the sea, the least inhabited of any of those quarters, being somewhat hilly, and desert-like, he went among some of those hills to rest himself, choosing one, the side of it being a fine Wood, the foot of it beautified with a pleasant and swift River, before it a pretty Plain which went not far, before another Hill proudly over-lookt her lowliness: his horse he gave to his Squire, himself walking down into the Wood, and being taken with the pleasures of that place, he laid himself among them on the ground, speaking these words: What destiny is this, unhappy man, that no time will be permitted me to endure happy in? How is the world deceived, in thinking happiness consists alone in being beloved? when as if it proceeds from other than their own chosen love, it is a punishment; like as the being crammed, when one is full: Love then (I beseech thee) make me less happy in not being loved, or truly blest with enjoying her heart, who hath made mine her Captive. But O me, I do fear that she doth love: wretch that I am, what then must needs befall me? Death, I cruel'st death, when by a Love procured. More he was a saying, and surely had discovered his passions in a greater, and more exact manner, but that he was called to attention by a delicate (yet doleful) voice, a Lute finely played upon, giving music to his Song, which was this.  

A Dieu sweet Sun  
Thy night is near  
Which must appear  
Like mine, whose light but new begun  
Wears as if spun  
By chance not right,  
Led by a light  
False, and pleasing, ever won.   

Come once in view  
Sweet heat, and light  
My heavy spirit  
Dulled in thy setting, made anew  
If you renew,  
Daisies do grow,  
And spring below  
Blest with thy warmth, so once I grew.   

Wilt thou return,  
Dear bless mine eyes  
Where love's zeal lies  
Let thy dear object mildly burne  
Nor fly, but turn  
'T is season now  
Each happy bow  
Both buds and blooms, why should I mourn?   
No sooner had he ended his song, but the same voice (though in a more plaining manner) brought forth these words: O life, O death? why am I cloyed with one, & slave for the other, much more of me desired? False joys, leave, forced pleasure fly me, music why abide you? since joy, pleasure, and true music (which is love) abandons me, shuns me; alas true piece of misery: I who am despised, hated, scorned, and lost. Are these my gains ungrateful love? take here thy conquest, and glory in thy purchase, while I live loathing myself, and all, but her by whom I remain a wretched forlorn slave: yet some comfort I have to sustain me, that I suffer for the rarest and most excellent of women, and so long Cupid use thy force, and tyrannize upon my slaughtered heart. These words were to the brave Italian, so just the image of his own thoughts, as they were as if his, or like two Lutes tuned alike, and placed, the one struck, the other likewise sounds: so did these speeches agree to his encumbered thoughts. Willing he was to comfort him, but loath to disquiet him, knowing in this estate loneliness, and disburdening of some part of the like grief doth ease one: wherefore he remained in a doubt what to do, when as the young man (for so he perceived from such a one the voice did come) not caring which way he did take, or seeing any direct path, but that his fantasies led him in, came hard by the place where Amphilanthus lay, who viewing his youth and delicate beauty, admired and pitied him. He passed on towards the River, his eyes, as it were, imitating the swift running of that stream, his Lute he held in his hand, till again having some more Verses framed in his mind (perfect lovers never wanting invention) he again played, and sung; having done, O Love, said he, once ease me, or let death seize me, giving conclusion to my dolorous days. What do I gain by being a Prince? What avails it me to hope for a Kingdom's Government, when she who is my Kingdom to me, and my Princess doth reject me? Woe is me that ever I knew Morea; Woe is me that ever I beheld Pamphilia; O Pamphilia, would I were but so much honoured, as thou wouldst but think me worthy to kiss thy hands, that would revive me, and for that favour would I think myself sufficiently requited for all my torments-bearing.  
Amphilanthus hearing his Cousin named, and the young man discover himself to be a Prince, wondering in his travels he had never seen him, desirous to be resolved of his estate, and name, with all the true cause of his desperate grief, went towards him courteously, and with respect due to him, saluted him thus. Sir, let not, I pray you, my boldness in this interrupting your more pleasing thoughts, be displeasing to you, since it is my fortune (not desire to trouble you) which brought me hither, wherefore, I hope, I shall obtain pardon of you. The young Prince soberly, and a little blushing, answered. No fault can I find with your being here, or any thing except my own fortune, which thinks itself never cursed enough to me; but since, as I assure myself, you have heard my Passions, till now never known to man, let me know by whom I am discovered? Upon promise to have the like courtesy from you; replied the valiant King, I will not hide myself from you: He consenting, the stranger Prince began. Then Sir, know I am called Steriamus, Prince and rightful King of Albania, brought unto this country by the virtuous and noble Prince Parselius, who hath undertaken to assist me in recovering the Kingdom lost in my Father's days, but what talk I of a Kingdom, having lost the power of my content and happiness; now Sir, perform your word: I am said the other, Amphilanthus King of the Romans. Steriamius knowing him to be that famous Prince, in whose search his friend was gone, fast held him in his arms, crying; yet am I happy to see the most renowned Prince breathing before I die; for now may I ending say, I have seen the worth of the world, and feel her greatest cruelty. Amphilanthus blushed to hear his virtue so extolled, but lovingly embracing in like manner the Albanian Prince, was again solicited by him, to tell him all his story, which in this manner (sitting down by the River side) he did discourse. Myself and my brother being brought by that worthy Prince to his Father's Court, were there left, he first having received promise, and command being given for men's raising, to restore me (miserable me) to my kingdom, as I before told you, he took his leave, being gone in the search of you, but promised return within six months into Morea, being now gone into Italy, hoping to meet you there. I remaining, grieved to part with him, but more afflicted with an incurable wound, which in that Court I received. But before I go any further, I pray tell me whether you have lately seen the Princess Pamphilia, for surely then shall I find one pain troubles us, and one cure only for us; I saw her very lately, replied Amphilanthus being but almost now come from her Father's Court, but for all that you may safely go on with your discourse.  
Then, said he, it was my happiness to see her, but my misery to fall in love with her, (cruel she) who if she prove not merciful to me, I must for her, thus ever suffer: beside, it hinders my going on, in the regaining of Albania; for, what is a Kingdom to me, being subject to a greater power of the mind? What can that Realm prove to me, if Pamphilia martyr me? What is a Court to one cast down to the lowest of Love's slaveries? No Selarinus, thou art worthy, and free, and therefore fit to rule; and God send thee that, and all other good fortunes, and this among the rest, that thou never come to the knowledge of thy miserable Brother's end, whose misery did thus begin.  
One day as the King and Queen were walking in the Garden, attended on by all the Princes, Ladies, and Knights of the Court, every one discoursing as best pleased them, Pamphilia walked alone, none daring to present himself to her: such was the respect all boar unto her, and fear of displeasing her. I saw her, and with that sight lost myself; Love then emboldened me so, as armed with his fire, I went to her, and took the boldness to walk by her, and offering discourse (I confess unworthy of her hearing) she entertained me modestly and gravely: Love for me finding this hope, forced me to use the time, and to speak something of itself to her: which she perceiving (yet out of pity not willing too curstly to deal with me) showed me in her countenance dislike of my speeches. And yet not to put me too much besides myself, called other to her, to add (as she feigned) to her company: With a bleeding heart I suffered this disgrace, which yet was by her so handled, as none but my own soul could witness it to any. Thus that day past, sorrow increasing in me, and little mirth growing in her. Oft times would she be ready to sigh, but loving that breath, which she drew for so loved a cause, she did strive to fetch it back again; or else it was to cover her long breathing. Many days this continued, till one night standing in a round window in a great gallery, a Lady who did much use to accompany the Princess (though she be of the Queen's Chamber) standing by her. Madam, said she, did you ever see so silent a Prince as this is? Surely if he were to win his Kingdom by words, as it must be done by swords, the Country might remain a long time without the lawful King. Pamphilia looked (O me a deadly wound that sweetest look did prove) pleasingly upon me, saying, My Lord, you see this Lady finely begs discourse from you. Alas Divine Princess, said I, what discourse can proceed from a dead man? I never heard till now, said she, that dead men walked, and spoke. Yes Madam, cried I, as you have seen trees continue green in their branches, though the heart be quite dead, and consumed away, hollowness only remaining: And so is nothing left in me but empty hope, and flourishing despair. Is there no cure, said she? Yes that there is, said I. Show it, said she: I looking about, and seeing the other Lady parted from me, besides hard by a fair Glass (many hanging as ornaments in that Gallery) I took it up turning it to her, mine eyes only speaking for me. She (with seeing her face, saw my cause of torment) said as little as I: only taking the Glass turned the other side, which was dull like my gains, and with as much scorn and contempt, as could appear in so much beauty (like as if the Sun would in spite show himself in a storm), she turned from me. I stood still, for indeed I could not move, till for my last comfort, sense came to me, to show me, I was in no fit place so to betray my passions: wherefore getting so much strength (although no more, then as men after a long sickness gain, when they go with feeble joints, the length of a room; so much had I), and that little with much ado, brought me to my chamber, where I opened my breast to all sorrow, and let mine eyes make full sea of tears. Thus I remained, till this resolution took me, to wander I cared not whither, so it were far from knowledge of any, and to leave that most cruel beauty to her own content; which yet I fear she hath not, though I truly wish she had. I called my brother to me, telling him he must be secret to me, as he did hope for love from me: which he vowed, not mistrusting what I meant, till 'twas too late to go back. With sobs and tears he besought me to alter: but I told him there was no remedy, nor must he break his oath. Then against his heart he said, he must obey. My charge was this; never to reveal my manner of going, nor ever to seek after me, or suffer any that he could hinder. Then went I to pamphilia's chamber, where I humbly desired to speak with her; she gave me leave: but when I was ready to say something she prevented me. If you have, said she, any business, I shallbe ready to do you any service in it: but if it be concerning your glass discovery, know this, you shall do best to be silent; for a greater offence you cannot do me. Alas Madam (said I), have you no pity for me? I have pity for any (said she), leave this folly, and I shall wish you well. That was so cold a favour for my desires, and my dutiful affection such to her, as not to give her the least cause of dislike, besought her, she would honour me but so much, as I might kiss her hands before my departure, which was forced by an adventure, calling me away: she nobly granted that, and said, she wished me good fortune. I told her, my fortune could only be made by her. Then can it prove little, said she. With trembling and deathlike paleness I left her lodgings, having yet the favour which my lips received, in touching her fairest hand; which kiss shall never part from me, till these my lips do kiss with death. Then wandered I away, till I came hither; never finding any place to please me, nor, alas, doth this, or can any thing but her pity please; only this is less distasteful, than those where greater noises be. Here I am quiet, but for my own quiet, but for my grief, which never gives me rest. In a little cave in the ground is my lodging, one Squire attending me, who from a Town not far hence fetcheth me provision: this Lute (a quality I learnt in the Court since my coming thither) misfortune, and my Mistress' disdain, my discourse and companions: and thus lives, and daily dies the rejected Steriamus. Having finished his tale, his eyes flowed again with tears, as if it were their office to give the full stop of his discourse. Amphilanthus embracing him; Steriamus (said he) leave these lamentations; for a fury in one (who how worthy soever, yet being a woman), may change. How many have been condemned for cruelly, that after have proved kind enough? yet speak I not this of Pamphilia, who hath still kept a constant resolution to herself. But sure some strange occasion makes her (so full of judgement and sweetness) carry so strict a course in your affections: yet let not that make you forget yourself. The poor Albania (poor in missing you) calls upon you, the rest of the world hath need of such Princes: then let not passion overthrow a brave spirit: absence can bring no hope, presence and desert may, if any thing. Or say she never love you, there are other fair Ladies, who will be liker themselves, pitiful and loving. Never shall other love possess my heart (cried he), and that O heavens still witness for me, and behold this vow, That when I change, it shall be unto death. Then shutting his hands one fast within the other, he groaning said; Nor ever let these hands part, if I part from this my love. Time (said he) will give you (I trust) unexpected cause of comfort, in the mean time let us talk of something else. Then Steriamus invited Amphilanthus to the Cave, dear loving him for his brave advice, but most for his cousin's sake. There they sat together, lay together, & passed some days together, till the Albanian was overcome with the Italians (never-failing) persuading speeches; so as they took their course towards the sea, falling into that way which brought them directly to the Castle, where young Antissius and his Uncle were by Parselius left. There they found them, and met the honest Captain, who was brought thither by the Romanian Knight, who after the whole discourse was told to Amphilanthus, as before it had been to Parselius by the old Prince, and young Knight, continued the story thus. After that (devil of women) the King's wife had wrought the ruin of Romania, Proclamations out for the bringing of either or both of you, for which large sums of money were offered: but if you could be delivered in alive, those sums, and great honours with brave possessions: you my Lord made a Traitor, and you Sir having your head at sale. Then obtained she, that her son was made heir apparent to the Crown; and that if the King happened to die, while the new Prince was under years, that then she would govern as Protectress, till he came of age. This sure, she grew weary of the old man, whose age, and dotage (she having employed them to her use, was now cloyed with them) troubled her; to be rid of him was then her study. At last finding an easy way (as she thought) she called one of her servants to her (being one who ambitiously sought to win the honour, of being her favourite) leading him into a private Cabinet, where she plotted all her wickedness; there she began with false and forged flattring to entice him to her purpose; dissimulation, and protestation of her affections she wanted not, to draw him into the yoke of her witchcraft. And what (said she) though the world do tax me for loving many? do not you accuse me, my only dear; for sooner will I die, then wrong your love. If my fashion, which is free and familiar, make you doubt me? consider why it is, since it were neither wisdom, nor safety for us, to use you only kindly in all sights. The graces others have, is but to blind their eyes, which else would be clear sighted to our ill, and this even by the love you bear me, I conjure you to believe; and this should you well find, were I at liberty and free. What freedom would you ask? To be myself, said she, and so to take a husband I could love, as I love you; and so would make you, were the old man dead. Is that the bar, cried he, dear Lady? He is dead, or even as good, for two days is his longest term of life. That done, enjoy me, who am only thine; and verily the thing is easy, safe; and doubtless do it then, and by it purchase me. He long time bewitched with her craft, allured by her beauty, and continued in error by her falsehoods, believed she spoke unfeigned from her heart, letting himself covet that, which with murder (and treacherous murder) they must gain from the true owner But he looked no further than his love, to compass which, no means seemed ill, so partial was he to his vild desires. Thus was his word engaged, and the king's life limited; which end of time being come, they enticed the grave man into a Park, where they murdered him, bringing home the old body besmeared in his own blood, covered with their mantles (as the fault was with their feigned talls), which were, that in the Wood certain men, hired as it was likely by you, set upon him, killed him, and wounded them; showing some slight wounds which they had (for the greater show of truth) given themselves. The Queen being brought to this sad fight, took on strangely, rending her clothes, crying, and even howling so, as most did pity her, and few or none accuse her guilty of the crime, so cunning was she in her deep deceits. Then was the Council called, who came, in show sad, but in hearts joyful, wicked men, loving nothing more than change; they brought also the young king to his mother. The people being assembled, and the false report of the king's death delivered, wherewith they were satisfied, pitying the wounded body, yet crediting the murderers. Thus was the poor doting King rewarded for his fondness. A funeral was made with all ceremonious cost and pomp, the young unlawful king being that day crowned, as soon as the body was interred. This was yet but one part of the play, the other soon followed. She thinking herself no way secure (so many knowing of her sin) to avoid punishment on earth, would run yet faster to meet more punishments cause, in the other world, by heaping murders upon murders: for inviting all those except her Minion) to a private banquet, she poisoned them, reserving the favourite for some other virtuous purpose; who being in the pride of his desires, expecting when he should be made her husband, often urged it: but she put it off with pretence of fear, lest that the too sudden marriage might give occasion to the world to doubt, what was most true, and what their guiltiness made them mistrust.  
Thus it passed a while like a calm tide after a tempest: her son and she being in full possession of all, the neighbour kings sent to condole the death of the king, and to congratulate the other, whether out of love, or desire of peace (a sweet thing to spriteless Princes). Among the rest came one, who accompanied the Ambassador of Morea, a Gentleman of excellent parts, winning the love of all that conversed with him, having a modest government over a strong and dainty wit: but as he was in this happy, he was crossed with the violent love of the chastlesse Queen, who affected him after her wont fashion, but so fond and intemperately, as she caused most to look with gazing eyes on her: he was not of the highest stature, though far from being low; his hair fair, and that beard he had, something inclined to yellow. She saw this Gentleman (who since I learnt, was Son to the Duke of Mantinaea, and Captain of a troop of Horse, which was part of the King's Guard, and the Noblest part; because that Company must ever be choice men, and all Gentlemen): She wooed him, plainly said, She loved him. Yet could not this prevail, wroth in him, withstanding all her baits: which being meant as refusals, proved enticements to bring her on; like a Spaniel, that fawns on the man's cruelty. Her passions then grown immoderate and ungovernable, years increasing in her, and strength of judgement failing her more than in her youth, gave such open testimony of her love, as her latter servant (but companion in mischief) perceived it; his confidence having been such, as that blinded him long time, giving liberty and assurance in that to her, and her ends, which never were but either politic, or lascivious. But he as having new sight given him to see her shame, and his own together; hate taking the place of love, his desires flew to the ruin of her, as before to the continuance of their days in their own pleasures never enough enjoyed. He plotted to undo her, and watched the opportunity, which he obtained by his diligent prying; that, bringing him to discover her going into her Cabinet with his stranger, pretending there to show him some jewels. They were no sooner within the room (she having but put the door a little to, not close), but her enraged enemy came, and finding means of discerning what was to be seen, lost it not, but stood still looking in. She (whose thoughts carried her to higher points than care) took no heed of that which most concerned her: for there he saw her with all passionate ardency, seek, and sue for the stranger's love, yet he unmoveable, was no further wrought, then if he had seen a delicate play-boy act a loving woman's part, and knowing him a Boy, liked only his action; then with much ado he brought forth these words: Alas Madam, why seek you at my hands your dishonour and my shame? How dare you venture your honour in the power of a stranger, who likely would use it to his glory, and your reproach? Besides you know I love one, whose worth and truth must not be hurt, or blotted in my fault, my life not worthy to satisfy the crime, should her unspotted loyalty suffer for my sin. Yet satisfy my desire (said she) and then love whom you will. Love whom you will (cried out the furious forsaken) rushing into the room as much unexpected, and unwelcome, as thunder in winter, which is counted prodigious. The Queen stood amazed while he used these speeches; Fie faithless Woman, verifier of that fault whereof I hoped, women had been slandered, and not subject unto: have I obeyed you in your wicked and abominable treasons, thus to be rewarded? She finding he had not only found her, but also had discovered her falsehood, withal considering his rage, she fell at his feet, ask pardon. Pardon yourself, said he, if you can, and me who want it, as drought doth water: Be your protestations, vows, and daily given oaths come to this? With that most furiously he ran towards he, but the Morean in humanity saved her from hurt by him; but to hinder that, he was forced to struggle with him, who was a strong man, and then had double power. This noise called in some that waited without, others ran to tell the king, either to show forwardness in service, or indeed business, not caring what they carry, so it be news; wanting the chiefest part, which is judgement, to know, where, when, and what to tell. But in brief, the king came, and finding this unfortunate disorder, not being able to win from them by fair means the truth, (to avoid all ill) committed them to prison, from whence (for the speedier, and so more secure proceeding) the next morning they were brought to public arraignment: but the King was not present, fearing those things (which after broke forth) would then be blown forth. And indeed it was so, for the accused being demanded what he could say in his own defence; said, Nothing but wherein he must accuse himself. Being urged to that, he confessed all, finishing his speech thus; For her sake, by her consent, knowledge, and command, I slew the King; she having given me her faith (which as a faith I esteemed; but alas, it was a shadow put in a false light) that she would marry me; this added to a natural ambition I had to greatness, not judicially weighing, how heavy in justice this weight of honour should be, so devilishly sought for, or attained. For this he was condemned to die, the manner by four wild horses: but before his execution she was examined, with whom few words were used, before she confessed herself guilty. She was likewise condemned (for being a subject, she was under the law), and so had her head struck off, the stranger was delivered free again. Many pitied her, to whom she had done good (for none can be found so ill, that some will not commiserate); yet the most (like the base world) left her, having held with her while her power shined, but now set with her light, running to the rising strength, not to the declined: few said, she was wrongfully put to death, either for love to her, or to make business: for no sooner was she dead, but one of her ancienter favourites rose in rebellion, the people apt to take any occasion to stir new afflictions: but a great party he hath gotten, and so much gained, as the King is now shut up in the great City of Constantinople, the Rebel (as the unlawful king doth call him) besieging him, and vowing never to lay down Arms, till he hath gotten him in his power: and now do they all cry out for Antissius, honouring the very name as a god; wishing for you Sir, and vowing if they can recover you, to make you their King. Thus have I left them, the General (for so he is called) having enjoined me to find you out; they are infinite strong, and want but you, and some brave men to govern them. Go now I beseech you; never had Romania more need, nor shall you ever find a fitter time.  
The Princes sat a while in consultation, at last they resolved presently to take the journey in hand, not holding it good to lose so fit an opportunity. The Squire of Amphilanthus was sent to find Parselius in Italy, and to acquaint him with their affairs, withal to entreat his company. This concluded on, all went to rest, Steriamus desiring, that because his name was not yet known by desert, it might be still kept secret; and most he desired it, by reason of his vow. They agreed to it, and he was only called, The true despised, which was all the device in his shield. Amphilanthus did desire to be held unknown too: but his reason was, that it was not so safe for so famous a man to be commonly known, in so great & imminent dangers; beside, the renown of him, might make many refuse the combat with him, who else he might for sport or profit encounter: he had Love painted in his shield, and was called, The Knight of Love..  
Towards Romania with prosperous winds they sailed, choosing the way by sea as the shortest, and less troublesome. In a fit and short time they arrived in Romania, landing a little from the Town, for fear of unknown dangers, and so they passed to the Army, where Antissius and his Uncle being known, unspeakable joy was made, the General yielding all into his hands, and taking his authority from him. Upon this the Usurper sent for a Truce, but that was denied: then he desired (rather then to continue immured in that kind, beside, ready to be famished), that they would bring three Knights into the field, the which number he would also bring, himself being one, and those six to end the business, which side overcoming, the other should depart with peace, and never make more wars one against another. This was accepted, Amphilanthus and Steriamus being two, the third they had not yet appointed, nor would, till the day of combat; still expecting some famous Knight, or Parselius himself, might come to fill the number: if none, than the young Knight their first acquaintance should be the man.  
The day come, when as the Lists were made without the Town, the judges appointed, old Seleucius, Uncle to Antissius, and the honest Captain Lisandrinus, were the judges for their side: on the other, were the Admiral, and Marshal of Romania. The Gates were all set open, and free liberty given every one to pass where he listed, only enjoined to go unarmed. The first that entered into the field was the King, on each hand of him his two Companions in fight; before him six men bareheaded, one carrying his Helm, three other his Spears, the two last his Sword and Shield: his Armour was green, flowered with Gold; the furniture to his Horse of the same colour, cut into Garlands of Laurel, and embroidered with Gold; but so artificially joined together, as they seemed when the Horse stirred, to rise as ready to crown each part of his conquest. In his Shield he had a crown of Bays, held up by a Sword; Word he had none, so as it seemed he stayed for that, till his hoped for victory had provided one for him. The other Knights were both alike in Watchet and Gold; their devices a blue Cloud, out of which sparkled fire.  
But than came the honour of his sex, never enough admired, and beloved Amphilanthus, his Armour was white, fillited with Rubies; his furniture to his Horse Crimson, embroidered with Pearl; his Shield with the same device, from which he took his name. Steriamus according to his fortune was in Tawny, wrought all over with black. As they were entering, a brave Gentleman in a murry Armour, fillited with Diamonds, his furniture richly wrought with Silver and Gold, came to Amphilanthus, using these words: My Lord, your worth cannot be hid, though you have obscured your name; they both (but the former most) ties me to be your servant, and as the first favour I shall receive, beg the honour of being third in this brave exploit; not that I am so ignorant, as to think myself worthy of being your Companion, but wholly out of ambition to serve you. Amphilanthus looking upon him, seeing the richness of his Arms, and the bravery of his Personage, being as comely and strong set, as ever he had seen any, made him this answer. Sir, the honour is mine, to gain so brave a Companion and friend, wherein I rejoice; and in place of your love to me, give you mine, which is and shall be firm unto you, and with all my heart embrace your offer to be the third, not now doubting of the victory, having so happy a beginning. Then they embraced, and taking him on the left hand of him, and Steriamus on the right, they went on to the judges: and all six meeting together, speaking some few words one to another, they parted to meet, never more to part on some sides. Amphilanthus encountered one of the Watchet Knights, Steriamus the King; and the Forest Knight (so being called, because of his Device, which was a great and pleasant Forest, most pleasantly set forth, as the cunning of the rarest Painter could devose) met the other watchet knight. The first Knight lost his Stirrup, else there was no advantage on any side, and thus they continued the three courses; then lighting and drawing their swords, there grew the cruelest, and yet delightfullest Combat, (if in cruelty there can be delight) that Martial men ever performed, or had been seen by judging eyes: for never was courage, magnanimity, valour, skill, and nimbleness, joined better together; so as indeed a Kingdom was too low a prize for such a Combat. Long it continued, till the Knight of Love, disdaining one man should hold out so long with him, gave him such a wound in the head as therewith he fell down dead at his feet. At the same instant the King gave Steriamus, a great hurt in the body, but he was quickly paid with a wound in the belly, which gave him his discharge, and freed him from any more trouble of ruling or obeying. The Knight of the Forest seeing his Companions good fortune, knew it his part to accompany them, so as with a surely given stroke, the head of the other, and last knight fell to kiss his feet. Steriamus was carried presently into the Town, where by the help of a good Chirurgeon, he was soon recovered. The judges all in face glad, (howsoever some of their hearts were affected) came to them, who with the rest, presently proclaimed Antissius King, who was by the people received with much joy at the Coronation, which was within short time. Antissius created the General, Duke of Neapolis, and Lysandrinus Duke of Selybria.  
All things being in quiet, the Knight of Love would needs return into Morea, to see things fitting for Steriamus, and to accompany him in his Conquest. With him went the Knight of the Forest, between whom grew so strict a bond of Friendship, as was never to be broken, they two lying together in one room, Steriamus in another, by reason of his hurt. Amphilanthus in the night often turned, and turning, still did end with sighs. The Forest Knight perceived it, yet let him alone till the morning, when being ready to rise; My only friend, said he, Your last nights ill rest made mine unpleasing to me, and most, because mine ignorance hinders me from being able to serve you. I cannot be yet so bold to demand the cause, since what proof have you of me, that I should think you might esteem me worthy of such a favour? Yet this you may be confident of, that death shall cease me, before I refuse to venture life to obtain your desires; and lose it rather, then reveal any secret you shall impart to me. Amphilanthus answered, that he saw unexpected good happen to him in all things (especially in this blessed friendship) but in that which he most sought for, nor would I conceal the cause of this my pain from you, were it once discovered to her from whom I suffer it, but till then I must conceal it; and you, I hope, on this occasion will excuse me: and for proof of your accepting this for that which it is, being truth, tell me your love, and fortune in it, which shall bind me to confidence, and engage me to the relation of mine. My Lord, said he, to satisfy you (which is the all of my wishes) understand, that my poor self (only rich in the honour of being your friend) hunting one day in a great forest, my Father, the king of Bohemia, and many other Princes of Germany, being assembled; It was my fortune following the sport more eagerly than the rest, to go so far from my company, as I was left in the woods all night: there I took my lodging, resting free from passion, if not rage, for wanting judgement so to be lost. In this night, and midst of it (for I waked with the dream, and found it was not day) me thought I saw a Creature, for shape a woman, but for excellency, such as all the rarenesin that sex, curiously, and skilfully mixed, could but frame such an one; and yet but such a one in show, like a Picture well drawn, but the subject more perfect, apparelled in green, her hair hanging careless, nothing holding it, but a delicate Garland, which she wore upon her head, made of Pansies, and Woodbinds. Her face bare, boldly telling me, not I only, but all hearts must burn in that pureness: Eyes like the perfectest mixtures of heavenly powers, not to be resisted but submitted to. Lips fully commanding the plenty of duty, when they seemed to demand obedience: Her neck the curiousest pillar of white Marble, breast of Snow, or smooth waves of Milk, swelling, or falling, as the sweet gale of her most sweet breath did rise, or slack. All other parts so exquisite as none, save only she, can be so excelling. This I found in her, who me thought, came to me using these words. Arise, leave Bohemia, and rescue me from the hands of Rebels. I cried out, stay, O stay, and tell me how, and where? In Hungaria, said she, with that I waked having her Image so perfect in my breast, as nothing can remove it from me. A pretty while I lay still, wishing to sleep again, so once more to have beheld her; but she was too rich a jewel slightly to appear to such worthless eyes. Contented with that I had seen, I lay feeding on that and my resolution which was to seek her. When day began to appear, what joy was it to me? But for my greater comfort I found hard by me this Armour laid with this Shield, and Sword. I stayed not but put it on, thinking with myself how to attain to the honour of Knighthood, my Father having refused it to me, because my elder Brother, being weak and sickly, had not demanded it; resolving I should attend his increase of strength, my Father's whole content being in that Son. Considering this, I knew it no way to go to him: wherefore armed, (my Squire carrying my Sword, I passed unto the Emperor's Court, who without delay gave me what I demanded, honouring me with the gift of an excellent Horse, and furnishing me with all conveniencies.  
Then took I my way for Hungary, which Kingdom I had no sooner entered, but I met the news of a great rebellion made by the uncle King's Bastard son, called Rodolindus, against the Daughter and Heir of the second brother, called Melasinda, who was Crowned Queen, after the decease of her Uncle and Father. But he envying her greatness, and ambitiously seeking the honour himself, claimed a contract between the King and his mother, with all vows and protestations of marriage. Witnesses he produced, true or false they made a terrible stir, and brought the fairest Malasinda into great danger. Troops I continually met, some with the Queen, some against her: with much difficulty I passed till I came to an ancient Lords Castle, within two leagues of the City of Buda, whereshe was enclosed; this nobleman held with his Sovereign, and after much discourse of those affairs, he led me into a Gallery where he showed me the picture of that distressed Princess; truly, I will not say, so well drawn, as that which remains figured in my heart, but so well, as none but her Counterfeit could appear so beautiful, and such, as I knew it to be the same which in that blessed night in the Forest showed herself to me. This made me conclude, the adventure was reserved for me: wherefore carefully examining all things that had passed, and curiously and affectionately weighing the business, and means to achieve the finishing, not leaving any thing unasked, that might avail, concluding to adventure what ere came of it. The good Lord advised me, (perceiving my purpose) to be ruled by him: which I consented to, when I found he meant honestly for his Princess good, and circumspectly for my safety, by no means suffering me to enter the Town, as myself, (by reason of a great hate had been between our Parents) but as an adventurous Knight, who hearing of her troubles offered my service to her. She most fair, most lovely she, accepted me into her service, where I performed what was put into my trust: in two days killing two of the mightiest, and strongest knights of all his party. In the end, the Council of both sides, and the people weary of war, advised, and agreed upon a peace, on those conditions, that he should lay down all claim to the Crown, yielding it wholly to her; but in requital, she should take him for her Husband. This was bitter to her, but this she must do, or be left alone, peoplelesse, and kingdome-lesse. I was but one, and unable to set the Crown, and keep it on her head against the whole state: wherefore loving her so much, as not daring to think of any harm to her, in giving ill advice, (nor could my soul allow her less than the kingdom) with the rest, I persuaded for him; till she told me; She was sorry she no better deserved my love, but that I would think another fitter for it, or she unworthy of mine.  
I swore (and truly) the world had not that treasure I more covetously sought, than her enjoying; she urged the unkindness between our Parents, made me doubt: I firmly vowed, her love made me secure, and happy: but what I did, or said in this, was only for her good and safety.  
With much ado, and long persuasions I won (her love to me) her yielding for the other; so the match was concluded, and peace on all sides, I leading her the day of her marriage to her wedding Chamber, where I left her to her husband; the next morning she came down into a little Garden, whereinto no window looked, but that in her Cabinet, nor key could open but her own. Into this place I was conveyed by her woman a little before, where meeting her, we passed some hours together. Thus was I the blessed man, enjoying the world of riches in her love, and he contented after, having what he sought. Thus I lived a while, till I found him altered, and the face of the Court a little changed towards me (for former causes they pretended, forgetting me, and what was done by me for them) which made me, fearing her harm, leave the Country for a while, which little time to me already seems ages, being yet but months, and few in number, though in love innumerable. She was sad, and grieved for my going; I played the woman too, and wept at our departing, but soon I hope again that we shall meet, howsoever I will see her, though in private, and venture life for it. After that I left Hungary, I came through many Countries, till I came into Italy, and so hoping to meet you there; but hearing of your being in Morea, I went cross the Sea into that Country, and so had missed you, but that I fortunately met your Squire, who seeking Parselius enquired of me, for him, and I for you of him. We resolved each other, I telling him where I had left him, which was in Elis, after a delicate and strange adventure finishing, and being directed by him how to know you, I was the better instructed to present my service to you, which the fame of your worth had long since dedicated to you.  
Leave compliments dear friend (said Amphilanthus), it is not now time to use them, our loves having sealed them up in truth; give such delicate phrases to your next Mistress. My next: why, think you I will change? If you be wise (said Amphilanthus), and would my fate would change, than were I happy; one such minute, whereof it seems you have had seasons, would be more welcome to me, than the Crown of Naples; yet would I have her chaste still, and then I hope I should with truth and service win her. Is she yet to be won (said the Bohemian)? Yes (said the Italian), by me she is: and what tormenteth me is, I fear she loves my friend. He is no friend that will not yield to you (said he). I should not love him (said Amphilanthus), if his love to me should exceed that to so incomparable a creature. How know you she doth love (said the Prince)? I only fear (said he), and dare not hope it is myself: but surely she doth love. Hope and believe (said he) and that will make you bold to show yours to her, and then who can refuse you? Would this were true, and then had I the only victory I seek. Adventure brave Prince (said the Bohemian), never yet failed your conquest on men, and women are the weaker and gentler: beside, you are (the world says happy in those wars) so fortunate and so loving, as you cannot fail, nor she resist. I am no coward, though mistrust my strength in her sight; her looks (said Amphilanthus) are to me (if frowning) more terrible than death: yet come what will, I must adventure; if I obtain, I will be as free with you, as you have been with me, else keep my disgrace, my fortune, and affliction from discovery made by my tongue. Will not your face declare it think you? therefore to avoid such inconvenience, woe bravely, and resolutely, and then win joyfully, and blessedly. Morning being somewhat spent, they rose, and so took on their way, Steriamus having yielded to Amphilanthus earnest persuasion, to go with him into the pleasant Morea. Parselius, after he had left his Father's Court and friends together, with his sad thoughts, he betook himself to Elis, and so to ship for Italy, to fetch his friend to assist the two Princes, and after to go and redeem his heart out of the enchantment: as he passed along in the country of Elis, one day being so busied, as his thoughts had changed him into themselues, his horse carrying him which way he best liked he was called upon by a rude voice, which willed him, to know himself better, than so proudly to carry himself before a Princess. Looking up to see what, and who this was, he perceived close by him a troop of Ladies, all on horseback, and many Gentlemen and Knights attending them, but one who had adventured to instruct him a little more than the rest, to whom he thus spoke; Truly sir (said he) this fault was caused by melancholy, not by rudeness; for I have been too well brought up to be uncivil to Ladies. It appears so indeed, said he, that thus you stand prating to me, and do no reverence to her who best deserves it. The Prince angry at his boldness, but unwilling to wrangle with him, only turned to the Ladies, & made a reverence to them, offering to pass by them; but the first Knight seeing that: Stay Sir (said he) you have not done all, 'tis not a courtesy shall serve, for we must see if your valour be equal to your manners. They have commonly gone together (said Parselius): but where are your Arms? Hard by (said the other), and that you will too soon find. I'm sure (said he) I have found words enough, which may make me hope to scape the better from your blows. He went and armed himself, the like did all the rest, while the Prince stood beholding the Lady, who was of great beauty and bravery; apparelled in a hunting garment of green cut with red, the upper and lower part of her gown embroidered with gold, and red, afeather of red and green in her head; the furniture to her horse of the same colour and richness, to whom Parselius thus spoke: Madam, if I had offended you, the least of your corrections had made me submit, without the fury of your Knights, who me thinks were very confident of the due respect you may challenge, else unarmed they would not have been so forward to the combat. Sir (said she) you are deceived in this, for such is their valour, as none yet ever equalled them, especially him that first spoke; nor have they reason to trust any further on me, than their own swords will warrant them in; but indeed the cause of all this, is a vow which I have made, which is this; Myself being daughter to the Prince of Elis, which Country is in homage subject to the king of Morea, it was my ill fortune to fall in love with the scornful and proud Prince of that Country, called Parselius, who did not content himself with disdaining me, but boasted of my subjection, and to myself, when I with humility besought his favour; he told me, he was no subject to Love.. This hath made me vow revenge, to which end I keep these knights about me, and never meet any stranger, that they encounter not, nor shall, till we meet him; and if good fortune fall, that we win him by combat, I will then win him by love, or obtain my will by force.  
By this the Knights were come, who setting on the brave Prince one after another, he overthrew them all, and left them, most not able to go thence, some stark dead, the best, legs or arms broken. This done, the Lady again spoke: Sir, since fortune and your power, hath left me guardlesse, I hope you will conduct me to the Town, beside, let me know who you are. Madam (said he) as I take it, by the course of Arms you are mine; for if you were to win me by their conquest, by the same reason you must be lost, if they be vanquished. 'tis true Sir (said she) and such indeed were the conditions; yet I had hoped you would never have called that in question. Nor truly Madam (said he) do I it, with any meaning to keep you, though my victory gives you to me: but to show I am civil, and not unmannerly, I will deliver you here to your Ladies and Pages; that I am not proud or scornful, I kiss your hands: but to let you see I disdain an unworthy love, or a forced one, Parselius bids you thus farewell, and will yet pray, that your senses may tell you, a lower choice, and an humbler mind will prove more fit and happy for you; and such I wish you, since for me you have been distempered.  
Thus he departed, leaving her amazed and afflicted, with hate, disdain, scorn, and all other she accused him of, till shame overcame, and forced her to return to a good old man her father; whose mild and good example, brought her to follow the counsel of Parselius, who held on his journey, taking ship for Italy, he landed in the kingdom of Naples; those very parts, making him remember that, which too well still continued in his mind, which was the sweet and delicate Island, wherein he found the sweetest, and delicatest of Shepherdesses; the thought of whom brought forth these words, his heart bleeding as fast, as before his eyes had shed sad drops. O sweet Island, cried he, and yet desolate Pantalarea, how do our afflictions suit as one, and so our destinies? Urania hath left thee, and thou mournest; Urania hath left me, and I pine. Dearest Urania, dear unto me still; why wouldst thou for novelties leave thy faithful Parselius? why wouldst thou not be as well then advised, as till that time be governed by my counsel? Yet fool, most blame thyself: for why didst thou permit-her dainty lips to touch that charmed Brook? nay, still add unto thy folly; why wouldst thou drink so hastily thyself, and so have no means left to help or save? Accursed Spring, from whence did run the ruin of my bliss. Bewitching stream, to charm me to the loss of my soul's joys; spitefullest of the gods, or goddesses; was it for revenge, because we would not try your charmed house, that yet their cruel trial should be made upon us? Unlucky tempest, constraining us to land on that much more unlucky shore. Leaving his ship, he went a land, commanding his servants to go to the Court, and if they came before him thither, there to attend till his coming, but secretly; himself going along the seaside, his mind as unrestingly running on Urania, as a hurt bird, that never leaves flying till he falls down: no more did he rest, till deathlike sleep did force him to obey; yet were his dreams oft of her, his mind then working, and presenting her unto his imagination, as in day his thoughts did to his heart: so did the eyes of his loving soul, ever behold her, accusing himself for his folly, fearing the power of the charms, whose wicked might, might alter her; assuring himself, she must be deceived by them, if ever she did change. In this violent fever of sorrow he went on, till he discerned a man come from under the rocks that proudly showed their craggy faces, wrinkling in the smiles of their joy, for being above the Sea, which strove by flowing to cover them; but for all that ambition, was forced to ebb in penance for that high desire. He came armed at all points, leading in his hand as beautiful a Lady as Nature could frame, and sorrow suffer to appear so; being such an one, as both had used their best art to frame, and suffer to show excellent; had she been free, how much more rare must she then of necessity appear, who in misery showed so delicate? The Morean Prince stayed to behold, & beholding did admire the exquisiteness of that sad beauty, but more than that did the cruelty of the armed man seem wondered, for leading her to a pillar which stood on the sand (a fit place that the sea might still wash away the memory of such inhumanity) he tied her to it by the hair, which was of great length, and Sunlike brightness. Then pulled he off a mantle which she wore, leaving her from the girdle upwards all naked, her soft, dainty white hands he fastened behind her, with a cord about both wrists, in manner of a cross, as testimony of her cruelest Martyrdom. When she was thus miserably bound to his unmerciful liking, with whips he was about to torment her: but Parselius with this sight was quickly put out of his admiration, hasting to revenge her wrong, setting spurs to his horse, he ran as swift as Lightning (and as dangerous this happened to the Knight) towards them, yet sending his voice with more speed before him, crying, vild Traitor, hold thy hands and turn thy spite on me, more fit to encounter stripes, hoping thus to save her from some, which if but one, had been too much for such delicacy to endure.  
But he (whose malice was such, as the nearer he saw her succour, the more was his fury increased) looking up and seeing a brave knight accompany that voice, casting his hateful look again on her, and throwing away the Whips, drew his Sword, saying, nor yet shall this new Champion rescue thee; then ready to have parted that sweet breath from that most sweet body, Parselius came, and struck down the blow with his Sword, though not so directly, but that it a little razed her on the left side, which she perceiving, looking on it, and seeing how the blood did trickle in some (though few) drops, Many more than these, said she, have I inwardly shed for thee my dear Perissus; but that last word she spoke softlier than the rest, either that the strange Knight should not hear her, or that she could not afford that dear name to any, but her own ears.  
She being thus rescued, the Knight strake fiercely at Parselius, who met him with as much furious strength, giving him his due in the curstedst kind, and fullest measure, making such proof of his valour (justice being on his side, which best guides a good sword in a noble hand) as in short time he laid him at his feet, pulling off his helm to cut off his head. But then the Lady cried unto him, beseeching him to stay that blow; the like did another Knight newly arrived, who untied the Lady. Whereat Parselius was offended, thinking himself highly injured, that any, except himself, should do her that service, telling him, He much wondered at his boldness, which had made him offer that wrong unto him. I did it (said the new Knight) but to give her ease, and so to bring her, that we both might acknowledge humble thankfulness for this brave and happy relief, which hath brought her blessed safety. Parselius hearing this courteous answer, was satisfied: then looking on the vanquished Knight, he demanded, Why he had used that cruelty to so perfect a Lady? As he was answering, the stranger Knight knew him, casting his eye upon him, and without any word, would as soon have deprived him of his life: but Parselius stayed him, blaming him for seeking the death of a man already dying. He confessing his fault, asked pardon; and pulling off his helm, told him, that there he stood ready to receive punishment for twice so offending him.  
Parselius, though not knowing him, yet seeing his excellent personage, and princely countenance, embraced him, telling him, That honour might gain, nay challenge pardon for a greater fault, than was possible to be committed by such a brave Knight, he likewise taking off his helm. When Limena (who was this sad tormented Lady) saw her Perissus (for Perissus it was), the joy she conceived was just such, as her love could make her feel, seeing him her soul had only loved; after so many cruel changes, and bitter passions in their crossed affection. This being past, the wounded Knight began thus.  
First (said he) let me know by whose hand I have received this worthy end, and indeed, too worthy for so worthless a Creature, who now, and but now, could discern my rash, and wicked error: which now I most heartily repent. Now are mine eyes open to the injuries done to virtuous Limena, her chastity appears before my dying sight, whereto before, my eyes were dim, and ears deaf, seeing and hearing nothing, but base falsehoods, being governed by so strong and undeserved jealousy.  
Next, I must ask pardon of you my Lord Perissus, deny not these Petitions, I humbly beseech you, both unto a dying man, who in his life, did offer you too foul, and too unpardonable an injury. Perissus seeing his speedy end approaching, having the noblest and freest heart, forgave him that offence, which proceeded from the same ground that his crosses came from, both taking root from Love, and yet Love in that kind changed nature with madness, when attended on with so much jealousy; then with a mild voice, he spoke.  
Philargus, said he, I am glad your punishment is accompanied with so happy and true repentance; I do freely forgive you, and think no more of that past, then if never done. But this I desire you will demand the like of your excellently virtuous wife, who hath been the patient of all your fury. That I do, said Philargus, and let my soul enjoy no happiness, if I wish not her as well as it. Then dear Limena, have you pardoned me? if not, O do, and forgive unfortunate, and ill-deserving Philargus My Lord, said she, I most sincerely and heartily forgive you, and so I pray, do you the like for me; my dearest then, said he, I happily, and thrice happily now shall welcome death. For your other demand, said the brave Prince, my name is Parselius, Prince of Morea: Philargus kissing his hand, gave him thanks, and weeping for joy said. Most fortunate end, how do I embrace thee, coming so luckily, and brought thee by such royal hands? Then taking Perissus by the one hand, and Limena by the other, he said, I have yet one request more to make, which granted, I shall dye with all content, and this is only in you two to consent to, they promised that then he should not be refused. These misfortunes, said he, which now are past, and I hope shall have burial in me, have nevertheless (it is most likely) left some false conceit remaining in the hearts of some people: which to remedy and utterly take away, desiring Limena's honour (which without question remains spotted) might flourish as deservedly, as the clearness of itself is, without so much as the shadow of a thought to the contrary. I beseech you, for your own best fortunes, and my quiet departing, to promise me that after my death you will marry each other. One more worthy (my Lord), more loyal, more chaste, the world holds not; and this are you bound to do for her, who for you hath been wronged; and Limena deny not this to your dying husband, being the last he can ever ask you. He needed not urge them much to what they most coveted, and purposed in their hearts before: yet to give him full satisfaction (though on her side with bashful and fearful consenting) they yielded to him. Then my Lord (said he) take her, and my hearts prayers with best wishes to you; and my best beloved Limena, in witness of my love to you, I bestow on you this most worthy Lord, far better befitting you, and my whole estate: with that, embracing them, kissing her; and lastly, lifting up his eyes to heaven, he departed, they like true friends closing his eyes. Being now grown late, 〈◊〉 that night they went into the Cave, which but lately had been the prison of sweet Limena: with them they carried the body, laying it in the further part of the hollowness. Then did Parselius tell them how infinitely happy he esteemed himself, in having come so luckily to serve them, of whom, and whose unfortunate affection he had heard, having had it from the rare Shepherdess. Name her he could not, his breath being stopped with sighs, and his tears falling down in all abundance, sent from his heart, which dropped like the weeping of a Vine, when men without pity wound it. Perissus seeing his sorrow, made haste to ask the cause, fearing some great harm had befallen that Divine Creature, of whom he gave such praises, as Limena thought they were too much, which he perceiving left, with demanding of her safety, and why his grieving was; which Parselius having passionately, and truly related, he desired most earnestly, to hear the rest of Limena's story; which she thus began.  
My Lords, after I sent the Letter, and the time expired, Philargus came for my answer, or to perform his vow, which with desire I attended, although he contrary to my wishes prolonged it. When he had what I resolved to give him for satisfaction, which was a direct denial, being in these words: I know, as your wife, I am in your power to dispose of; then use your authority, for so foul a stain will I never lay upon my blood as to betray the Prince: name you in truth I durst not, least at the last that might move my affections. Then did he command me to go with him, (to my death I hoped) when he brought me into a great Wood, in the midst whereof he made a fire, the place being fit, and I think, sure had been used in former time to offer sacrifice in to the Siluan Gods. Then he made me undress myself, which willingly, and readily I did, preparing myself to be the poor offering, but the richest, that richness of faith in love could offer. When I had put off all my apparel but one little Petticoat, he opened my breast, and gave me many wounds, the marks you may here yet discern, (letting the Mantle fall again a little lower, to show the cruel remembrance of his cruelty) which although they were whole, yet made they new hurts in the loving heart of Perissus, suffering more pain for them, than he had done for all those himself had received in his former adventures; therefore softly putting the Mantle up again, and gently covering them, lest yet they might chance to smart, besought her to go on, longing to have an end of that tragical history, and to come again to their meeting, which was the only balm could be applied unto his bleeding heart. She joyful to see this passion, because it was for her, and sorry it was Perissus did sorrow, proceeded: And after these, threatening many more, and death itself, if yet I consented not. But seeing nothing could prevail, he took my clothes, and with them wiped the blood off from me, I expecting nothing but the last act, which I thought should have been concluded with my burning; his mind changed from the first resolution, so as taking me by the hair, and dragging me into the Wood among the bushes (whose cursenesse seconded their master's fury) tearing my skin, and scratching my bare legs, to a tree he there tied me: but not long I continued there, for he going a little from me, returned with a Pastor's coat, which he took from a poor man, that was in that Wood, seeking a lost Beast; with this he disguised me, and also having taken the man's Horse, took me behind him, putting a gag in my mouth, for fear I should speak for help, posting unused ways through the desert to the Seaside, where he got a boat, and so passed over to this place, where ever since we have remained; for my part, with daily whip, and such other tortures, as pinching with irons, and many more so terrible, as for your sake (seeing your grief my dearest Lord) I will omit, declaring only this I must speak of, belonging to my story. Once every day he brought me to this pillar where you found me, and in the like manner bound me, than whipped me, after washing the stripes and blisters with salt water: but this had been the last (had not you thus happily arrived); for he determined as he said, after my tormenting had been past, in stead of washing me with the sea-water, to cast me into her, and so make a final end of his tormenting, and of my torments. To this end he likewise went yesterday to the Town, and bought this armour, arming himself, to the intent, that after his purpose was accomplished, he might take his journey which way best he pleased. Thus my Lords have you heard the afflicted life of poor Limena, in whom these tortures wrought no otherwise, then to strengthen her love, and faith to withstand them: for could any other thought have entered into my hart, that would have been a greater affliction to my soul, than the cursed strokes were to my body, subject only to his unnaturalness, but now by your royal hand redeemed from misery, to enjoy the only blessing my heart can, or ever could aspire to wish, and here have you now your faithful Love Limena. Perissus' embraced her with that love, his best love could express, and then speaking to the Morean Prince, he said: The thanks most brave Prince, for this happiness belongs unto you, which is so much, as my life shall ever be engaged to pay the due unto you; and my sword employed to the best of my power to serve you, vowing, that when I (and the same I profess for my dearest here) prove ungrateful, we will no more see light: nay let us be as wretched as ever we were, if that sin know us. Parselius with much affection requited their protestations, making the like for himself in his love to them; so for that night they went to rest. The next day taking their journey to Naples, to provide such things as were necessary for them; thence went they into Sicily, having a brave ship, which the Governor of that Town (knowing Parselius) provided for them; going himself, and many more brave Gentlemen, to conduct them over: whither being come, they found the Country in great trouble, the King being dead, and an Usurper in his stead: but quickly were those stirs appeased by the presence of Perissus, well helped by the Company which came out of Naples with him; but most, and indeed chiefly compassed by the valour of Parselius, who with his own hands (in a battle which was fought between the usurper, and an army that came to aid Perissus, as soon as his arrival was published) killed the false king and his two sons, being counted the valiantest men of all Sicily, and in stature were little less than Giants. This being finished, Perissus was crowned King, and soon after was the last promise performed in the marriage, which was solemnly, and with great state accomplished.  
Then did Parselius take his leave of the King and Queen, returning to Naples, and so to the Court of that King, where with all joy and welcome he was received, the triumphs and feasts making testimony of it; Yet was his sorrow such for Urania, as all those sports were rather troublesome, then pleasing unto him.  
Some few days after the triumphs began, the Squire of Amphilanthus found him there, to whom he delivered his Message; with much joy did the old King receive the Squire, bringing him such joyful news of his Sons being well, though much more welcome had he been, if he could have told any thing of his return thither. Parselius demanded of the Squire how he found him out; Why Sir, said he, My Master going away from Morea, with Antissius, and that company, sent me by Sea, to seek you in this Country, by chance our Ship sprung a leak, so as we were forced to put in again to mend her: after we had been a day at Sea, before she was throughly mended, came a brave Gentleman, called Ollorandus, younger Son to the King of Bohemia, who seeking my Lord, to whom he hath vowed his Love, and service, knowing me to be his servant enquired of me for him; I told him, where at that time he might find him. Having done this I took the boldness to ask him, if he heard any news of you, and withal the cause why I asked; he answered me that having past Italy, in search of Amphilanthus, and hearing he was cast upon Morea by Shipwreck, he followed after him till he came to the Court, which at that time was in Arcadia, there he heard that he had been there, but was again gone into Italy to seek you, and that he would with you soon return again into that Country, to go into Albania; wherefore he desiring to see something in those parts passed up and down, sometime to Morea, where in Elis he met with you, having (as he merrily told me) passed a pretty adventure, with a Lady and her Knights. From thence he came to that part of the Kingdom, where I was put in by that chance, meaning there to ship once more for Italy: but I telling him of my master's journey to Romania, he with all speed followed him, there to deserve his friendship by his service, and thus came I to be so fortunate to meet you. Then did Parselius acquaint the King with his intent, which was to follow Amphilanthus; so taking his leave, he went with as much fortunate speed as might be to overtake his friend, promising the old King, to hasten his Sons coming, withal, letting him know the hope he had of Vrania's being his Daughter; which hope was as comfortable to him, almost, as if he had already enjoyed her.  
Parselius in his journey traveled with great pain of mind, the like suffered Pamphilia, who all this while continued her Love, and life in Morea, who by love's force was, it seemed, transformed into the same passion; her lovesick Companion still accompanying her, till one morning, her dear (though unquiet) affections calling her to attend them, made her see day sooner, than otherwise she had by many hours, and seeing it to make use of her light: for though the sight which she desired, was hid from her, she might yet by the light of her imaginations (as in a picture) behold, and make those lights serve in his absence. Even as the morning seems for clearness, fairness, and sweetness: so did she rising, that daintiness waiting on her, that the greatest light could say, he excelled her, only in heat, but not in brightness; and in some kind, he gained at that time advantage on her, whom absence held in cold despair. Quickly was she ready, and as soon left her Chamber, going into the Gardens, passing out of one into another, finding that all places are alike to Love, tedious. Then opened she a door into a fine wood, delicately contrived into strange, and delightful walks; for although they were framed by Art, nevertheless they were so curiously counterfeited, as they appeared natural. These pleased her only to pass thorough into a little Grove, or rather, a pretty tuft of Ashes, being environed with such unusual variety of excellent pleasures, as had she had a heart to receive delight from any thing but Love, she might have taken pleasure in that place: for there was a purling, murmuring, sad Brook, weeping away her sorrows, desiring the banks to ease her, even with tears; but cruel, they would not so much as stay them to comfort, but let them slip away with as little care, as great ones do the humble Petitions of poor suitors. Here was a fine grove of Bushes, their roots made rich with the sweetest flowers for smell, and colour. There a Plain, here a Wood, fine hills to behold, as placed, that her sight need not, for natural content, stray further than due bounds. At their bottoms delicate Valleys, adorned with several delightful objects. But what were all these to a loving heart? Alas, merely occasions to increase sorrow, Love being so cruel, as to turn pleasures in this nature, to the contrary course, making the knowledge of their delights, but serve to set forth the perfecter mourning, triumphing in such glory, where his power rules, not only over minds, but on the best of minds: and this felt the perplexed Pamphilia, who with a Book in her hand, not that she troubled it with reading, but for a colour of her solitariness, she walked beholding these pleasures, till grief brought this Issue. Seeing this place delicate without, as she was fair, and dark within as her sorrows, she went into the thickest part of it, being such, as if Phoebus durst not there show his face, for fear of offending the sad Princess; but a little glimmeringly, as desirous to see, and fearing to be seen, stole here, and there a little sight of that all-deserving Lady, whose beams sometimes ambitiously touching her, did seem as if he shined on purest gold, whose brightness did strive with him, and so did her excellency encounter his rays: The tops of the trees joining so close, as if in love with each other, could not but affectionately embrace. The ground in this place, where she stayed was plain, covered with green grass, which being low and thick, looked as if of purpose it had been covered with a green Velvet Carpet, to entertain this melancholy Lady, for her the softer to tread, loath to hurt her feet, lest that might make her leave it; this care proved so happy, as here she took what delight it was possible for her to take in such kind of pleasures: walking up and down a pretty space, blaming her fortune, but more accusing her love, who had the heart to grieve her, while she might more justly have chid herself, whose fear had forced her to too curious a secrecy: Cupid, in her, only seeking to conquer, but not respecting his victory so far, as to allow so much favour, as to help the vanquished, or rather his power being only able to extend to her yielding, but not to master her spirit. Oft would she blame his cruelty, but that again she would salve with his being ignorant of her pain: then justly accuse herself, who in so long time, and many years could not make him discern her affections, (though not by words plainly spoken;) but soon was that thought recalled, and blamed with the greatest condemnation, acknowledging her loss in this kind to proceed from virtue. Then she considered, he loved another, this put her beyond all patience, wishing her sudden end, cursing her days, fortune, and affection, which cast her upon this rock of mischief. Oft would she wish her dead, or her beauty married, but that she recalled again; loving so much, as yet in pity she would not wish what might trouble him, but rather continued according to her own wish; complaining, fearing, and loving the most distressed, secret, and constant Lover that ever Venus, or her blind Son bestowed a wound or dart upon.  
In this estate she stayed a while in the wood, gathering sometimes flowers which there grew; the names of which began with the letters of his name, and so placing them about her. Well Pamphilia, said she, for all these disorderly passions, keep still thy soul from thought of change, and if thou blame any thing, let it be absence, since his presence will give thee again thy fill of delight. And yet what torment will that prove, when I shall with him see his hopes, his joys, and content come from another? O Love, O froward fortune, which of you two should I most curse? You are both cruel to me, but both alas are blind, and therefore let me rather hate myself for this unquietness; and yet unjustly shall I do too in that, since how can I condemn my heart, for having virtuously and worthily chosen? Which very choice shall satisfy me with as much comfort, as I felt despair. And now poor grass, said she, thou shalt suffer for my pain, my love-smarting body thus pressing thee.  
Then laid she her excelling self upon that (than most blessed ground) and in compassion give me some rest, said she, on you, which well you may do being honoured with the weight of the loyallest, but most afflicted Princess that ever this Kingdom knew: joy in this and flourish still, in hope to bear this virtuous affliction. O Morea, a place accounted full of Love, why is Love in thee thus terribly oppressed, and cruelly rewarded? Am I the first unfortunate Woman that bashfulness hath undone? If so, I suffer for a virtue, yet gentle pity were a sweeter lot. Sweet Land, and thou more sweet Love, pardon me, hear me, and commiserate my woe, Then hastily rising from her low green bed; nay, said she, since I find no redress, I will make others in part taste my pain, and make them dumb partakers of my grief; then taking a knife, she finished a Sonnet, which at other times she had begun to engrave in the bark of one of those fair and strait Ashes, causing that sap to accompany her tears for love, that for unkindness.  

Bear part with me most strait and pleasant Tree,  
And imitate the Torments of my smart  
Which cruel Love doth send into my heart,  
Keep in thy skin this testament of me:   

Which Love engraven hath with misery,  
Cutting with grief the unresisting part,  
Which would with pleasure soon have learnt love's art,  
But wounds still cureless, must my rulers be.   

Thy sap doth weepingly bewray thy pain,  
My heartblood drops with storms it doth sustain,  
Love senseless, neither good nor mercy knows  
Pitiles I do wound thee, while that I  
Unpitied, and vnthought on, wounded cry:  
Then outlive me, and testify my woes.   
And on the roots, whereon she had laid her head, serving (though hard) for a pillow at that time, to uphold the richest World of wisdom in her sex, she writ this.  
MY thoughts thou hast supported without rest,  
My tired body here hath lain oppressed  
With love, and fear: yet be thou euer blest;  
Spring, prosper, last; I am alone unblessed.  
Having ended it, again laying her sad perfections on the grass, to see if then some rest would have favoured her, and have thought travail had enough disturbed her, she presently found, passion had not yet allowed time for her quiet, wherefore rising, and giving as kind a farwell-looke to the tree, as one would do to a trusty friend, she went to the brook, upon the bank whereof were some fine shady trees, and choice thorn bushes, which might as they were mixed, obtain the name of a pretty Grove, whereinto she went, and sitting down under a Willow, there anew began her complaints; pulling off those branches, sometimes putting them on her head: but remembering herself, she quickly threw them off, vowing how ever her chance was, not to carry the tokens of her loss openly on her brows, but rather wear them privately in her heart. Further would she have proceeded, but that she heard behind her a rushing in the bushes. Looking back, she perceived Antissia close by her; who having noted the sadness in the Princess, and her solitary retiredness, imagined (by her own passions) the cause must needs be love: but that imagination growing to belief, belief brought fear, fear doubt, and doubt the restless affliction, suspicion; her excellencies making the assuredness of her no less excellent choice, so as the more perfect she confessed them both to be, the more did those perfections make her perfectly jealous. This was the reason that she came thus forth, and in as private sort as she could, that so she might by chance overhear her secret complaints, and so (though for a certain vexation) be sure of her most troubled knowledge.  
But herein she was deceived: for although she heard much of her sorrow, yet got she no assurance for whom the sorrow was, never in all her extremest sufferings, once naming the mover of her pain, which kept her love in as much secrecy, as that, secretly after brought tormenting pain, proceeding from unhappy ignorance. But Pamphilia perceiving her, smiling, yet blushing, doubting her passions were discovered, and her love betrayed to her Companion; she nevertheless to make the best of it; How came you hither fair Antissia (said she)? I did not think this sad place, could have invited so much happiness to it, as your presence; who being happy, must make all places partake with you?  
This place (said she) hath her blessing already in you, the saddest being forced to deserved joy, enjoying so good fortune, as to have Pamphilia in it. But I pray, if I may be so bold to ask such a question of you (which the confidence of a friend makes me venture upon) why are all these grievous complaints? for never heard I greater, neither was sorrow ever richlier apparelled, then lately you have dressed her: If it be for love; tell me who that blessed creature is, that doth possess such a world of treasure as your heart? and deny not this to your friend, and servant, who will faithfully serve you in that, or any other you will impose upon her, though sure in this little pain, will serve to win your ease, if you will suffer yourself to have ease; no man breathing that will be so void of judgement, or can have power to resist, what you in love might demand, but must be so far from denying, as he will without question venture his life, to gain so precious a prize.  
Your own worth (said Pamphilia) makes you thus confident, and your happy fortune, in meeting an answerable affection, thus fearless: but alas for me, I that know worth (greatness, nor the truest love can bring one's desire, if destiny have otherwise appointed) can never let so much flattering hope blind me with conceit of mine own deserts (which it may be are seen but by my own eyes), as to imagine their merits may gain my ends. No sweet Antissia, love is only to be gained by love equally bestowed, the giver, and receiver reciprocally liberal, else it is no love; nor can this be, but where affections meet; and that we must not all expect, nor can it reasonably be demanded. Since how should the power of love be known, but by his several usage of his subjects? If all were used alike, his justice must be examined, but be it as it will, some must and do suffer; yet speak I not this of myself, or in confession that I am pinched with these tortures, for Lord knows, how far am I from these like vanities, then how can I satisfy your loving demand, and friendly promise? You cannot thus dissemble (replied Antissia), your own hand in yonder fair Ash will witness against you. Not so (said Pamphilia) for many Poets write aswell by imitation, as by sense of passion; therefore this is no proof against me. It is well said (answered Antissia) in your own defence: but I pray, why did you but even now with sighs and tears (as I judged by your voice) blame both love, and absence? Many reasons there are to accuse both (said Pamphilia): but let me be so much bound to you, as to know the reason of your inquisitiveness? If it were only for my good, me thinks you grow too near me; bare friendship not being able so cunningly to sift one, therefore it makes me think some other cause moves this care in you; if so, freely speak it, and I will as freely satisfy you. Well (said Antissia) then confess you love, and I will soon follow with the other. It were to small purpose (replied Pamphilia) to deny it, since you have discovered me; I confess it, and am no whit ashamed of it, though grieved by it. My curiosity (said the other) was, and is, lest it should be he whom I affect.  
Alas (cried Pamphilia), can so base an humour as suspicion creep into so brave a heart as Antissia's? and to gain such power there, as to make her mistrust her friend? Truly I am sorry for it; and would advise you for honour's sake, quickly to banish that Devil from you, which otherwise will daily increase new mischiefs. I know (said Antissia) it is the worst of Monsters: yet this is no answer to my question.  
'tis true (said Pamphilia): but I being innocent of it, forgot first to clear it. But I pray Antissia, what do you see in me, that I should love Amphilanthus more, then respectively?  
This (said she) that all perfections having joined, and united their strengths to make you wholly excellent, it cannot be, but you in all things must manifest it, and in judgement are you not called to express it? And if in judgement, wherein can there be more discerned, then in the choice of friend or Love? If so, can you choose other, than the most deserving? and then, must it not be the most excellent of men? and is not Amphilanthus that most excelling Prince?  
In truth (answered Pamphilia) I confess this latter part to be true: for assuredly there lives not his equal for all virtues, which well might make me (if I were such a one as you say) to have that ambition in me, to affect the worthiest; but so much perfection I want, as that part hath failed also in me: yet this I will say, I love him as he merits, long conversation as from our youths; beside, our blood claiming an extraordinary respect.  
You will not deny you are in love with him then? Why should I not (said she)? I'm sure I know my own heart best: and truly so far is it from suffering in this passion, as it grieves me you mistake me so much. but Lord what strange and dangerous thoughts doth this bring into our breasts? Could any but a Lover have so troublesome a conceit? Why sweet Antissia when did this opinion first possess you? or what gave you occasion to conceive it? Hath my speech at any time betrayed me? Hath my fashion given you cause to suspect it? Did I ever enviously like a Lover, seek to hinder your enjoying him? Did I unmannerly press into your companies? Some of this surely I must have done, or you unjustly accuse me.  
None of these could you fail in (cried she); so great a wit, and matchless a spirit would govern themselves better, then to offend in such fond parts: but the reason I have already given, being equal excellencies; and the belief proceeds from this, that me thought you did with as feeling an affection accompany my sorrow when he went away, and more nearly I imagined by your fashion it touched you, then pity of my grief could have procured. Then I considered my eyes had been so fortunate, as to look upon the best, why then should not the best of our sex also look on the rarest object; and looking so, must not the same conclusion be, that beholding as I did, love must come in and conquer; as on me, so then looking with my eyes, of force you must love him.  
What a progress (said Pamphilia) hath your troubled imagination made to find a poor cause, to forge a poorer vexation? If all these things were true, and that I loved Amphilanthus, what then? were it any more than my extremest torment, when I should see his affections otherwise placed? the impossibility of winning him from a worthy love, the unblessed destiny of my poor unblessed life, to fall into such a misery; the continual afflictions of burning love, the fire of just rage against my own eyes, the hatred of my breast for letting in so destroying a guest, that ruins where he comes; these were all, and these alone touching me in all disquiets. What need should they have to molest you, since so perfectly you are assured of his love, as you need fear no occasion, nor any body to wrong you in that, wherein he will not wrong his worthy choice and constancy? What harm then could it be to you, if you should love him? The loss of my content; since that your love (said Antissia) must not be refused, but sought; and if obtained, woe be to any other that aspires to that place; better never to be borne, then know the birth of so much folly, as to adventure to be a rival with the rarest Princess Pamphilia; therefore knowing this harm, I had rather you did not love him. Well, then be satisfied (said the sweet, but sad Pamphilia), my love to him proceeds from his never enough praised merits, but not for love otherwise, than I have already expressed.  
Antissia was with this answer thoroughly satisfied, taking the Princess in her arms, protesting her life too little, to pay for requital for this royal freedom she had found in her, and the favour received from her; expressing then her love in the best manner she could, plainly making confession of all to her; concluding, that had not her incomparable virtue bound her best respects to her, yet the resemblance which she had in her face of that famous Prince, and her only beloved, would have forced her to love her. The delicate Lady told her, she could not better please her, then in telling her she did resemble him, since than she was sure she was like to true virtue; for he was of that the only body: but this love, and his dependences do so vex us, as they take away all other society; to amend which, let us return to the Court (said she). I am contented, said Antissia. So rising, and holding each other by the arm, with as much love, as love in them could join, they took their way back towards the Palace; but in the great Garden they met the King and Queen; so they attended back on them into the Hall, whither they were no sooner come, and settled in their places, but they were entertained with this adventure: Ten Knights coming in russet Armours, their beavers up, their Swords in their hands; who coming more than half way to the State, making low reverence, stood still, parting themselves to either side of the Chamber, to let the followers better be discerned. Then came ten more, but in black Armours, chained together, without Helmets or Swords. After them came six armed like the first, three carrying Spears of infinite bigness; one, the Shield, and the other two the Sword and Helmet of a Knight, who for countenance seemed no lover; his colour like a Moor; his fashion rude and proud, following after these six, who, as the first, divided themselves.  
Then came this man to the State, leading by the hand as sweet a Lady, as he was ugly; she as mild in countenance, as he insolent; she as fearful, as he bold: on the other hand of her, another Knight sad, but it seemed amorous. The King and all the Court beholding, and expecting the issue of this business, when the stout man in a hollow and hoarse voice delivered these words.  
King of Morea, I am Lansaritano, whose fame I doubt not, hath spread itself to your ears: Lord I am of the Lands of Cerigo, Dragonero, and other lesser circling my chief Island, as subjects to my greatness. This Lady you see here, is my vassal by birth, but by my choice honoured with my love, which she foolishly refuseth, judgement so far failing her, as not to be able to discern the happiness, and unspeakable good, blind Fortune hath given her, in letting my high & noble thoughts abase themselves so low, as to look on her my creature, and favour her with my liking. She whom I might command, I have been contented to woe; she who should obey, ignorantly refuseth: yet I (Master of worth) will not force her, but have compelled myself to consent to satisfy a fond request she hath made to me, which is, to come into this Court with her, and this knight my Cousin whom she loves, and is the bar from my enjoying her: and here if she can find a Knight, who for her sake will enter into this quarrel (which she calls, The defence of true Love) he must observe this, to give her to one of us, and fight with the other: if it happen he choose him (as well it may be he will defend Ladies, he will dispose of her to her beloved), he must combat me: if he overcome, she shall be free; else yielded to me: which I make no question of, since I never yet knew any had the fortune, how stout, valiant, or hardy, could hold out with me. These bound men are Knights, and her Brothers two of them, the rest her friends and kindred, who upon her vain complaint, fearing violence would have been by me justly used upon her, made an insurrection, which soon I appeased, and for the love of her would not yet put them to death, but have brought them with me likewise on this condition; that when I have fought and vanquished that bold and fond man whosoever, that will adventure to combat with me, I shall strike off all their heads. This Sir is the cause of my coming, wherefore I desire leave of you that she may have one, if any Knight will undertake it, or dare maintain her cause, which she accounts so fair and good.  
The King was sorry for the Lady's sake, his Court was so unprovided of those brave Knights which were wont to honour it, especially that his famous Nephew, and brave Sons were all absent, who he knew would defend a Lady's cause, especially a loving Lady, as she seemed; wherefore he made this answer. Lansaritano, I am troubled, so brave a man should fight in so ill a matter, since if I were as you, she that would not by my worth be won, should not be thought worthy to be gained by the hazard of myself, into which you must run, if you encounter Knights of my Court; for surely no brave man will give her from her own affection: but now indeed is your fortune good, in coming when the Worthies of our parts are absent; yet doubt I not but I have still some here, who honour Ladies so much, as they will venture to deliver them from force in love; therefore I give you free liberty to pronounce your challenge.  
I am sorry (said he) that all your Worthies be not here, that I might for my glory overcome them one after another; but since they are absent, any one here take her part that will, or give her to me, if none will adventure combat, otherwise I am ready to meet him with the Lance three courses, and then end the Combat with the sword; if no one dare undertake it, you must sweet Lady be mine for want of a knight for your champion Shee looked sadly, and wept so love-likely, as all pitied her, but none offered their service, the valour being known, and the strength much feared of Lansaritano; till Selarinus disdaining such a man should have, though so little, a cause to add more fuel to the fire of his pride, stepped forth and said: Most mighty King, may it please you to honour me so much, as to permit me the liberty of this adventure, wherein I doubt not, but to do justly, and to lay Lansaritano's pride as low, as the earth will suffer his body to lie upon it.  
The king glad to see the fine young Prince so forward, but loath to venture him in so dangerous a business, told him, That the true nobleness and bounty of the kings of Albania his Predecessors did again live in him, to maintain which, he was very willing to grant his request, but his tender years made him loath to adventure him alone. Then Sir (said he) should I both shame myself, and the brave Princes before by you mentioned: but as I am alone left here of my blood, I will alone adventure. Then he asked the Lady if she would accept him, and stand to his censure? She answered; Most willingly she would. He than gave her to her beloved, saying; Prepare yourself, and know Lansaritano, that you shall find enough to do, when you encounter justice and resolution, which are the two I take with me in this Combat against you.  
The fury of the vain man was such, to see so young a man answer him, as he could scarce give one word again; but at last his breath smoked out these words. Alas, poor Boy, I pity thee; wherefore pray thee be advised, and hereafter when thou hast a Beard come, and it may be I will grace thee, with fight with thee; unless thou dost hope I should have some pity on thy fair face, and so forbear to hurt thee in the fight. 〈◊〉 since you have no braver Knights, Great King of Morea, farewell, I will return: and now fair Lady, what think you of your servant myself? will you love me, or let this smug Youth be your Champion?  
The king was infinitely offended with the proud speech of Lansaritano, the like was all the company; yet none adventured to answer but brave Selarinus himself, who again courageously, yet mildly told him; That he need not learn, to know words were not the weapons to be used in fight, therefore he would answer him no further in that kind, but he should give him satisfaction with his Sword and Spear for the Lady's sake, before his parting thence, whether he would, or no; and then have occasion to speak better of him, if he left him to speak at all.  
The King embraced the young Prince, and strait sending for an Armour, which was the first that ever Amphilanthus had worn, having left it there, taking another which was brought him from Italy, after his first Victory of fame, which was there performed against two Knights, in the defence of an injured Lady; this he put on, which was all White, save just against the Heart he had the figure of a heart wounded curiously made, and so artificially, as one would have thought his heart had been seen to bleed through the Armour: with these Arms Selarinus was armed, the King girding the sword to him, and kissing him, wished as good fortune to him, as the first Lord of those Arms had, and to prove as worthy to wear them. He on his knee humbly gave him thanks; then turning to the Lady, willed her to take her loved Servant, if she accepted him for her Knight. She joyfully beholding him, and smiling on her love, who equally expressed his joy, followed him, who now appeared a young Mars; yet was her joy mixed with fear, of falling again into his hands; till which time she, and this she told him, esteemed herself the happiest woman breathing, in such a Defendant.  
Then went they into the Lists, the King and all the Court taking places fit to behold the fight, Lansaritano cursing his destiny that brought him the dishonour to meet a child (as he termed him, though after he proved otherwise unto him) in the field. Lansaritano was conducted into the field by his own knights in the same manner, as they entered the hall. The Lady who was called Nallinia, and her late distressed, but now revived associates were placed in a seat by themselves, to see, and to be seen as the prizes of the combat.  
Then came Selarinus into the field, attended on by the Marshal, Master of the Horse, and the chief officers of the kingdom of Morea, the Marshal being a grave old man, but in his youth one of the best knights of that Country, gave him his first Spear. The King of Pamphilia (brother to the King, who was newly come thither to visit him, but principally his Niece, who by his gift was to enjoy that kingdom after his decease, and therefore bore that name likewise given by him) was one of the judges, the Prince of Elis the other for Selarinus; and these two did Lansaritano accept also for him, doubting no wrong in so just a kings Court.  
They bravely encountered, running the two first courses without any advantage; the third, Selarinus received so strong a Counterbuff on his breast, as beat him back upon his saddle, being a pretty while before he recovered again: but Lansaritano having more strength, but as great a blow, showed no moving in himself, though the blow was so forcible, as the girts broke, and he came over his horse, by the slipping of his saddle. Selarinus looking back, saw him on foot, which comforted him much, fearing that he had, till then, received the worst: but being satisfied, with new courage he leapt from his Horse, scorning any advantage, and drawing his sword, went towards his enemy, who met him puffed up with as much fury, as a ship runs upon a rock withal, and alike did he prosper.  
A long time did this combat endure, Lansaritano so bravely and valiantly behaving himself (as how could he do other, fight before his Lady, to win his Lady, as it won unexpected fame to the brave Albanian, who still continued with the better: for though Lansaritano as valiant as most, and as strong as any, yet had his enemy this advantage over him, that in valour he equalled him; and what in strength he failed of, in nimbleness and cunning he excelled him, which brought him the victory with the others death, being given by a thrust in the face, his Beaver by chance flying up, the pin being cut in the last blow before. Then were the Knights and the Lady set at liberty by the brother of Lansaritano, who was one of those, and the same that carried his Helmet. He now being to succeed his brother in his commands, took his leave of the King and the Court. The Lady had ever affected this Knight, and was married before her parting to him, given in marriage by the Brother, who was called Sarimatto; they returned, and she lived after with much content with her husband, who was no way like his Cousin, though big, and strong, and as valiant, but mild, courteous, and honest; proving a true friend and servant to the Court of Morea.  
With infinite joy the Prince was conducted to the Palace, there entertained by the King and Ladies, who all joined in honouring him, who had so much honoured the sex, letting his first adventure be in the defence of a woman; then carried him to his chamber, where his wounds were dressed, which were many, but none dangerous; yet had the loss of much blood made him fainter than he was. This was his first adventurous trial of Arms, and accordingly did he proceed bravely and happily.  
But now to Leandrus, who was left in his way to Achaia, to get forces to assist the Princes. Long he rid not without an adventure, those places affording many, and pleasant ones, yet was his scarce one of that number: for after he had left the court, he took his directest way to that part, which was nearest for him to pass thence into Achaia; as he went thinking of his friends, but most of his love, his heart having received a cureless wound by the never failing commanding eyes of Pamphilia, sometimes purposing to ask her in marriage, another time hoping first by his desert to win her love, then promising himself the furtherance of Parselius, the labour of Rosindy, the favour of Amphilanthus, the earnestness of his own affection, and loverlike importunity; these he resolved should woe for him, and thus he meant to have her: yet wanted he her consent, the better part of the gaining, and the harder to be gained: yet these conceits pleased him, as mad folks delight in their own odd thoughts: and so was this little less than madness, had he had sense to have considered her worthy self not to be given, but to her own worthy choice, and by it. But thus he satisfied himself, till wanting this happiness of selfe-framed delight also, he fell into such despair, as proved far worse than many hells unto him.  
As he passed (yet in his pleasure) along a way, which divided itself (near a delicate fountain) into three parts, he sat down on the side of that Fountain, drinking first of the Spring, and then taking out a paper wherein he had written some sad verses, he read them to himself; they were these.  

Drown me not you cruel tears,  
Which in sorrow witness bears  
Of my wailing,  
And loves failing.   

Floods but cover, and retire  
Washing faces of desire  
Whose fresh growing  
Springs by flowing.   

Meadows ever yet did love  
Pleasant streams which by them move:  
But your falling  
Claims the calling   

Of a torrent curstly fierce  
Past wits power to rehearse;  
Only crying,  
Or my dying  
May in stead of verse or prose  
My disastrous end disclose.   
When he had read them, and was putting them up again, having first kissed them, because they should go to his Mistress, he heard the wailing of a man, and looking up, saw a Knight (as he seemed to be) lie by the side of the Fountain on the other part from him, and beside, heard him use these speeches. I wonder when time will permit me ease, and sorrow give conclusion to my days, or to itself; if not wearied, yet for pity's sake, tormenting me, the most afflicted soul breathing; miserable Clarimatto, accursed above all men, and abused beyond all men, and more dishonoured than any creature, and by whom, but by the most esteemed creature, a woman, and a fair woman; but the cage of a foul mind, and the keeper of a corrupt soul, and a false heart, else would she not, nor could she have given herself (once mine) to any other. She was mine by vow, by solemn procession, but now an others: fickle sex, unsteady creatures, worse I will not call you, because indeed I love her, though abused by her, and shamed in her. Leandrus went to him, and kindly offered his service, if he needed it. He casting up his weeping eyes, in tears thanked him, but said; One man was enough to suffer in so slight a cause, and so undeserving a creature. He desired to know the matter. He answered, he had loved a Lady, she had done the like to him, or made him think so: but having what she would, she had changed, and not only so, but given herself to his enemy, being first betrothed unto him, and in that time he was providing for the marriage, married the other; and this is the cause of my torment; hither I am come to revenge myself of him, and in him of her, if she love him still. They are in a strong Castle of his, where they merrily live, while I am miserably vexed with tortures, and dishonour, the worst of torments. What was the original cause of his malice?  
Truly Sir, this cruelty he useth but to me, as belonging to my destiny. Neglected I have been of my friends for bearing this disgrace from mine enemy, and the hater of all my Country, the reason of his hatred to us proceeding from this. The King of Morea in his youth was a brave man at Arms, and followed, and finished many adventures, by chance at a great Just held in Achaia for joy of the birth of the King's son, called Leandrus, as after I heard he was, and proved a Prince worthily deserving the joy, than showed for receiving of him. This Lord's father was likewise there, and encountering the King was by him thrown to the ground, which disgrace he took so heavily, as he would have revenged it with his sword, but that being forbidden (the end of those triumphs, reaching no further than sport) discontented, and burning in rage, he went thence, watching when the King returned in his journey, in this very place he set upon him troops of his coming all these several ways, and at once charging him, who only for his pleasure had sent his greatest company before him, following with two Knights and their Squires; but in this conflict the King got so much of the victory, as he slew his Enemy with his own hands, but could not keep himself from being taken prisoner, and carried almost to the Castle; whither if he had gone, without doubt he had thence never returned.  
But the Squires seeing his distress, and the death of the other two, their Masters, ran every one a several way, till they got a good number of the train together, who with all speed, and fury pursued them, overtaking them hard by the Castle, and taking their Lord from them, most being killed, some few got into the hold, where relating their unlucky adventure, the wife of the slain Lord, and Mother to this Lord (having as great a spirit as any woman breathing) made a vow to be revenged of all the Court of Morea, of the King and his posterity especially. And this she hath hitherto performed with great cruelty, her son having been nursed in this hatred doth likewise continue it with more violence, as his spirit is so much greater, as commonly a man's is, in respect of a woman's: and this is the cause why he hateth all the Moreans, of which country I am, borne in Corinth, my heart truly scorning him for his other injury done me, am invited hither for these two reasons, to be revenged on him.  
Leandrus thanked him for his discourse, but told him he had by it made him long, to try if he could be made a Prisoner also for so just a cause, or deliver those so unjustly enclosed, and the rather said he to serve one so much injuried as yourself, whose quarrel lay on me, and do you defend the honour of your King and Country, she not being worth fight for.  
He answered that was true, yet his honour he esteemed worth clearing, and that called upon him.  
While they were thus discoursing, the Lord and the false Lady came lovingly hand in hand together down one of the paths, she smiling in his eyes and want only courting him, seeking to give him occasion of mirth, but he went on like a man to whom ill was succeeding, he had some servants with him armed, and his own armour was likewise carried by him, if he should have any occasion suddenly to use it: he was of a clear and pleasing complexion, a person amiable and lovely, curled hair, fair eyes, and so judicial a countenance, as might have made the worthiest woman like him, and so well he deserved as it was pity he fell into her hands, who undid both his mind, and body, making him as wicked as herself which was the worst of her sex. He looked upon her with love; but his speech was sparing, either that naturally he had not store of words, or his inward heaviness at that time made him silent. When he came near the fountain, Clarimatto approached to him; My Lord, said he, I am sure you know the cause of my coming into these parts, if not, examine your heart, and that will tell you the injuries you have done me, or if that be so impure, or partial, as it will not, for offending, be true to so false a master, behold this creature by you, your shame, and mine, and in her forehead the fair field of our disgrace, you shall see it written in spots of infamy and wrong.  
The Lord knew his face, and with it the offence, therefore answered him thus. Sir, said he, if on these conditions, I acknowledge the understanding of your rage, I should make myself guilty of what I am free from; to my knowledge I never wronged any, if unwillingly, I made amends, and am ready so to do. Can you give me my honour again, thrown to the ground by you, and your insatiable Love, cried he? You wrong us both, said he, and this shall be the Ground of my revenge and answer to you; with that he armed himself, she crying to him, not to adventure his dear self against that stranger, whom she knew full well; she kneeled to him, held him by the legs, kissed them, gazed on him, in terms called him dearest. All would not serve, he encountered his enemy, and truly was he justly made so by his own ill deserving. They fought, like two, one having got, and earnest to keep a Mistress, the other having lost, and revengeful to gain his honour, and kill his Rival, and Undoer in his Love; at last, the true cause got the upper hand, and the Lord came to the lower side of Victory; which the servants perceiving, rushed all upon Clarimatto. Leandrus finding the wrong they offered, and the other was like to suffer, stepped in to his rescue. A fight was among these performed fit, and only the prize of Love fit to be the end of it. Clarimatto nimble, valiant, and having justice on his side, fought accordingly, and so as the Lord having lost much blood out of two wounds given him by his foe, nor had he escaped free, but was hurt in some places, the Lord then gave back a little, his men cirkling Clarimatto about like busy Bees when angered, using their best (or better to say, more malicious) means to hurt him, who protected by a brave spirit, and undaunted courage laid about him without fear, but not without such hurt to them, assisted bravely by Leandrus, as they began to flee. Their Master seeing that reviled them, vowing to hang who ever saved himself by base flight, and kill those that fought not better, though he by that means let the hateful enemy pass. This urged them again to perplex them, but could not now compass him, he having to prevent that danger, got the Fountain at his back, there defending himself; but alas much like a Stag at Bay, that must for all his courage, yield to the multitude and force of many Dogs: and so was he like to do, (Leandrus having a new supply set on him) for having received a wound in the thigh, he bled, so fast as almost his powers failed him, his eyes beginning with faintness to dazzle, and his strength so fast to decrease, as he leaned himself against the Fountain, holding his Sword strait out, meaning he that first seized him should also meet his own end; and with this resolution stood the brave revengeful Lover, his soul bidding his friends and all farewell: Leandrus being but in a little better case, when as an unexpected good hap befell them by the coming of a Knight in black Armour, who seeing this cruel fight, and unmanly combating of many against two, came happily and speedily to their succour, even when one had done his last for that time to defend himself, which the Lord perceiving, pressed in upon Clarimatto, although almost as weak as he with loss of blood (spite procuring that, lest he might else want his will in having his end some way) so as both valiant, both strong, were now without ability to show valour, if not in dying with their Swords in their hands, and without strength having no more than hatred at that time, allowed to both in those weak limbs, which was no more, than instead of running one at the other, they reeled and fell one upon the other, in the fall, the Sword of Clarimatto finding a way into an unarmed part of his Rival's body, which a blow at the first encounter had left open, but till then well guarded by the skill and courage of his Master, whose Sword miss him, who else with that had with him taken a grave, both agreeing (by disagreeing) to death. The new-come Knight made a quick dispatch of the rest, some by death, some by yielding. Leandrus, though weak, going with much care to Clarimatto, and who had in all the fight behaved himself so worthily not fearing any thing but continuance of disgrace, and freeing all in true worth, and love to truth.  
The business ended, the stranger and Leandrus took up the wounded Clarimatto, and having, with untying his Helm, given him some air, he came a little to himself, but so besmeer'd with blood as at first he was not known to the Knight, whose Helm was likewise off; but when discovered, O Clarimatto, said he, happy I am to help thee, but unhappy to find thee thus, my dearest friend, What destiny brought thee hither? What happiness in unhappiness met, to make me meet thee thus? Accursed, yet now blest occasion, if thou outlive this victory. If I had conquered, said he, death yet might have honoured me, but to live vanquished, rather wish I to dye. Thou hast brave Clarimatto, said he, overcome, and slain thine Enemy with thine own hands. Then am I contented, said he, though straight I die, and most that I shall yet end in your arms, whom of all men I most love, none but yourself could have had the destiny to help me, who only was, and is best beloved of me, and herein hath Destiny blessed me.  
Then came the Lady, who with as much contempt of them, as sorrow for her lover, looked upon them both, the one dead, the other dying, she said nothing, but kneeled down by her latter loved friend, and kissed him, rose again, and looked with infinite hate upon Clarimatto, and then taking a knife she held under her Gown, stabbed herself, falling between them both.  
The black Knight went to the Castle whither Clarimatto was carried, and soon after died; the bodies of the others were buried in the place where the fight was, the keys were delivered to the black Knight, who delivered many brave and valiant Knights, caught by treason, and unfortunate spite, and all Greeks. Then was Leandrus brought into a rich Chamber, and the black Knight, who had taken possession of that Castle, for the King of Morea, bestowed the keeping of it on Clorimundus his Esquire. With many tears and sighs Clarimatto was buried, who was extremely beloved of this black Knight, which was Rosindy, with whom he had been bred, and nursed.  
This being done, and Leandrus, past danger, though not for weakness able to remove, Rosindie left him in the custody of the new Governor, and other Knights, who loved him so well, as there was a question, which they more affected their delivering joy, and happy enjoying, or his safety who had been the first cause to bring them the other; herein their worths appeared, and in better hands Leandrus cannot be left, till his ability call him again to service in other parts. But now Rosindy, must be a little accompanied, who taking on his journey, still resolved to perform the command of his Mistress, which was to pass all Greece, and accomplish such adventures as might make him worthy of her love, and yet not to discover the end of his travel, or himself, to any without extraordinary occasion. To observe this, he put on those black Arms, bearing no Device in his Shield, because his desire was only to be called the unknown Knight; the cause why she had thus commanded him was, that the more his honour was known, the more he might be feared when time might serve for him to deliver her from her Prison, and bondage wherein she lived, from whence as yet she could not be released.  
Thus vuknowne he passed among his best friends, and meaning so to continue he passed from this place to his Father's Court, there to see what adventure would happen to add to his fame; beside, to know the certain time of the pretended journey for Albania, but especially when they appointed to free Meriana the chief end indeed of his journey. So he came to the Court, and sending one Squire of his, who well knew all the parts of it, came to Pamphilia's Chamber, who hearing who it was that desired to speak with her, she strait sent for him, from whom she learned that her dear beloved Brother was hard by, but resolving not to be known, had entreated her to come into the pleasant Grove there to confer with him, which she with much willingness, and desire performed. Now this Squire was not known of many, besides Pamphilia, nor any whit of Antissia, whose jealousy infinitely upon this increased, and the more means were sought to alter it, the greater did the heat grow; like a Smith that puts water into his Forge, to make the fire more violently hot. The sweet (but sad) Princess not mistrusting this, went (as appointed) into the Grove, the suspicious Lady, whose heart now lay in her eyes to discover her, soon and secretly followed her, where she discerned (being in the Evening) a knight so like in proportion to hers, or so had the power of doubt made him, as she ever believed it to be himself: but when she saw their affectionate embracements, than was her heart like to break, not being able to sustain, but for fear of discovering, as softly, but less quietly, being confident, her confidence in his love, which had before but flattered her to his own ends, and not for love, had been a bait to draw on her destruction. With this dolorous opinion she retired into her Chamber, where she fell into the most grievous complaints that ever poor afflicted suspicious Lady had endured.  
The Princes continuing in the Wood, with all love and kindness the black Knight beginning his discourse. My best, and only dear Sister know, that after my departure hence, I passed thorough most part of Greece to seek adventures, till I came into Macedon, where I found the King dead, and an Usurper strongly placed and settled in his room: the same of Meriana's beauty I likewise encountered, but (alas) she was shut up in prison by that Traitor, and so close kept, as none could gain a sight of her, but with much danger. The Villain (though her near Kinsman) keeping her thus, with intent to marry her, if he can gain her consent; if not, so to hold her enclosed during her life. But by a blessed chance, as it may happen, I got the sight of her, truly so rare a creature, as my commendations, which cannot with all worldly eloquence, if with best art, employed to set forth the nearest of her praise come near to the lowest degree of her perfections; what then should I venture to commend her, whose delicacy may receive wrong by my unperfect tongue, not sufficient to extol her? Let it suffice, my eyes saw that, which made my heart her slave; and thus I compassed my joy. I lay in a house, the Master whereof had served her Father and Mother, waiting in the Queen's chamber. and now hath liberty to see her when he will, or hath any business with her, as to bring her new apparel, or such necessary things, he being Master of the Wardrobe. This man with whom I often conferred concerning the Princess, finding my longing to behold her, and heartily wishing her liberty, broke with me about it; I harkened to him, and so we grew so far, as we were fast enough to each other, for betraying our purpose. Then he caused me to put on a suit of one of his servants, who was just of my stature, and taking new apparel to carry her, sent it by me, withal, his excuse, that he was not then able himself to come, I went with it, imagining myself more than a Prince, in being so happy to be his Servant to such an end. When I came, the Maids that attended her, told her of my coming, and of myself, being a stranger, and never there before; she sent for me demanding many things of me, which (as well as so much amazedness, as I was in, beholding her, could permit me) I answered. She took delight to see me so moved, imagining it had been out of bashfulness, which she made sport with.  
Thus for some time it continued, till one day my Master went himself, with whom the Princess had much discourse concerning me, and among the rest, she very much pressed to know what Country man I was, and at last directly who I was: for (said she) either he is a very foolish fellow, or some other than he seems to be, which I rather do imagine; therefore fail not, but tell me by the respect and love you bear me, what you know of him?  
He who loved me as his Son, was loath to discover me directly, for fear of danger; yet considering, that if at all, he were much better tell who I was, and the cause of my disguise, which would purchase me more good, then dissembling. Upon promise of her being no way offended, nor discovering it, which if known, would cost my life; he told her all, and withal added my extreme affection to her. When she at first heard it, she seemed offended, yet after said, she was contented to keep counsel, upon condition that I presently went thence, and never more attempted to come where she was, in so disguised a habit to wrong her.  
When I received this message of death, I knew not whether I should thank or blame my friend: in an agony I was afflicted to the highest, perplexed in soul; in brief, I was but torment, and with it tormented myself. Words I had none, nor other action, but going strait to my chamber, throwing myself on the bed, and there lay I senseless, speechless, and motionless for some hours, as they told me, in which time he went to her again, telling her how he had left me, and that she had killed a brave Prince, and her hopeful kinsman; adding, How do you think Madam ever to be freed, when you use such as would venture for your freedom with this scorn? long enough will you remain here, and be a Prisoner for any hope you can have of delivery by these fashions: but it may be you affect this life, or mean to marry Clotorindus; if so, I have done amiss, for which I beseech you pardon me, and him, with whom I will likewise leave Macedon: for what shall I do here, where worth is contemned, and slavery esteemed?  
When she heard the honest speech of my Master, and saw the likelihood of losing him, in whom only she could have assurance of truth and trust, she told him, his love and truth had gained his pardon; for she would not have him go by any means. For me, she would have me sent to her, with whom she would speak (since she could not believe, such a Prince would take such a course for her love), and direct me what I should do, if she found I was the man he spoke of. He returning, told me of it; and the time being come, I resolved (though for it I did die) since she did mistrust me to go like myself; so as putting on my own clothes, and my Sword by my side, but my Master's cloak upon them, I passed into the Garden, and so into a Gallery, the honest man directing me there to tarry, till she came unto me. When she appeared, it was like a blazing Star, foretelling my lost life and liberty, if she did still persevere in her cruelty. But when she spoke, my heart was so possessed, as I had not one word to answer her; only throwing off my disguise, kneeling down, and gazing on her, was the manner of my suing to her.  
She came then nearer, and taking me up, she said: My Lord (for so my Servant tells me I may call you), much do I wonder, why disguised till this time you have continued? If for love, your judgement much erred, to think I could affect so low as a Servant; if for other ends, myself would never do myself the wrong, to think of any unnoble course: and if the first, why did you not seek to discover it?  
Divine Lady (said I), fare be it from me to have a thought to iviure that virtue, which admiringly I love, and loving, honour; the reason why I remained disguised and unknown, was the happiness I conceived in seeing you, and the fear I had to lose that happiness, no way so much flattering myself, as to have a hope to attain to that, whereto my best thoughts ambitiously did flee: fear kept me silent, love made me fear. Now you have it, dispose of me mercifully, else soon after this discovery, be pleased to hear of my sad end. She it seemed had pity, but not so much as to express it, wherefore she only answered thus. To assure me of your love, and you of pity, this is the course you must take; instantly leave this place, nor return unto it, until such time as your fame by your noble deeds may prove such, as shall make you worthy of my love; then return, release me with your own hands; make me perfectly know, you are Prince Rosindy, and I will give myself unto you. I with all joy promised those conditions should be performed. She smiled, and said, a Lover would promise any thing. I will die (said I) but accomplish these. Then will I be yours (said she). That gave me a full heaven of joy; so kneeling down again, and taking her hand, I kissed it, and on it sealed my vow. But one thing more (said she) I would have you do; let all these deeds be done, while you still keep your name of the Unknown, and so be called till you return, unless some great occasion happen to reveal yourself. I promised likewise this, and so by that name of Unknown, I have passed these ten months, never discovering myself to any, but lately to Leandrus, and a brave Gentleman (than told he her the whole adventure), and now unto yourself. With promise of her love, my vow anew solemnly made, I took my leave, my hart filled with sorrow to part, and my soul ready to leave this earthly cage, grieving so much to leave my better self: she in like sort was sorry, and prettily expressed it; yet would not let too much be seen, lest it might stay me, so we parted. I happy, and sorry; she sorry, and most happy in her own noble virtues. But now me thinks the time is so long, as desire makes me haste homewards, accounting that my home where my soul remains: but to this place I came first of purpose, to hear what resolution was taken for the conquest of Albania, but most for the relief of Macedon. To obey my Lady's command, I came secretly, and so will remain unknown, but to you my dearest Sister: now tell me what you hear, and keep my knowledge to yourself?  
Pamphilia with infinite joy hearing this story, and the brave fortune like to befall her dear brother, took him affectionately by the hand, using these words: Most worthy to be held dearest brother; the happiness is much greater which I conceive, then able to express, seeing the likelihood of your worthily merited fortune: What I know, I were a poor weak woman, if I would conceal from you, or reveal of you. Therefore, know the intent was to conquer Albania first: but whether the absence of Steriamus will hinder it or no, I yet know not; but this I believe, that such means may be wrought as to prefer Macedon before the other, and since your content, and fortunes lie that way, if you will trust me, I will order it so, as that shall be first.  
Bind me more if you can, sweet Sister, and to make me happy, enjoy the authority over me and mine (said he). Then did she entreat him, that he would for a while tarry there, which he granted, till such time as they could order their affairs according to their own minds. While this content lasted to Pamphilia, as much grief increased to Antissia, which grief at last grew to rage, and leaving sorrow fell to spite, vowing to revenge, and no more complain; this thought did so far possess her, as her countenance bewrayed her heart, shunning the sight of Pamphilia who with love and respect did cover hers. This change made the sweet Princess infinitely admire, what the reason should be that now moved her, she seeming to have remained satisfied. But those who know that languishing pain, also know, that no perfect satisfaction can be, unless the humour itself with satisfaction do quite leave the possessed: for as long as one spark lives though never so little, it is able with the least occasion, or sign of occasion, to make a great fire, and so did it now prove. Pamphilia desirous to have no unkindness between them, sought all ways to please her: this was as ill a course, as if of scorn she had done it, or in pity (having deceived her) would show the most despised, and contemptible friendship, which is pity. Madness grew so upon this, as she burst out into strange passions, especially one day, when as Ambassadors came from the young King of Romania, to give thanks to the King of Morea, for his royal courtesy to his Aunt, who by the Knight of Love, he understood to be in his Court, giving withal such infinite praises of him, to the unspeakable joy of the old King, and all the Court, knowing him to be Amphilanthus, as mirth liberally showed herself in all faces but Antissia's. The Ambassador having delivered letters to her, both from Amphilanthus, and the King, wherein she was entreated to come into Romania to him, and by her servant advised, not to refuse the King's demand, but to go with the Ambassador, which was the new Duke Lizandrinus, whither in short time himself would also come: but the more sweet and kind language he used in his letter, the greater was her conceit, it was used to flatter her, compliment never being used in the time of her happiness, especially when she came to the point of going, she directly concluded, that he had laid that trick upon her, to be rid of her sight, and the freelier to enjoy his new Mistress, and this she angrily told Pamphilia, whispering in her ear, withal adding, that he might aswell have told her thus much himself, considering she saw him, and you brave Lady (said she) last night in the Gardenwood. Pamphilia between fear to have her brother discovered by her malice & disdain so unjustly to be accused, her blood scorning to lie still when it was wronged, boldly showed itself in her face with threatening anger: but this moved a contrary effect them fear, increasing base jealousy in stead of noble thoughts & assurance of that she falsely conceived, proving this to be true, that mistrust which is most times built upon falsehood, gains greatest assurance from the falsest grounds. She seeing her blush (as she called it) by that judging guiltiness, and that, working spite, went away laden with scorn, & her own suspicion, which now wrought to fury. Into her chamber she went, where throwing herself upon her bed, careless of ease or handsomeness, she broke into these speeches. Accursed day that first knew Antissia breathing, why was not the air pestilent, the milk poison, the arms that held me serpents, and the breasts that gave me suck venomed? and all these changed from their proper goodness to have wrought my destruction? Miserable fate that brought me to be lost, and found by him who now ruins me, Treacherous Love, but more treacherous Lover; I might (wretch that I was) have taken heed by others, and not have run into the same danger myself; now I am well requited, and paid in the same kind, for glorying at them, and in my gain, while they wailed under the weight of his forsaking them; now must I tread with them in the path of that misery. Fond creatures that joy in this, beware, this must at last be your own; your turn 'twill be (though last) to lead the dance.  
False creature; was it not enough to deceive me of my liberty, and honour, but to overthrow me utterly? to destroy my quiet content, which in the smart of your love I enjoyed? Cursed be the time I admired your sweetness, and familiar kindness, your loving care, and tender respect, which made my heart too soft, yielding to the power of your allure. Is it come to this? Was all your fondness for this purpose? Did you only strive to win, to cast away at pleasure? Were all your desired meetings for this, to make me the more miserably end with neglective forsakennesse? If any man could be true, I assured myself it must be you. O that I had enough considered, there was doubt justly made of man's truth in love; then had I more safely defended myself from this disaster. Amphilanthus, thou wert Noble, just, free: How is this change? Can nobleness be, where deceit rules? Can justice be where cozenage governs? can freedom be, where falsehood lives? Those were: but these are now in thee. Was thy sadness for this new wound? Alas, I assured myself it was for parting from me, that so much change did grow. Could not I (blind fool that I was) have marked his often frequenting Pamphilia's Chamber? his private discourse with her? his seeking opportunity to be in her presence? his stolen looks? his fearful but amorous touching her hand? his kissing his own hand, rather coming from hers, then going to hers? Loving it more for having touched that beloved hand, then for being his. Oft would he do this, and look on me, than did I believe, all was meant to me, which he did to her, and wished it had been I, his eyes betrayed me, my belief bewitched me, and his falsehood must kill me. Churlish affection, why torture you me alone? make him likewise smart, make her likewise vex. But I need not curse her, since (poor Lady) she is but entering into her following perplexity. Alas Pamphilia, I pity thee, and indeed love thee no whit less than before; I cannot, nor may not blame thee for loving him, since none can resist his conquering force in love, nor for seeking him: for whose soul would not covet him? but I blame him for spoiling poor hearts to his glorious triumph. Unnatural man that preys on his own kind, nourishing his life with the ruin of simple innocent Lovers; a cruel food, but crueler devourer of them: which hath wrought this hardness in me, as from hence to love thee, but till I can be revenged of thee; and such a revenge will I have, as thy hard heart shall melt for it, if any goodness be left in it; for over the world will I seek thee (my journey to Romania once ended) to be thus quit with thee, that thy false eyes, and flattering tongue, shall be no longer able to deceive, or betray thyself or others, but behold the true end of me, who gain my death by thy falsehood, and in thy presence will I conclude my life with my love to thee. I wondered, yet never had wit to doubt, why so much Ceremony lately came from you; ceremony indeed, being a shadow, not substance of true love. Change wrought it, and change put on the habit of that which once was love: for once I know you loved me, and was fond of me; fond, I fondness it may most properly be called; for love is eternal, but this changeable. Many we see fond of sports, of horses, of dogs; and so was it my dogged fortune, to have you fond of me: but the immortal part, the soul, is not fond, but loving, which love for ever lives; and this love wanted I, only enjoying his fond, and fond proved desires, which are removed, and have left nothing behind, but the sad remembrance of my once great and highest esteemed blessing; now remain I, thrown down into the darkness of despair, and loss, by loss of his affection.  
Thus discoursing, tossing upon her Bed, she remained; fed not, nor slept all that night: the next morning early going to the Garden Woods, whither she sooner came than Pamphilia, where being a while, and sitting under the same Ash, wherein the other affectionate afflicted Princess had written the Sonnet, she was invited, either by her own passion, or the imitation of that excellent Lady, to put some of her thoughts in some kind of measure, so as she perplexed with love, jealousy, and loss as she believed, made this Sonnet, looking upon the Sun, which was then of a good height.  

THe Sun hath no long journey now to go  
While I a progress have in my desires,  
Disasters dead-low-water-like do show  
The sand, that overlooked my hoped for hyres.   

Thus I remain like one that's laid in Briers,  
Where turning brings new pain and certain woe,  
Like one, once burned bids me avoid the fires,  
But love (true fire) will not let me be slow.   

Obedience, fear, and love do all conspire  
A worthless conquest gained to ruin me,  
Who did but feel the height of blessed desire  
When danger, doubt, and loss, I strait did see.  
Restless I live, consulting what to do,  
And more I study, more I still undo.   
Undo (cried she), alas I am undone, ruind, destroyed, all spoilt by being forsaken, restless affliction which proceeds from forsaking: yet would I be beholding to this Enemy of mine, if forsaking in my torments would possess me, so I might remain forsaken by them: but that must not be, I must only know pleasure, happiness, and the chief of happinesses love, from my beloved forsake me; but pain, torture, and shame will still abide, and dwell with me. Then went she a little further towards the River, where by the bank under the Willow lay the supposed Amphilanthus, the cause of all this business; his Helm was off, by reason of the heat, and secureness from being discovered, not indeed being possible for any, except Antissia, who had by Pamphilia's leave a key to those walks to come within them of that side of the River: she had gone to him rashly, had not his voice stayed her, whereat she started at first, and then trembled with fear and joy, thinking by that likewise it had been her Love: jealousy had so transformed her, as it was impossible for her to hear, or see, or know any thing but Amphilanthus, and her sorrow for him; when at another time she would have laughed at herself for making such unlikeliness vex her; he spoke but low, as it were whispering to himself these words. O my dear, when shall I (wretch) again enjoy thy sight, more dear, more bright to me then brightest day, or my own life? Most sweet Commandress of my only bliss, when, oh when shall I again be blessed? Canst thou leave me thy loyal servant, here or any where, but with thy best deserving self? Shall I lie here in secret, complaining, when they self mayst succour me? Quickly alas, relieve me, never more need, never more love sought it. These words gave her full assurance 'twas he, and jealousy told her they were spoken to Pamphilia. Rage now outgoing judgement, she flew to him; ungrateful man, or rather monster of thy sex, said she, behold before thee, thy shame in my dishonour wrought by my love, and thy change? Rosindy was amazed, and feared betraying, wondering his Sister was so careless of him: she seeing her rash and unpardonable fault, in having thus wronged her Love, stood in such a depth of amazedness, and torment (all affections working at once their own ways in her) as she was a mere Chaos, where unframed, and unordered troubles had tumbled themselves together without light of judgement, to come out of them.  
The black Knight beheld her, wondering more at her manner, and former speech, than now heeding his being known, admiring at her passion, and not understanding her words, to his thinking never having seen her, and therefore not guilty of her blaming him. But now was she a little come to herself, but so as fear, and modesty caused so much bashfulness as scarce she could bring forth what she desired; but with eyes cast down and a blushing face, she with much ado, said thus. Sir, I beseech you as a Lover (for so I perceive you are) hide the imperfections of one of that number, myself unfortunately having fallen into the worst extremity, which is jealousy, and worse, if may be worse, without cause as now I perceive, but falsehood which hath caused it. I mistook you, and more have mistaken myself, or indeed my better self: conceal I beseech in this, and if I may serve you in any thing, for requital command, and I will obey you. Fair Lady, said he, I cannot but exceedingly pity your estate, and with the happiest amendment to it. My humblest suit unto you shall be only this, that you will conceal my being here, not esteeming me so worthy as once (after your going hence) to remember you saw me, till such time, as it may fortune, I may do you service, or that I come to acknowledge this favour from you, and I shall in the like obey you. As she was answering, and promising that, Pamphilia came, but with infinite discontent against Antissia for being there, when as she without dissembling, but withal unfeigned love, and shame, fell at her fear, beseeching her pardon, crying out, that never lived there a more unblessed Creature than herself, who had now lived to wrong the two perfect mirrors of their Sexes, with the base (and most worthy of contempt) humour of suspicion.  
Pamphilia took her up, and quickly was the peace made, the one seeking to give all satisfaction, the other willing to receive any, rather than for that business to make more stirring. Then with promise of her secret holding, the Knights being there, not so much as desiring to know his name, lest that might make suspicion, she desired to know, to discover. Again she departed contended, and as happy as before she had been disquieted; only now grieved that she had wronged Amphilanthus. She gone the dear Brother and Sister sat down together, Pamphilia speaking thus.  
My long stay (said she) might have marred your promise and my desired care of keeping you secret, had not this good chance of acknowledgement wrought the contrary; but howsoever it had brought little harm to you, since long, I fear, you will not here abide, after you understand the news I bring, which is this. My Father was this morning in Council, where it was set down that Macedon is fittest to be first relieved, and the rather, because it is more easy to gain the Kingdom out of one Usurper's hand, than out of many. My Mother hath been infinite earnest, and as earnest as if she knew your mind, her reason being, that the young Queen is her Niece, as you know, and Macedon once quieted, Albania will be the sooner won. Selarinus the younger Brother likewise hath desired the business of Albania may be laid aside till Steriamus be heard of, not willing to be thought hasty in winning honour, and love in his own Country in the absence of his Brother: and in truth, I must say, he doth like himselse in it, and that is like one of the finest Princes I know, for so he is, and the like will you say when you once know him, and know him you must, his ambition (as he terms it) being to gain the honour of your friendship, and to be your Companion in your travels. I have promised him to be the means for him; and believe me brother, you will thank me for it, since a sweeter disposition matched with as noble a mind, and brave a courage, you never (I believe) encountered.  
Rosindy was so joyed with this discourse, as he knew not almost what this last part of her speech was: wring her hand, O said he, the blessed Messenger of eternal happiness; but what Forces shall go to redeem her? The number from hence, said she, are fifty thousand, from Achaia twenty, from Romania twenty, the Achaians are to be demanded by Ambassadors now appointed; that Army to be lead by Leandrus, the Romanians by Lysandrinus, the same Duke who is here now with us, and who certainly assures my Father, that number will not be refused by his Master, but rather more forces added to them. Now doth my Father wish for you to lead his men, desiring you should have the honour of this brave attempt, by strong working of divine knowledge, I think, understanding your mind. Choose now whether you will break promise or no, to your Mistress; yet do I not see, but the liberty she gave you, will permit you to do this; No, said he, dear Pamphilia, counsel me not to be unjust, and in the greatest to mine own vow, and that vow to my Love? But thus you may help me, assure my Father that you know where to find me, and let him reserve the honour of the charge for me, and you bring me to receive it, in which time I will post to Macedon, and get leave to return, and take the charge: This they agreed upon, so being somewhat late she left her Brother there, promising to come again to him after Dinner, and then to let him know the King's answer, and so take leave of each other. She returned when as she found the King and the whole Court assembled to see, and hear a strange adventure. An aged man of grave and majestic countenance, hair white as snow, and beard down to his girdle, bound in strong chains of iron; a young man likewise enchained with him, four Squires leading them, the old man with tears, and pitiful groans telling his story thus. Most famous King, behold before you the distressed king of Negroponte, brought into this misery by my own folly, so much doting on a daughter of mine, as I suffered myself to fall into the sin of forgetfulness to this my son, too worthy I confess for me, deserving a far better title than my son, unless I had been a more natural father; For such was my affection to that ungrateful child of mine, as I disinherited my soon called Dolorindus, whose virtues appear by the black sins of his sister, who I even now grieve to name: but why should my sorrow be increased with the sight of your noble compassions? or better to say, Why should so worthless a creature move sorrow in such royal minds? to avoid which, I will as briefly, as my miserable relation will give me leave, discourse my tragic story to you.  
After I had unnaturally disinherited Dolorindus here present, I gave the kingdom (which came by my wife, and she dead) to Ramilletta, my ungracious daughter, who requited me, as Vipers do their Dam; for no sooner had she the possession, but she fell into such ill government, and indeed beastly living, as the report wounded my honour, and stained my blood: I ashamed, grieved at it, told her of it, persuaded her to leave it, telling her, how cruel a blow it was to my soul; to see her shame. She made me no answer, but with her eyes cast down, left the room where I was. I thought confession and repentance had caused this countenance: but alas, I was deceived, for it was rage, and scorn procured it, as soon I found: for instantly came in a number of her servants, who took me, and cast me into a dark terrible prison, where they kept me one whole year: then came Dolorindus, and strove with all his wit and power to release me; but finding it could not be wrought by other means then good nature; desiring, that as he had life from me, he might have death also with me. She taking some pity of him, or rather not willing to shed his blood herself (though she cared not who did) told him, that if he could overcome two knights, which she would appoint to encounter him, he should have his own, and my liberty, else to be at her dispose. This he agreed unto, glad that he had a shadow of hope (for no more it proved) for my release, undertaken by him. The day was appointed, when as I was brought into a little place, made of purpose for seeing the combat; she, and her servants hoping this would be the last day of my trouble to them, when I should see Dolorindus slain, and her cruelty increase, both which must (as they did trust) end my life with breaking of my heart; and so indeed it nearly had, and would assuredly, had my son been killed, whose love to me, did make my fault so foul before me, as affection proved curster then affliction. But to the matter: so bravely did my Dolorindus behave himself for our deliveries, as although the other were such, as still if a challenge were made, they were chosen; if any valiant man had been named, they had been instantly commended with him; nay, such confidence all had of their strength, as if the kingdom had been in danger to be lost, and only to be saved by combat, these would have been set for the Defendants, yet were these two overcome by Dolorindus, and in our presence had their lives ended by his brave arm, who yet had suffered his blood to accompany their deaths, trickling down as fast, as the tears from a mother's eyes, for the loss of her dearest son: so much indeed he lost, as he was for faintness forced to be carried away to Surgeons (I thought) and so to safety. In some kind this was true, but not to liberty; for she seeing the honour he had got, and fearing the love of the people would fall upon him, seeing his worth, she kindly in show brought him into a rich chamber, and had his wounds dressed, taking infinite care of him: but as soon as he recovered, he was for safety shut into a strong Tower, where he remained till within these few months, myself carried back again into my prison, where I was vexed with the continual discourse of her bravery, of Dolorindus death, and of her marriage with an undeserving man, who in my life of government I ever hated, no worth being at all in him, that he should deserve mention; but that he had no worth in him meriting mention; never so detestable a Villain breathing. This creature she fell in love withal, and lived withal; but now I think is partly weary of, because she doth expose him to fight for her honour, being before so fond of him, as she was afraid the wind should almost blow upon him: but him she hath brought, and three more his brothers; and if these four can be overcome, by any Knights in this Court, we shall be set at liberty, else remain Prisoners, which we have consented unto. Now Sir, if you please to give us such knights, they shall enter.  
The King answered, that such unnaturalness deserved a far sharper punishment, and that there was no sense, a Combat should end so foul a business. He replied, that he was contented, and therefore desired but the knights, and for the matter, it was already determined. Then stepped Selarinus forth, desiring to be one; Pamphilia likewise entreated, she might have the favour to bring another, who she would undertake for, meaning the Prince of Corinth; the Prince of Elis would not be denied to be the third; and Lisandrinus humbly besought in such a business he might be the fourth.  
This was agreed upon, so Pamphilia went to the Wood, and there discoursing the business to her brother, he instantly resolved to be one, and whether she would or no, came with her, his Beaver close for fear of discovery, doubting nothing else but his face to betray him; for so much was he grown in height and bigness, as he could not be taken for Rosindy. The four Defendants being there met, the rest entered, Ramiletta going in the midst of the four Challengers, two before her, two behind her, but so far asunder, as they made from corner to corner the fashion of a Saltier cross. So terrible were these to behold, as few could endure to look upon them, only her servant was a little milder in his countenance, and somewhat less than the others. Their hair was of a brown red colours and bristled; their eyes of answerable bigness to their bodies, but furiosly sparkling fire. When Pamphilia saw these Monsters, she would as willingly have had her Brother thence, as he ambitiously wished to have the Combat begin: then followed fifty knights without swords, but their Beavers close, being such, as the old King told the Court, were taken, seeking to deliver them from bondage, and who were brought along with them for witness of their valour and power. These huge men, who were called the terrible and unconquered Brethren, nor the Lady, made any reverence, but gazed upon the company and Ladies, who there stood to behold them: then were they carried to the Lists, the old man again speaking: Sir, these are the Challengers; may it please you that the Defendants likewise go. The King was sorry for the Knights, & in his mind more troubled, then long time before he had been, once being of the mind to have hindered it: but considering his honour was engaged, in that, he went on, commanding his great Marshal nevertheless to have some other number of Knights ready armed upon any occasion. This was done, and so being all in the Lists, the judges placed, and the Trumpets sounding, Ramiletta was brought in her Chariot of pale green Velvet, made of an unusual fashion, and those fifty knights standing round about her, the old man and his son being in a feat behind her in the same Chariot. The justs beginning, the Unknown Knight encountered the greatest of the four; Selarinus the next in bigness and fierceness, almost his equal; Lisandrinus the third, and the Prince of Elis the fourth. The first encounter was strong and terrible, for the mourning Knight was struck flat upon his back, and his adversary's horse was with the blow struck dead, his Master by that means falling to the ground; Selarinus and his enemy both unwillingly saluting the earth with their heads, the rest had likewise that fortune: then bravely began the fight with the swords, which continued one whole hour, no advantage being seen, till the Prince of Elis with extreme loss of blood, and a wound in his leg, fell to the earth; at that instant had the unknown Knight given his enemy a wound in the thigh, which was so great, and beside given cross, as he could not stand, but like a huge mast of a ship, with the storm of this blow laid his greatness along; the other going to strike off the Prince of Elis his head, was by the black Knight hindered, striking off that arm, which was depriving the Prince of his life. At this he cried out, giving the watchword which was among them, so as the other, who had now even wearied their foes, left them, running to the place where the Princes sat, catching Pamphilia in their arms, and strait carrying her into the Chariot; the other fifty at the instant got Swords for the accomplishing of their wills, privately hid in the Chariot, a place being made under the seat for them, the Hilts only out, which were taken to be but artificially made to seem Swords, and placed for ornaments round about the body of the Chariot, being all painted about, and carved with Trophies, and such like devices. Then did the old man as soon as they had their prey, turn Chariot man, driving the Horses with great swiftness, the King cried for help; but alas, in vain as it seemed, tearing his hair for this oversight. But soon was this business ended, for Selarinus marking their treason, leapt up upon his horse again, pursuing them, and overtaking them, killed the former horse, the rest running, fell over him, so as the Chariot was stayed. Then came two strange Knights, who by chance were going to the Court, to whom the Traitor cried for help, saying, That that Knight by force would take his Lady from him, beseeching even with tears to have their help, for (said he) here is the famous Princess Pamphilia, whom this Villain would take from me, and abuse. With that the strange Knights began to prepare, but Selarinus told them, they were best take heed, for (said he) this is all false that he reports, and he hath stolen by treason this Lady from the Court, where there is yet a cruel fight, I having left them to rescue this Princess. One of them strait knew his voice, so as drawing their swords on his side, as before they were ready to do it against him, they drew to the Chariot, demanding of the Princess if this were true? She answered, Yes; and therefore (said she) assist this worthy Prince. Then they took the old man and youth, and as before they were in counterfeit chains; they made them sure in true ones, tying them with the false Ramiletta to the hind end of the Chariot, so putting their Squires to lead the horses. With this brave Princess they returned, and most fortuately for the other distressed Knights at the Court, who were so tired with the terrible Brothers, and fifty other, as they were almost at their last, the poor unarmed Courtiers lying as thick slain, as if they had strewed the place with their bravery, in stead of flowers: the Marshal came with his troop: but so little could he avail, as only taking the King, and carrying him away to safety with the Queen, and such as did run with them, left the two brave Combatants to defend themselves, who did so bravely, as they had slain two of the Brothers outright, Rosindy having killed one, wounded the other in the thigh, and now was fight with him, whom Selarinus had first encountered, but very weak with weariness, and loss of blood, the fierce man pressed sorely on him, when Selarinus again came, and finished his begun work, giving him a blow on the head, which made him stagger, and seconding it, laid him on the earth: then leapt he from his horse, lifting the black Knight up in his stead, and so strake he off the head of that Traitor. Now was there but one left, and he wounded, yet the number of Knights were little decreased, so as if the two new knights had not come, they would have been in a far worse case, who so bravely behaved themselves, as soon the victory was clearly theirs. Rosindy bestirring himself in such manner, as who ever had seen him, and told the Queen his Mistress of it, that alone, without any other Conquest, had been enough to win her.  
By this all was quiet, than took they some of those Knights, who had yielded and demanded mercy, the wounded Brother, and the traitorous old man, Ramiletta, and the youth, going with this troop into the Palace; the body likewise of the Prince of Elis they carried with them, which yet seemed but his body, no breath stirring, nor any show of life appearing, till being laid in his bed, and carefully looked unto, his old Father being there grieved in heart, yet the better contented, since if he died, it would be to his honour for ever, to end his days in so noble an adventure; life again possessed him, but weakly expressing itself for many days, yet did he rocover. When this company came into the Hall, strait came the King unto them, running to Pamphilia, and weeping with joy to see her free again, so as in a pretty space he could not speak unto her, but when, O my dear heart (said he) what treason was there here against me, to deprive me of thy sight? She comforting him, and letting some tears fall, as dutifully shed to wait on him, besought him, since she found that blessedness, as his so great affection to her, that he would thank those, who restored her to him; then taking them all one after another in his arms, he desired to know the black Knight.  
Pamphilia then answered. Sir, said she, this Knight is so engaged by a vow, as he can hardly let his name be known; yet since, this liberty was given, that upon extraordinary occasion he might reveal himself, I will undertake the discovering, and fault (if fault there be in this) upon me, and then turning to him, Brave Brother, said she, comfort our Father's age with the happiness of the sight of such an incomparable Son, with that Rosindy pulling off his Helm kneeled down. But when the King beheld him, he fell upon his neck, with such affection kissing him, as if all his love were at that instant in him, and joined together to express it to him. Then was command given for a rich Chamber for him, whither he was lead, Selarinus accompanying him, being less hurt than he, yet had he not escaped free from remembrance of that devilish creature. All now at peace, no discourse was but of the valour of the defendants, but especially the honour of Rosindy was blazed abroad, having with his own hand killed one of the Brothers, wounded another, and wearied the third to death, slain many of the Knights, and by his example done so much, as encouraged the weak bodies of the rest, whose hearts never failed. Then Selarinus was commended exceedingly, and indeed with great cause, for his valour was equal with most, his care that day exceeding others. Pamphilia being saved from imprisonment by him. Lisandrinus will all honour respected, who made manifest proof of his valour, and affection to the Court. The Prince of Elis did so well, as made all assured of his being a brave Knight, this the first of his adventures having so manfully performed: for had not an unlucky blow in the leg hindered him from standing, he had also slain his foe. The two last Knights were of the Court, one, Son to the Marshal, called Lizarino; and the other, Tolimandro, Prince of Corinth. The Traitors were all carried to a strong Tower, where they remained till the Knights were well again recovered, which in short time was to the great joy and comfort of every one.  
Now did Pamphilia think it fit to acquaint the King with her Brother's business; wherefore first ask leave of Rosindy, she did; the King being infinite glad of this news, went strait unto his lodging, whom he found alone, but for Selarinus, who never left him, as strict and firm an affection growing between them, as ever lived in two men's hearts, one unto another. Then did the King impart unto him, what Pamphilia had told him, which was confirmed by Rosindy, the match liked, and commended by the King: the resolution was, as Pamphilia before had told him, and he chosen General of the Morean forces, Selarinus his Lieutenant, and thus with preparing for these wars, and every one contented (except the loving Ladies); Love must again be a little discoursed of.  
Parselius (who making haste after Amphilanthus) took his way thorough Morea; but after not as he was directed by the Squires, but along Achaia, crossing the Gulf of Lepanto, which course might make him miss the King, if he came short of the Combat; they resolving to take their course back again by sea to Morea, aswell to try adventures in the Islands, as to hasten the forces, that being a shorter way: but here did Parselius, as destined for him (for till now he still obeyed the other) meet a greater force than he imagined, being in a Forest benighted, and having none with him except his Cousin's Squire, and his own. In that solitary place they laid them down for that night: The next day going on in that Desert till they came to a strong and brave Castle, situated in a little Plain, a great moat about it, and over it a draw Bridge, which at that time was down, and some Servants upon it, looking upon the water which was broad and finely running: when the Prince came near the place, they turned their eyes to him, who courteously saluted them, and demanded, whose Castle that was; they replied, it was the Kings, and that there lived within it his fair Daughter Dalinea. Is she, said the Prince, to be seen? If so, I pray let her know that here is a Knight desires to kiss her hand, well known to her Brother, and who had the honour to be his Companion. One of the servants instantly ran in, others went to take their horses, while Parselius lighted, and put off his Helm, wiping his face with his delicate white and slender hand, rubbing his hair, which delicately and naturally curling made rings, every one of which were able to wed a heart to itself. By that time the Messenger returned: leading him first into a stately Hall, then up a fair pair of stone stairs, carved curiously in Images of the Gods, and other rare workmanship: at the top they came into a brave room richly hanged with hangings of Needlework, all in Silk and Gold, the Story being of Paris his Love, and rape of Helen; out of that they passed into another room, not so big, but far richer, the furniture being every way as sumptuous if not bettering it; but what made it indeed excel, was that, here was Dalinea sitting under a Cloth of Estate, of Carnation Velvet, curiously and richly set with Stones, all over being Embroidered with pearl of Silver, and Gold, the Gold made in Suns, the Silver in Stars, Diamonds, Rubies, and other Stones plentifully and cunningly compassing them about, and placed as if for the Sky where they shined; but she standing appeared so much brighter, as if all that had been, but to set forth her light, so far excelling them, as the day wherein the Sun doth show most glorious, doth the drowsiest day. Her Ladies who attended her, were a little distant from her in a fair compass Window, where also stood a Chair, wherein it seemed she had been sitting, till the news came of his arrival. In that Chair lay a Book, the Ladies were all at work; so as it showed, she read while they wrought. All this Parselius beheld, but most the Princess, who he so much admired, as admiration wrought so far, as to permit him to think that she equalled Urania; this was a sudden step from so entire a Love, as but now he vowed to his Shepherdess, being an Heresy, as he protested, for any man to think there lived a creature like his Love.. But into this he is now fall'n, and will lead the faction against her. Uncertain Tyrant Love, that never brings thy favourites to the top of affection, but turns again to a new choice; Who would have thought any but Vrania's beauty, could have invited Parselius to love? Or who could have thought, any might have withdrawn it, till this sight? Which so much moved as he loves Urania, but for being somewhat like to Dalinea, but her, for her own sake. He was not so struck with wonder when he first saw Urania, (though with it he lost his liberty) as he was now wounded to death, losing life if no compassion succeeded; this first sight won him, and lost his former Bondage, yet was he freed, but to take a new bond upon him. He went towards her, who with a Majestic, yet gracious fashion met him, who saluted her thus. My fare leading me (I hope for my greatest happiness, I'm sure yet for my best content, bringing me thus to behold your excellencies) from far places, unlooking for pleasures, am brought to the height of them most incomparable Lady, in coming thus into your presence, whereto I was emboldened by the love I bore your Brother, by the courtesies of your servants, the honour yourself granted me in licensing my approach: but most by my own soul, which told me I must not pass without paying the tribute of my best service, to the Princess of all women; for how would my conscience accuse me in such a neglect? How would my heart blame me for such an omission? But how might brave Leandrus chide Parselius, if he yielded not himself at the feet of his worthily admired Sister? Dalinea hearing him call himself Parselius, with a sweet and pleasing blush, desired pardon, that she had so far forgot herself, as not to do him sufficient reverence; but yet a little blame yourself, great Prince, said she, who unknown, and undiscovering yourself to any, you come among us: pardon this rudeness, and be pleased to accept my submission for it; to deserve which favour, I will strive in giving you the best welcome to deserve it. He took her hand, and kissed it, which although she could in respect have hindered, yet so delicate was his hand, as she was content to let him hold and kiss hers. Then she brought him under the State, where two Chairs being set, they passed away some time, discoursing of adventures, and of the sweet content the Companion Princes enjoyed in their youths, she infinitely delighting in those stories, especially when they touched on her brother, whom entirely she loved.  
Parselius finding which way her affection lead her, made his attend her, and all his stories, either beginning, or ending with the praise of Leandrus. Thus one pleased, and the other contented, that it was in him to content her; they passed some day's love creeping into the heart of Dalinea, as subtly as if he meant to surprise, and not by open force take her: Discourse procured conversation, sweet conversation, liking of itself; that liking, desire to continue it; that desire, loving it, and that the man that afforded it: and thus far come, I should wrong her if I should not say, she yielded in her heart to love his person, whose discourse had made his way, by taking first her ears prisoners, now her eyes likewise execute their office, brings his excellent shape, his beauty, his absolute brave fashion: then her understanding besets her, tells her how excellent his wit is, how great his valour, how matchless his worth, how great his descent, and royal possessions; all these, alas, joined, and made a curious, and crafty work to compass that, which love himself without half, or any in comparison of these assistants, could have made his subject. But as the rarest jewel is not to be had but at the highest rate: so her peerless perfections must have all this business to gain her; but now she is won, and he almost lost, not daring to think so, or venturing to win it: He would with his eyes tell her his heart, with kissing her delicate hand, with a more than usual affection, let her feel his soul was hers: She found it, and understood what he would have her understand, nay, she would answer his looks with as amorous ones of her part, as straightly, and lovingly would she hold his hand, but knowing modesty forbid, she would sigh, and in her soul wish that he would once speak; but bashfulness withheld him, and woman modesty kept her silent; till one afternoon, walking into a most curious and dainty Garden, where all manner of sweets were ready in their kind to entertain them; Flowers of all sorts for smell and colour; Trees of all kinds of fruits, and walks divided for most delight, many Birds singing, and with their notes welcomming them to that place: At last, a pair of innocent white Turtles came before them, in their fashion wooing each other, and so won, enjoying their gain in billing, and such like pretty joy.  
Parselius taking advantage on this, how blessed (said he) are these poor Birds in their own imaginations, thus having one another's love! 'tis true, said Dalinea, but more blessed are they, if the story be true, that they never change. Having once, said he, made a perfect choice, none sure can after change. I never heard man accuse himself, said she, but rather when he had run into that fault, find something amiss in his former love. I am sorry, replied the Prince, you have so ill an opinion of men, since that I fear, will hinder you from honouring any with your love. Why should you fear that answered she? Because (sighed he) I would not have such admirable Beauties unaccompanied, but joined to a worthy associate. These must, said she, for any thing I see remain as they do (if such as you say) long enough, before they will be sought; fear (cried he) makes men speechless, and admiration hinders the declaring their affections. A poor lover, said she, such a one must be, who wants the heart of one such little Bird as this. I see most perfect Lady, said he, then, that this bashfulness is neither profitable nor commendable, wherefore I will now, encouraged by your words, rather commit an error in honest plainness, then in fine Courtship, and if it be an error, take this with it, it is not meant amiss, though it may be rudely performed, as what but rudeness can come from a wand'ring Knight?  
Not then to colour that which is most clear, and perfect in itself, with fine and delicate Phrases, or to go too far about from the right way of discovering, give me leave, most excellent Princess, to say, that so excelling was your power over me, when I first saw you, and so strongly hath continued the honour in keeping the conquest, as I am, and ever must be your devoted Servant, my love being wholly dedicated to you; and this I would feign long since have said, but I feared your displeasure, nor had I now ventured, but that me thought you bid me be bold, taking your discourse wholly to myself. Then did you take it right, said she, for I confess; with that she blushed so prettily, and looked so modestly amorous, as she need have said no more, to make him know she loved him: Yet he covetous to have the word spoken, taking her in his arms, be not so cruel my only life said he, to bar me from the hearing of my bliss; Why then, said she, I must confess I love you. blessedness to my soul cried he, these words are now; my dearer self canst thou affect poor me? I honour your worth, and love yourself, said she, but let your love be manifested to me in your virtuous carriage towards me. Virtue, said he, made choice for me, then can she not abuse herself; and virtue in you made me most to love you, then assure yourself, that only virtue shall govern me. Thus they lovingly and chastely lived a while, only pleased with discourse; but that grew to leave place to more enjoying itself, being loath that any time should be spent without it, envying the night that kept them so long absent; to avoid which he so earnestly sued, and she so much loved, as she could not refuse, what he desired for their equal contents: so as making two of her maids, and his Squire only acquainted, one morning they stole out of the Castle by a back door, which opened just upon the Mote, and having a boat there, wherein they used to row for pleasure, they crost the water, and so walked unto an Hermitage hard by, where after they had heard Prayers, the Hermit played the Priest and married them. With infinite joy they returned, to come to the height of their desires, where we will leave them a little, and speak of Berlandis, Squire to Amphilanthus, who longing to see his Lord, and seeing little hope of getting Parselius thence, resolved to try how he might get him from that lazy life, and win him again to follow Arms: but alas, this was as impossible, as it was for Urania to believe, that Parselius would forsake her. Many times he urged him, many times he told him of adventures, which himself and his Cousin had passed, to their eternal fames; oft he remembered him of the promises he had made, and vows which ought to be performed: but these wrought nothing, vows he remembered not, but this last holy one, which was most religiously to be observed: promises he had made, but those might stay till some other time, or till he had longer solaced himself in these new delights.  
To conclude, Berlandis concluded to leave him, and so telling; and taking his leave of him, departed with this message to Amphilanthus, that he would in short time come unto him; in the mean time, entreated to be pardoned, since in his time he had a little absented himself from him upon a like, though not so just an occasion. Then he charged Berlandis, not to let any know where he had left him, except his own Lord, and to entreat likewise his secrecy to all others to deny his finding of him.  
Thus Parselius obscured himself for some time, while the fame of his Brother bravely filled the world, and had shined alone like the greatest light, had not one eclipsed it with his greater power, which was, and is, Incomparable Amphilanthus, who with his two companions left Romania, intending to go to Morea, as I before said, hasting thither, as in pretence of the Albanian business. After they had taken ship, they came down the Archipelago, and amongst those Islands staying at Sio for fresh water, and to take in some passengers, left by that ship there, at her going to Constantinople; into the which Island, the Knight of the Forest would needs persuade the rest to enter, seeing it delightful, and loving naturally to see novelties, and venture as far, and ofttimes as happily as any: this motion was agreeable to Steriamus, whose heart yet failed him, for all Amphilanthus did warrant him to go where his soul was Prisoner, for fear of offending her, though so much he loved, as if he had been sure to see her, and with that sight to die instantly, rather than live, and not see her, he would so have suffered death. But Amphilanthus was loath to lose time, yet he was contented to content his Friend, so as they passed up a good way into the Island themselves alone, without any other, not so much as their Squires with them: long they had not gone, before they met three fine young Maids, apparelled after the Greek manner, carrying each of them a basket, wherein were several delicate fruits; the knight of the Forest went to them, desiring to be resolved of the manner of that place, and whether they could let them understand any adventure. The maids with much sweetness, and modest fashion replied; They were but of mean Parentage, and not accustomed to such businesses, but (said they) this last night a brave Gentleman lay at our Father's house, much complaining of the loss of a young Prince, called Dolorindus, Prince of Negropont, who landed here, and since was never heard of; much he seemed to doubt his danger, and especially to fear Treason, the Lord of this Island being indeed the most cruel, and treacherous man breathing; old, and yet so ill, as his white hairs have gained that colour from black, since he practised villainy, for these forty years plotting nothing, but the destruction of brave Knights, and delicate Ladies, of which he hath store in his Castle, where in dark and ugly prisons he continues them, only letting them have light when he sends for them, and sports himself in their torments: and this proceeds from no other cause, but out of a general hate to all, where virtue lives, and beauty dwells. His wife of as sweet a condition, who is worn away to bare bones with mere hateful fretting, to hear that any should live enriched with goodness. From this pair are brought a forth couple of as hopeful branches, as can proceed from so good stocks; their parents ill, which they have been many years practised in to come to perfection, being fully flowing in them, so as they in this kind excel, having so many years fewer, and yet as much sin in them, falsehood, and all treason abounding, with ill nature in them: one of them being a Daughter, and the elder called Ramiletta, the most cunning, dissembling, flattering, false Creature that ever sweet air suffered to breath in, without corrupting it with her poisonous treasons; the other a Son vild, crafty, and beyond measure luxurious.  
These three are now gone a journey, whither I cannot tell you, but surely to some villainous purpose, bravely they are attended on, and richly set forth, the old woman only left behind with her practices to help if occasion serve, or by as much ill to rescue, if harm befall them. It was a glorious sight to see the brave furniture they had, delicate Horses and gallant troops of Knights to the number of fifty, besides four, who were the fiercest and strongest of this Country, ugly and fearful to behold, being Brothers, and called the terrible, being of stature little less than Giants; and indeed such, as surely for being so much above ordinary stature were anciently termed so: a joyful sight this also was, for every one rejoiced so much at their going, as in great troops the people followed them to the sea, heartily wishing never to see them return any more.  
Hath there been no news of them since (said the Knight of Love? None (answered the Maids), nor will be we hope. But are there any prisoners remaining in his Castle (said he)? So the knight told my Father (said one of them) and we are all certain of it, if he put them not to death before his going, which I the less think, because his wicked mate so much affects the like pleasure in torturing, as she holds them surely living of purpose to delight herself. Will you favour us with the guiding us to the Castle said Amphilanthus? withal our hearts, said they, if we were sure to bring you safe back again, but fearing that, we rather desire pardon, then to be the means of bringing hurt to such Gentlemen. Let the hazard of that lie on us, said the Knights, and the content to this Country, especially to yourselves, when you shall see it freed from such Tyranny.  
Much ado they had to persuade the Maids, to conduct them; yet at last, they prevailed, and altogether went to the house of the Traitor, by the way eating of those fruits they had in their Baskets: within few hours they arrived within sight of the Castle, and drawing nearer they saw two Gentlemen fight on the Bridge, but presently they lost the sight of one being fall'n. Then another advanced himself who by that time that they came near enough, to descry any thing done on the Bridge, they saw likewise betrayed by a false place in the Bridge, which they but coming on it straight opened, and as soon as they were fallen, shut again; they of the house so well acquainted with it, as they easily avoided it.  
They seeing this treason, hating deceit of any thing, stood conferring what they might do to avoid this trick, when as the man that combated the other two, came unto them, courteously entreating them into the house, if it pleased them to enter without blows: or if they would try their forces, as all yet had done, he was the man that first would wait upon them in that exercise.  
They assuring themselves no good could be in that creature, who had betrayed any, as curstly replied, as he had mildly (but craftily) spoken; telling him, that courtesy in Traitors must be as dangerous, as his kindness would prove, if they were so ignorant as to trust him, who they saw before their faces, had betrayed two, who fought with him: wherefore they were resolved to be so far from receiving his compliment, as they would make him bring them to the surest entering into the Castle; which if he refused, they would cut off his head. With which words they laid hands on him, and that but done, when with a loud and terrible voice, he gave notice to them within of his danger, which brought out many to his succour, that place never being without some always armed. They rushed all on the Knights, who bravely behaved themselves, making quick work amongst them: but then came more, and such numbers, as with their freshness and companies, they put the Knights more to their skill, then in long time they had been: yet they whose hearts were filled with true worth and valour, would not think themselves in hazard, but still confident of victory, pursued their Enemies to the Bridge, who seeing their want of strength to master the three, gave back of purpose to win them to their snare: but soon did they find their deceit, so as avoiding the bridge, they scaped the plot, and got the knowledge of it; for they fearful, and some unskilled, run upon the false place, which opened, they falling in: and the three knights seeing the place opened, discovered the breadth to be no more, than one might stride over, so as they bravely ventured leaping over it and entered the gate.  
Presently was a great cry and noise in the Castle, all now that could bear Arms running upon the knights; and so did they perplex them, as they forced them to take the benefit of putting their backs to a brave fountain, which was in the midst of a square Court wherein they were. This gave them ease and safety, being sure to have no hurt, but what they saw; thus they fought till none were left that durst fight with them.  
Then stood they a while to breathe, and rest them, when showers of arrows came upon them out of the windows, and from the battlements; these vexed them more than any thing, not knowing what to do against them, but only covering themselves with their Shields, made them their defences, while they rested a little. But no sooner had they gained breath, but they ran up the stairs, and finding most of them women, yet cruel in that kind, and skilful in shooting, they would not contend with them with their Swords, but running forcibly (in spite of their skill and continual shots) within them, knowing no means to be secure, the number being so great, were forced, for all their charitable mind, to begin at home with that virtue, and for their own good to hurt them; which in this manner they did, throwing such as they could lay hands on out of the windows, pursuing the rest, who running from them, yet still galled them with their arrows, such was their nimbleness and cunning, as they would shoot when they ran fastest. But at last they got the end of their travel, with the end of them, most killed or bruised with the fall, the rest throwing down their bows, and craving mercy.  
But now came they to the place, where the spring of all mischief sat, the Mistress of wickedness, and that Castle, in such distress, because they were not distressed; as malice and all vices mixed together, could hardly be the figure of this woman: but what could she do? All cunning now failed her, though she began with humility, fawning and flattringly begging life, succeeding with cursings, revile and threatenings: but all prospered alike; for they taking her, commanded her to bring them where the Prisoners were. When she saw no craft would prevail, she cast her hateful looks upon them, and by an unlucky chance espying a Dagger at Ollorandus back, stepped to him hastily, drawing it out, and as suddenly being unmarkt, strake Amphilanthus (who was then looking from hereward, careless of her) under his Armour, giving him such a wound, as the blood fell in great abundance from him: but soon was that well revenged, if her life were answerable for such a mischance; yet did they keep her alive, till the Castle was settled, one drop of his blood being more worth, than millions of lives of better people. Then she was terribly tortured, and yet kept long in pain for her more lasting punishment, and lastly burned.  
By this were most dead or yielded, all being safe, Amphilanthus was carried into a rich chamber, where his wound was searched and dressed by the three Sisters, who were now come into the Castle, brought in by Steriamus of purpose to dress the Prince. Ollorandus being so perplexed that it was his unlucky fate to have the weapon, that hurt his friend, as he was truly sorrow itself, even being ready with it to have parted his own life from him, had not Amphilanthus conjured him by all loves, and friendships, and protestations to forbear.  
Quickly did the Sisters assure them of his safety, which as a blessing came unto them. After he was dressed he sent his friend to fetch the Prisoners all before him, which was done, where were of Knights and Ladies such store, as (if in health and strength) there had been a fit number for the furnishing a brave Court, but as they were, it was a sight of commiseration, so pale, and weak they were with want of food, and their bodies so abused with tortures, as they appeared like people of purpose made to show misery in extremity. Among them was Dolorindus, whose own mind, and this usage, had brought him into a fit estate to answer his name. Amphilanthus knowing him, first took care of him, calling for his own apparel which was brought, and causing delicate food to be brought him, cheerished him so, as by that time that he was able to travel for his wound, Dolorindus was likewise fit to accompany him, which in few days came to pass by the diligence and care of the three Sisters, who were next in true succession by the Mother's side, to the ancient Lords of Sir: their Father came unto them with the Squires, to the Princes, and those of the Ship. Then prepared they for their departure, Amphilanthus bestowing the Castle and the Island upon the Sisters, his kind Chirurgeons, promising to send his faithful and best esteemed servant Berlandis to marry the eldest, as soon as he could find him, and on the other two, Steriamus and Ollorandus bestowed their Squires, giving them the Order of Knighthood, who well deserved it, proving worthy of such Masters, making the world see, that such example as daily their Master showed them, must needs make brave men leaving that place in quiet, having taken the oaths of all the Inhabitants in Berlandis name, and his wives. Then took they Ship again for Morea, but passing along the AEgaean Sea, they entered many Islands, seeking and finding adventures, but in one, being (though little) yet plentiful, as a greater, delicately compassed with Snow white Rocks, yet mixed with small fine trees, whose greenness gave them hope to see, but pleasure gave them heart to go into it; when they found it within such a place, as a Lover would have chosen to have passed his time in, and this did urge the four Knights all amorous, and yet in several kinds to express their passions several ways.  
Amphilanthus left the other three, taking the direct way to the heart of the Land, as ever aiming at that place, having the best, and most power continually over that part. Steriamus took on the right hand; Ollorandus to the left, but Dolorindus who never knew difference of fortune (still having lived in a constant state of her displeasure) went away between them all, his thoughts (as ever in action) better being able to utter forth his passions being alone, which in this kind he did: when he came into a dainty fine wood of strait high Oaks, and young Beeches, mingled with a few Ashes, and Chestnut trees; in the midst of the Wood was a Mount cast up by nature, and more delicate than Art could have framed it, though the cunningest had undertaken it, in the midst of it was a round Table of stone, and round about it Seats made of the same Stone, which was black Marble, some Letters, or rather characters he found engraven in the upper part of those seats, and on many of the Trees, which curiously encompassed it; & many cyphers, althougth but one for meaning, though in number many; Lovers had done these as he thought; lovers made him remember he was one, and that oft he had carved his Mistress' name upon Bay trees, to show her conquest, which she had requited, cutting his name in Willows, to demonstrate his fate. This afflicted him, and moved so much in him, as he could not but frame some verses in his imagination, which after were given to Amphilanthus, and his other companions; the lines were these, place and fortune procuring them.  
Sweet solitariness, joy to those hearts  
That feel the pleasure of Loves sporting darts,  
Grudge me not, though a vassal to his might,  
And a poor subject to cursed change spite,  
To rest in you, or rather restless move  
In your contents to sorrow for my love.  
A Love, which living, lives as dead to me,  
As holy relics which in boxes be,  
Placed in a chest, that overthrows my joy,  
Shut up in change, which more than plagues destroy.  
These, O you solitariness, may both endure,  
And be a Chirurgeon to find me a cure:  
For this cursed corrosive eating my best rest  
Memory, sad memory in you once blest,  
But now most miserable with the weight  
Of that, which only shows Love's strange deceit;  
You are that cruel wound that inly wears  
My soul, my body wasting into tears.  
You keep mine eyes unclosed, my heart untied,  
From letting thought of my best days to slide.  
Froward Remembrance, what delight have you,  
Over my miseries to take a view?  
Why do you tell me in this same-like place  
Of Earth's best blessing I have seen the face?  
But maskd from me, I only see the shade  
Of that, which once my brightest Sunshine made.  
You tell me, that I then was blest in Love,  
When equal passions did together move.  
O why is this alone to bring distress  
Without a salve, but torments in excess?  
A cruel Steward you are to enrol  
My once-good days, of purpose to control  
With eyes of sorrow; yet leave me undone  
By too much confidence my third so spun:  
in conscience move not such a spleen of scorn,  
Under whose swellings my despairs are borne.  
Are you offended (choicest Memory),  
That of your perfect gift I did glory?  
If I did so offend, yet pardon me.  
Since 'twas to set forth your true exclencie.  
Sufficiently I thus do punished stand,  
While all that cursed is, you bring to my hand.  
Or, is it that I no way worthy was  
In so rich treasure my few days to pass?  
Alas, if so and such a treasure given  
Must I for this to Helllike pain be driven?  
Fully torment me now, and what is best  
Together take, and memory with the rest,  
Leave not that to me, since but for my ill,  
Which punish may, and millions of hearts kill.  
Then may I lonely sit down with my loss  
Without vexation, for my losses cross:  
Forgetting pleasures late embraced with Love,  
linked to a faith, the world could never move;  
chained with affection, I hoped could not change,  
Not thinking Earth could yield a place to range:  
But staying, cruelly you set my bliss  
With deepest mourning in my sight, for miss  
And thus must I imagine my curse more,  
When you I loved add to my mischief's store:  
If not, than Memory continue still,  
And vex me with your perfectest known skill,  
While you dear solitariness accept  
Me to your charge, whose many passions kept  
In your sweet dwellings have this profit gained,  
That in more delicacy none was pain:  
Your rareness now receive my rarer woe  
With change, and Love appoints my soul to know.  
When he had made this, and committed them to that keeper, who yet would not be persuaded to set him at liberty, but continued the more to molest him, like a sore that one beats to cure, yet smarts the more for beating. So did Memory abide with him: Then walked he on to meet his friends, who were all in their kinds as much perplexed as himself. Amphilanthus alone, and so the abler to be bold in speech, began thus, walking (with his arms folded, lovingly for love, one within the other) along a sweet River. Unhappy man, sighed he, that lives to be vexed with the same that once most delighted thee; who could have thought inconstancy a weight, if not to press me on to more delight? Lest I till now any wherein change brought not unspeakable content? When I took Antissia, thought I not I was happy in the change? When I before had altered from and to that love, did it not bring a full consent of bliss? But now that I have changed, and for, and to the best, alas, how am I troubled? How afflicted? How perplexed? Constancy I see, is the only perfect virtue, and the contrary, the truest fault, which like sins, entices one still on, of purpose to leave one in the height: as the height of enjoying makes one leave the love to it. I have offended, all you powers of love pardon me, and if there be any one among you, that hath the rule of truth, govern me, direct me, and henceforth assure yourself of my faith, and true subjection, error makes me perfect, and shows me the light of understanding. But what talk I of truth? Why commend I faith when I am uncertain, whether these will win? She alas, she doth love, and woe is me, my hope's in this quite lost, she loves, and so I see my end; yet never shall that come without a noble conclusion, and that, her eyes and ears shall witness with my loss. Dearest once pity, my sad looks, shall tell thee I do love, my sighs shall make thee hear my pains, my eyes shall let thee see (if thou wilt but see me) that only thy sight is their comfort; for when from thee they stir, they must find a new seat to turn in, and a head to dwell in, and so now they have, for nothing see they but thy delicacy, nothing view but thy perfections, turn from all to thee, and only turn unto thee; My soul hath also eyes to see thy worth, Love hath now framed me wholly to thy Laws, command then, here I breathe but to thy love, from which, when I do swerve, let me love unrequited; but dearest be thou kind, and then have I all bliss. Why shouldest not thou leave one, since for thee I'll leave all? Be once unconstant to save me as 'twere from death, who for it will be true, I vow, and this vow still will keep, that only thou art worthy and alone will I love thee.  
Then casting up his eyes, he saw before him a rare meadow, and in the midst of it a little Arbour, as he so far off took it to be, but drawing nearer he found a delicate Fountain cricled about with Orange, and Pomegranate trees, the ground under them all hard sand, about the Fountain (as next adjoining) was a hedge of jesamnis' mingled with Roses and Woodbines, and within that, paved with pavements of diverse colours, placed for show and pleasure; on the steps he sat down beholding the work of the Fountain which was most curious, being a fair Maid as it were, thinking to lad it dry, but still the water came as fast, as it passed over the dish she seemed to lad withal: and just thus said he, are my labours fruitless, my woes increasing faster than my pains find ease. Then having enough, as he thought, given liberty to his speech, he put the rest of his thought into excellent verse, making such excelling ones, as none could any more imitate or match them, then equal his valour: so exquisite was he in all true virtues, and skill in Poetry, a quality among the best much prized and esteemed, Princes brought up in that, next to the use of Arms. When he had finished them, he sat a while still, then looking on the Fountain, he said, Dear hopes spring as this water, flow to enjoying like this stream, but wast not till my life doth waste in me; nay die, run to my Love, and tell her what I feel; Say, and say boldly, till I knew herself I was but ignorant, and now do know, that only she, and she alone, can save or ruin me.  
Many more, and far more excellent discourses, had he with himself, and such as I am altogether unable to set down, therefore leave them to be guessed at by those who are able to comprehend his worth, and understanding; such may express his passions, all else admire, and admiringly esteem so incomparable a Prince, who for a little while continued thus, but then leaving the Fountain he went straight on, and followed on his way till he came unto a Hill, the sides appearing rocky, the top he might discern green, and some trees upon it; he by little and little climbed to the top, where in the middle of it he saw a hole, and looking in at that hole perceived fire a pretty way below it, and that fire as if it were stirred by some hands, whereupon he concluded, that this was some poor abode of some miserable people, either made so by want or misfortune, which likewise might be want, that being the greatest misery.  
Round about the top he sought, but at last thought with himself, that there was no way to see the Inhabitants but by some way in the side of this Rock, wherefore he went down again, and half about the Hill, when he found a little door of stone, the even proportion of the opening making him know it to be so, else nothing could have disordered it, so close it was, appearing but like chinks or cliffs. He pulled at it, but it would not stir; then he knocked, when strait a little window was opened, and out of it an ugly old Dwarf looked, whose face was as wrinkled as the rock, his complexion Sand-colour without so much red as to make a difference 'twixt his lips, and face; his hair had been black, but now was grown grisled, yet still kept the natural stubbornness of it being but thin, and those few hairs desirous to be seen stood staring, neither were they of any equal length, but like a horses main, new taken from grass, which by the wantonness of some of his companions had been bit, and natched in diverse places. Beard he had none, to distinguish his sex, his habits being forced to speak for him to that purpose; only a wart he had on his right cheek, which liberally bestowed some hair according to the substance, for the sight of such as saw him. He was not only a Dwarf but the least of those creatures, and in some sort the ill-fauoured'st; this youth seeing Amphilanthus, strait cried, alas we are betrayed, for here is an armed man that will assuredly destroy us.  
The Prince promised on his word, he, nor any there should have the least harm, if he would let him but come in unto him; the old Dwarf scarce knew how to trust, having before been in his trust deceived, wherefore he desired first to know who he was that gave his word. The King answered, I am called, and known by the name of the Knight of Love, but mine own name, said he, is Amphilanthus. Praised be heaven, said he, that you are landed here, for alas my Lord, I am your Subject, miserably perplexed, by a cruel and tyrannical man, Lord of the Island of Strombolli, and who hath undone me, and my children; then leaped he from the window, and opened the door which was made fast with many bolts of iron: the door open the King went in, though with some difficulty at the entering, by reason the place was low, & fitter for such a man as the Host, than the Romanian King. In the room he found a woman, in height and loveliness answerable to the man, and three younger men than himself, but all of his proportion, who seemed to be his Sons. Then did Amphilanthus desire to know the cause of his complaining against the Lord of Strombolli, which the old Dwarf began to relate in this manner.  
May it please you, great Prince, to understand, I am called Nainio borne in Strombolli to pretty possessions, the which I enjoyed some years after my Father's decease, but the Lord of the Island, (or better to say, the Governor) passing that way, and seeing my living pleasant and delightful, groves of Orange, and Lemmon Trees, all other fruits plentifully yielding themselves for our uses, grew in love with the place, and in hate with me; first, he peremptorily commanded me to bring my wife, and these tall men my sons, to attend him, his wife and children. I that was borne free would not be made a slave; wherefore (I must confess unadvisedly) I gave too rough an answer, that bred dislike, and gave just occasion against me. Then sent he for me, made me a scorn in the eyes of all men, and when he had gloried enough in my misery, scoffing at my shape and stature, saying, I would make a fit Commander against the Infidels, he put me, and my family into a little boat, and when shipping went for Greece, sent me along with them: but such kindness I found among them, as they indeed carried me, but brought me back again; this was discovered, whereupon I was to die: but my pardon was got by the Lady, wife to the Lord, a virtuous and sweet Lady, on condition if ever I were found in Strombolli, or any part of Italy, I should die for it. Then went I away, and with the first mentioned Sailors got into this sea, and so unto this Island, where I have remained but in continual fear; for considering the danger I was in for my life, it so with the memory frights me, as I had rather have starved here, then gone hence for fear of harm, every one that I hear or see in this place being as a Spirit unto me, and so did you appear, till you told me who you were, so much do I yet stand in awe of the cruel Island Lord.  
The King smiled to hear his discourse, but most to see his action, which was so timorous and affrighted, as never any man beheld the like; and as did, so did his Sons, like Monkeys, who imitating one another answer in gestures as aptly and readily as one Echo to another, and as like, and so the sport was doubled. Great delight did he take in these little men; wherefore gently and mildly he gained so much of them, as they would with him leave that place, conditionally that he would not carry them into Italy, where they more feared their first enemy, then trusted to the power of the King, such a Lord is coward fear over base minds, as understanding gains small place in their hearts, as by this appeared, else might they have been assured in his company in Strombolli itself.  
But consents agreeing on both sides, they went out of the rock to meet the other Princes, the Dwarves quaking at every leaf that shook, and fainted when they heard the Armour a little clash in his going; but directly they lost life for a while, when they met the other Knights, not being able to believe they were their Lords friends. But after they grew more valiant, like a coward, who against his mind being brought into the middle of a battle, can neither run, nor his cries be heard, and therefore of force must abide that hell torment: So were these brought to it by sight of fights, when death could only have relieved them from fear.  
Amphilanthus following on, came to a great Cave, into which he went, putting the Dwarves before him; a great way they passed into it till he came to a River, which either was black, or the darkness of that shadowed place made appear so: the vault was of height sufficient for him without trouble to walk in, and of breadth for three to go a front, paved and covered round with free stone, when he came to the River he desired to pass it, but at first saw no means; at last he discovered (or fear in his Dwarves discovered for him, they being able to discern, having been long in the dark, which though at first it blinds like Love, yet it gives at last fight to get out of it); so they found a board, which was fastened with chains to the top of the Vault, and two pines of iron that held the chains, being stuck into the wall; those being pulled out, the chains let the Plank fall gently down, just cross over the water, which was not above six yards over, but being on it, they might see a great way up and down the stream. Then passed they on to a door which they opened, a pretty way along the same vault from the brook, and the end of it, thorough which they entered into a dainty Garden, and so into a fair Palace of Alabaster, encompassed with Hills, or rather Mountains, of such height, as no way was possible to be found to come at it, but thorough the same vault the King came. divers Gardens and Orchards did surround this palace: in every one was a fountain, and every fountain rich in art, and plentifully furnished with the virtue of liberality, freely bestowing water in abundance.  
These places he passed, staying in a large stone Gallery, set upon pillars of the same stone; there he sat down, complaining still of his Mistress, whose heart was stored with pain and love, equally oppressing her. O (cried he) my dearest love, the sweetest cruel that ever Nature framed, how have I miserable man offended thee? that not so much as a look or show of pity will proceed from thee to comfort me: are all thy favours locked up, and only sad countenances allotted me? Alas, consider women were made to love, and not to kill; yet you will destroy with cruel force, while I changed to a tender creature, sit weeping and mourning for thy cruelty, which yet I can hardly term so, since thou knowest not my pain.  
Further he would have proceeded, when a door opened into that room, and out of it came a grave Lady, apparelled in a black habit, and many more young women attending her; she strait went to him, saluting him thus. Brave King, welcome to this place, being the abiding of your friend, and servant. He looking upon her, perceived wisdom, modesty, and goodness figured in her face; wherefore with a kind acceptance he received this salutation, desiring to be informed of the place, but most to know how he came known to her.  
Sir (said she) my name is Mellissea, and having skill in the Art of Astrology, I have found much concerning you, and as much desire to do you service. Can you find good Madam (said he), whether I shall be happy in my love, or not? In love my Lord (said she) you shall be most happy, for all shall love you that you wish: but yet you must be crossed in this you now affect, though contrary to her heart.  
But shall I not enjoy her then? miserable fortune, take all loves from me, so I may have hers. She loves you (said Mellissea), and it will prove your fault if you lose her, which I think, you will and must; to prevent which, if possible, beware of a treacherous servant. For this place, it is that anciently reverenced, and honoured Island of Delos, famous for the birth of those two great lights, Apollo and Diana; the ruins of Apollo's and Latona's Temples remaining to this day on the other side of that mountain, called Cynthus; once rich and populous, now poor and peoplelesse, none or very few inhabiting here, besides this my family; the sharp and cruel rocks which girdle this Island, guarding itself and us from dangerous robbings. But must I lose my Love (said Amphilanthus)? Accursed fate that so should happen. I yet do hope, if I may be assured she loves me, this will never be.  
Well my Lord (said she) to let you see, that hope is too poor a thing in comparison of truth to trust to, I will give you these tokens, to make you truly see my words are true; you have lately had a wound by a woman, but this a greater and more dangerous you must suffer, which will endanger your life far more than that last did; yet shall the cause proceed from your own rashness, which you shall repent when 'tis too late, and when time is past, know, the means might have prevented it: but to do what I may for your good, I advice you to this; alter your determination for your journey to Morea, and in stead of it, go strait to Cyprus, where you must finish an Enchantment, and at your return come hither, and with you bring that company that you release there, then shall I be more able to advise you, for this doth yet darken some part of my knowledge of you.  
He remained much perplexed with those words; yet as well as such affliction would permit him, he made show of patience. Then did Mellissea send one of her Maids to bring his companions to him, hoping their sights, and the discourse of their fortunes would a little remove his melancholy from him: in the mean time he with crossed arms walked up and down the Gallery, musing in himself, how he should so far and deadlily fall out with himself, as to be the cause of his own misery, not being able, though he had the best understanding, to reach into this mystery. Sometimes the Lady discoursed to him, and he for civility did answer her; yet ofttimes she was content to attend his own leisure for his reply, so much power had his passions over him.  
Thus he remained molested, while Steriamus following his right hand way, was brought into a fine plain, and thence to the foot of a mountain, where he found rich pillars of Marble, and many more signs of some magnificent building, which sight wrought pity in him, remembering how glorious they seemed to have been, now thrown down to ruin; And so (said he) was my fortune fair, and brave in show, but now cast low to despair and loss. O Pamphilia, Goddess of my soul, accept me yet at last, if not for thy servant, yet for thy Priest, and on the Altar of thy scorn will I daily offer up the sacrifice of true and spotless love: my heart shall be the offering, my tears the water, my miserable body the Temple, and thy hate and cruelest disdain, the enemy that lays it waste. Once yet consider, greatest beauty, mightiest riches, sumptuousest buildings, all have some end; brightest glory cannot ever dure; and as of goodness, must not ill have so? grant this, and then thy rage must needs conclude.  
Yet thus, did not his pain find conclusion, but a little further he went among those ruins, where he laid himself not down, but threw himself among those poor and destroyed relics of the rarest Temples, where hard by he heard Ollorandus likewise complaining. My Melasinda (said he) how justly mayst thou blame thy Ollorandus, who still travels further from thee, who strove to bring thy love still nearest to him? Canst thou imagine thy immaculate affection well bestowed, when so great neglect requiteth it? Wilt thou, or mayst thou think the treasure of thy love, and richest gift of it well bestowed, when absence is the payment to it? If against me and these thou dost but justly except, yet what doth hold thee from killing that slave, and setting thy dear soul at liberty? No, thy virtues will not like a murderer, it must be as it is, Destiny must only work, and despairing sorrow tire itself in me. Steriamus wanting pity, knew the miss, and therefore would be as charitable as he could: to show which goodness, he rose, and went to Ollorandus to put him from his mourning, who was then again entering into his wail, telling him, they were too long from Amphilanthus. As he start up, behold Dolorindus, who came sadly towards them, whom they called to them, and so together went from that place, meaning to ascend the mountain: but then came the servant of Mellissea to them, entreating their companies from her Mistress to the Palace, where they should meet their companion. They soon consented to that invitation; whither being come, they told all their adventures one to another; then were they brought into a fair room, where after they had eaten, Mellissea again thus spoke.  
My Lords, the time calls upon you, occasions being such, as your presences are required in several places: wherefore first to you my Lord Steriamus I must say, you must haste hence, and as you desire your own happy ends in love, observe what I advice you. Go from hence into Arcadia, fear not, for nothing shall encounter you of harm. Dolorindus, do you the like, for much is your being there requisite: from thence go to Saint Maura, and in a rock which lies just against it towards Cephalonia, privately remain till fortune call you thence by help, which shall appear death; this may seem hard and terrible, but fear it not, since it shall bring your happiness; then go into Greece again, and help your friends, and yourself in the Conquest of Albania. They took her hand, and kissed it, on it swearing to obey her Counsel. Amphilanthus was sorry for his vow, especially that his journey was stayed to Morea: but he made the cause of his grief, for parting with his friends.  
Then to Ollorandus she thus spoke: The good that shall come to you must proceed from this brave King, who shall give unto you both security of life, and your only love: life he shall venture for you, and save yours by the hazard of himself: keep then together, and still be your love's firm and constant, assisting one another; for a time will be, when you shall merit this from Amphilanthus, giving him as great a gift. And credit what I say; for it is as true, as by my means you received the Armour in the Forest, when you were fast sleeping, it being laid by you, from which you have taken the name of Knight of the Forest. For you my Lord, think not but I am as careful, or more of you then any, though I have left you last; for as yet I can say little: but fear nothing except what I have already warned you of; my Art shall attend you, and I never fail to serve you, make haste then to Cyprus, and be careful. Then all promising to perform her will, with tears in their eyes they took leave of each other.  
Steriamus and Dolorindus demanding what service Amphilanthus would command them. He answered, They should honour him much in remembering him to the King and Queen, to whom by Steriamus he sent the old Dwarves, and the youngest Son called after his Father's name, he desired Dolorindus to present to Pamphilia from him.  
Thus they parted, and Amphilanthus, Ollorandus, and the other two dwarves who served them for Squires, took their way for Cyprus. Quick was the journey of the other two, arriving in Laconia, and so hasting to Mantinaea, where then the King was; but being near, Steriamus began to faint, fearing the sight of her, he most desired to see, yet encouraged by Dolorindus to perform what he had engaged his word to do, they went on, coming to the Court, when the King, and all the Princes were assembled to judge the Traitors. But Steriamus whose same was now far spread for his noble Acts at Constantinople, and diverse others, was soon known in the Hall, and as soon with great joy brought before the King, to whom he delivered the Present, and service of Amphilanthus.  
The King infinitely rejoiced to hear of his brave friend, and taking the Dwarf (the Queen with as much love accepting the other) desired before they passed to the judgement to hear of their adventures. Then did Steriamus openly relate all, that had happened him after his depart, until their coming thither, in so good words and Princely a manner, as all admired, and loved him; especially, for doing it with such affection, and truth, to the eternal renown of incomparable Amphilanthus. Then presented he Dolorindus to the King, whose name and presence was welcome to at that time; especially, assuring himself now to have an end and true knowledge of the Traitors, who were lead (at their coming in) aside, so as they neither saw them, nor heard the relation of the adventure at Sio, which was extreme strange, and wondered at by all, the more the cause of admiration was, the more still increased their honours that achieved it. Then went the Princes to Pamphilia, who much commended Steriamus for his discourse, kindly of Dolorindus, accepting the Dwarf, promising to love him for his Lord's sake: then were all placed again, Rosindy taking Steriamus, and setting him between him and his friend Selarinus, who was true joy itself to see Steriamus again, the traitors then entered, to whom the King thus spoke.  
Without any more falsehood, truly declare unto me who you are, and your true names, for those you took upon you, I know are false: then discover the cause of taking my daughter, deal truly, if any pity be expected by you, to be showed unto you. The old man curstly replied, He wondered a King should have so ill a conceit of another of his own rank, as to think falsehood could be in a royal breast, and more did he admire that the King of Morea who before had been counted just, would offer that injustice to the King of Negropont, who having been ill used by an ungrateful Child, and coming thither for succour should be made a Prisoner like a Traitor, and used like thieves.  
Then answered the King, behold my Lords before you the vildest of men, and falsest of Traitors; to prove which Dolorindus stand forth and witness against him; Dolorindus indeed came forth, the Traitor seeing him, strait too well knew him; wherefore roaring out he cried, I am undone, for now all is betrayed. Then did Dolorindus again tell the manner of his treacherous taking, and imprisoning him, and withal the winning, and destroying of the Castle, and his servants; the burning of his wicked wife, and the bestowing of the Island upon Berlandis, and the other two their Squires, whom they had matched to the three Sisters. These creatures being past help to be saved, fell down on their faces, confessing the truth, which was this.  
The Son to this wicked man seeing the picture of Pamphilia, which was sent some two years before by Pamphilia to her Uncle, but taken away by Pirates who after landed at Sio, and among other things sold that. He fell in love with it, and so longed to enjoy her, as nothing but death appeared in him; which the devil his Father perceiving, plotted all ways he could; to which end, he invented that false Bridge, hoping to get some of her brothers or friends, if not, some that might bring them means to find a trick to gain her.  
Tenn months this continued, then came the poor Dolorindus, who by Treason they got, and having heard his Story, which almost was the same he told for himself, only this differing, that the Kingdom was not given by affection to the daughter, but by right, as being a gift given by the Grandfather to his Daughter, and her first borne, which happened to be a Daughter, and so she elder, put Dolorindus by. The rest was true of her ill deserving, but the Father righted by his Son, by a Combat against two mighty men was delivered from prison, she put down from govenment and committed to his Prison, where shortly after she died.  
This Story the wicked man made his own, and his Son took the name of brave Dolorindus, forging the rest, and making that deceitful Chariot of purpose to betray the Princess whom they purposed to have carried with them to Sio, and to keep her by that Treason against all, at least the amorous Lover should have had his desire.  
This being confessed, and he no Prince, but an usurping Lord of other men's rights, and a Kings, and Prince's honour, they were all condemned and executed according to the Arcadian Law. Now is the time of Steriamus departing come, and also for Dolorindus who taking their leaves of the King, and Court, promised Rosindy, and Selarinus to meet them soon after in Macedon; kissing Pamphilia's hand once more to bless his lips with the last affectionate kiss, he can ever have from her, or give to her, he departed with his friend towards Snt. Maura, perplexed in soul, love working more terribly, now then ever, like that kill disease which parts not but with life: and so was this sickness come now to the height in him. A little less case felt Antissia, who now must soon leave Morea; the Abmassadour recovered of his hurts, and others chosen to go in Commission with him concerning the forces, being the two brave Princes of Corinth, and Elis, Brother to the proud lover of Parselius, who he met as you have heard. More honourably Antissia could not be accompanied, and since she must go, 'twas thought fit she went with them.  
The day before she was to go, not having all night taken any rest, she rose earlier than she was accustomed, and sooner than any was stirring she came into Pamphilia's Chamber, who she found sweetly sleeping, but drawing the curtain she awaked, and seeing her, wondered what occasion had called her up so soon, and at that hour to be dressed, wherefore she said, why, what disturbance, sweet Antissia, hath thus raised you? What disquiets molested you? Can your thoughts afford you no more rest? Or, is it joy for your departure, makes you thus early, and takes away that dull humour of sleep from your spirits? joy to part? O me, replied she weeping. No Pamphilia, my heart doth break to think of it, my soul is tortured so, as it enjoys no peace for griefs additions.  
The loss of your company is much more to me, said the Princess; for you gone, who shall I have the blessing to converse withal? With whom, or to whom may I freely say my mind? To whom speak my pain? To whom wail my misfortunes? Thus is the loss most in me; for you go to your Nephew, where you soon will see your love, while I lamenting, spend my time I am to tarry here; which since you go will seem ages to me.  
Why will you be thus cruel, most sweet Pamphilia said she, to add unto my torments, by the expression of your favour to me? I shall go 'tis true, to my Nephew, rather to content him then myself, since what will his Court be to me, when I shall be in the Dungeon of Despair? For seeing my Love, much hope I have, when he favours me not so much, as by these Princes to send one poor remembrance, to let me know he thinks on such a soul; a soul indeed, won, and loft by him, who now despises the memory of her, who disdained not to love, and serve him, and who I know, suffers in honour for him: but let her suffer, and be he as ungrateful as he will, I yet must love so much as to lament his loss. But me thought you touched even now of parting, whither, rare Lady, will you go? Or what quarrel have you to poor Morea, to leave it desolate, as so it must be when you forsake it? I shall leave it but for a while, said she, and then it will be freer, and safer from afflictions, when the most afflicted shall be absent from it. Go I must with mine Uncle, to be seen to the Pamphilians, and acknowledged their Princess; which Country my Uncle in his youth (being as brave and valiant a man as ever breathed) won from the subjection of Tyrants; in requital whereof the people chose him their King, their love being then so great, and still continuing, as they have given him leave to choose his Successor, which by reason he never married, had else fall'n to them again for choice. He long since choose me, and to that end gave me that name: but he growing old, or rather weak, and they desirous to know me, gained of him to make this voyage for me, with whom I do return speedily, and now rejoice in the soon coming of it, since you and I must part.  
O name not that word, great Princess, sighed she, but rather spend this little time in such content as our hearts can permit us, disposing these hours to a more pleasing purpose, pray therefore rise, and go into the solitary wood, where we may unheard, and unperceived, better discourse our woes, saddly, and freely complaining. I will ever yield unto your desires, said Pamphilia: then go you before, and I shall soon follow you. Antissia left her, taking the way to the Walks. Pamphilia got up, and as she was making her ready, her passionate breast scarce allowing her any respite from her passions, brought these Verses to her mind, wherein she then imprinted them.  
Dear Love, alas, how have I wronged thee,  
That ceaselessly thou still dost follow me?  
My heart of Diamond clear, and hard I find,  
May yet be pierced with one of the same kind,  
Which hath in it engraven a love more pure,  
Then spotless white, and deep still to endure,  
Wrought in with tears of never resting pain,  
Carved with the sharpest point of cursed disdain.  
Rain oft doth wash away a slender mark,  
Tears make mine firmer, and as one small spark  
In straw may make a fiery so sparks of love  
Kindles incessantly in me to move;  
While cruelest you, do only pleasure take,  
To make me faster tied to scorns sharp stake,  
'tis harder, and more strength must used be  
To shake a tree, then boughs we bending see:  
So to move me it was alone your power  
None else could ere have found a yielding hour  
Cursed be subjection, yet blest in this sort,  
That against all but one choice, my heart a fort  
Hath ever lasted: though besieged, not moved,  
But by their miss my strength the stronger proved  
Resisting with that constant might, that win  
They scarce could parley, much less foes get in.  
Yet worse than foes your slightings prove to be,  
When careless you no pity take on me.  
Make good my dreams, wherein you kind appear,  
Be to mine eyes, as to my soul, most dear.  
From your accustomed strangeness, at last turn;  
An ancient house once fired, will quickly burn,  
And waste unhelped, my long love claims a time  
To have aid granted to this height I climb.  
A Diamond pure, and hard, an unshak't tree  
A burning house find help, and prize in me.  
Being ready, she went into the Garden Woods, where she saw Antissia sadly walking, her eyes on the earth, her sighs breathing like a sweet gale claiming pity from above, for the earth she said would yield her none, yet she besought that too, and at last passion procured alteration from mourning, she began to sing a Song, or rather part of one, which was thus.  

STay mine eyes, these floods of tears  
Seems but follies weakly growing,  
Babes at nurse such wailing bears,  
Frowardness such drops bestowing:  
But Niobe must show my fate,  
She wept and grieved herself a state.   

My sorrows like her Babes appear  
Daily added by increasing;  
She lost them, I lose my Dear,  
Not one spared from woes ne'er ceasing:  
She made a rock, heaven drops down tears,  
Which pity shows, and on her wears.   
Assuredly more there was of this Song, or else she had with her unframed and unfashioned thoughts, as unfashionably framed these lines. But then Pamphilia came to her, saying; Sweet Antissia, leave these dolorous complaints, when we are parted, let our hearts bleed tears: but let us not deprive ourselves of this little comfort; at least, let us flatter ourselves, and think we now feel some; and when absence makes us know the contrary, then mourn. Alas (said Antissia) I foresee my harm, my Spirit tells me once being gone, gone will my joys be altogether: sadness will presage any thing (said Pamphilia), especially where that may procure more sadness; melancholy, the nurse of such passions being glad, when her authority is esteemed, and yielded to: and so much hath it wrought in me, as I have many hours sat looking on the fire, in it making as many sad bodies, as children, do variety of faces, being pleased, or displeased, or as mine own fancies have felt pains, and all this was but melancholy, and truly that is enough to spoil any, so strangely it grows upon one, and so pleasing is the snare, as till it hath ruind one, no fault is found with it, but like death, embraced by the ancient brave men, like honour and delight. This I have found and smarted with it; leave it then, and nip it in the bud, lest it blow to overthrow your life and happiness, for my sake be a little more cheerful, and I will promise you, when you are gone, I will as much bewail absence.  
Antissia took her hand, and though against her will kissed it, saying; Admired Princess, let your poor unfortunate friend and servant, be in absence but sometimes remembered, with a wish to see her with you, and that will bring an unspeakable content to that distressed creature, on whom fortune tries her cursedest power in despiteful rage, and cruelty. Doubt not me more dear Antissia (said she), for those wishes shall be, and attended with others for your happiness, then distrust not me for Pamphilia must be just.  
Thus in kind discourse they continued, promising to each other, what was in love demanded to demonstrate their affections, till it was time to retire. Little meat that Dinner served them, whose hearts had filled their Stomaches with love and sorrow: after Dinner, going again to that sad place that night being the last, lying together, and with sad, but loving discourse passing those dark hour's day being loath to see Antisius tears, but grieved, and afraid to see Pamphilia weep, did hide her face till the Sun greedy of so precious, and sweet a dew looking red, with haste came into the room, where they blushingly ashamed so to be surprised, put on their clothes, not to be in danger of his heat.  
No sooner were they ready, but Antissia was called for, who the sweetest Lady accompanied to her Coach with main tears, and sad, because parting kiss, taking leave of each other, Antissia by her sorrow foretelling her coming, or indeed but showing her already befallen loss, Pamphilia was sorry for her going, because she was now assured of her love: the Court did in general lament, such love and respect she had gained by her courteous and sweet behaviour, many wishing her married to Parselius, that so they might still keep her with them, so many well wishes she had, as surely made her journey more prosperous, for safety; and speedily (considering the way) she arrived at Constantinople, being lovingly, and kindly entertained by the King, and affectionately by her Uncle, whose joy was greatest knowing what hazard she had suffered, aiming now at nothing more than how to get the brave Leandrus to perform what before was determined between their Parents.  
She gone, preparation was made for the journey of Pamphilia, rich Chariots, Coaches, furniture for Horses, and all other necessary things that could be demanded for service, or state; the Liveries for her servants being of the same colours the Chariots, and other furnitures were, and them all of her own chosen colurs, which were Watchet and Crimson, as the Chariots were Watchet, embroidered with Crimson and pearl of Silver, one with Pearl, all the rest alike. The King and Queen did accompany her to the seaside, all the other Princes bringing her aboard, and there kissing her hands.  
Thus away she went sailing with gentle and pleasant wind, till the Pilate told the king, that a great fleet followed them, by their colours, and the shapes of the ships, showing they were Italians. Wherefore they not knowing the business prepared for the worst; when they perceived out of the greatest and fairest of these ships, Knights unarmed, and Ladies armed with beauty, able to conquer worlds of hearts, to issue, and enter a delicate Galley, which strait made way by oars towards them.  
The King seeing it, and Pamphilia being above any Princess courteous, commanded their ship to strike sail, lest harm might befall them in their coming aboard. Strait came they into the ship, the first and chief of those Knights with a grave, and manly fashion, delivering these words holding a Lady (most exact in all perfections) by the hand. Most incomparable Princess, the fame of whose worth the world is filled withal, and yet wants another to be able to comprehend the fullness of it. Be pleased to know, that this Lady and myself are your devoted Servants, Perissus and Limena of Cecillia, rescued and saved from ruin and death by your magnanimous brother Parselius, to whom we were now going to manifest our gratefulness to him, but hearing by a ship which came from Morea, just as we were putting a shore, that the Prince is neither there, nor hath been of sometimes heard of, withal of your journey, we resolved to attend you, and to you do the service we owe him, which by him I know will be a like taken, as to himself; such is his affection to you, such admirable perfections living in him, as love, and affection to his friends are plentifully flourishing in him; wherefore we beseech you to accept of our affectionate services, which shall ever (next to Parselius) be most devotiouslie observing to your commands. Him we love for his virtues, and the benefits we have received from him; you were love for him and your own merits, whose name doth duly claim all eyes, and hearts to love and admire.  
Pamphilia, whose modesty never heard her own commendations without blushing, prettily did now express a bashfulness, but her speech delivered with confidence showed those words, nor the speaker of them need for them blush, they were these.  
Brave and renowned King, of whose virtues mine ears have long since been witness; be pleased to hear your servant say, she doth bless her eyes, that presents such worth unto them, and esteem this as my chiefest happiness, that for the first encounter in my journey, fortune favours me with the meeting of such excellent Princes, in whom are all the powers of true worthiness, that can be in either, or both sexes; and in you most happy Queen, the rare virtue of matchless and loyal constancy; and much do I bless my destiny thus to enjoy your companies, which Parselius shall thank you for, and I him for you.  
Then she presented them both to her Uncle, who kindly welcomed them, being glad such royal company would attend his Niece to honour her Coronation, which he meant should be with all speed after their arrival, he determining to retire to a religious house, he had built to that purpose. Thus with happy and pleasant content she sailed towards Pamphilia, while Parselius all this while continuing in sweet delight, it is now fit time to let him see his fault committed in the greatest kind of ill, being breach of faith in love.  
One night in his sleep, Urania appeared unto him, seeming infinitely perplexed, but as if rather filled with scorn, than sorrow, telling him, he was a Traitor to love, and the subtlest betrayer of truth. Now may you joy said she in your shame and change, your cruel falsehood having undone my trust, but think not this troubles me farther, then for virtue's sake; so far are you now from my thoughts, as I study how I never more may hear of you; and to assure you of this, you shall see me give myself before your face, to another more worthy, because more just. This in soul so grieved him, as he cried, sobbed, groaned, and so lamentably took on, as the kind Dalinea lying by him awaked, having much ado to bring him out of his woeful dream. But when he recovered his senses, they were but to make him more truly feel pain, continuing in such extremity of weeping, as she feared his heart would break withal, which made her heart even rend with compassion. Much she entreated, and even besought him to tell her the cause, but this of any secret must be kept from her; she begged, he continued in laments, till at last he saw he must not leave her thus in fear. Wherefore after he had a little studied how to be more deceitful, or as equally as he had been before, weeping still, and she accompanying him in tears seeing his fall so fast; which he finding made him weep the more, both now kindly lamenting each other, they remained the most perfect souls of affliction, that ever had earthly bodies about them. Compassion he had in great fullness to Dalinea, torment for Vrania's scorn, affliction for her loss, hateful loathing his fault, condemning himself more cruelly than she would have done, all joining as it were for his utter destruction; yet remained he in his bed, framing this excuse to satisfy his wife, telling her that he imagined he saw all Arcadia on fire, the earth flaming, and in the midst his father burning, who with lamentable cries demanded help of him; wherefore said he, certainly some ill is befallen, or befalling him, which makes me resolve instantly to go unto him. O take me with you, said she. My dear, said he, pardon at this time my leaving you, for should I carry you where troubles are? no, Sweet, remain you here, and be assured, you soon shall hear of your Parselius, and if all be well, in short time I'll return for you; beside, our marriage not yet known may wrong you if not carefully carried: then dear love be patient, and stay here.  
She could not deny, for words failed her, only she sobbed, and washed his face with her tears, who was as much afflicted. Then rising he sent her Maids unto her, and so departed to his chamber, where he armed himself: then being ready to go to her, he thought the word or show of farewell, would but give new wounds, wherefore writing some few lines, he delivered them to the Steward, & so with charge to give the letter to her own hands, he took his horse, hasting he knew not whither, regarding neither way nor any thing else; then came he to the Sea side, his Squire nor daring to speak one word to him all that journey; when he sent Clorinus (so was he called) to provide a boat for him, he thought it not fit to deny, nor durst he venture to council. In the mean time came a little Bark, into which he went, turning his horse loose, not considering what grief & trouble might come for his miss. But he who sought for death, thought of no earthly content: he being in, they put again from the Land, and at Clorinus return, were quite out of sight. He finding his Master's horse without his Lord, fell into pitiful complaining not being able to guess other than the worst mishap: long he was resolving what to do, but in conclusion he vowed to spend his life in solitary search of him, and so to dye; but by no means to go to Dalinca, nor to be an ill news bringer to his Parents. Heavily and afflictedly he passed on by the Sea side, till he met the Squire of Leandrus, who joyfully asked him for his Lord, he as sadly replied, he had lost him; then followed Leandrus who knowing the youth asked for his friend, but to him he could make no answer but in tears. Sraight fear possessed him, the youth still wept, Leandrus sighed, and taking him aside conjured him to tell what he knew of his Lord.  
Then did he relate all unto him, hiding only what might touch Dalinea; this much moved the Prince, yet he sought to comfort Clorinus, telling him, he did not see by this, any other harm likely to follow but some private grief had made him take this course, and therefore willed him by any means to make no business of it, but go and seek him as carefully as he could; advising him by reason of his love, which he knew he bore to Urania, to go to Cyprus, lest thither he were gone to try the enchantment. Thus they parted, Leandrus much grieved for Parselius, not indeed being able to judge of the matter, yet took he a good courage to him, as a happy foretelling of his friend's safety, and so took his way to Dalineas Castle, whom he found in as much molestation, as ever loving, and faithful wife, felt for the absence of her husband. But when she saw her Brother, the joy of that, and her judgement contending with her passion, made her hide it so well, as he only believed she had been ill of a fever, which was true, but 'twas the Hectic fever of love; Some days he tarried there, all which time she held in good order: but he once gone, she fell into the most dolorous, and unsufferable passions, that violence in violent love could produce.  
Parselius with a heartless body and wounded soul, never ask whither they carried him, nor speaking one word, held on till they landed him in an Island which they knew, so going away from them, he sought the most obscure place he could, but finding now none sad enough desiring to outgo Perissus in his desolate living, which made him again remember the happiness he had in the finding Urania, for whom he now suffers, was assaulted with a new kind of sorrow, yet all but running to the end of torturing him, embracing memory for telling him all her perfections, as if the fault, the misery of her rage, the misfortune of her loss, were not enough to perplex him, but he must needs add memory as a plague of his own bringing, and cherishing. Then did he wish he were in that Island, and that he might spend his days in the same rock, and that it might likewise include his miseries, cursing his indiscretion, that suffered the Ship to go away before she had conveyed him thither; then seeking for some other Bark that might do it, he ran to the Sea again, where he found a little boat, and in her an old Hermitte, with him he would go, nor could the old Father dissuade him. To a Rock they came being a pretty way within the Sea, where being landed, the old man led the way up to the top, where it seemed there had been anciently a Temple of great state, and bigness, as yet by the ruins did appear: among those sad places the Cell of this good man was made, with this religious man, & in this solitary place he resolved to end his days thinking he could not do better than hide his face, which even himself was ashamed of, for having committed so execrable an offence.  
Then sat they down together, the old Hermitt consenting to his stay at last, but something against his will, at first he took him, and he happy (if that word may be used in that misery, where happiness, nor content, or any thing but afflictions are) but use what term you will to this, here he stayed, & being set they told their own stories to each other, Parselius beginning.  
Aged and grave Father, give me leave by way of confession to tell you my woeful life, which being so delivered claims secrecy of itself, did not your goodness otherwise warrant me that from you. My name is Parselius, borne (in an unhappy hour, and under a cursed planet) in Morea, Prince thereof, and of all miseries, my possessions so largely extending in that continent, as none hath a more mighty inheritance. I was bred much at Athens, yet could I learn no way to avoid misfortune, but how to be subject to it I was most apt, humility to subjection reigning more in me then rule. My travels I began (as likewise all my good) with a Cousin of mine, also bred there, and for the only happiness I ever tasted, We went sometime together in the search of one, who I assure myself I have found, and with the finding lost myself, having before that parted from my friends, to the most excellent (and in that my sin the more excelling) I came into an Island where I found, her, whose beauty excelled all things but her mind, which yet beautified that, else matchless body, with her I fell in love, and loved her earnestly: villain that I say, I loved, and so prove by the change, my fault, much more that I must say I ever loved her who (sweetest Creature) believing me, that then was just, went with leaving that Island where she was bred, trusting me who have deceived her.  
Many dangers we passed, she in all of them fearing nothing but my harm, who since have brought the greatest to her: at last a storm took us when we were as we thought safe, and in sight of Italy, and wherein we might have landed, but destiny otherwise apppointed for us. This tempest brought us from joy and comfort to despair and loss; for we were carried (in the many days that it endured) to Cyprus, where landing, by wicked charms our ship burned, and we were forced to go up into the Island for succour.  
Then arrived we at an enchanted Palace, made of purpose for my destruction, wherein Urania is enclosed, she whom once I did best love, who ought still to have been best loved, and she for whose loss in my falsehood thus tormenteth me, thence parted I deprived of all sense, but, by leaving that Land came again into them to be more vexed with them; a while (and wretch, too small a while,) lamenting her imprisonment, and my want which wilfully, I caused to be no longer want, but direct loss.  
O fault unpardonable, why do I live to confess it? and shame in me, not quite devouring me: but I who was borne to ill, led by the servants of Hell, or Hell itself conspiring my ruin, brought me into Achaia, and so into the power of vild change.  
There I saw Dalinea daughter to the King of Achaia, she blinded not alone mine eyes with admiration, but my judgement, blotting out & forcing my memory to be treacherous to me, made me forget all thoughts of my more deserving love, and truth itself: letting me see nothing but desire of her love, she virtuous (and too perfect for such a worthless Creature as myself) could but allow of virtuous yielding, I to enjoy, granted any thing, and so I married her, with whom I remained some while as happy as any blessing in a wife could make me, and yet in that am most unblessed, not being able to continue in that happy state of still enjoying her, too great a portion of good for me, (wretched man) to have. For one night I saw Urania in my sleep appear unto me, or better to say, my conscience taking the advantage of my body's rest, the hateful enemy to the soul's bliss, and in that quiet showed unto me, my dearest shepherdess justly accusing me, and condemning me. I had no way to escape, if not by this means; I rose, I left Dalinea for Vrania's fury, whose sweet substance I lost for Dalinea's love, I have now left both, both injured, both afflicted by me. Why should I then continue such an affliction to the rarest of women? and a vexation to the worst, as I am unto my unblessed self, Assist me, good Father, in my misery, this is truth I have told you, and more than ought to live on earth or I hope can be found again; wherefore that as all ill is in me, I desire, nay, covet to end, that the world may be no longer infected with that plague, but as knit in me, that knot may never be untied, but end, and conclude with me.  
Then wept he, as if it had been to satisfy a drought with rain, shedding tears in such abundance, as they left that name, to be more properly termed little streams.  
Well, it was that the Sea was the place of receiving those springs, which from the Rock ran into her, which in madness of despair he would once have followed, offering to tumble into her; the old man striving with him, stayed him, who had lost all power to resist, grief having taken away his strength, and in place of it given him only might, in weakening passions, working for their glory to destroy. Then did the aged Hermitte comfort him, chiding him for his wilful sin, in seeking to murder himself. Religiously he wrought upon his fury, so as he brought him to a more peaceable bearing his afflictions, but not to any more easy.  
This storm a little quieted (as after a tempest of Thunder, a shower of rain is thought little) the good man to pass the time began his story, the relation whereof gave some liking to Parselius.  
But because the Drums beat, and Trumpets sound in Morea for the relief of Macedon, and the brave conquest of Rosindy, the Hermitts discourse must a little stay, while wars, the noblest, because professed by the noblest, take a little time for them. The time come for the Armies marching, brave Rosindy took his journey with his most noble companions: he General, Selarinus General of the Horse, the Prince of Corinth and Elis, had their places reserved for them, as Sergeant Maior, & Commander of the Archers; Many brave Knights and bold men went along some out of love, some for ambition, some for honour, many for preferment. The rendezvous was at Cariapaiary in the Confines of Macedon, not far distant from the River Deuoda, where they met the Romanian Army led by Lisandrinus as desired, but with it came Antissius to see the brave wars, and to receive Knighthood of Amphilanthus, who not being there, he soon left the Army to find him out, promising when he had from him received that honour, (and only from him would he have it) he would return to them, where ever they were. Thus marched they on with all the bravery that might be, every one striving who should be most sumptuous, to express their loves and respects to their General: who was more generally beloved then any Prince, except his Cousin, and Brother, every one wearing his Colours in honour to him, which was Oring-tawny and white.  
Thither came to the place of meeting, also the Achaians led by Leandrus, who after he had visited his Sister, and once again seen his aged Father, followed the Army gone before, and overtook them before their coming to the Town. With them (and much true affection in himself to the General) he came to Rosindy, of whom he received most loving welcome; who ever could imagine glory, might here have seen it at the height of perfection: magnanimous spirits, brave and unconquered men, undaunted soldiers, riches of all gallantry in every respect, and what was most and best, all excellent soldiers, and true soldiers, the excellentest men.  
Thus then was all that could be wished in this Army together joined: none refused passage, but willingly yielded it to be rid of their force, so as love or fear, made free and open way for them, till they came within the skirts of Macedon, there they met some, but poor resistance, till they came to a great Plain, near the river of Devoda. There they saw a great Army, and by intelligence, knew the Usurper was there: they went as near him, as discretion would permit them, considering night grew on, and as judicially provided for the Army, the General himself going to settle every Quarter in his right place, being so expert in the learning of the Art of a Soldier, as he could justly tell what compass of ground would serve from one hundred to thousands.  
When he had settled them, he returned to his Tent, where he with the Princes and Commanders supped, after consulting what would be fittest to be done the next day; many opinions were given: some to set upon the King and his Army, but that Selarinus liked not, for (said he) we are but strangers, and all our hope and power in the Army, if we be overthrown, all is lost for us; if he lose the day, he is in his own Country, and may have aid instantly brought to him: therefore I think fitter to let him urge us, then for us to press him to fight; beside, no question but he will do that, why then should we be so forward? Let us patiently go on with temper, and the greater will be our benefit. Rosyndie much commended his advice, and resolved to be persuaded by it.  
While thus they sat, came a Trumpet from Clotorindus with a defy, and challenge to fight the next morning This was accepted, the hour appointed, eight of the clock; thus every one betook themselves to rest, hoping for the next day's victory. As soon as day appeared, Rosyndie took his Horse, and rid through all the Army, advising, entreating, commanding, and using fair words, entreaties, peremptory authority, and all in their kinds, as he found the subjects, on whom they must be used, with such judgement, as bred not only love and fear, but admiration in all hearts, to see so great understanding and unusual excellency in so few years. But now all are ready, his Army he ordered thus; the foot he divided in three bodies, the Vanguard led by himself, accompanied with Leandrus; the Main battle by Selarinus accompanied with Lisandrinus, the Rear, by the grave Marshal, who went with him out of love to his person, with him was his son Lesarino: some of the Horse (by reason of advantage was found in that place) were put on either side as Wings; the right-hand Wing given to Tolimandro, the left to the Prince of Elis, some Foot placed to flank the Horse, and some Horse put in each division.  
Clotorindus had put his men much in this kind; so they charged the Vanguard of the Macedonians, led by a brave and valiant Gentleman, called Thesarenus, Prince of Sparta, who did so bravely, as had there been but few more of his spirit, the day had hardly been lost, at least not so soon won. Rosyndie with the vanguard charged the Macedonians where there was a cruel fight, the Morean Horse first defeated, than the Vanguard broken and disordered, which Selarinus perceiving, came with the Maine-battaile to the succour, where so bravely he found Rosindie fight as he had made walls of dead men of his own kill, round about him, as if they had been cast up of purpose for his safety: or as a List roped in for the combat, which he was in, with the young Phalerinus, Prince of Thessalonica, who more delicately and bravely held out, than any he had yet encountered: but what with weariness, and besides seeing the new succour come, was forced to yield; Rosindy taking him in his arms, in stead of disarming him, taking his word, in stead of his Sword, which noble act bred such love in the young Prince towards him, as he after proved a true and faithful subject unto him. Then did Rosindy, and Selarinus haste to the battle, which was now by the overthrown of the Vanguard, required to come up, and the Rear with the strangers to advance against the Macedonian Horse. A great while the Moreans had the worst, but at last by the valour of Selarinus, Leandrus (who had changed his white Armours, innocent colour, to revengeful blood), Lisandrinus, the Princes of Corinth and Elis, and the Marshal with his son, but especially by the judgement mixed with true valour, and the care, matched with excellent skill of Rosindy, the Victory came on their side, with the shameful flight of Clotorindus; the execution was great, and endured long, the Conquest greater, the booty very rich, and thus with the loss of ten thousand on the one side, and thirty on the other, the retreat was sounded: the next day the dead of both sides buried, and Rosindy with his brave troop marched on towards Thessalonica, where the Queen was, and into which Town the usurped was got, of purpose, if not by strength, yet by tricks to save himself, and keep the Crown; but neither he must do.  
Then did the brave General set down before Thessalonica, and encompassing it round, cutting off all victual by land, and blocking the sea and ships hindered all good from their aid; so making it a rare and cruel siege. Now did Rosindy endure the length of this with much pain, longing in his very soul, to see his Lady, which within some time after he did, but so, as the great longing he had satisfied by her sight, was turned to sorrow for it: his desire and joy to see her changed to grief, and wishing he had not seen her, the cause, and his affliction as he termed it, proving terrible. Thrice were their sallies made forth by the besieged, but to as little purpose, as if they meant only to come forth to be honoured with wounds, and being vanquished by their mighty Enemies.  
One day they saw a white Flag upon the Wall, which gave them to understand, a Parley was demanded by the beating likewise of a Drum, which Rosindy did in the same manner answer, they came upon the Wall, the Prince and his companions to the Wall, than did Clotorindus speak thus.  
Great Prince Rosyndie, and you brave Princes his Companions, what injustice do you go about in seeking to deprive me of mine own, who never wronged you, nor would have denied to have served any of you with my own person and means, if you had required it? now for you to seek to take a Kingdom from me, lawfully my right, both by being next heir male, and besides mine now by marriage with Meriana, daughter and heir, as you term her, to the Crown, what exceptions can you now take? Let me then as a Friend, and Kinsman (as by marriage I now am to you) gain peace; I that have been by your own will made your Enemy, desire an end of these cruel wars. Let me be accepted as a Cousin, and my friendship taken as proffered by a friend, rather than thus continue shedding of blood, let the conclusion be welcome, and the trumpets and drums turned to Music of joy. This I demand for myself as your friend, if you please, and for my wife your Cousin, who infinitely is grieved to have her own blood seek to shed the blood of her dear husband.  
Husband, false Traitor, replied Rosindy, she whose matchless worth so well knows itself, cannot abuse that knowledge of truth, to yield the treasure of it to so base a place, and which never had stain, but by this thy wronging her, who cannot live to undo that, with bestowing it on one so vild and treacherous as thyself. For thy friendship I refuse it, and so I answer for my friends here present contemning thy baseness, so as we should hate ourselves, if a thought of thy submission (if not to punish thee) could come into our hearts. Thy false tale of marriage we loathe to hear of, since as falsehood we hate that, and thee for it. Thou sayst, we have no just quarrel; O Monster, what justice more can be required, then taking Arms to the putting down a Rebel and a Traitor to his rightful Princess? Alliance thou claimest, I acknowledge none: and had there been no other cause, this had been enough to have made us ruin thee, for framing so false a report, and wronging (with thy filthy tongue) thy Queen, and the Queen of true virtue, and of Macedon. Therefore recant and deliver her, or here I vow to fire the Town, and break open the gates, to let in our just revenge to thee, and on thee.  
Is this the requital of my kindness (said Clotorindus)? farewell, do thy worst proud Prince, and all thy fond company: but take this with thee before the Town be won, thy heart shall ache more, than ever any wound could come near thee to bring it, or the wound of thy fond love.  
With that he went from the wall, and in stead of the white Flag, presently a bloody one was hung forth, which continued till the next day, when as to the same place Meriana was brought, with an infinite number of armed men, dressed as to her Wedding, a Crown on her head, and her hair all down. To this sight was most of the Army drawn, but Rosindy, with most haste greedily beholding her beauty, and harkening to her speech, which was this.  
Clotorindus, thou hast now (I confess) some pity in thee, since thou will free me from my miserable living, I thank thee for it, and Rosindy I hope shall requite it, to whom I commend my best and last love; farewell brave Prince, but be thus confident that I am just. With that they enclosed her round in a circle, often before seeking to hinder her last speech.  
Presently was she out of Rosindies sight, and presently again brought into it to his extremest misery, for only that peerless head was seen of him, being set upon a pillar, and that pillar being upon the top of the Palace, the hair hanging in such length and delicacy, as although it somewhat covered with the thickness of it, part of the face, yet was that, too sure a knowledge to Rosindie of her loss, making it appear unto him, that none but that excellent Queen was mistress of that excellent hair. His soul and heart rend with this sight, and the seeing it a far off, rising with such speed, as it seemed a Comet to show before their ruin, or like the Moon, having borrowed the Sun's beams to glorify her pale face with his golden rays. All the Army made a most pitiful and mournful cry, as if every one had lost a love, the Princes cried upon revenge, that word wrought most upon Rosindy, the rest being before but a time to lull his passions in their rest, which were restless afflictions. Long it was before he spoke, at last he cried, Arm and assault this wicked Town. Then went he in the head of the Army to the Gates, which with Engines that they had, and guided with fury, by the next morning, they broke open, not before when judgement governed, being able to persuade themselves they could have compassed it.  
The Gate open, they with furious rage, and merciless cruelty, proceeded, sparing not one creature they met, hasting to take down the Head of his dearest love, and hopes. But when he came thither, he saw that taken away also. O cruelty unjust (said he), wilt thou not suffer me to see her once more? Wretched Fate, that I must now be barred from taking yet the last kiss from thy dear, though pale dead lips, on them to seal the last of my life? He complained thus, yet his grief increased his rage, so as he came into the Palace, where he found Clotorindus in the Hall, with a Dagger in his hand, who as soon as he saw him, with a hellish countenance, he looked on him, and in a cursed voice, said, Thy Victory shall yet never be honoured by my death, which but with mine own hand shall be brought me: then stabbed he himself in many places of his body, and so fell. The Prince scorning to touch him, commanded the Soldiers to take him, and throw him into the Ditch, esteeming that too good a burial for him.  
Then went he on further, hoping in despair to know how his soul was parted from him, and where the body did remain, meaning on that place to make his Tomb, and in it to consume, pine, and die. With this he went into many rooms, but found no body: then went he to the Gallery where he first spoke with her, throwing himself upon the ground, kissing the place, and weeping out his woe. Selarinus stayed with him to hinder any rash, or sudden attempt, he might make upon himself; Leandrus and the rest made safe the Town, and took all the people that were left (which were but few) to mercy in Rosindies name, who lying thus, at last start up, crying, he heard his Lady call for help. Selarinus doubting it had been but some unruly passion, mistrusting more his friend, seeing the vehemency of his passion, then hoping the truth of this, followed him, till he came into a Tower at the end of the Gallery, where he also heard a voice pitifully complaining, at last hearing it bring forth these words. O Rosindy, how justly hast thou dealt with me, and royally performed thy word? but wretch that I am, I shall not do so with thee, for here must I consume my days unknown to thee, and walled up with misery, and famine die.  
This was enough for the two brave men to make new comfort, in new strength to relieve her, wherefore Rosindy cried out, dost thou live my Meriana? here is thy faithful love, and servant come to rescue thee. O my Lord, said she, never in a happier time, quickly then give me life with your sight. Then ran Selarinus down with joy to call for help, Rosindy examining every place, where he might find the fittest to come to throw down the wall; but then a new fear took him, how they might do that, and not hurt her; but the greater danger must be avoided, and the less taken, so the soldiers came and threw down the wall, Rosindy still crying to her to take heed; and when they came to the last blow, that there was a place appeared (though small) into the room, none then must work there but himself, least dust, or any the least thing might offend her.  
But when the wall was so much down as she was able to come out, with what joy did he hold her, and she embrace her love? Imagine excellent lovers, what two such could do, when after the sight of one dead, the other walled to certain death, seeing both taken away, and met with comfort, what could they say? what joy possessed them? heavenly comfort, and all joys on earth knit in this to content them.  
Then did Rosindy as much weep with joy, as he did before with mourning, and she weeped to see his tears, so as joy not being to express itself, was forced to borrow part with sorrow to satisfy it.  
Selarinus chid them for that passion, and so brought them out of it, bringing them into the Hall, whither by that time the other Prines were come, and the chief of the Army. In that brave and most warlike presence did Meriana give herself to Rosindy, being there betrothed: then were the others of the people taken to Meriana, the Macedonians from all parts coming with expresslesse joy unto her, yielding themselves as her loyal Subjects, and taking others to her, and Rosindy of allegiance.  
Then sent he new Governors and Commanders to all the frontier Towns, and into the chief strength within the Land, requiting the Moreans with the estates of those that were lost in the bettaile, and the Town; the strangers with the booty, which was infinite, and other such rewards as bound their loves to him for ever, not being able to hope to thrive so well in the next business, which now must be for Albania.  
The Queen Meriana, and Rosindy in this content, the counterfeiting was found, and the device discovered, which was told by a servant of Clotorindus used in the business, which was, that pillar had been made & set there by her Father, a man excellently graced in all arts, and especially in prosepectives, to try his skill he made this, which though so big, as one might stand in it, yet so far, it seemed but as a small pillar, of purpose made to hold a head upon, and so had they raised her within it, as no more appeared above it then her chin coming over it, it was as if stuck into her throat the just disstance and art in the making being such and so excellent as none could but have thought it had been her head cut off, besides the grief and her own complexion naturally a little pale, made her seem more then usually, and so nearer death, the intent being to make Rosindy believe she was dead, which conceit, he hoped would lead him thence; she being gone, for whose sake he came thither, which if it had taken effect, than she should have lived as she had done before, but seeing neither his false tale, nor this took the way he wished, he walled her up, purposing that since he could not win, nor keep her, none should else enjoy her; but now all is ended with the blessing of enjoying, in a better estate who can be left? Amphilanthus following his way to Cyprus with his friend Ollorandus, quickly landed there, taking their way as they were directed by passengers, (the Country now full of people, that came to see the end of this business) to the throne of love, the plain before it, being all set with Tents, and covered with Knights and Ladies.  
The first Tent Amphilanthus knew to be some Italians, wherefore he went into that, and finding it belonged to the Duke of Milan, whose opinion of his own worth, and the beauty of his Mistress had made him adventure the enchantment, was therein enclosed, he discovered himself unto his servants, who presently made offer of it to his service; which he accepted, yet did he charge the men not to let him be known by any but themselves: there they rested for that night, the next morning going among the Tents, finding many brave Princes, and excellent Ladies, some come to adventure others, only to behold the adventures of others: many of these the two excellent Companies knew, but they keeping their beavers down, were not known of any.  
One Lady among the rest, or rather above the rest, for exquisite wit and rare spirit, so perfect in them, as she excelled her sex so much, as her perfections were styled masculine.  
This Lady (as her judgement was greater than the rest, so her observation was likewise more particular) cast her eyes upon these strangers, but most on the Italian: she sighed at first sight, aftergrew sad, wondering why she was so troubled, not knowing the face of her trouble, never then resting till she had got the truth of whence he was, and so the means to see him; he having inquired of every one's name and title, came also to know her to be called Luceania Daughter to a noble man, who was Brother to the famously virtuous, but unfortunate Lady Luceania, wife, and Mother to the first, and this last Antissius King of Romania.  
Wife she was to a great Lord in the same Country, who though unable to flatter himself with conceit of worth, sufficient to end so rare an adventure, yet partly for novelties, and most to please his spiritful wife, he came thither, loving the best company, for these reasons.  
The Prince was glad to here this, because he was now sure of acquaintance quickly there. As soon as his name was known, she studying to have her ends by his knowledge, watched the next fit opportunity, which was offered the next day by a general meeting of all the Knights and Ladies. He seldom bashful, put himself among them: Luceania must needs know him, wherefore she asked those that accompanied her, who that stranger was, they all answered they knew him not, nor could they learn of any who he was.  
Is it possible, said she so brave a Prince should be unknown? many desiring to do her service, she being for noble behaviour, courtesy, wit, and greatness of understanding loved, and admired of all such as could be honoured with her conversation; to please her, every one endeavoured, and one forwarder than the rest (as more bound in affection) went to him, telling him, that a fair Lady much desired to know his name.  
Can it be answered the King, that any fair Lady should so much honour me, as to desire so worthless a thing as my name? There is one Sir, said he, who curiously desireth the knowledge of it, which must be more worthy then you do accound it, otherwise could she no covet in, and such an one is she, said he, as if you can deserve beauty, you will acknowledge, only deserves honour, and service.  
They belong, said the King to all such excellent creatures, yet Sir, said he, it is my ill fortune at this time that I am not able to satisfy her demand, although this grace shall ever make me her servant. The Knight acquainted with such vows went back to Luceania, truly telling her all that he had said, which although delivered by a far worse Orator, yet gained they more favour for him: she esteeming wit beyond outward beauty, but both there joined, it is necessary for to yield as she did, for before she desired his name only, now finding judgement and brave Courtshipp, she long's for his society, and these accompanied with seeing his excellently sweet, and ever conquering loveliness, did join as to the conquest of her, for she who before had known love rather by name then subjection, now she finds herself loves Prisoner, affection before, but companion liked now mastering, and now she finds it expedient to know that delightful cruel, who had with so pleasing a dart, wounded, and ceased her (till then commanding) heart.  
The next evening was resolved of for her gain of knowledge, and rather than miss, there she would employ the same lovesick Knight again, who to be graced with her commands would do any thing.  
The evening come, and Amphilanthus, his companion assuring themselves they were unknown, freely came into the company. She who now was by the art of love taught to watch all opportunities, and never to lose any, was walking with her husband forth, to pass away the time in the cool air: Amphilanthus and his friend discoursing of their own passions, finding the greatest miss ever in most company, their Ladies being absent, were so transported with their passions, as they were close to this amorous Lady, and her Lord before they discovered it, which when they found, asked pardon for their rudeness, they would have returned: but she who was now, not to put of her hopes till the next meeting, resolved to make use of this, so with as enticing a countenance, as Caesar understood Cleopatras to be, she told them she saw no error they had committed, that place being free to all, but turning herself towards her husband, she smiling said. Would you think my Lord, this Knight were ashamed of his name? I see small reason that he should, said he, why think you that he is? because he refuseth too tell it said she.  
Although (excellent Lady) answered Amphilanthus, it may be my name is not so fortunate as to have come to your ears with any renown, yet am I not ashamed of it, a vow only having made me conceal it. May not that vow be broken, said she? This may, and shall (said he) to satisfy your desire, though some vows are so dear, as nothing, nor any force may prevail against them. With that she saw Ollorandus had undertaken her husband, which gave her more liberty in her desires, again urging with fine and amorous countenances the breach of his vow. The commanding power (said he) which your perfections carry with them must prevail; then be pleased to know I am Amphilanthus, King of the Romans.  
Pardon me my Lord, (said she) that I have been thus bold with you, which was caused by (with that she blushing held her peace, desiring to be thought bashful, but more longing to be entreated for the rest). Nay, speak on, excellent Lady (said he), and bar not mine ears from hearing what you surely once thought me worthy to know. Well then my Lord (said she) you shall have it, my desire to know you, was caused by an unresisting power, your excellencies have over my yielding affections to you; the first time I saw you, I received the wound I now perish in, if you favour not.  
Amphilanthus was rather sorry, then glad to hear this speech, being to him, like as where the law is that a man condemned to die, may be saved, if a Maid beg him for her husband: so he may be saved from death, but wedded against his heart to another; affection before having wounded him, he can scarce entertain this: but considering gratefulness is required as a chief virtue in every worthy man, he courteously replied, that till that time fortune had never so honoured him, as to bring him to the height of so much happiness as to be graced with such an affection.  
She who loved, and desired, took the least word he spoke for a blessed consent, was about to answer again, when they saw Ollorandus come with her husband to them, who with much ado (as he counterfeited,) had told who they were; the good man hearing that these were two of them relieved, and won Romania to quiet by their own valour, but especially rejoicing that Amphilanthus (of whom the world was filled with same) was there, came to welcome him, nor would be denied, but they must lodge with him in his tent. Luceania was not grieved at this motion, though Amphilanthus would willingly have gone back to his Milan Tent, where he might have comforted himself, with discoursing to his own thoughts; But the Lady now keeps him prettily well from those passions with continual discourse of other things.  
Much he enquired after the manner of ending the enchaunment, which he longed for, that then he might again see what he only coveted: Love still increasing in her, as longing grew in him to see his dearest Love.. He kindly entertained her favours, and courteously requited them, and one day the more to express his respect to her, he took this course, which in his own mind was plotted rather to get more freedom, and to make proof of his valour, his friend and he only acquainting Luceania and her Lord with it, changing their armours and colours, the better to be unknown, came in the morning with Trumpets before them, challenging every one that desired to try his strength, to the Just, to break six staffs a piece, and this to continue six days, in defence of their Mistress' beauty. Amphilanthus was in Watchet and White; Ollorandus in Orange colour, he having no favour; and therefore in spite wore that colour: the other had a scarf which Lucenia sent him the night before, which he wore on his right arm. This challenge brought forth all the knights, and they the Ladies; the first was an Italian, and encountered Ollorandus (who was to hold the first three days, if so long he could without foil, by Amphilanthus appointment, if not, than he to come in). This Italian was strong, and the stronger, for that he was in love; and more, because his Mistress at that time made him the bolder, being favoured with her sight, and blessed with her loving wishes. But these could not prevail against the Bohemian, who had the stronger spirit waiting on him of perfect love, which overthrew the Italian, lying on the ground, flatly confessing his overthrow.  
Two days he thus kept the field, without show of losing the honour to any: but then came one, who encountered him with such clean strength and valour, as he was forced to confess, he matched him; nor did it turn to any dishonour to him, when it was known who it was, being Polarchus, Bastard son to the king of that Island: but soon did Amphilanthus revenge his friend, and so by conquest kept the field, though he confessed, he had seldom felt such an encounter as the last of the six courses, the other five having lasted without any advantage: this with the loss of his stirrups, but the falling back of the other upon his horses back, and trumbling down, striving to recover his saddle. Thus he redeemed his friend's mischance, maintaining the field against all comers, in the defence of his mistress' beauty.  
Two days he held it, in which time he won the same of the bravest Knight. The last day they were a little hindered from that sport, by the coming of a great, and brave troop of knights, having with them two of the beauties the world could hold excellent; they road in a Chariot of watchet Veluer, embroidered with crimson silk, and Pearl the inside, the outside with pearl of silver: and yet that riches poor, in comparison of the incomparable brightness and clearness of their own beauties. Soon were they known: for who could be ignorant of the perfections of Pamphilia and Limena: for he that never saw Pamphilia but by report, seeing this unspeakable beauty, said, it could be no other than that peerless Queen, none else could so excel in true perfection. Two Knights rid on each side of the Chariot, one in armour of Gold, enamelled with leaves of Laurel; the other all black: thus they came with great magnificence and state, when Amphilanthus was ready to encounter a new knight, that would needs have the favour to be thrown down by the conquering Prince, who soon received the honour, his vanquishing power gave all other, kissing his mother without desire or pleasure.  
Then did the Prince look about him, casting his eyes by chance towards the troop, at which sight he strait knowing the never enough exalted Princess, he went towards her, his eyes meeting the unresisting power of her eyes, who was sovereign of all hearts; telling the new Queen, that certainly now the charms must have conclusion, she being come to adventure for them. I hope my Lord (said she) there will be an end of them, since I know I am able to bring one part to the conclusions demand, being that, I think you have not been much troubled with all, and in truth I cannot blame you much, since liberty is an excellent profit. But what colour shall we have next; the last I saw was Crimson, now Watchet and White; do you add to your inconstancy, as fast as to your colours? None can be accused dear Lady (said he) for their change, if it be but till they know the best, therefore little fault hath yet been in me: but now I know the best, change shall no more know me. Every change brings this thought (said she): but here is the Queen Limena, whose noble virtues were rescued by your friend, and my brother from cruelty and death, though not of them, but her person dying, they must (if not for him) have remained the outward tombs of her honour. Then kissed he her hands, and so conducted the two Queens to the fittest place to see those begun sports, and to be beheld of the Knights.  
Amphilanthus continuing his still enjoyed victories, none parting from him without flat falls, or apparent loss of honour. Then the Knight of Victory, and the Black Knight came unto him with these words: Victorious Sir, we see how bravely and happily you have carried yourself in this challenge, and so as we should be too bold flatterers of ourselves, if we would hope to get the better of you: yet being knights and servants to fair Ladies, we are engaged in honour to try our fortunes with you, defending that these two Ladies are fairer, and more truly worthy than your mistress. I said the Knight of Victory defend the Queen Limena: and I (said the other, the incomparable Pamphilia. Your demand (said Amphilanthus) shall be answered, although I must confess, it rather should be yielded unto without blows; yet will I proceed in the begun challenge, though against beauties matchless; and first answer you, who defend the Queen Limena.  
All eyes were fixed upon these two, one known powerful, and not to be vanquished, the other outwardly appearing excellent, and so did he prove himself: for never were six courses run more finely, than these were; so as every one said, that none but another Amphilanthus could have performed them so delicately; yet a little difference there was between them, which made a question to whom the whole honour did belong. Amphilanthus lost his stirrups, and the other was struck flat upon his horse: but the Prince himself ordered the business thus; that he would make an end of that morning's triumph, and the other should have the after noon trial.  
This was agreed on by all, and he much commended for his royal courtesy; when no one came, Amphilanthus lighting from his horse, came to the stranger, who stood ready to receive him with his right Gauntlet off, but his Beaver down, to whom the Prince with a grave and sweet countenance delivered the Spear, and liberty for the free accomplishing the rest of that exercise. The stranger with all respect, and indeed affection, received that favour, wishing the happiness to conclude the time with as much bravery and good fortune, as Amphilanthus had done the days past.  
Then did the Prince boldly show himself to all, many there knowing him, and coming humbly to acknowledge their loves and gratefulness unto him, for infinite favours received by them from him: for indeed no man was ever enriched with a more noble, free, and excellent disposition, than this exquisite Prince had flowing in him: after dinner this most honoured and beloved Prince, with the admired Queens, Ollorandus, and the rest came again to see the conclusion of that brave sport, in which time the Knight of Victory so stoutly behaved himself, as thereby he gained exceeding great fame, but now was evening beginning to threaten him with her power to overcome his victories, which yet remained whole unto him, few being left that were not by Amphilanthus, Ollorandus, or himself, taught how to adventure in such like businesses. He now having a little time left him to breathe in, none coming against him, he looked about, and cast his eyes on her, whose beauty he so bravely defended with such affection, as he stirred not them, nor his mind from that beloved object, till a boy in shepherd's apparel delivered these words to him, almost pulling him, before he gave him hearing. My Lord said he (for so my master bid me call you), I come from yond man, one, who not skill in arms, but truth of his Lady's beauty brings forth, and by me sends you word, that your Mistress Limena is not one half so fair, as his Queen Pamphilia: it is (he says) no boldness to defend her, whose beauty is without compare; wherefore he desires you to prepare yourself: but take heed Sir, he is mighty strong. Good Boy (said the Knight), tell your Master I will attend him, and I pray thee advise him as well for the love I bear thee. Then came the Shepherd knight (for so they called him) all in Ash-colour, no plume nor favour, only favoured with his Ladies best wishes (the best of favours). The encounter was strong and delightful, shivers of their spears aseending into the air, like sparks of a triumph fire: four courses they ran, without any difference for advantage; the fifth, the knight of Victory lost both stirrups, and a little yielded with his body; the other passing with the loss of one stirrup; the sixth and last, being (if it were possible) a more strong, and excellent course: their ambitions equal to honour, glorious to love, and covetous of gain before their Ladies, scorning any place lower than the face. Both hit so luckily and equally, as their beavers flew up, the knight of Victory being known to be Perissus, the other Amphilanthus, who confident that now he had truth on his side, and desirous once more to try the strength of the other, while most eyes were on the Champion, he stole away, and armed himself. Amphilanthus at first knew not Perissus, many years having passed since their last meeting: but when he heard Perissus named, with what joy did he embrace him, being the man, who from his youth, he had like himself loved, admiring his virtues, and loving his person. This done, they went to Pamphilia's tent, where she gave Amphilanthus infinite thanks for the honour he had done her: but yet my Lord (said she) I must blame my poor beauty for the delay you had in your Victory, which I confessed, when I saw so long differing of your overcoming, grieving then for that want, which brought your stay in winning.  
Detract not from your beauty, which all judgements know without equal (said he), nor from the bounty of the renowned and famous Perissus, but give the reason where it is, which is want in my fortune to obtain any thing that most I desire, or seek, such crosses hitherunto accompanied my life. Then did Pamphilia entreat him to take knowledge of the other knight, whose name was Millisander, Duke of Pergamus and her subject, whose father, though newly dead, and therefore wore that mourning armour, yet would not stay, but attend her thither; then Amphilanthus desired to know how it came about, that she honoured that place with her presence. The Queen willing to satisfy his demand began her discourse in this manner. Mine Uncle King of Pamphilia, coming for me to carry me into his Country, and there to settle me (as long since he resolved) by the consent and leave of my father, I went with him, by the way winning the happiness of the companies of these excellent Princes, Perissus and Limena: after our arrival I was crowned, and being peaceably settled, mine Uncle retired into a Religious house, where he will end his days: I heard still the same of this enchantment, of which I had understood by my brother Parselius, who had himself got some unfortunate knowledge of it; I desired to adventure it, being assured that I was able for one part to conclude it, since it is to be finished by that virtue I may most justly boast of. Thus resolved (honoured with the presence likewise of this excellent King, and virtuous Queen, with the consent of my people, leaving the government for this time with the Council) we came to adventure for the Throne of Love.. Which (said Amphilanthus) I am also to try; wherefore let me be so much favoured, as I may be the Knight to adventure with you, and you shall see, I want not so much constancy, as not to bring it to end, though it pleased you lately to tax me with it. My Lord (said she) I taxed you only for Antissia's sake, who (poor Lady) would die, if she thought that you had changed, she so entirely loveth you. Hath she spoken to you to speak for her (said he)? in truth she did well, since love much better suits with your lips then her own: but shall I have the honour that I seek? You shall command my Lord (said she), and we will surely bring an end to it; your valour, and my loyalty being met together. He made no other answer then with his eyes, so for that night they all parted, every one expecting the next morning's fortune, when the Throne should be so bravely adventured for. All that would try their fortunes had free liberty; so six couples ventured before the peerless pair; but all were imprisoned, to be honoured the more, with having their delivery by the power of the most excellent, who being ready to adventure, they were hindered a little by the coming of a Gentleman in white armour richly set forth, and bravely accompanied, who coming directly to Amphilanthus desired the honour of Knighthood, telling him he had sought many places, and passed many Countries to receive that favour from him, which, but from him he would not accept, withal pulling off his helm, which presently made him to be known to be Antissius King of Romania. Amphilanthus with due respect to him welcomed him, protesting he could never merit so high an honour as this was unto him, wherefore without delay in the sight of all that Princely company, he girt the sword to him, and he with Perissus put on his spurs; then came Allimarlus to kiss his hands, who most kindly he received; and now my Lord (said he), you are very fitly come to see the Throne of Love won (I hope) by this surpassing Queen, and your servant myself.  
Antissius went to salute the Queen, so together they passed towards the Bridge. Antissius and Ollorandus going together, twinned in each others arms Pamphilia being thus apparelled in a Gown of light Tawny or Murrey, embroidered with the richest, and perfectest Pearl for roundness and whiteness, the work contrived into knots and Garlands; on her head she wore a crown of Diamonds, without foils, to show her clearness, such as needed no foil to set forth the true brightness of it: her hair (alas that plainly I must call that hair, which no earthly riches could value, nor heavenly resemblance counterfeit) was prettily intertwind between the Diamonds in many places, making them (though of the greatest value) appear but like glass set in gold. Her neck was modestly bare, yet made all discern, it was not to be beheld with eyes of freedom: her left Glove was off, holding the King by the hand, who held most hearts. He was in Ash-colour, witnessing his repentance, yet was his cloak, and the rest of his suit so sumptuously embroidered with gold, as spoke for him, that his repentance was most glorious; thus they passed unto the first Tower, where in letters of Gold they saw written, Desire. Amphilanthus knew he had as much strength in desire as any, wherefore he knocked with assured confidence at the Gate, which opened, and they with their royal companions passed to the next Tower, where in letters of Rubies they read Love.. What say you to this, brave Queen (said he)? have you so much love, as can warrant you to adventure for this? I have (answered she) as much as will bring me to the next Tower, where I must (I believe) first adventure for that.  
Both then at once extremely loving, and love in extremity in them, made the Gate flee open to them, who passed to the last Tower, where Constancy stood holding the keys, which Pamphilia took; at which instant Constancy vanished, as metamorphosing herself into her breast: then did the excellent Queen deliver them to Amphilanthus, who joyfully receiving them, opened the Gates then passed they into the Gardens, where round about a curious Fountain were fine seats of white Marble, which after, or rather with the sound of rare and heavenly music, were filled with those poor lovers who were there imprisoned, all chained one unto another with links of gold, enamelled with Roses and other flowers dedicated to Love: then was a voice heard, which delivered these words; Loyallest, and therefore most incomparable Pamphilia, release the Ladies, who much to your worth, with all other of your sex, yield right pre-eminence: and thou Amphilanthus, the valiantest and worthiest of thy sex, give freedom to the Knights, who with all other, must confess thee matchless; and thus is Love by love and worth released.  
Then did the music play again, and in that time the Palace and all vanished, the Knights and Ladies with admiration beholding each other. Then Pamphilia took Urania, and with affection kissing her, told her, the worth which she knew to be in her, had long since bound her love to her, and had caused that journey of purpose to do her service. Then came Perissus, bringing Limena to thank her, who heartily did it as she deserved, since from her counsel her fortunes did arise. Amphilanthus likewise saluted her, having the same conceit of resemblance between her and Leonius, as Parselius had, and so told her with exceeding joy, all after one another coming to her, and the rest. Antissius casting his eye upon Selarina, fixed it so, as it was but as the setting of a branch, to make a tree spring of it: so did his love increase to full perfection. Then all desired by Pamphilia took their way to her Tent, every one conducting his Lady, Amphilanthus Pamphilia, Perissus, his Limena; Ollorandus, Urania; Antissius, Selarina, the King of Cyprus his Queen, his brave base Son Polarchus, the Lady he only loved, who was Princess of Rhodes. Many other great Princes, and Princesses there were, both greeks and Italians; Allimarlus for old acquaintance leading Vrania's maid: thus to Pamphilia's tent they came, where most sumptuously she entertained them: then did all the great Princes feast each other, the last being made by the King of Cyprus, who out of love to the Christian Faith, which before he contemned, seeing such excellent, and happy Prince's professors of it, desired to receive it, which Amphilanthus infinitely rejoicing at, and all the rest, Christened him with his wife, excellently fair daughter, and Polarchus his valiant Son, and so became the whole Island Christians.  
Then came he unto Amphilanthus, humbly telling him that the disgrace he had from him received, he esteemed as a favour, and honour sufficient, to be overcome by the valiantest King, who none must resist; to manifest which, he besought him to accept him unto his servant, and friend, with whom he resolved to end his days.  
Amphilanthus replied, the honour was his, to gain so brave a gentleman to his friendship, who should ever find him ambitious to express his love to him: but said he, assuredly you never adventured the throne, but that you were in love. He blushing, told him it was true, but (alas) my Lord, said he, I have no hope now to win her. Then told he the King, the whole story of his love, beseeching him to assist him, which he promised to do, and for that purpose to take their way by Rhodes, and so at the delivering of her to her Father, to solicit his suit for him, she extremely loving him, he kissed the King's hands for it. And thus every one remained contented, Urania, longing to see Parselius, and yet not daring to demand any thing of him, till one day, (and the first of their journey) she prettily began with Pamphilia, taking occasion upon her own discourse as you shall hear. But now that every one resolves of going homeward, what can be imagined of loving Lucenia? whose heart is now almost burst with spite, and rage, which she showed to the King himself, when he came to take leave of her, telling her that it must be his ill fortune to part with her, that being finished which brought him thither. She answered, it was true, it was finished now to her knowledge, which she doubted not had had many ends with such foolish creatures as herself, else said she, had I never been deluded with your flatteries. I never said he, protested more than I performed. It was my folly then, said she, to deceive myself, and wrong mine own worth, with letting my love too much express itself, to give advantage for my loss, when as if you had first sued, your now leaving me might have been falsehood, where as it is only turned to my shame, and loss. I am sorry said he, I shall part thus much in your displeasure, since I know I once was more favoured of you. You cannot right me more, said she, then to go, and gone, never more to think of me, unless your own Conscience call upon you. It will not I hope replied Amphilanthus, be overburdened with this weight, since I will (now as ever I did) obey you, and so brave Lady farewell well. She would not wish him so much good, who now she hated, so as only making him a small reverence they parted, the Prince going to the Kings and Queens who attended for him, the King of Cyprus bringing them to the Sea, the morning before their taking Ship, presenting them with the Shepherds, and Shepherdess's of those Plains, who after their manner sang and sported before them, to the great delight of all, especially Pamphilia, who much loving Poetry, liked their pretty expressions in their loves, some of which she caused to be twice song, and those that were at the banquet, (which was made upon the Sands, they being served by those harmless people) to be written out, which were two songs, and one Dialogue delivered between a neat, and fine Shepherd, and a dainty loving Lass, it was this.  
Sh. Dear, how do thy winning eyes  
my senses wholly tie?  
She. Sense of sight wherein most lies  
change, and Variety.  
Sh. Change in me?  
She. Choice in thee some new delights to try.  
Sh. When I change or choose but thee  
then changed be mine eyes.  
She. When you absent, see not me,  
will you not break these ties?  
Sh. How can I,  
ever fly, where such perfection lies?  
She. I must yet more try thy love,  
how if that I should change?  
Sh. In thy heart can never move  
a thought so ill, so strange.  
She. Say I dye?  
Sh. Never I, could from thy love estrange.  
She. Dead, what canst thou love in me,  
when hope, with life is fled?  
Sh. Virtue, beauty, faith in thee,  
which live will, though thou dead,  
She. Beauty dies.  
Sh. Not where lies a mind so richly sped.  
She. Thou dost speak so fair, so kind,  
I cannot choose but trust,  
Sh. None unto so chaste a mind  
should ever be unjust.  
She. Then thus rest,  
true possessed, of love without mistrust.  
another delicate Maid, with as sweet a voice, as her own lovely sweetness, which was in her, in more than usual plentifulness, sang this Song, being as it seemed fallen out with Love, or having some great quarrel to him.  

Love what art thou? A vain thought,  
In our minds by fancy wrought,  
Idle smiles did thee beget,  
While fond wishes made the net  
Which so many fools have caught.   

Love what art thou? light, and fair,  
Fresh as morning, clear as th'air:  
But too soon thy evening change,  
Makes thy worth with coldness range,  
Still thy joy is mixed with care.   

Love what art thou? a sweet flower,  
Once full blown, dead in an hour.  
Dust in wind as stayed remains  
As thy pleasure, or our gains,  
If thy humour change to lower.   

Love what art thou? Childish, vain,  
Firm as bubbles made by rain:  
Wantonness thy greatest pride,  
These foul faults thy virtues hide,  
But babes can no staidness gain.   

Love what art thou? Causeless cursed,  
Yet alas these not the worst,  
Much more of thee may be said,  
But thy Law I once obeyed,  
Therefore say no more at first.   
This was much commended, and by the Ladies well liked of, only Amphilanthus seemed to take Love's part, and blame the maid for accusing him unjustly, especially, for describing him with so much lightness. Then to satisfy him, a spruce Shepherd began a Song, all the others keeping the burden of it, with which they did begin.  

WHo can blame me if I love?  
Since Love before the World did move.  
When I loved not, I despaired,  
Scarce for handsomeness I cared;  
Since so much I am refined,  
As new framed of state, and mind,  
Who can blame me if I love,  
Since Love before the World did move.   

Some in truth of Love beguiled  
Have him blind and Childish styled:  
But let none in these persist,  
Since so judging judgement missed,  
Who can blame me?   

Love in Chaos did appear  
When nothing was, yet he seemed clear:  
Nor when light could be descried,  
To his crown a light was tie.  
Who can blame me?   

Love is truth, and doth delight,  
Where as honour shines most bright:  
Reason's self doth love approve,  
Which makes us ourselves to love.  
Who can blame me?   

Could I my past time begin,  
I would not commit such sin  
To live an hour, and not to love,  
Since love makes us perfect prove,  
Who can blame me?   
This did infinitely please the brave King; so cunningly, and with so many sweet voices it was sung: then the banquet ended, they took leave of the kind King of Cyprus, and his company, all the rest taking ship with Pamphilia, sailing directly to Rhodes, where they received unspeakable welcome, being feasted there eight days together, and for show of their true welcome, the Duke of that Island bestowed his consent for marriage of his daughter, with her long beloved friend Polarchus, whose joy and content was such, as the other amorous Knights wished to know. Then took they their leaves of the Duke, and all the Rodean Knights and Ladies, taking their way to Delos, Polarchus promising within short time to attend them in Morea.  
The end of the first Book.   

THE COUNTESS OF Montgomery's URANIA. THE SECOND BOOK.  
ALL this journey did Urania pass with much grief inwardly suffered, and so borne, desirous to know where her love was, yet bashful, durst not ask, till one day Perissus sitting between her and Limena, took occasion to speak of his first finding her, and so of the obligation they remained tied unto her in, for all the fortunes they enjoyed; and so from that, to speak of the rescue Parselius brought Limena at her last breathing, as she thought. I wonder (said Urania) where that Prince is, since so many brave men being here, me thinks he should not be absent; nor could I have thought any but himself might have ended this adventure. Truly (said Perissus) when we parted with him, I never saw a more afflicted man then he was (except once myself), and all was for the loss of you. I thought rather (said she) he had been offended with us for adventuring; which well he might, considering by that folly we lost him. Nay, said Allimarlus (who was then come to them), he had no cause to blame you, having committed as great an error, and the same, himself, than told he all the story to her, of what had passed after the drinking the water, and so much as he knew, or heard by others of him, while he was heard of. Then came Pamphilia and Amphilanthus, who went on with the discourse, that now Urania was resolved, and assured of his affection, which so much joyed her, as the absence of him grew the more terrible to afflict her.  
Then to Delos they came, whose milk-white rocks looked smooth with joy to receive within their girdle, the world's treasure of worth, now being in their presence richer, than when most treasure was within her: then took they directly to the Palace, at the entering into the vault meeting the grave Melissea, who with her maids carrying torches of white wax, conducted the Prince through that into the Gardens, all now in hope or fear to know their fortunes. Urania's desiring to know herself; Pamphilia to be resolved, whether she should gain by her loyalty. Amphilanthus when he should enjoy, and Antissius longing to be assured, if he should have Selarina, who as much desired the same knowledge of gaining him, such affection had grown between them, he being (as she did verily persuade herself) the self same little King, that beckoned to her out of the enchanted Garden. Allimarlus must by any means be gained by the Shepherdess.  
Thus they all expecting, and Perissus happily enjoying, they continue in the Palace, while the grave Hermit must next have time to tell his story to distressed Parselius, in this manner beginning.  
My loving and afflicted son, hear your poor friend say, his name is Detareus, borne in Dalmatia, and Lord of Ragusa: I was bred a Courtier, and accordingly thrived; repentance being at last their best fortunes. In that Court I lived in good favour with the king, and honoured with the office of Steward of his house: Children I had, and all other contents: but at last my wife died, and so did the best of my happiness; for alas, soon after fell my miseries to increase; and for the greater sharpness of them, to be thus springing from my own best remaining comfort: for I called to my chamber my dearest daughter, (Bellamira by name) to be with me, and to govern my servants; but she having such beauty, as to be a fit bait to catch misfortune, and bring it to me, the king liked her; which I perceiving, hasted to bestow her, and so I did on a great heir, who was called Treborius, with whom she happily lived.  
But this King still loving her, and as a lover seeking all means to gain his mind, never spared feastings, and all occasions, to draw company to the Court; yet all was because she must be there, otherwise were none in his opinion present: her husband also was extremely favoured by him in outward show, and his house often visited by his Majesty. He saw it: but seeing his wife's virtue spotless, over-lookt the temptations, which were but as two Glasses, set to see both sides of her nobleness, and worthy chastity. Much ado there was, all eyes beheld it, all spoke of it, all admired her. I discerning this, at last gave over the Court, scorning to be used in the slights, which were for her dishonour, and mine in hers: I retyrd, she then having no fit occasion to visit the Court, did likewise so. No country sport's failed to give delight, I ofttimes with her, and her loving husband; they oft with me.  
But now must these be crossed, not being fit for subjects to live in content, when the Prince is not pleased; to break which, he sent me Ambassador to Italy, to the king of Naples, father to the glory of Princes, your matchless cousin; her husband he employed another way, hoping to win her in our absence: but herein he was deceived, for she would not have the shadow of such times afforded him, wherefore she went with her husband, thereby that plot was hindered, and the kings immoderate affection crossed; but whereby my misery most increased was, that in my Embassage I fell in love with a Lady, whose sweetness and delicacy was able to have made Troilus false. This Lady I loved, this Lady (happiest destiny as I then unwisely conjectured loved me) but alas, she had a husband, a terrible and wretched bar in the way of those loose and wicked enjoy which we coveted yet so we ordered our affairs, as we came to have private conference, and many several meetings.  
This Lady was of Apulia, and one, who if the enjoying her were death, and life the missing it, death had been sweeter, and more to have been prised. As I went to the Court, I saw her, she after came thither, at the assembly which was for my entertainment. We liked, loved, and enjoyed: then did I not fail, to seek all means to win, and keep her husband's favour, which was the way for my blessing: he embraced it, and truly I must confess, used me so well, as had any other matter been the end of my deceiving, but what was, I should have been sorry, so to have abused his trust.  
But what shall I say; you know love, and therefore brave Sir pardon it, or rather the relation of that which was in me; so much power had this affection in me, as I drew out the time of my stay to last, weaving the longest web that feigning occasions could allow me, the spider love working for me.  
But now comes my affliction in love, and yet happiness in the end, for time grew for my departing, which word I may justly use, since it was like death (or that itself) to me, or any passionate servant. To his house I was invited in my way home (we yet having remained at Rome) thither we went, and made as many day's journeys as we could, still to win of time: at last we there arrived, where want was none, if fault; only I found the continual company of her good man, that which I disliked, yet we conversed freely (as well we might) before him, he being as free, as noble courtesy could desire expression in: but we were not fully contented with this, wherefore we would venture for more, which cost all; for he lying from his Wife that night, by reason of care to her, lest continual business might disquiet her. I having notice of it, when all were in their beds, and sweet silence spread with sleep over all the house, I rose out of my lodging, and softly went unto her Chamber, where I found her sleeping, at my coming to the bed side; she awaked, but how did she blame me? (and yet truly I believe, it was the hazard I had put myself in, she more accused, and chid, than myself): for she did not too cruelly reject me, though earnestly she entreated, nay conjured my sudden retiring, which I after some hours yielded unto, taking my leave of her with as sad and dying affection, as if I had foreseen the ensuing harm, which thus happened.  
I had at my rising lighted a Candle, which carelessly (my mind only on my adventure) I left burning on the Cupboard in my Chamber; this light by miserable mischance wasting itself to my ruin, burned so into itself, as not being able to sustain, or in malice falling down to throw me to the bottom of all destruction, took hold of the Carpet, so setting that on fire (the blaze aspiring to my end), fired the hangings, they hating the injury, the guest they honoured had done to their own Lord, in angry flames made testimony of their loyalty to their Master, giving him knowledge by their light to see my fault, and to be as torches for the conducting him unto my misery. The fire great, the smoke greater, and which more hastily flew about to call witnesses of their innocencies, raised the servants; they, their Master; he careful of me, sent to my chamber to call me to safety, but more respecting his wife (as dearest to him) went himself to save her, when at the door, how unwelcome a meeting had he, encountering in me, the robber of his honour? He stood still, and in truth I must ever say, he beheld me rather with sorrow then fury, nor would he suffer any to be witness of his ill, but seeing me unarmed, and only in my Cloak, he entreated me to pass into the next room, which I did, and seeming cheerful enough to all else, took care of his House to preserve it if possible. Then brought he unto me a suit of clothes, and having caused me to make myself ready, together we went forth unnoted by any, (as well we might, considering the business they had to save the place from destruction.) When we came into a fair Field, he with tears, thus said.  
Till now had I never the misfortune to be acquainted with the worst of offences; which is breach of the true law of Friendship, but since I am fall'n into the wretchedest experience of it, I must, like the most miserable, seek a way out of it. You cannot deny but you have deserved death, and in the worst kind; yet though I may have it, yet will I leave the fault where it is, and in the bravest manner, wipe away the stain, which cannot be washed but with your blood, or cleansed by my end. Take then this Sword (throwing one to me) and said he, defend yourself. I besought him not to put me to such a trial; I had deserved no favour, nor wished I any to myself, only that he would honour me with giving me my death, and spare his wife, who was (for all my shameful attempt) virtuous, and untouched. He only shook his head, and fetching a deep groan, bid me leave speech, and go to the conclusion, which must be death. We fought (for my part) with so much foul guiltiness, as me thought, strength, cunning, all good, and understanding had abandoned me: he furious, revengeful, (and as I perceived, greedy of end) pursued me, who only held my Sword, not to offend, but to defend me, till some (who I discerned not far off) could come to part us; but he likewise seeing them, ran to fiercely at me, as I must either lay myself open to take death, or holding but my Sword out, give him his end, which I most unwillingly did, forced to it by the frailty of the Flesh, which in the apparent dangers, is always kindest to itself. Those I saw, came, and just to take up his body, and who (alas) followed them, but the poor Lady? extremity of shame bringing her to show her shame: She seeing him slain, cried out, O spare not me, who am the woeful cause of all this misery, let me at last be thus far blessed, as by your hand to be sent again unto him, from whom your sin and mine have parted me, never let so detestable an offence rest unpunished? Shame calls upon you, and calls to me for satisfaction.  
The servants amazedly beheld us, till she never ceasing accusing herself, nor urging death, seeing she could not get it, kneeled down, and taking a cold kiss from his lips, that were to her doubly dead in affection, and pale death, suddenly rose up, and in rising taking his sword, with furious and hateful spite to herself, and wrong done him, threw herself upon it, falling down upon him, joining in that manner her broken vow again in a new one, with their ends. Then did the servants find the cause, whereupon they set on me, for I would not yield to go with them, choosing, and desiring rather to dye with them, then outlive them in such shame; but too happy, and contrary to my wish was my destiny, for I slew them. Being then left with the two dead bodies, I fell into such complaints, as sorrow, and shame, could procure in me, crying out, where affliction hath judged itself in being excelled, as in my misery; why should it not have end in death? then gave I myself many wounds, never ceasing wounding, while my wounded soul abided in my body; at least the soul of humane sense, for so it only proved, for others following their Master and Mistress, found us all in the entertainment of wounds, paleness mixed with blood in the outside, in stead of the more natural habitations, the veins having made open floods to drown themselves in, as a river may swell against itself, to lose her own name, and yield it to a greater by her own Pride.  
Their bodies they carried away, mine remained like a tattered Ensign, rather a glory of gain then loss, and so poor a thing was I: but a charible man more loving goodness then me, and yet loving me for goodness sake, (to make me have a better ending then in blood) took my martyred body away: with bathe, and many more fine curiosities he brought me to know I lived, to be more knowing my daily dying. In a little Cell he recovered me, but to no more health, then to be able to go thence, for longer I would not stay, than I had ability to go away. I discovered nothing of myself to him, but by him all that had passed after I left sense till his recovering me; the general report was, I was burned, some few said murdered, all agreed I was lost, and in that was true agreement, for so I was, and am. Then left I Apulia, and in Hermit's clothes roamed up and down, till I lighted on this place, never finding any that could content me but this: What since became of my poor Daughter, her misfortunes, or blessings, I can give no account of, but I fear the worst, since one day, one instant, and one Planet governed, and gave our births, only 24. years differing in time; here have I since remained, and till now, never disclosed myself, nor would have done to you, had not your freedom first engaged me: repentance hath been my blessed delight, having enjoyed that, as plentifully, and comfortably as ever joy was to souls.  
Now sir, you see before you, where misery hath not been sparing, where afflictions have not failed their greatest bounty in excessiveness, and where only comfort of a happy repentance rules, and gives a sweeter consolation, then worldly pleasures could with all glorious paintings give liking. Then did Parselius again grieve for him, and yet comfort sprung; as after a hard Frost, flowers though dead, may appear living, retaining some warmth in the root, as in his breast: that he might, with grey hairs know a change from misadventures to a pure content.  
Thus they continued, sometimes Parselius wailing, sometimes the Hermit relating his Stories past, he bent to comfort, the other to Despair, though sometimes a little moved to hope, but with as small strength, as life hath in the last gasp.  
But now must Steriamus, and his companion find their way to their destined relief, following the course ordained for them; they took to the Sea, & so toward St. Maura: Steriamus ever bringing into his sight, the sweetness and braveness of Pamphilia, blessing Mellissea for sending him to such a heaven of joy as to see her, and with her favour to speak to her, and for his happiness to kiss her hand, she mildly permitting him. O (said he) Steriamus now shalt thou end happily (if so thy Destiny be) since thou hadst a kind parting from thy better self. Then beheld he the Sea, which calm and smooth gave them quiet passage: so, said he, appeared my Mistress, gently letting my good come unto me, to pass me unto an unlooked for content. Dearest love, how doth sweetness better fit with you, where truest sweetness dwells, then harsh cruelty? Then did night possess them, but so still an one, and so brightened by the favour of the fair Moon, who seemed chastely to behold herself in the smooth face of the Sea, which yet sometimes left her plainness, rising, as catching at her face; or, as with love to embrace it, or rather keep her in her dwellings, wherein she was deceived: for favours are not ever so free, as though lent, to be possessed for ever, and thus greedy was I (said he) but she as chastely refused me, yet did their sight bring some Verses into his mind, which were these.  

PRay thee Diana tell me, is it ill,  
as some do say, thou think'st it is, to love?  
Me thinks thou pleased art with what I prove,  
since joyful light thy dwelling still doth fill.   

Thou seemest not angry, but with cheerful smiles  
beholdest my Passions; chaste indeed thy face  
Doth seem, and so doth shine, with glorious grace;  
for other loves, the trust of Love beguiles.   

Be bright then still, most chaste and clearest Queen,  
shine on my torments with a pitying eye:  
Thy coldness can but my despairs descry,  
and my Faith by thy clearness better seem.   

Let those have heat, that dally in the Sun,  
I scarce have known a warmer state than shade;  
Yet hottest beams of zeal have purely made  
myself an offering burnt, as I was won.   

Once sacrificed, but ashes can remain,  
which in an ivory box of truth enclose  
The Innocency whence my ruins flows,  
accept them as thine, 'tis a chaste Love's gain.   
Having done them, he said them to Dolorindus, whose thoughts were as busily employed in the same kind; now were they come within sight of St. Maura, wherefore Steriamus demanded of the Mariners, if they knew the white Rock, they did, and so in the long Boat carried them unto it, where landing them they departed; the Princes taking to the top of it, viewing it, and the ruins; admiring what they should do in that desolatnesse, where they found no man, no place for man to bide in save one little Cave, whereinto into they went, and sitting down they afresh discoursed of their Fortunes: Steriamus relating to his companion, the manner of his living in Pantaleria, in the little Cave, and so his youth, but when he touched of Pantaleria, he could not pass it over without some passionate remembrance of it, where he only lived free, and therefore as he called it happy. Delightful Pantaleria (would he cry, when I remained in thee, how was I Lord of myself, and so of all quiet content? days were then past in hunting, or some other country delights, which now waste in being hunted by afflictions: no pain knew I, if not by surfeiting of pleasure, yet proved I a man esteeming change my greater happiness, when brave Parselius with the rarest of women, except my Lady released me from ignorance, bringing me into the world, to be the riper in miseries fruit, what happiness (in comparison of the woe we Princes suffer) doth remain in a country life? O Pantaleria would I had still remained in thee, or would I had never known delights, which were still springing in thee, like thy dainty flowers, and tender grass which increased in plenty of sweetness, being corrected for the little height it some times got, by the tender sheep, as my sorrows abound by the cruelty of my dearest love. Cruel love, Ah cruelest of cruelties, why end you not your tyrannies, or let tyranny end, with ending me? Cursed be the time I ever suffered the unrightful Monarchy of love to govern me, & thus to soveraignize over me, giving wounds, and a little easing them, as to make one hope, the danger of death were passed, of purpose to make them more intolerable in the suffering, else why brought you me from joy to misery? then a little to enjoy a glimmering hope to be put into a darker night of sorrow with parting from it, else might you have left me in the sweet Morea, when Pamphilia smiled on me? Love you invited me, but starved me, you again feasted me, but poisoned me, forcing me to drink of absence. You (said Dolorindus) do lament, as if alone you were appointed to suffer, or alone did endure affliction, when too covetously you hoard unto your treasure, what belongs to other men; you call love a tyrant, when you are a greater, taking away the inheritance of others, as from me your friend, who have as much right to misery as any, living in as great excess of it, and having as large possessions in that government: then spare me liberty to complain with you, permit me to say misfortune is as much mine as yours, and then like fellow subjects let us bewail the weight of that unjust tyranny. Pardon me dear friend (said he), if I would wholly take ill to myself, since it is to free you, and all worthy people from that, which I am fittest to bear, as a creature framed for the vassalage of Love, and his cruelty: but since you ask liberty to bewail, take it, and let that bring your freedom, while it redoubles on my breast, as being mine and yours, tell me then all your woe, and know you speak to woe itself in speaking unto me. Then Dolorindus (beginning with the set order of lovers, which is with sighs and tears) began his discourse thus. Free from the knowledge of harm, it was my hap to meet a Lady, hunting in a great Forest, attended on by many brave Gentlemen and Knights; but being more than woman-like excellent in riding, she had left her Ladies, or rather they had left her, not able to attend her in that surpassing quality. I young, and affecting sport, fell into the company, marking more that brave Diana then the chase she followed, which was of a Stag, who though he took pride in being so pursued, and that it was in him to make her follow, stoutly commanded her attendance, yet cowardly flying from her, thinking it better to trust to his speed then her mercy, yet was he rewarded at last fit for his merit, for standing at bay, as if to threaten her dogs, and even before her face gazing on her, she struck him with a Crossbow to the heart; then weepingly he fell down at her feet, groaning for her unkindness: yet was not this the cruelest blow she gave, for (O me) she did likewise wound my breast. Then came they all about her, admiring the hurt, while I admired, any seeing her, could live unwounded. Some praised the hounds that so truly hunted: I praised mine eyes that never were at fault, till they brought home the honour of the day, which was the loss of my poor heart, hunted by mine eyes unto that bay.  
When all the rights were done, and dogs rewarded (I alone unsatisfied for my great gift), she nobly entreated the company to go with her unto her house, which all agreed unto, and myself unknown to any there, took my way with them, boldly adventuring on that invitation. We sat down at dinner, all the discourse was still upon the sport that morning, the Stag afforded them, to which I gave a poor assistance, for having been bred abroad to learning, and to arms, I was an unexperienced huntsman, which she marked, and accordingly made use of, telling me, that sure the hunting was not pleasing to me, or the want of that exercise had made me unskilful in the discourse. I said, the latter was the true reason, for till that day I never saw that sport, though I had known the field delights in many sorts. Then fell she to discourse of martial things, being excellently learned in all the Arts, knowledge no way scanting her. Thus dinner past, when horses again were brought forth, and she waited on by us, went forth to see Hawks flee, spending the afternoon in that delight, inviting us again with her, when before supper, choice of music was bestowed upon us: all these did well, and best to serve her best beloved self; but these (alas) proved but more hurts to me, making me by them see my greater loss, love like a serpent poisoning my joys, and biting my best days, venomed all my bliss, making my new prized wound death to my hopes, and sorrow to my soul.  
Pity I wanted, pity I sought, but pity durst not ask; and thus did grief take me, & in me make abiding: commiseration was the mark I aimed at, but fear held my hand: I saw her fair and delicate, and therefore imagined soft pity to be within so sweet a cage; yet had her eyes such powerful might, as gave command, that none should dare to claim so rich a bliss; overwhelmed with the cruelest spite that Nature could inflict upon a man, I remained, which was filled with a youthful bashfulness, which overswayed my humblest heart, disasters glorying in my patient suffering, excessiveness of sorrow flowing in me, for now was the time to part; or if I would remain, I must not hide myself, or longer stay unknown; for than was her husband to return from a journey made unto the neighbour I'll, wherefore I thought it not amiss (the company all gone) to take my time, and thus I spoke unto her.  
If that which I must say should turn to give offence, accursed would I think the time, and words I go about to utter; but coming from a man wholly devoted to your service, I hope they will produce such ends, as they are now directed to, and so may make me blessed, if blessing can descend on one so much unblessed yet as myself: this time wherein I have enjoyed the full of outward joy beholding you, hath yet brought loves attendants, loss & fear with it, loss of my liberty tied wholly to your will, & fear in my heart, if you despise my love; cause of affection I can challenge none for me, if not in gratitude to me, who give myself for it, a stranger's name may make you scorn me, not knowing worth in me, but boldness, fitting all contempt; these yet you may cast by, for this stranger, your servant, am son to the King, and your humblest lover Dolorindus. She (who before did in her looks manifest the breeding of a cursed reply) a little smoothed the tempest of her rage, and with sober reverence, demanded pardon for her using me with no more respect; and yet my Lord (said she) the fault may sooner be pardoned, since 'twas you which were the cause of it. Then did I again solicit: she modestly, but confidently much refused. Her husband then arrived, who knowing me gave free and noble welcome; I sought how still to induce the man to love my company, and to seek it, which he did also, having his ends, which surely he might gain, so I might compass mine; to which (for all her chaste replies, and curious preserving of her honour in her words), at last I did obtain, and so her love, in as equal measure, as mine was to her, which was without compare, had hers not equalled it.  
Thus it continued for some years; all the mirth and sports that were in Negropont, were still at her Castle; Masks, justs, Hunt, nothing can be thought on, that was not in plenty at her house. Myself (though son unto the king, yet my sister being to inherit the kingdom) was not so much looked after (if not by noble minds) as she who was to rule; so as I gained by that means, both more freedom, and less overseers of my actions. To a Mask that we had there, wherein I was, a Lady came, whose ill 'twas to fall in love me, and so violently did it flame, as it grew dangerous; if she were refused, a woman's hate (which is the deadliest) I was to expect; if I consented, just disdain from my dear self I was to merit. Hate could not stir me to such ill, but fear (lest it would blaze unto her hurt) made me yield some content. In these two straits I was: if I would have asked leave, and told the cause, it yet might purchase doubt: if I denied, certain hurt ensued. To avoid both, I did kindly use her, and such words spoke before my only love, as I did wish, that she should understand, while still the other took them to herself.  
Thus it was well: but how could well long last with me? from this well grew my worst ill, and that ill, all my woe; for my love's husband grew to doubt his wife, which well he might: for though she were assured, or truly might be of my faith to her; yet could she not but sometime show dislike, that she sought to win me, or that she should aspire to be her rival love; this made that secret dear affection seen, which so long had lain close, wrapped up alone in knowledge of our souls. He had no sooner found this, but he strait studied by skill to be revenged, and yet to seem still ignorant of the plot; and thus his wicked practice he began. A solemn feast he made, which was to last for twelve whole days, the reason he alleged was this: an old man once did say (whose skill was very great in the Art of Divination, as 'twas held), that he should never live to fifty years of age; which time being then expired, this feast for that cause was appointed. Many Ladies thither were invited with their Lords, and many knights, who were to win fair Ladies, and with the rest this amorous Lady came, whose welcome to my love was like hers unto me. I grieved that she was there, because I saw she did displease her eyes, who firmly held my heart. The Lord (whose name was Redulus) never showed better cheer, his heart never more foul, nor thoughts more pulled with base framed tricks. At the first show, which was by candle light, and neither Masque nor properly any one thing, but a mingle of diverse sorts; I sat between those two, whose loves in several kinds I held: my Ladies intruth mixed with a little fear, the other in violence heated with dislike. I had but one love, yet of force showed two; faith and sincere affection to my choice dissembled: and a feigned respect to her had chosen me. The husband watching all and catching with as many several watches, our close looks, as spider's flies, with numbers of her webs: then did his wit begin to play that part allotted to itself, which was to throw a spiteful jar among us three, which was effected by this devilish means; flouting the Lady whom my soul best loved, telling her how she had made such a choice he could not blame her for, since he a Prince, a dainty youth, a neat and courtly Knight, delicate, amorous, how can he be seen without admiring, and then loving? yet truly wife, said he, I better do deserve your love, since I have loved but you, and you have many partners in his love: I speak not this for jealousy, nor am I angry with it, or displeased, but only pity you who are deceived. Courtiers you know will love choice of Mistresses, alas what luck have you to fall into this snare? to love, and to be cozened of your love, by one you make your friend, and sweet companion? justly yet this is done, that you afford your friend a part in all. Selinea (for so was she, dear she my, Lady called) knew not at first with what face, or in what kind to receive these words; the husband first was the informer, the business his dishonour, the loss hers, the fault her lovers, these called her sharpest and best pleased wits to aid, at last she thus did say. My Lord, you say you pity me in this kind; were I guilty, you had more just cause to hate me, for truth in men (except yourself) their truths and falsehoods are indifferent to me, having no further reason to commend, prize, or dislike them, but for virtue's sake, and so am I in my own opinion blessed in your love, as I should despair of blessing if I deserved it not in the same height of loyalty: for the Prince, he hath (it is true) many noble parts able to win women's affections, but yet none such where true worth remains, as to divert them from a virtuous life, since that leaves the name & property when it runs to change. If I were single, it might be I should as soon like him as any other; but I loved you, and love you, never to change from that love: therefore I pray you take home your before-given pity, and bestow it where it wants, since I have yet no use of it, and continue that love you did bear me, which shall be requited with as lasting a faith in me. He who expected rather a cursed and sharp answer, then so mild an one, took her in his arms, and kissing her, swore, he loved her well before, but now his heart was wholly hers: thus she, as she hoped, had satisfied him, who seemed contented, but his mind was no more than before quieted; for than he went to Melinea, and talking with her, discoursed how infinitely he was afflicted with the wrong that Dolorindus did him in his reputation and honour, courting of his wife so publicly, and striving to discredit him unto the world, and so undo his happiness at home, which he enjoyed while Selinea loved him: but now such power had the earnest and importunate love of the Prince gained over her weak powers to resist, as he had made her his. But yet said Melinea he loves her not assuredly, as you imagine. Be not deceived sweet Melinea, said Redulus; for never did man more passionately affect then Dolorindus doth, did you but see his sleights, nay his passions if they fail, you would swear no man did violently love but he; his sighs, with folded arms, and stealing looks, discovers what he feels. How have I seen him when he talked with you, and kissed your hand, throw even his soul out at his eyes to her? Surely, my Lord said she, you cannot see this, but you do speak it only to try if I would prove so unworthy as to join with you in doubt of her, who is as good as fair. No I protest said he, I speak as I believe and know; but yet I am assured that his love is the greater, and the cause that she did ever bend to think of love: A Prince's name is able to attract a chast-borne maid to know love's heat and force; what then can love and strong affection joined win on a woman? Take you heed fair maid, love is a power that will, though once gainsaid, the second time come in with arms, and make your chastest thoughts contribute to his tax, had you been in the chamber, or but marked the piercing darts he sent by looks of love, such as had been enough to burn a heart that would contend, but yielding, to make joy glory in greater pride, than ever joy did know. I found some verses too, which he hath made, and given his mistress; by them you may guess in what estate his restless burning soul continues flaming to my utter shame, and ruin of my name.  
Then took he forth some verses which indeed I do confess I made and most unfortunately lost; those lines gave full assurance of the truth, and bred as true a hate in her to us, which though she strove to cover and dissemble, (with show of sorrow only for my grief) yet he perceived, as having eyes of Art, and those directed by a devilish wit, these found what he did seek; then wrought he still on that, and so at last came to his practice end; which happened the day before the feast had full conclusion in this hapless kind.  
The jealous and despiteful Melinea, when dancing did begin, of purpose let the paper fall, but so as Selinea must be next to take it up, which soon she did, and opening it, discerned it was my hand, and that the subject of those lines was love, which was most true, but alas falsely held from her, to whom they, and my firmest thoughts, were only bend and dedicated, with affection's zeal, and zealous love; these and my negligence in not seeking to confirm her trust, confident of her love, made her alas believe too soon.  
The paper was with feigned anger snatched quickly from my mistress, she with blushing said, Why Melinea, I thought you had not been one so much given to Poetry till now? I made them not said she; No, (sighing said the other) I know that, with which she looked on me, but with so cruel eyes, (and yet affection went with them, though shadowed with her scorn, which might be pity called.) These strake my heart in sunder with their sight: (O me, cried I) have I framed these to spoil my fortunes which should have procured my bliss, by telling what I could not utter? speech tied by a power of a greater might. Alas that ever I did take a pen in hand to be the Traitor to my joy; this grief made me as guilty seem by shame and silence, which did then possess my most distracted senses, as if I had been as false as they made me appear. The dancing went still on, but she (who was the best) like to her heart she ruled her feet, in sad and walking pace; now was the plot well forward, he wrought still, and finding fault there was no nimbler sports, came and entreated me to take his wife, and so begin a more delightful dance. He saw my grief, she found his drift, two hated me to death, all were disordered, but I only lost; thus passed the night, the morning come, to part we were directed by our words given at the meeting. fain I would have spoken, but she who thought me false, avoided it, and gave but liberty to say farewell, which even with tears I did: She loathe now to behold me, who of late she loved, cast down her eyes, not gracing me with one poor look, which though disgraceful, yet as hers, had been more welcome than the sweetest smiles that ever lover joyed in from his Love.. Thus we were parted to despair and loss, yet meant I not to leave my mistress so, but quickly found a means to visit her, when she continuing still her cruel frowns to me, I got yet liberty by my cares watch, to speak with her, although against her mind; but then more cruel than the fiercest Lions enraged by famine, did bring forth these words.  
False man (said she) have you not yet enough, that your deceit hath come unto mine eyes? For, false you are, else had you loved me still, you would have diligently cleared this doubt: but O you think this not enough, nor I sufficiently afflicted with your fault, but more you would entice me for more pain, glory in your injustice, and make triumphs for your ill, blaze to the world the sin of your ingratitude, and change, and that once done, hope then to win again; but who? none but so luckless, and unblessed a soul as I was, who did trust you, cruel you, the worst, and falsest of your changing sex.  
This being said, but force could hold her; wherefore for fear of further rage, I let her go, remaining like the Creatures Metamorphosed into stones. Yet at last, I went into my Chamber, and there framed some lamentable lines, to let her see, how cruelly she had with scorn, and strange mistaking, martyred me. When I delivered them, she took them with these words, I'll read them, said she, only to perceive how well your vain continues in this change; or, if you please, I'll be you messenger and give them Melinea from yourself. These wounded me more than the sharpest Sword, but more alas, grew my mishap: for she hating so much, as once before she loved, desired me to love myself so well, as to refrain to show my eyes to her, where so much false ingratitude did dwell, and for my sake, she would not only do the like for me in keeping from my sight, (lest I with seeing her should see my shame) but would for my foul fault, hate all men's loves; this I besought her to recall, she said, it fixed was: then went I thence and mourned a while unseen; at last, my Father's misery called me to succour him, that done, again, I sought to gain her pardon, but alas, in vain, for she resolved to nothing but my grief, shunned as she promised my then loathed sight. After her husband died, I then did woe her, offered marriage, sought with more than Vassal-like desire, but nothing moved her, until love again did take anew the conquest of her heart, making her contrary to all her like, (which she till then had published) choose a brave young Lord, in truth a worthy man, but contrary in all the outward marks which heretofore she said could win her love.  
When I saw this, I knew there was no hope, I left her, and the Country, blaming fate that thus had made me causelessly accursed. Farewell (said I) dear Lady of my soul, and farewell all love to your wayward sex, where judgement lives but in the shallow being of an outward sight; cursed is that man that puts least trust in you: more certainly the ficklest weather hath, more staidness feathers, and more profit drops of rain in Snow which melts with it, while you spoil only me: thus I departed when she married last, and then for her sake vowed, as she had done, but with more manly constancy, to hold a true and a loyal oath, never to love, or choose a Creature of so light a kind, as generally all women be, the best alone being good, that while she's pleased she will give equal love; suspicious sexe, and fond ignorant, that will not know the truth, least truth should show the fault, in base suspecting without cause.  
Stay, stay, said Steriamus, you grow cursed against the loveliest, sweetest, happiest birth, that ever earth did bear; your mother was a woman, and you must be favoured by an other, to be blessed with brave posterity. Women, why blame you them, the dearest souls, and comforts of our souls? Love in abundance made you too far crossed, blame Love then, not her scorn, which surely was not scorn but perfect grief. Be charitable, and ask pardon for this sin, for never will I give it other name, nor suffer those blessed creatures to sustain so great abuse, as your rage lays on them.  
As thus they were in deep, and almost choleric dispute, against, and for the worth of women kind. Parselius and the Hermit did arrive, who went that day together for some food, but when they heard men's voices, and both loud, they went into the Cave, and so did end their argument with kind conclusion: for straight Parselius was discovered to his dear and loving friend, who likewise was with tears of joy embraced, where altogether they remained, with love relating still their fortunes, which did pass away the time with pleasant sweet content; for such was pain to them so truly borne, as joy had gained that name if offered them.  
But now Pamphilia hasteth homeward, and the greatest Lady must dispatch her guests. The Queen of all brave beauty, and true worth, Pamphilia, thinking it long to hear her fate in Love, yet daring not for modesty to ask, what most she coveted to understand, fai gned a desire to return again unto her People, who expected her, this also was a truth, and therefore just excuse.  
The Lady knowing most things, also found this drift, yet did as finely strive to cover it; wherefore one day dinner newly done, she took her company into a room, the fairest and best furnished of that place, and by a witty sleight divided them into the windows, and some pretty places every one a sunder from their friend, each one imagining she was with another's, than came she to Pamphilia and thus spoke: Rarest of women for true loyalty, I know your longing which proceeds from love, and grieve I do, that I cannot be blessed with power to tell that happiness you seek, but Destiny that governs all our lives hath thus ordained, you might be happy, had you power to wed, but daintiness and fear will hinder you: I cannot find that you shall marry yet, nor him you most affect, many afflictions you must undergo, and all by woman kind, beware of them, and so the better speed.  
Pamphilia only sighed, and turned her blushing face unto the window, while the Lady went unto Urania, to whom she thus discoursed. Fairest, and sweetest, leave off your laments for ignorance of your estate, and know that you are daughter to a mighty King, and sister to the bravest living Prince, the honour of all Knights, and glory of his Country, renowned Amphilanthus; the manner, and the reason of your loss, shall be brought to you in a fitter place. Now for your love, alas that I must say, what Destiny foretells, you shall be happy, and enjoy, but first, death in appearance must possess your dainty body, when you shall revive with him you now love, to another love, and yet as good, and great as he. Be not offended for this is your fate, nor be displeased, since though that must change, it is but just change, bringing it from him alike disquieted.  
The Lady left her, who impatient of her ill went to Pamphilia, whom she found still without speech, and as (if one would say) fixed like the heaven, while the world of her thoughts had motion in her grief. Urania likewike vexed in her soul, showed in her face the small content she knew; they both stood gazing in each others face, as if the shining day Star had stood still to look her in a glass, their blood had left their cheeks, and sunk into their hearts, as sent in pity down to comfort them; at last assured confidence did come and plead for part, and so they sat and spoke; while Mellissea passed unto the King, to whom she only told that fair Urania was his sister, and that although so dear to him, yet to make her live contentedly, he, and none else must throw her from the Rock of St. Maura into the Sea; fear not, but do it (said she) for this must make her live, and forget her unfortunate love, (which virtue that water hath.) For his Love, she did assure him he was blessed in that, if being certain of her heart, could bring it him; but yet said she; Nay, say no more, cried he, this is enough, and let me this enjoy, I'll fear no ills that Prophecies can tell.  
Then went he to the window, where he found the sad sweet couple, whom he comforted, kissing his Sister, and with eyes of joy, telling Pamphilia, he was happy yet: then Ollorandus came, and so Perissus with his Queen, who Mellissea had assuredly foretold, the constant being of their happy days. Antissius was the ioyfull'st man alive, for he had such a lucky fortune given, as to love well, and to be well beloved, and what was most, to gain that he most sought, and happily still to continue so; the like had Selarina, so as well it might be said, these of all the others had the happiest states. Good Allimarlus, and his loving love had promise to obtain, so all are blessed but those to whom best blessings did belong. All thus resolved, they think of their return; Pamphilia homewards needs would take her way, but Amphilanthus gained so much at last, with help of fair Urania, and the rest, as she resolved to see Morea first, & therefore sent Mellisander unto Pamphilia to satisfy the Council of her course, and to assure them of her speedy coming to them, after she had seen her Father's Court; so with kind farewells they left Delos, soon after landing in Messenia, and with all this royal troop came to the aged King, whose joy was expresselesse grown, to see this company, the glory of those parts. Much did he welcome fair Urania, glad in his heart to see her, who he knew would bring such comfort & content unto her father, his beloved friend. Feasts were proclaimed throughout the kingdom, justs, and all exercises were brought forth to welcome these brave Princes to the Court, Pamphilia's honour, honouring all the rest; yet could not that, or any other joy (though all joys were so plentifully there, as bare accepting had enjoyed them) give least delight to her, whose wounded heart did feed upon the sore, was lately given by cursed foretelling of her losing fate. Into the garden woods (her old sad walk) she therefore went, and there as sadly did again complain. Alas Pamphilia, said she, luckless soul, what cruel Planet governed at thy birth? what plague was borne with thee, or for thee, that thou must but have a virtue, and lose all thereby? Yet 'tis all one, dear love, maintain thy force well in my heart, and rule as still thou hast: more worthy, more deserving of all love, there breathes not then the Lord of my true love. joy then Pamphilia, if but in thy choice, and though henceforth thy love but slighted be, joy that at this time he esteemeth me. Then went she to the Ash, where her sad sonnet was ingraued, under which she writ: 
Tears some times flow from mirth, as well as sorrow,  
Pardon me then, if I again do borrow  
Of thy moist rind some smiling drops, approving  
joy for true joy, which now proceeds from loving.   
As she passed on, she heard some follow her, wherefore looking back, she discerned Urania and Amphilanthus, to whom she strait returned, and with them walked as while up and down the wood, till Amphilanthus advised them to sit down, so laying his Mantle on the grass, the two incomparable Princesses laid themselves upon it, the king casting himself at their feet, as though the only man for truth of perfection that the world held, yet that truth made him know, that they were so to be honoured by him; then laying his head in Vrania's lap, and holding Pamphilia by the hand, he began to discourse, which they so well liked, as they passed a great part of the day there together; Pamphilia still desiring him to tell of his adventures, which he did so passing finely, as his honour was as great in modestly using his victories in relation, as in gaining them: but when he spoke of Steriamus, his finding him and his passions, he did it so prettily, as neither could procure too much favour for him, nor offend her with telling it, yet still did she hasten the end of those discourses, which he no whit disliked; but Urania desired still to hear more particularly of him, as if she had then known what fortune they were to have together; at last the king proceeded to the coming to the Island, now called Stalamine, anciently Lemnos, where (said he) the Lady is called Nerena, a woman the most ignorantly proud that ever mine eyes saw; this Ladies ill fortune was to fall in love with Steriamus, who poor man was in such fetters, as her affection seemed rather a new torture, than a pleasure to him: yet left she not her suit, telling him she was a Princess descended from the kings of Romania, absolute Lady of that Island, and for his honour (if he knew truly what honour it was to him) his love. He told her, 'Twere more credit he was sure for her, to be more sparingly, and silently modest, then with so much boldness to proclaim affection to any stranger. Why (said she) did ever any man so fond show his folly till now, as to refuse the proffered love of a Princess? and such an one, as if a man would by marriage be happy, should be only chosen as that blessing? I am (said he) truly ashamed to see such impudent pride in that sex most to be reverenced: but to let you know, that you too far exceed the limits of truth and understanding, by vainly over-esteeming yourself, I will assure you that I love a Princess, whose feet you are not worthy to kiss, nor name with so fond a tongue, nor see, if not (as the Images in old time were) with adoration; nor hear, but as Oracles; and yet this is a woman, and indeed the perfectest, while you serve for the contrary. How call you this creature, said she? Steriamus was so vexed that plainly she called you so, as he in very fury flung out of the house, nor for the two days which we stayed there, afterwards ever came more in; she perplexing him still, leaving him in no place quiet, till she got your name. Then made she a vow to see you, and follow him, till she could win him, letting her proud heart bow to nothing but his love, wherein the power of love is truly manifested. I would be sorry (said Pampilia) to see her upon these terms, since she must (filled with so much spite against me) with all malice behold me. I wish she were here (said Urania), since it is a rare thing surely to see so amorous a Lady.  
Thus pleasantly they passed a while, till they thought it time to attend the King, who about that hour still came forth into the Hall, where they found him, and the adventure soon following, which he last spoke of: for the kings being set, there entered a Lady of some beauty, attended on by ten knights, all in Tawny, herself likewise apparelled in that colour; her Pages, and the rest of her servants having that livery. The knights being half way to the State, stood still, making as it were a guard for the Princess to pass through, who went directly to the king; then making a modest, but no very low reverence, she thus spoke. Although your Majesty may well wonder, first at my coming, then at the cause, yet (I hope) that excuse I bring with it, will plead for my justification. It is not (I am most assured) unknown to you, although one of the greatest Christened Kings, that love's power is such, as can command over your hearts, when to all other powers, you scorn so much as yielding. This hath made me a subject, though borne absolute; for whatsoever I seem here to be, yet I am a Princess, and Lady of the sweet, and rich Stalamine: but alas to this Island of mine, came three knights (knights I call them, because they honour that title, with esteeming it higher than their own titles, for Princes they were, & the rarest some of them of Princes, as when you hear them named, you will confess with me). One of these, my heart betraying me, & itself never before touched unto the subjection of his love, whereof if he had been so fortunate as to be able to see the happiness was fallen unto him in it he might have justly boasted of it. But he slighting what his better judgement would have reverenced, refused my affection, mine, which only was worthy of gain, being so well knowing as to despise liberty in giving itself to any of meaner quality than Steriamus, whose proud refusal, yet makes me love him, and take this journey in his search, coming hither where I hoped to find him, both because I heard he lived much in this Court, and that he had bestowed his love upon your surpassing daughter Pamphilia; these brought me assurance to win him, having given myself leave to show so much humility as to follow him: next to see that beauty which he so admired, and as if in scorn contemned mine in comparison of it, which I think, Sir, if you well behold, you will judge rather to merit admiration then contempt. Fair Lady said the King, that Prince you speak of hath been much in my Court, and not long since, but now indeed is absent, not have we heard any thing of him, since his departure: for your love, it is so rare a thing to be found in one of your sex in such constant fury, as to procure, and continue such a journey, as that of itself (without the mixture of such perfections as you see in yourself) were enough to conquer one, that could be overcome: but for his love to my daughter, there she is to answer you if she please, and clear that doubt, since it is more than ever I knew that the Albanian Prince did love her, more than in respect unto her greatness. Nereana turning to Pamphilia, earnestly, and one might see curiously, and like a rival, therefore spitefully beholding her, thus spoke. Well might he (brave Princess) bestow his affections where such unusual beauties do abide; nor now can I blame him for prostrating his heart before the throne of your excellent perfections. Pamphilia blushed, both with modesty, and danger, yet she gave her this answer. Madam (said she) I know you are a Princess, for before your coming hither, I heard the fame of you, which came swifter than yourself, though brought by love: and in truth I am sorry, that such a Lady should take so great and painful a voyage, to so fond an end, being the first that ever I heard of, who took so Knight-like a search in hand; men being used to follow scornful Ladies, but you to wander after a passionate, or disdainful Prince, it is great pity for you. Yet Madam, so much I praise you for it, as I would encourage you to proceed, since never fear of winning him, when so many excellencies may speak for you: as great beauty, high birth, rich possessions, absolute command, and what is most, matchless love, and loyalty: beside, this assurance you may have with you, that to my knowledge he loves not me, and upon my word I affect not him, more than as a valiant Prince, and the friend to my best friends. Thus are you secure, that after some more labour you may gain, what I will not accept, if offered me, so much do I esteem of your affectionate search.  
These words were spoken so, as, though proud Nereana were nettled with them, yet could she not in her judgement find fault openly with them, but rather suffered them with double force to bite, inwardly working upon her pride-fild heart, and that in her eyes she a little showed, though she suffered her knees somewhat to bow in reverence to her. Answer she gave none, scorning to thank her, and unwilling to give distaste; having an undaunted spirit, she turned again to the King, using these words.  
For all this (said she) great King, I cannot think but Steriamus loves this Queen, for now do I find a like excellent mind enclosed within that all-excelling body, such rareness I confess living in her beauty, as I cannot but love his judgement for making such a choice. and the rather do I believe he loves her, because he affects hardest adventures, and so impossible is it I see to win her heart, as it may prove his most dangerous attempt, yet bravely doth he, in aspiring to the best. Then brave king, and you fair Lady, pardon me, and judge of my fault or folly with mild eyes, since neither are mine wholly, but the Gods of love, to whom I am a servant. The King told her, more cause he had to commend, and admire her, then to contemn her, since for a woman it was unusual to love much, but more strange to be constant. After this, and some other passages, Amphilanthus and Ollorandus came, and saluted her, giving her many thanks for their royal welcome: she kindly received them, desiring them to give her some light how to find Steriamus: they answered her, that from Delos, he was directed to an Island, called St Maura, but more they knew not, nor heard of him since his going thither with another good Prince, called Dolorindus.  
Having this little hope of finding him, she gave them thanks, and so took her leave, nor by any means could they persuade her stay, in her soul hating the sight of her, who though against her will had won, and then refused that, which she for her only blessing did most seek after, yet would she honour her worth, which openly she protested, but never affect her person. Thus the strange Princess departed, neither pleased nor discontented, despising any passion but love should dare to think of ruling in her: but because she must not be left thus, this story shall accompany her a while, who took her way to the sea, thinking it better to trust herself with Neptune, than the adventures which might befall her, a longer journey by land.  
She taking ship at Castanica, meant to pass among the Lands, and by power commanded the Sailors to bend their course for St. Maura, which they did, but in the night the wind changed, and grew high, turning (towards day) to a great storm, not meaning to be cursed, but when the fury might be seen; thus were they with the tempest carried another way than they intended, and at last safely (though contrary to their wills) being in the Mediterran sea, were cast upon Cecily, at a famous place called Saragusa. Then she, who saw there was no way to contend against heavenly powers, would not in discretion chafe, though blame her fortune: on land she went to refresh herself, and so passed toward the City of Seontina, where she determined to stay some days, and then proceed, or rather return in her journey, the weather being hot, and travel tedious.  
One days journey being past, she willed her servants to set up her tents, hard by a Wood side, where she had the benefit of that shade, and before her a delicate green Plain, through the which ran a most pleasant River: she liking this place, which (as she thought) humbly by delights sought to invite her stay in it, as a Woman that would take what content she could compass, for that time laid aside State, and to recreate herself after her own liking, went into the Wood, pretending, her thoughts would not be so free, as when she was alone, and therefore bid her servants attend her return: they willing to obey her, and best pleased when 'twas for their ease, let her go, who taking the directest way into the heart of the Wood, and so far, (not for the length of the way, but the thickness, and the likeness of the paths, and cross) as she wandered in amaze, and at last quite lost herself, straying up and down, now exercising the part of an adventurous lover, as Pamphilia in jest had called her, a thousand thoughts at this time possessing her, and yet all those as on a wheel turned, came to the same place of her desperate estate. One while she cursed her love, then dislike of her folly, for adventuring, and rashly leaving her Country: she railed at the uncareful people who permitted her to have her fond desires without limiting her power, but that she checked again, for said she, rather would I be thus miserable, than not absolute. Blame her Destiny she extremely did, reviling her birth, and all that ever she had gloried in, except herself, with whom her own overvaluing conceit, would never let her quarrel; she wished Steriamus unborn, or that her eyes had never seen him, spitefully imagined Pamphilia had bewitched her: in sum, often times cursing all, seldom or never speaking, or thinking good of any, all good thoughts wholly bend to her own flattery, which by that, were made ill. Vow she did to turn away all her servants and take new Sycillians to attend her, but that was as quickly corrected, wishing she had her old ones with her, only now desiring to be at Lemnos, where she might freely speak ill of that Enchantress Pamphilia, who hath (said she) with her beauty overthrown my love, and lastly forespoken my journey and the finding of Steriamus.  
Thus chafing, railing, cursing, and at last crying for anger or fear, she stragglingly continued till night showed her sad face, threatening more cruelty for her punishment. Her servants sought her, but in vain, so as half the night being wasted, they gave over till the next morning, concluding then to divide themselves, and so look for her, none fond of finding her, so proud and cursed she was: but duty told them she must be sought, lest she finding herself neglected, might bring their greater harm; so some taking charge of her tent, and other, provision, the rest, with part of her Damsels went in search of her; they traveled, while she at night being weary, laid her down, and having finished her exclamations, with mere weariness of envious thoughts fell asleep, resting till break of day, when she was awaked by one, who gently pulling her by the sleeve, and then folding her in his arms, used these words.  
Liana (said he) why alas thus long hast thou tormented thy poor slave Allanus? O look but lovingly now upon me, and for that love-looke, all former ills shall be forgotten, thy scorn shall be no more thought on, thy cruel strangeness, and causeless suspicion no more presented to mine eyes, nor shall thy leaving me be mentioned, nor thy flying from me, put again in remembrance, all shall rest uncald, as bills canceled; throw off then thy cursedness, and now embrace me with thy pardoned love? hold me in thy favour, as I do thee in my breast: strive not anew to abandon me, who lived but in thy search, and will to please thee now die, rather than living, give offence unto thee.  
She whose pride could hardly permit the embracing, if Steriamus had offered it, before she loved him, seeing (the day now broke) a man thus bold, and what was more for her vexation all tattered, and torn, his raiments like one, who in contempt of handsomeness had put on those misshapen, and ill suited clothes, and for newness rags, in great despite. Villain said she, touch me not, nor dishonour my habits with thy rude handling them, struggling with all her power to get loose from him, who mildly said he would not offend her. Thou dost offend me said she. Thou hast long afflicted me said he: let me go hence Villain cried she: O pity me said Allanus? I hate thee said Nereana. These cursed words being to a mad man, as indeed this ragged creature was, distractedly fallen into that miserable estate by mistaken love: he fell into his old fits, and then forgetting himself, his finding her, Liana, and all, grew to apprehend, that this was the Goddess of those woods, who had put on that habit to disguise herself. O pardon me divine Goddess said he, who have thus far forgotten myself towards you, but blame your outward show rather than my neglect? She, the more he spoke, grew the more distempered, at last with rage growing almost as mad as he, who now, fully persuaded she was that Goddess, whether she would or Noah, would worship her, and that he might be sure of her stay, he tied her to a tree; then to have her in her own shape out of those vestures, which he imagined made her unwilling to abide with him: he undressed her, pulling her hair down to the full length; clothes he left her none, save only one little petticoat of carnation tafatie; her green silk stockings he turned, or rolled a little down, making them serve for buskins; garlands he put on her head, and arms, tucking up her smock-sleeves to the elbows, her neck bare, and a wreath of fine flowers he hung cross from one shoulder under the other arm, like a belt, to hang her quiver in: a white stick which he had newly whittled, he put into her hand, instead of a boar spear: then setting her at liberty he kneeled down, and admired her, when she almost hating herself in this estate fled away, but as fast as his sad madnesse would carry him, he pursued her. The more he followed, the greater was her speed, till both weary, and she breathless, cast herself down by a clear spring, (into it she was about) but the picture of her own self did so amaze her, as she would not go so near unto her metamorphosed figure. This spring was in the midst of a fair meadow, the ground painted over with all sorts of dainty flowers: the weeping of it running waste, seeming merry tears, or a pleasant mourning; but she passed the pleasure of those delicacies, sense having outgone her, or at least (in great weakness ready to depart) lay unvaluing as ignorant of those sweet delights, till night being again come, she yielded unto the just demand of sleep, her body being too weak for such a spirit. The mad man in like manner rested, but a pretty distance from her; towards day she was awaked, and called from her rest, by a song which was sung by one not far from her, who in like manner had there taken his lodging; day was a little breaking forth, like hope to enjoying, which made her see, the voice belonged to a Knight of excellent proportion, for so much she might discern, with a soft (but sweet) voice he brought forth these words.  
HOw do I find my soul's extremest anguish,  
With restless care my hearts eternal languish?  
Torments in life, increasing still with anguish,  
Unquiet sleeps which breed my senses languish.  
Hope yet appears, which somewhat helps my anguish,  
And lends a spark of life to salve this languish:  
Breath to desire, and ease to forgone anguish,  
Balms, but not cures, to bitter tasting languish.  
Yet straight I feel, hope proves but greater anguish,  
False in itself, to me brings cruel languish.  
Could I not hope, I suffer might my anguish  
At least with lesser torture smart and languish.  
For (Rebel hope) I see thy smiles are anguish  
Both Prince, and subject, of everlasting languish.  
O Nereana, said she, what luckless chance is befallen thee? how art thou lost, abused, neglected and forsaken? yet these thou art not altogether fallen into, since thine own royal spirit shall never leave thee, and if once thou canst but get free from this place, thy worth and deserts shall shine more glorious over these mishaps, and thy power reward thy servant's disloyalty: and now it may be, nay I assure myself, here is a means presented to me for my delivery; with that rising, she went where the Knight lay, who after the song remained a little quiet, (I mean in show) coming to him, she used these words. Sir, welcome to this place, since I assure myself you are of purpose sent to do me service. The said Knight looking up, and seeing her strange odd attire, guessing her by her speech to be as vain, as her apparel was fantastical, rising from the ground, he said. If my service (which would prove to my perpetual grief) were allotted to madness, I cannot find where better to bestow it, then on you; otherwise, I trust I shall not attend your follies. My follies, cried she; I tell thee greatest Princes may esteem themselves honoured, if I command them. If distraction rule them, I believe they cannot find a fitter mistress, answered he. O God said Nereana, when was virtue thus abused? I tell thee base Knight, I am a Princess. I am not base, said he, nor can I think you are a Princess, since so unprincely terms come from you. Why, what are you said she? I am not ashamed of my name said he; wherefore (if you can, and have such understanding as to be sensible of it,) know that I am called Philarchos, youngest son to the King of Morea, and brother to Parselius and Rosindi, and to find Parselius, (whom we have lost) I am now going. I thought you were said she descended of some insolent race, for much do you resemble that highly admired Lady, your proud Sister Pamphilia. He who was naturally melancholy, and sadder now, because in love, grew extremely angry, yet moderating his fury he only replied thus. A woman and being mad, had liberty to say any thing: whereupon he went to his horse, and leaping on him made as great haste as if he had feared infection, leaving her in all the disorder that might be imagined, the trampling of his horse awaked the mad man, who being now out of his former fit, but still distempered rose, and going to the spring to drink, found Nereana sitting by the side of it in such a passion as she perceived him not till he was close by her; then rising in a chafe, she would have left the place; but he staying her, fair Nymph said he, flee me not, I mean no harm unto you, but rather will beseech you to be merciful to the most hapless of men, and to this pity I conjure you by the true and earnest affection that Alfeus bore you: by his love I say, I sue to you to have compassion of me, turn this sweet water into a spring of love, that as it hath been ever called by that blessed name of Arethusa, you now having taken again your own shape, and resumd your natural body from that Metamorphosis, taking name, and a new being again unto you, having by this gained a Godhead for ever, bless, and enrich this water with that gift, that when my cruel (but still beloved) Liana, shall drink of it, the virtue of it may turn her heart to sweetest pity. Nerena, as much afraid as her proud spirit would permit her, remembering how he had used her the day before, amazed with what he said, never having heard of any such thing as a Metamorphosis, her wit lying another way, scorning his sight, disdaining his speech, and yet forced to suffer it; in few words, doubting that silence might enrage him, she made this answer. I am not a Nymph Arethusa, nor a Goddess, but a distressed woman. Then said he, are you the fitter for me to keep company with: not so neither, said she, for I am a Princess. Can Princes than be distressed, said he? I thought they had been set above the reach of misery, and that none but Shepherds and such like, could have felt that estate. O yes, said Nerena, and I am here a spectacle of the frown of fortune; wherefore let me entreat you to give me some ease in my affliction, which is to leave me, since your company is one of my troubles. Would my sorrows were as soon to be helped, as your request might be granted, then should I be in hope to be, said he, happy: but alas, mine can never have end, yours may and shall; for I will no longer trouble you; with that he sadly went from her, leaving her, whose intolerable pride was such, as she would not let him stay so much as in her presence, though after she wished for him, and would gladly have had his conversation, pardoning his mean estate and madness. So long was she in that place, as famine, cold, and want wrought kindness in her, who else despised, and contemned all, and all things; from hill to hill she went, loving them for imitating the height of her mind, and because she might by their help see if any passengers passed that way, beside to hide herself among the bushes, even as it were from her own self. Now berries and such poor food was her richest fare, and those esteemed, since they held her life with her: thus was truth revenged of ignorance, she continuing thus.  
While Philarchos held on his course till he came to the City of Syracuse, where standing upon the haven, there arrived a great troop of Ladies, and brave Knights; but one Lady (seeming the only one for delicacy, and to be the mistress of the rest) passing by him, cast her eye on him, viewing his rich armour and brave stature, instantly staying, saluted him thus. Sir, your outward countenance tells me, that in so excellent a body, as brave a mind inhabits; from you therefore I beseech pity and assistance, being like to perish otherwise, under the disfavour of my father; if you will aid a distressed Lady, and thereby gain honour to yourself; grant this unto your servant Orilena, Princess of Metelin, and some other neighbouring Lands which lie in the Archepelago. He whose spirit was wholly guided by worth, steadyly beholding her, replied, that his greatest happiness (and that whereto he only did aspire) was to serve Ladies, to defend them from injuries, and to bring them to their best content: wherefore although he had promised himself another way (or indeed no perfect known way, since it was in search of a brother of his) that, and all other occasions should be laid aside, to relieve such a creature as herself; and in this he spoke truth, for this was the Lady he loved, she yet ignorant of it. Then she entreated the knight to go aboard with her, not desiring to delay time; he was soon entreated to such a blessing: wherefore he consented, and being in the ship, she began her discourse thus.  
A Gentleman in Mitalen, being son to the richest, and noblest man for descent in all the Country, my father hath chosen to bestow on me; this man might (I will not deny) more than merit me, were his conditions answerable to his means; but as he is rich in all worldly treasure, so he is the treasure of all hellish properties: the best of his qualities which are smooth fashion, and eloquent speech, turned, and employed to no other use, than flattery, and deceitful gloze. These work on my father, and so have they their part in me; he believes, and loves him; I perceive, and hate him; but which works most with my father is, that he so much seems to desire me out of affection (as he says) that he will take me with nothing; such affection and fondness my father bears, and carries over a young sister of mine, as to make her Princess of his Lands, he consents to give me to this Prince of wickedness; I having no means to save myself from the destruction this loathed match would bring me, I went to this Lord mine Uncle, to whom I declared my misfortune and ensuing ruin, if I did marry so. He taking pity on me, conveyed me thence with these Knights and Ladies, whose affections to me are such, as not to leave me in such distress, but accompany me rather in adventure of ill, then assured ill: but alas what shall I say? I am the miserablest of women, if I fall into his hands again, which I hope you will keep me from. I was by the advice of these my friends, put into the search of Amphilanthus, the honour of Knights, of Parselius, Rosindy, Perissus, Steriamus, or Selarinus, all which are famous men, whose honours shine equally, and either of whose assistance had been assured gain: but some of them are (as I perceived by one I met) so far off, and there in such employment, as I ventured not to obtain their favours: after I met a knight, who told me, Amphilanthus and Perissus, with the valiant Ollorandus, were gone into Morea, wherefore thither I purposed to go, but a storm took me, casting me upon this place, where I have gained this happiness (as I hope it to myself) by finding you; wherefore I pray honour me, with telling me who you are.  
Most worthy Lady (said he), since you had desire to have some of these named Knights, you may think your fortune the worse in finding me, and putting confidence in me, so far short of those Princes: wherefore I would desire to conceal my name, till my actions may allow the bold discovery of it; let me then (I beseech you) be so favoured by this second honour, as to give me leave, only to be called your Knight, till I merit by my service to you, your knowing more of me. She granted his request, verily imagining him to be some of them by his speech, and thereupon her comfort increased. Then did she bestow a very rich and costly armour on him, his own having been but hardly used, by a cursed, but overthrown enemy, which happened in this manner. After he had left Athens, and at his return received the honour of knighthood, it was his determination to seek his brother Parselius, and to that purpose he passed through his father's Countries unknown, not leaving any adventure unattempted, wherein he might make trial of his force, which he made so good testimony of, as he was feared in all those parts, being called the Knight of the Spear, by reason he carried the figure of one in his shield, as he did that shape on his arm: but hearing no news of his brother, he took to the sea, and among the many Lands, it was his fortune in Metelin to win and lose, where his greatest honour he obtained, his freedom he lost, happening thus.  
Passing by a straight way into a fair meadow, he saw a marvelous rich, and costly Pavilion placed, about it many Tents, and before them all, a shining Pillar of Gold, whereon were written these words: The worthiest Knight, and Servant to the fairest Lady, defends this, and the honour of themselves, against any bold man that dares gainsay the worth or beauty of them. He scorning such presumption, strake upon the Pillar: whereupon one came to him, telling him, his Lord would soon encounter him. Strait came he forth, being one of the cruelest, and hard-favoredst men, that could be a man, and no monster; his bigness extraordinary, his fierceness such, as could not be withstood with ordinary strength: armed he was with plates of iron, and his horse answerable to his master in all things, so as an excellent choice was made, as if both framed for one another, and never were two beasts better matched; none fit to ride the one, but he who was fittest to be master of the other. This creature came (with a troop of his vassals before him, for so he called them) into the field, each of them carrying the Shields and Helmets of those knights he had conquered before that Pillar, all which they placed in order as they were won, but for his greater glory, on the ground. Then advanced he to the Greek Prince, scornfully pitying him, who so boldly ventured his youth against such an experienced conqueror. But he in whom virtuous modesty lived, mixed with manly strength, only desired the fight, rather than discourse; so they ran one against the other with such comeliness, fierceness, and strength, as in either part was seen rightly placing those properties. The Prince had his Helm struck off; the other was run thorough the shoulder, part of the staff staying in him; withal he fell from his horse, but being recovered, and seeing the danger the other was fallen into by loss of his Helm, he in regard of that, forgot his hurt, and with furious rage set upon the Prince, who covering himself with his Shield, as nobly and bravely defended himself; they fought till the blood ran as fast from their wounds, as drops from a lover's eyes, coming from as heart-bleeding a cause; for at last the Monster was killed, and the Prince taken out of the field for dead; but who except love could be such a Chirurgeon; for whether was he brought but to the Princess, who lay but one league thence, an excellent Chirurgeon, and as excellent a Lady, who so carefully tended him, as he in short time recovered, but to a more lasting pain (for favour and cures bringing tormenting wounds), she put balm to the hurts given by the enemy, but she a friend foe-like did make much deeper, and more harmful ones, piercing the heart which in the fight kept itself secure, now fallen into extremity of loss: but what was gained besides this? danger, and threatening ruin: for the younger sister called Erinea fell enamoured with him, and so passionate was she of him, as she ran to her father, cast herself at his feet, besought him to get that stranger for her, or to see her soon buried. He whose fondness was, and is without expression, vowed to satisfy her. The Prince got notice of it, and so privately stole away, his affections being gratefully, and passionately placed on the other, kindness wounding, and bringing love. Then passed he, where he heard still of the flourishing fame of his kindred: lastly, his Brother's loss, which he gained by the meeting of the Squire Clorinus: then vowed he a search for him; but finding her, for whom he had lost himself, he left the former to follow her, and find himself; so storms sometimes prove blessings, for one tempest brought them in one place to meet.  
Thus passed they together, he freely (because unknown) beholding her; she kindly, because he was to serve her, entertaining him: then at last they arrived at Metelin, where they met for their first welcome this encounter; a Pillar of red Marble, as threatening blood, on which hung in bloody letters these words, written in white Marble, seeming like drops of blood in snow; The true Servants of Erinea maintain this with Sword and Spear against all, that do defend the traitorous Knight of the Spear. He, whom this did most concern (yet having power to perform his former resolution) inly fretted, but otherwise made no other show, then in demanding of the Lady, who this Knight of the Spear was. She sighing, made this answer: Alas my Lord (said she) you lay too hard a tax on me, since I cannot pay it, without yielding as tribute many tears, and even the breaking of my heart to say he is, and is not now here: but yet to deny nothing to you, who so freely have granted my request, I will say what I know of him; He was, and (I hope) is the true image, or rather masculine virtue itself; the loveliest that Nature framed, the valiantest that followed Mars and his exercises, the wisest that wisdom dwelled in, the sweetest that nobleness graced with sweet mildness, and the mildest that sweetness honoured: excellent in eloquence, true in profession, and making his actions still the same with his word; truth governed him, and he truth, honoured by being so true in worth: but for his name, or birth, I can say nothing, since but after a cruel combat I first saw him brought half dead to me; yet so much spirit had that decayed fire left, as burnt my heart. I might blush to say I loved, because a maid should not think of, much less acknowledge such a passion: but Sir, to deny that which is truth, I should wrong you, and most abuse my love, which grew from an unusual ground, when pale wan lips won kisses, where despair made hope, and death affection: but from these sprung my desires, which lie as deadly wrapped up now in folds of loss, no expectation of any good remaining, but that my faith which still lives shall breathe justly in that love, till life to death give new possession.  
How came your hopes so to despair (said he)? Alas Sir (said she) the sight of his wounds, and image of death, made me at first fear in love; then having recovered him, I hoped in love; but then my younger sister (of whom I have spoken, still being the bar in my joys) fell in love with him, as meaning to disinherit me in all possessions of very thoughts, and the dear enjoying of them, for yet my love aspired no higher than to think of him, not adventuring to let him see I loved, so she gained thus much of me, she spoke to my father, she wooed for herself, she vowed, she plotted, she did all to gain, and ruin me. But he, whether pitying me: for surely Sir, he could not choose but know I loved him, since my fashion showed it, though my speech not daring boldly to say it, flatteringly demonstrated, some thing made those faultrings in my talk, my blush said, I surely feared, or loved, and fear must of necessity be barred, since he was rather prisoner unto me, though I indeed was subject to his love.  
But are you freed (said he)? O no (cried she) nor ever will, nor was my loathness to discourse for that, but for this desperate affliction; he finding he was sought, and not consenting to be made by force to yield, to other than his own made choice, he stole away; and truly say I so, since he rob me of my best and chiefest part. Oft have I cursed myself, that I ne'er followed him, or did mistrust that he would so depart; which though in love I would not have gainsaid, yet with my Love I would have gone along: a Page's habit for his sake would I have prized more, than Princes Robes at home. But he did go, and I unblessed maid remained behind, unhappy, dispossessed, and disinherited of all, if you do not relieve me to some good, which I expect alone from you to have.  
Do you not know that Knight (said he) who thus you do affect? Thus far, said she, his face is so engraven in my thoughts, his picture drawn so lively in my heart, as soon his knowledge would come unto me, if I might be happy with his dear sight. Dear Lady (said he) I can thus much say, he loves as much as you have here expressed, and yet that is so fully to make him plainly discern the heaven of true content, as if aught might make him more dear appear before your eyes, he would attempt to gain that, though the loss of life must attain it; love then still him, who is your best beloved, and loves you best, and only, and thus take unto your service that so wishst for Knight, more happy, in this expressed love, then in a million of possessed Iles. I am the man you do enrich with love, I am the blessed borne man to such a fate, and I the true unfeigned loving man, who loves love truly for this happy love. She blushed to see she had first told her tale, but he did kiss away that blush, for than had he thrown off his helm, and held her in his arms, boldly possessing what she freely gave. She saw him, knew him, and so knew all joy. Then put he on his helm, and strake the Pillar thrice; strait from a Wood, a little distant off, ten knights arrived, the foremost of the which thus spoke. Fond man be gone, this work is not for thee, unless thou be that Traitor we expect. I am no Traitor (said he), yet the man you falsely have called so, and written too.  
Many have fond said as much, said he, who after have recanted, and yet lost their heads, for taking falsehood to themselves. Falshood ne'er lived, or had a spring in me, I am Philarchos, Knight of the Spear, said he, sought for by Erinea, but disdaining her, am hither come to right her sister Orilena, wronged, and abused by her.  
With that they parted, soon again they met: but he who now knew 'twas no time to spare, aimed fully at his hart, which he did, parting it to divide the former wrong among the rest, who followed him in fate. The second at the encounter lost his horse, and broke his thigh, with meeting with the earth; the third his ribs: then did they surely find this was the Knight. The fourth did break his arm, and shoulder both, the fifth had but a fall and found his legs to run away, and call more company, while all the other five at once, (and contrary to the law of arms) assailed him. He now was to win his prize for honour and love, wherefore courageously he withstood them all, though the blows that met at once, given by four spears, were terrible, yet he like the pillar of true worth stood unmooud; the fifth killed his horse, so as he was forced to fight on foot, leaping nimbly from him, as disdaining to have a fall, any way, or on any terms, they rudely assailed him, keeping their horses: but soon had he brought two of them more humbly to yield, and respectively to encounter him: for wounding the horse of one of them, he ran away with his Master, mad with the hurt, and casting him, he hanging by the stirrup, never left running and striking, till he had torn him in pieces; the other he struck off his arm, with the anguish of which blow he fell from his horse, the Prince quickly leaping upon him. Now were there but three left, and he again mounted, feared not what their forces could do unto him, and soon made he an end of them; one he wounded in the body to death, the other with a blow on the head, the blood springing out of his eyes, nose, and ears in greatest abundance choked him, he having no time nor means, to pull off his helm, so near the brave Knight followed him, nor had it been to any other end, if he had gained the opportunity, then as if he would with good manners have stood bare headed, to have his head cut off with more respect, and ease to the Conqueror, who now had but one left to withstand him, who seeing his fellow's fate, would not endure, but turned his horse and fled; yet before he went, the Knight perceiving his intent, (not caring to hinder him,) cut the bridle, and reins of his horse, which gave him such liberty, as the poor distressed runaway, knew not how to govern him, nor himself: if he leaped from him, he fell into the hands of his enemy, whose fury he durst not trust; if he kept the saddle, he was in as great danger, going where the madness of the beast would carry him, but soon was he out of those fears: for Tolimargus (the sweet youth the Lady had described to her Knight, seeing the flight of the poor Knight) encountered him, and his Knights in number twelve, made a ring about him, while Tolimargus strake off his head.  
Then spurred they all towards the brave Philarchos, who had now in this space pulled off his helm, and so taken a little breath, beside drunk a precious drink Orilena gave him, which did so refresh him, as he was well able to have a second encounter, which quickly happened, and a sharper than the first: for all those thirteen, desiring either to kill, or take the Prince, ran upon him, who fearcelerly attended them, and with his Spear killed the first, with his Sword the second, and then encountered Tolimargus, who he knew to be the chief by his armour, to whom he thus spoke. If worth be in thee, or so much sense to be sensible of the shame thou dost to the honour of Knighthood, let thy knights stand still, & end the combat with myself, who am as good a man as thou art, and therefore no disgrace, but an honour to fight with me. What art thou (said he) that thus darest compare with me? I am (said he) Philarchos of Morea. If (said he) thou hadst not thus butchered my knights, and the rest of my Countrymen, I could find in my heart to grant thy request, nay save thy life, for I have no quarrel to any, but to the Knight of the Spear, that Traitor, who hath won my love, and mistress from me, and cowardly run away when he had done. Villain (said he) he run not away from any man, but from the fond affection of Erinea: and to show thee the better that he fears none, nor thy force, here I am, the same Knight of the Spear, to punish thy presumption for aspiring to my love. Then set they all upon him, but what with fury and hate to him, who was his rival, he did such acts, as in short time he left none to revile him; the last was Tolimargus, who held among his men, as far from blows as he could, till (they were all killed) he was forced to conclude the combat himself with the loss of his head, which Philarchos cut off, and presented to Orilena, who commanded it to be set upon the top of the Pillar, and all the other bodies laid about it, as the trophies of that victory.  
This being done, they hasted to a Castle of her Uncles (that good man who had carried her away from her harm) and there they shut up themselves (that place being of good strength) till they could get forces to assist them, or peace with the Duke. While the bruit of this victory spread itself over all Meteline, coming to the Duke's ears, and also to Erinea's, she fell down at his feet again, beseeching that she might be favoured so far, as to have permission to destroy this rebellious company, who would (she said) else ruin them. The father old, and doting, granted it; then she at last brought forth this plot, to proclaim, that whosoever could bring in Orilena, dead or alive, should have the Castle of the Sun, (which was the fairest in that Country, and had been Apollo's temple) and all the royalties thereto belonging; but he that could bring her alive, with her servant the Knight of the Spear, should have the honour, and Isle of Samos, to him and his for ever. This promise was imagined to be of such force, as to bring in either of them or both: lastly she laid another, which was by promising herself to any one, who could bring in his head. This was spread abroad, which made much danger, and hazard to the brave Prince, and his friend; yet such a spirit had he, as aspired to nothing, but the noblest, and most difficult adventures. Certain notice the Duke and his amorous daughter got of the Knights being there, and his Daughter's return, by the first Knight that fled, and who was the cause of Tolimargus coming, though he discovered not to him the name of the Knight. Then gained they notice of their being at the Castle so as not having a readier way, they raised men, and violently besieged the place, and so straightly, as at last famine grew to be as cruel, and cursed a threatener, as the Duke; yet they resolved to end there, famished for want of food, rather than yield, and so be famished with want of each others company. Then went they into the Chapel, and there together prayed, together wept, at last together married, vowing to dye religiously, virtuously, and lovingly together. At there return, they went to eat that poor remaining that there was left them, and having done, they went again to pray; then returned into their chamber, where they spent the night in full discourse, yet so full of love, as love seemed to please itself in excellent sorrw: tears, and sighs were the banquets for their nuptials, complaints of cruelty their enjoy, and what could be wished to give true delight, contrarily wrought against them.  
The morning come they rose, and as one, parted not, but together went to the top of the Castle, whence they saw their ruin, then kissing her, and gently weeping on her face, he said. My dear, mistake not you these tears, which now I shed only in tenderness unto your state, and for you, who was saver of my life; How can life better be disposed of, then to her service who did once preserve it? when I a stranger, hurt, and mangled, was conducted to your house, how was I there relieved, and cherished by your care? this was but to this end, and this end is more welcome than a life, which without you I otherwise had gained. Farewell dear love, more kind, and sweet than blessings in distress; I'll fight for thee, and this must be my last, yet fear I not, for do but see my end, and that will make me live with joy in death, when I see thee beholding me from hence, my courage will increase, and make my blows more terrible, and fatal, than the harm which falls in storms from high. Farewell once more my dear, my life, my joy, and my last comfort: sweet weep not for me, nor mar those dear eyes, which wound me more to see them harm themselves, than strokes that from the enemy can come, and be assured the victory will turn to us, if you but let their cleernes shine on me; but dim them, and I die. The sweetest soul did weep, yet wiped away the tears to favour him, and show them bright; farewell my life, said she, if thou dost die, for after thee I'll never more see day: then kissed they once again, and so did part; he to the gate, whereout he sallied, then armed in red: his shield with the old device, which was an Azuer Spear, upon his arm a scarf of Azuer colour, given him by his love, and thus against the enemy he came, who never stayed to meet him, but with troops encompassing him round, who fought with rage against all hope, more than a hope to dye like to himself, and to renown his blood, that though shed by such force, yet so well shed, would write his fame eternally to times, and witness worth with valour joined, made love the crown whereat they leveled still.  
To say what courage he did show, how many slew, what wounds, what strokes, it were but tedious, and most vain; but so much did he there, as made a way through the thickest, & so passed in spite of what their furies, or their numbers could do to hinder him. A path he made of men, and paved the ground with bodies, while their bloods sought how to bathe them clean, and wash their wounds: which given on so ill grounds, did blush or shame. He being passed, and on the other side, cast up his eyes, to see if she beheld; which when he saw, and that she made a sign to him, to scape, and even with hands held up, and knees bend down she did beseech, he bravely answered, (with his sword waved round about his head, as who should say) no here I'll dye, or set my Lady free. With that, behind him came a gallant Knight, and fifty more, who never speaking word; as he again did charge his enemy, charged in with him, and did so bravely help, 〈◊〉 in short time, the conquest was disposed to brave Philarchos, and his new come friends; then did they seek among the prisoners, where they might find the spring of all this ill; at last they got the Duke; and then with guards brought him into the Castle, when kind Orilena came unto her Knight, and holding him fast in her tender arms, wellcomd him to his own, and her command; but as she did embrace him, she perceived the blood to run along his arm, wherefore she went, and speedily did fetch an excellent balm, and then disarming him, did dress his wound: but when his helm was off, the stranger Knight caught him with all true love into his breast, and lovingly thus said.  
My Lord, how blessed am I to see the Prince I seek? he also having pulled off his helm, but young Philarchos knew him not; wherefore my Lord said he, the honour you have done this day, is to yourself, in rescuing a poor distressed Lady, and restoring her unto her birthright, which she else had lost: for me, this favour, and the aid I had from your brave self and these your followers, shall ever bind me to be still your friend, and faithful servant, when you shall dispose of me, and mine, which still you freely may, and shall command; yet let me know I do beseech you, who you are, and how that you knew me? My name (said he) is honoured most by this brave title of your friend, myself am called Antissius King of Romania, settled, and restored by your excellent cousin, (and the world's greatest worth) Amphilanthus; the knowledge that I have of you is this: I saw your picture in the famous Court of your father the Morean King, and withal your name, and many of your acts were there related, while you passed unknown, but as the bare Knight of the Spear; joys infinitely did possess the Court, to hear the fame which all parts holds of you: beside, so like you are to that brave King, whom heaven doth favour for the earth's best good, as for his sake, (if for no other cause,) I should affectionately love you. The honours which you lay on me (said he) great King are such, as I but weak in worth, can hardly bear the weight of, yet the last affects me most, that I am something like that matchless King, whose worth, ambitiously I seek to imitate, though sure to come as much below the reach of it, as 'tis from me unto the clearest star.  
Then did they bring the King into a room, where they disarmed him, and then went back unto the Duke, whom they had put into a gallery well guarded, and respected like himself: him they found, not overthrown with grief, for neither was he sad, nor any way dismayed, but seemed to bear his overthrow patiently, to him Philarchos thus began. My Lord, for so you are to me, since I am husband to your elder child, who fond, and no way humanely, for love to Erinea, you forget, and would disinherit; but she, (borne to more good) was first releiud by me; lastly, and most, by this great King, heaven so much favouring her, as to have succour sent her from far parts; before his coming we were married, determining to die, (if such our fates) in holy wedlock. Now you may discern what wrong you did, and if you please, accept me for your son, and pardon what without your knowledge, we in love, and great extremity have done; nor think she hath dishonoured herself, or you, in making me her husband, for I am a Prince, and son unto a mighty King: my name Philarchos, my Country Morea, third son unto the King thereof. Then did the Duke embrace him, speaking thus: What hath been done, I do confess was hard, and most unjustly against mine own child; but she hath married unknown unto me, in that she hath done like offence; so set them just in sight, and hers the greater will appear: yet since her choice is such, & where such worth is, as I truly speak, more cannot flourish in so tender years, I love her, and commend her: thus worth doth govern, where rule else would show. Then kissed he his new son, and presently his daughter was brought forth, whom he did kindly welcome, and so did confer that Island strait upon the new married couple, making him Prince of fruitful Metelin, and other Lands which were also his: but himself and Erinea left the joyful pair, and went to Samos, where they lived, she studying how to vex or hurt her sister: thus ill nature's breath but in malice, and feed still on spite. Then did the young Romanian King take leave, first telling how he came unto that place, which was by chance; for leaving the Morean Court, upon the coming of the happy news of Victorious Rosindy, he desired to return for his own Country, and there he would raise more men (but as he travelled, he would still inquire of Parselius and Philarchos, whom he longed to meet), and go himself to succour and redeem Albania (Love, what a Lord art thou, commanding over all; for Selarina was the cause of this)? Then going back, he fell upon this Isle to take in water, and by merest chance, meeting a Peasant of that Country, learned the state at that time, that the place was in; this brought him to the happy succour of the lovingest pair that ever loved, and did enjoy their loves. All well, the Duke departed, and they safe, Antissius took his leave, with Allimarlus, Steward of his house, and many more who did attend on him; a little before whose leaving Morea, Leandrus hasting to his heart, desired to be the messenger of that so happy success of brave Rosindy, and so there arrived, to the infinite content of all the Court; relating the dangerous attempts, but then concluding with the happy end of joy and marriage, delivering letters from the King and Queen, who gave precedence in place, and government to her husband: for (said she) he won the kingdom by his sword, me by his love; both his, none but himself can here bear rule. A little after Leandrus did arrive, Amphilanthus took his leave, and with his Sister went for Italy (as he pretended), but St. Maura was the shrine he bent his pilgrimage unto. The night before, great sorrow was, to part, between Pamphilia and Urania; yet time grew on, the king came in, and so with kind and sad farewells, he left the Court, promising to return with speed, and to conduct Pamphilia to her kingdom, from whence, he by his persuasions had yet detained her. The way he and his sister took, was strait unto the sea, none going with him, but his dear and faithful friend Ollorandus; the evening after his depart, Leandrus remaining in the Court, and his passions more violently increasing to the height of discovering, looking out at his window, saw Pamphilia alone in a fair garden, walking in such a manner, as he could hardly give it that title; for so stilly did she move, as if the motion had not been in her, but that the earth did go her course, and stir, or as trees grow without sense of increase. But while this quiet outwardly appeared, her inward thoughts more busy were, and wrought, while this Song came into her mind.  

Go is my joy, while here I mourn  
In pains of absence, and of care:  
The heavens for my sad griefs do turn  
Their face to storms, and show despair.   

The days are dark, the nights oppressed  
With cloud'ly weeping for my pain,  
Which in show acting seem distressed,  
Sighing like grief for absent gain.   

The Sun gives place, and hides his face,  
That day can now be hardly known;  
Nor will the stars in night yield grace  
To Sun-robd heaven by woe o'erthrown.   

Our light is fire in fearful flames,  
The air tempestuous blasts of wind:  
for warmth, we have forgot the name,  
Such blasts and storms are us assind.   

And still you blessed heavens remain  
Distempered, while this cursed power  
Of absence rules, which brings my pain,  
Lest your care be more still to lower.   

But when my Sun doth back return,  
Call yours again to lend his light,  
That they in flames of joy may burn,  
Both equal shining in our sight.   
Leandrus now grown resolute not to lose for want of attempting, would not let this opportunity pass, nor let slip so precious an advantage, went into the garden to her, and indeed it was properly said so, for such business had her passions, as till he interrupted them with words, she discerned him not, his speech was this. Is it possible (most excelling Queen) that such a spirit, and so great a Princess, should be thus alone, and adventure without guard? My spirit my Lord (said she) as well guards me alone, as in company; and for my person, my greatness, and these walls are sufficient warrants and guardians for my safety. Yet your safety might be more (said he) if joined with one, who might defend you upon all occasions, both with his love and strength, while these dull walls can only encompass you: but if traitors assail you, their help will be but to stand still, poorly gainsaying. Love is ofttimes as slack (being treacherous) answered Pamphilia, from assistance, thus are these walls more secure: and for strength I had rather have these, then ones power I could not love. Such is your discretion (said Leandrus, as to know, that love with discretion is the truest love; and therefore to a brave Princess, and especially to you, whose virtue and beauty cannot be demanded by any, whose deserts might challenge meriting of them, discretion should adventure to persuade you to make choice of some one you might affect for a husband, since you were not only framed the most incomparable Lady of the world, but also a woman, and so to be matched with one sit for your estate, in birth and greatness, and so judgement will continue affection between you. Discretion in love, I must confess (said she) as discretion itself is best: but if love come wholly to be governed by it, that will have so great a power, as love will lose name, and rule, and the other for riches, or other base things, shall best: against the sweetest passion, and only bliss, which is enjoying; therefore my Lord Leandrus, by your favour, I must say, I think you err in this, and in the truth of love, which is a supreme power, commanding the eyes, and the heart: what glory were it to him to have a cold part of wisdom to rule with him? No, his honour is to be alone, and therefore doth he oft express it, in making proud and great ones, desperately affect meaner ones, in respect of them, and all to yield to his law; they then that truly understand great Love, must so observe, as their merits may purchase from him so great a grace, as to be able to choose fittest loves; his power must not be limited, nor his government mixed, as if he had a counsel set about him, or a protector over him, his knowledge wanting no advice, his knowledge never knowing partner, who is in truth all wisdom all knowledge, all goodness, all truth; he must not have it said, that love with discretion is the truest love, since in truth of love, that is but a bastard, brought up at home like a right borne child: and yet is his judgement such, as he makes discretion shine through all his acts; but how? as a servant to his greater power; as if your heart should command your tongue, to deliver what it thinks, but discreetly to do it so, as offence may not proceed from it: here is discretion, and yet the tongue is but the heart's messenger. Leandrus, whose end was to procure favour, not to contend, wittily took hold of this last speech, thinking it better to make this the introduction to his love, than any longer to wait or expect, occasion offered, which if once but let slip, seldom comes again, so as letting her loveliness, and her own words to be the beginning and means for his affection's knowledge, he answered thus.  
Madam (said he) it is most true, that the tongue is but the heart's messenger, yet messengers from such a part, are to have, and carry credence; then let my tongue be the deliverer to you of the most fervent affection that ever heart bore to Princess, with the truest and unfeigned love; disdain not then my affection, since I will with loyalty and service deserve your favour, as well or better than any man breathing: a Crown I will add to yours, and the sovereign command of Leandrus: but what talk I of a Crown to her, who wears the crown of all virtues? My Lord (said she) I cannot but thank you for your princely offer; but it must be my father's liking, with the consent of my nearest and dearest friends that can set any other Crown on my head, then that which my people have already settled there; and the consent of so great a people, and so loving to me, must not be neglected; what virtues are in me, shall appear through the obedience I owe, and will pay to his Majesty, and the rest: therefore I am altogether unable to give you satisfaction any further than this. It is you that must, & may say all, said he. Then can you have no answer, said she. Why? are you not (cried Leandrus) sovereign of yourself by judgement, years and authority, unlimited by fortunes, by government, and the love of your Parents, which will go with you in my choice. These still are but the threads that tie my duty, replied the Queen: but if they consent (said he) will you eternise my happiness with your agreeing. Give me leave first (said Pamphilia) to know their minds; and that can be no hindrance, nor furtherance of your affairs, nor shall my answer be more displeasing to you, than now it might be. Your doubtful answer will breed despair in me, cried he. It were much safer (said she) to doubt, then vainly to nurse hope. Then bent she her walk homeward, which he durst not withstand, though fearless of any man, or monster, yet trembled he in her presence; both they went, and so continued both loving: both complaining, and neither receiving comfort; he beholding her, and in her seeing no affection, nor cause of hope, she seeing him, but with eyes of thankful respect without love; yet went he further, and so still made the greater distance. Yet was not this all, for her love was set not to be stirred, or moved to other course, then whether the fortune of her choice did guide her. She sighed, he thought it did become her, and so sighed too: she grew pale, and sad, so did he, wanting what he sought. She ofttimes would discourse of love: he thought it was the pretiiest theme, and answered her in that. She would complain of men, accuse their fickelnesse, and change, he joined, though contrary in sex to speak of women, and their slight.  
Thus they agreed, though in a different kind, and both did please, because they both did love. He strove by some pleasing talk in a third person to bewail his case, she would not know his meaning, yet with wit would let him see she loved, and not himself. Cruel it was to understand her affection was elsewhere placed, yet sometimes would he flatter himself, and give his fawning hopes leave to dissemble, and cast a glass of comfort on him, but glasse-like was it brittle, although fair, fair in hope, broken to despair. Love violentest storm, that can bring shipwreck to a quiet heart, why do you travel thus to bring home gain only of loss? Be favourably kind, love should be mild, while love you are most cursed; and this did poor Leandrus know, whose spring-time joy, was turned to winter-griefe; yet still he did pursue, and so unfortunately must proceed. Pamphilia loyal, loving, and distressed, because passionate, that night after this discovery, which though kind, yet to her was displeasing; when each retired to their rest, she went unto her watch of endless thoughts: into her chamber she hasted, then to bed, but what to do? alas not within that to sleep, but with more scope to let imagination play in vexing her; there did she call his face unto her eyes, his speech unto her ears, his judgement to her understanding, his bravery to her wit; all these but like that heap of stars, whose equal lustre makes the milky way. One while she studied how to gain her love, than doubt came in, and feared her in that plot; his looks she weighed, if out of them she might but gain a hope, they did assure her joy, than did her heart beat quick unto that bliss, but then again remembrance threatened loss, how he had loved, & might again choose new. False traitor, cried she, can thy baseness be so vild & wicked, in bringing thus in mind, what thou in goodness shouldst have cast away? what if one erred, must that be registered? what virtues hast thou laid aside, which in him dwell, and thus uncharitably bringst his worse part in sight to harm him, but thou failest now I know his worth, and do excuse that fault, and here I vow to live a constant love, and lover of his matchless excellence: then turned she to the window, poor dull night said she, keep still thy sadness till thy Sun appear, and mine together, shineing as light, Dark art thou like my woes, dull as my wits; with that she laid her down to rest, but it's not granted her, it must not yet be, she must more endure.  
Then rose she and did write, than went she to bed, and took a Candle, and so read awhile; but all these were but as limetwiggs, to hold fast her thoughts to love, and so to all unrest which governed her, for till the day did break, she thus did wander in her raving thoughts: then did sleep covet place, but she was called to go a hunting with the King and Queen, which she obeyed, and as her manner was, as soon as the Stag was roused, and Dogs let in unto his overthrow, she followed them, and left the rest, (that either were not so well horsed, or less affecting such a violent sport) behind, and bravely in followed the pleasant chase, which did continue till the Sun was set. Then did they with much glory view their spoils, joying as in a conquest of great gain, but what did most content the fairest Queen, was the sweet evening, in which she enjoyed all the content the dainty Air could give, which was as clear, as her clear heart in love, and that as clear, as clearest sweetest air. But as she road softly to cool herself, a delicate sweet voice invited her to stay, and so to see the owner of that music, the voice did draw them to a pleasant Grove, and then unto a swift, sweet Rivers' side, where on the brink amongst the seges, sat a Nymph of all perfections that were chaste; hard by her on the bank her quiver lay, her bow by that, and she undressing was to bathe, and wash her in that pleasant stream. Pamphilia was almost amazed, to see so rare, and exquisite a creature as she was, wherefore commanding all the men to stay, she and her Ladies only went to her, whose modesty and bashfulness was such, as she even quaked to see those women there, and well might she, who never saw herself in shadow, but she dived to hide herself from her own eyes, yet had she loved.  
The Queen perceiving that she was afraid, most mildly spoke thus to her. Sweet Nymph be not thus dismayed, we are none such as will give cause of any harm to you; we are your friends, and following the sport which you oft do, by chance, or hunter's fortune are benighted: going unto the Court we heard your voice, which hath a power sufficient to attract all creatures, like the sweet youth's Harp, that drew dumb things to admire his choicest tunes: let me not now disturb you sweetest Nymph, nor bar us from such heavenly harmony; then did she sweetly make this fine reply; Great Princess pardon I beseech this rudeness in me, which hath made me dumb, till now unable to give answer, but my lips unseald by your great Grace, my speech made free to satisfy your will, I must confess, when I did see you first I was amazed, and did wish myself again in this fair River, so to hide my worthless self from your all judging eyes. Oft have I seen you hunt in these fair plains, and sometimes taste of this (then blessed) brook; behind the seges, I did once lie hid, when you dry, and far from all places fit to entertain your virtues in, sat down, and drank of this clear water. O said I, how blessed wert thou if thou couldst but know into what happiness thou shalt arrive, first to be touched by those best dearest lips, and so to pass into her royal breast? How did I think I saw the streams which were below, haste as for sorrow they had missed that fate, and those above come hastily to catch; if not to touch yet one kind look on them? this while I loved, and so was sensible, but since Despair had married me, and I wedded myself to chaste Diana's life. Let me entreat you sweet Nymph said the Queen, to tell me all your story, and this night will be more pleasing to me, if so spent, than any that my fortunes yet have known, she then with reverence due to her state, thus did begin her tale.  
My name (great Queen said she) is Allarina, a Shepherdess by birth, and first profession, and so had still been, had I not lucklesly professed a Lover's name, and left my former happy (because contented) life. At fourteen years of age I first felt pain, but young, and ignorant, I scarce did know what was my torment; I distempered was, slept not, nor fed, my colour waxed pale, my mirth decayed, and sighs did wholly breathe my breath; admire my change the Shepherds generally did, bewail my ill the sheepherdesses would, my parents grieved for me, I for my part knew only that I knew not what I ailed, till one day walking to a pleasant wood, which was upon a hill, I did consider with myself, what was the first original of all this pain; I could not suddenly find out the ground, till at the last considering well each thing, I found his name most pleasing was to me, and so as I did in my heart ever thank the means that did bring him to be but spoken of. None in my thoughts, appeared so excellent, none spoke like him, none sung like him, nothing could he do, that did not seem best, and nothing done by others but did show dull, and quite void of any pleasingness, so excellent appeared he unto me. When this came to my mind, then strait I sight, blushed, and laid my hand upon my panting heart, and then cried out, I hope this is not love; but love no sooner was (by poor me) named, but as if called, he strait possessed my heart, alas I yielded then to know I loved, and love joyed, I confessed I was his slave, and such a slave was I alas soon grown, as but that slavery I did affect: my health then altered, and my mother put me into the hands of a Physician to be recovered (as she hoped) by him, but all in vain, it was not in his power, the cure was not ordained for him.  
Then came my love to visit me, which gave me life, and comfort: thus I did remain, and five years loved him, yet he ignorant that my affection so was placed on him. I surely borne for this conclusion, could not permit myself to say, or show I loved more than in poor sad looks, blushing when he did ask me of my sheep, unsteddily, and with a down cast look, not daring to behold what most I loved, for fear of burning what was scorched before. I gave my answers unresolvedly; he by all this perceived that I loved, for 'twas not sillines he saw, that made that innocent-like fashion show in me, wherefore he meant to watch me, and so find where my love was; but than it was too late, for not imagining it was himself, he married. After this I grieved, and almost died, but remedy was past, and I undone; yet one night, (blessed night for me, & my desires) he came, & fetched me to his sister's house, where being set between us two, he fell into discourse of many pretty things, and all of love, and all as I did find, to gain by art, to know were I did like; at last we fell unto a foolish sport, which was, to tell truly what we were asked, and so to draw a lot who should demand; it fell to him, who prettily to cover his intent, he first demanded of his sister, what life she thought the pleasantest & best. She said, the shepherds. Then he asked, if ever she did wish in love, and gain it to her full content? She said, she never could obtain so just a satisfaction, for her wish was still above the benefit she gained. Then was it come to me to be his servant, his question was, Which was the blessedst half hour I ever knew? I said, a time I followed a poor bird to shoot at it, and as I thought (O me the dearest thought) a thought which joyed my soul, I hit the bird. Who did you think of (said he)? Then I blushed, he urged, and swore I marred the Play, and must be punished for so foul offence. I pardon asked, and said I would confess: but when I came to say but these few words, It was yourself, my speech again did fail, my spirits fainted, I looked pale, and red, and sighed, and smiled, and all in instant space; love never had more strange diversity then in me at that present; I was dumb, then spoke a little, half what I should say, and turned the rest to comfort my poor hart: then did he take me in his arms, and strictly did conjure me to say out. Why then (said I) I thought on him I loved: this made him yet more curious, holding me still, perceiving I was not displeased, sweetly persuading me to say the rest; when I with soft and fearful words, afraid to hear myself say, I did love; 'Twas you, said I: he then 'twixt joy and grief, wept, the like did I. This passed, continually he tended my poor flock, forsook his own, if they did stray from mine, his songs were of me, and my thoughts on him.  
Many sweet, pleasant, and delightful games he did invent to give content to us, at last his sister grew to malice his respect to me, and to discern all was for my delight, which he did study, or present to us: she had much pride, and such as Sheephardesses seldom know, yet flowed it in her, who else was like us, mild, and sufficiently witty. This her malice flew unto the height of slighting me, which I perceauing, let her go alone unwaighted on, or yet accompanied by me. Two years this did endure, when all plagues grew, for then his wife did likewise did likewise stomach me, and out of the poor wit she had, (which scarce was sense) did manifest her rage. I was in troth most sorry for her hate, so much I loved him, as I loved all was his, and her, though not so well as the worst beast he had, since she alone I saw my bar for bliss. He saw my patience, which was oft times moved even into spite, yet covered, and suppresd with the dear power of my dearer love. Then was there entertained at brave Mantinia, a great Ambassador, whether we were called, among the strange delights, to represent our innocent pastimes, in which, my love and I were placed for the chief, for he at wrestling, and those sports of strength, did far excel the others of these plains; myself for pastoral songs, dances, and such like had the first place among the maids, and so came I, great Princess, to be blessed with seeing you, which sight still lives engrafted in my breast. But what became then of your love, said the Queen? Why that alas was all my sorrow, and my change cried she, grew from his change, which in this sort befell: he having thus in pure and spotless sort gained my best love, could not yet be content with such enjoying, but did covet more, which to prevent, I found convenient means and slights still to avoid, which he perceived, yet then affected me so much, as nothing could withdraw him from my love: arguments he would frame, even against his own desires, and swear, that where true love was, loose desires were distant, and unknown, nor could a man so much affect, where he had once gained all, as when he knew there did from him lie hid, a richer treasure than he had possessed, and more devoutly, and with greater zeal did he love, where he still was so refused, then if he had by yielding obtained all. I did believe, and much commend his mind, and what I praised, or liked he likewise seemed to be affected with; but what in men can last in certain kind? there was a meeting amongst us, and thither on May day every year (being the day we celebrated feasts) the rarest, and the choicest beauties came, among the rest one, who in truth I must confess, was fair above the common beauties in our time, but of the meanest parentage and rank, being a servant to a Shepherdess, who was of greatest place, for there is difference, and distinction made of their degrees, (though all below your fight) as well as in the great ones, and as much curious choice, and shame to match below their own degrees, as among Princes, whose great bloods are touched, if stained with baseness in the match they make. This woman yet allured my love to change, and what was worse, to scorn me; long I was, before I would perceive it, yet at last too clearly it discovered was: she then attended on the May Lady, of purpose there enticed, where he for his wished ends might her behold.  
The herdsman then, who kept the cattle both of his sisters & his own, did grow enamoured of this beauteous Lass; at last, love gained the hand of judgement, and so privately they married, then did he grow more sure, and surely did enjoy, for who could with much cruelty refuse, especially not borne to chastity: then were his looks all cast on her, his speeches wholly bend to her, her wit admired, her jests told, wondered at, into all company she must be admitted, all respect her, and I quite cast off; my soul was wounded with it, and my heart wasted, and dried up; that truly I was grown a woman, worthless for outward parts to be looked on; and thus tormented, I desired oft to speak with him, but he did more shun me, than ever once he coveted my sight. If I came in, where he alone did stand, instantly he went out, or would turn his back, in sharpest scorn unto my loving eyes. Ay me, cried I, am I come to this pass? have I lost all my liberty for this? have I adventured death, and shame, to come unto this shameful end in love? my parents have I left, and they displeased have rated me, for my immoderate love, and all to be requited with gain, at last of fowl disdain, for fervent truth? The world was filled with my constancy, all with broad eyes saw his disloyalty; some pitied me, others flouted me; I grieved, & yet at last resolved either to speak or write; speak alas I could not, for I did fear to give offence, still fond loving him: when I was in my bed, and thought of all my woes, I could resolve to speak my mind, and frame my speeches in as moderate kind as might be, rather demanding pity, then to discover, that I did dislike him for his change; but when I saw him, and did view his eyes, if on me, cast but in a cruel sort, so far I was from any power, or true ability, to touch of wrongs, or to beg poor compassion, as I stood amazed, trembling, and even as one cast unto death. Then did I silently lament this harm, and mournefully bewail my misery, speaking unto myself, as if to him, and frame his answers like unto his looks, then weep, and spend whole nights in this distress, my heart almost unable to sustain so cursed a Dialogue, as I had framed millions of times to vex my soul withal, at last I writ a letter, I remember these being the contents, and almost the same words.  
IF what I write may prove displeasing unto you, I wish my hand had lost the use to write, when I writ this, my eyes, sight for seeing it, and my heart, had then rend with sorrow for punishment, in so offending you, who for all your cruelty, can do no other than love you still. But the affliction that I am fallen into by your change, makes me send these lines unto you, & to beseech you by the love you once bore me, to let me know the cause of your great strangeness towards me; if proceeding from my part, be just; and tell it me, who will not only curse myself for doing it, but with all true humility demand a pardon for it; my soul is purely yours, in love untouched, unstained of any blame or spot; faith was the ground whereon I placed my love, loyalty, the hope I held it with, and myself your most unfeigned lover, the poor creature to be looked upon with reward for these: but you give scorn, alas once look on me, that beauty which decayed now in me, once pleased you best; when wasted it, but in those years I still was true, and chaste to you? if my face be not so fair, my mind is fairer, clothed in truth, and love, and thus will I ever deserve you more than any: pity me, alas I crave it, and most justly from your hands. Did I neglect at any time, what I did owe, to pay unto your will? if so, my confidence might make me err, but never did I willingly commit such fault, blame then the trust I had, and just assurance of my confidence in you: will you reject me, since I pine for you, the tears which still for you I shed, have marred, and dulled mine eyes, and made me worthless to behold; look then but on my faith, and pity me, who will die as I was, and am, which is sincerely yours.  
This I read, this I corrected, and often stained with blots, which my true tears in falling as I writ had made. I sent it by a youth, who still had loved me, and did serve my love; he gave it him one morning as he waked: his answer was, that he would speak with me. The next day he did come, and found me in my bed, bathing myself in my poor, yet choice tears; he most unkindly only sat him down, not once so much as looking on my woes, or me, speaking these words, with eyes another way, & voice displeased: You writ a handsome letter, did you not, said he? Alas said I, what should I do oppressed? I am half mad, distracted with your scorn; I could not silent be, nor yet could speak. You wronged yourself, said he. Wherein cried I? With that he rose, & not giving me so much as kind, or unkind looks, spoke to another whom he called in, and so together left me and my woe. After that time he strove by all plain ways, and crafty slights, and all to make me see, how I was cast away, and left by him. I patiently did seem to bear my loss: but oh my heart could not let me do so, though in the day I strove to cover grief, in night time I did open all the doors, and entertain each servant that woe had. Once I remember after many months that this disaster had befallen me, he merrily did speak among us all, and also to me, as one among the rest, and the greatest stranger to his thoughts: I joyed that so he favoured me; for though he used me, as but if in trial of my truth, I earnestly loved him, and joyed to see him: my poor cold heart did warm itself to think of what had passed, and leapt when I saw him; but yet that leap was like, or did resemble a strong convultionat the latest gasp, for than it fell down dead in my despair: but being thus together, he was pleased to say some verses to me, which were good, and truly such as I did much affect. I thought they were his own, and so was vexed, because to me they did not then belong, as once all that he made, or framed were. He did commend them very much himself, and said, he liked the strength that was in them. I said they were most good, and like him, which made them much the better, so discoursing on, I took the boldness to say something to him, knowing that they might speak in kind for me, and yet myself not beg again, they were these.  

WHen I with trembling ask if you love still,  
My soul afflicted lest I give offence,  
Though sensibly discerning my worst ill;  
Yet rather than offend, with grief dispense.   

Faintly you say you must; poor recompense  
When grateful love is force, I see the hill  
Which mars my prospect love, and Oh from thence  
I taste, and take of loss the poisoned pill.   

While one coal lives, the rest dead all about  
That still is fire: so your love now burned out  
Tells what you were, though to deceiving led.   

The Sun in Summer, and in Winter shows  
Like bright, but not like hot, fair false made blows  
You shine on me, but you loves heat is dead.   
He made no answer, but only said, they were very fine ones: after this he continued in his peremptory course of hating me, and I in my poor way of suffering all, till so ill I did grow, as though not in him, yet in each one else, I did obtain, what I did claim from him, for they did sorrow for my misery, and he still triumph, as if in a gain to overthrow a soul given to his will. At last, extremity of grief and pain, brought me unable to do any thing: those that best did consider my mishap, justly did know the cause; others smile, and say, 'twas, for I was forsaken; others laugh, and say, I was grown dull: some said, my prose was gone, and that I only could express myself in verse. These I did hear, and this in truth had troubled me, if greater matters had not shut my ears and heart from weighing such slight things as these. I gave myself then wholly to the fields, nor kept I any company but with my flock, and my next kindred which would visit me. With my poor sheep I did discourse, and of their lives make my deciphered life: rocks were my objects, and my daily visits; meekness my whole ambition, loss my gain; and thus I lived, and thus still ran to death. But one day as I passed among the rocks, which were both steep, yet easy to ascend; the country hilly, the earth black, the mourning only covered with Heath and stones, to express the ill nature of that soil: I went still in it, till at last descending one of the steepest, and most ragged of those hills, the top of which was crowned with milk white rocks, in bigness strange, and fashion far more rare; I sat down in a stone of mighty height, which like a chair in just proportion, did give me room and ease. Yet some thing unsafe it was to look down (for those whose eyes will dazzle if on any high place) for the height was great, and that stood, as if only framed to sit, and see the bottom directly under. Looking a while, I saw some folks below, and as it were, a Spring where they did drink: I left the rock then, and did strait descend unto the Plain, the descent was not tedious, but slippery. When I thither came, of all the company, one man was able to declare any thing of the nature of it, for the rest were strangers, and not the same Countrymen. I civilly demanded, if that spring were medicinable, or what made them with so much affectionate ceremony to drink, and as it were, adore it. That man made answer, it was that divine and sacred water, which did cure all harms. I blamed him, knowing he had said too much, since only one was fit to be termed so; but he, more servant to adoration then divinity, told me many strange works that water had performed. I did for novelties take of the stream; drinking of it, I found it did me no harm. Then I demanded, what it would procure? he said, Quiet of spirit, comfort in this life. How long I demanded aught we to drink thereof? Seven times (he replied), and thrice seven days. I living not far off, resolved the task, and drank, and found such good, as soon I was altered in all things but my truth, which now alone to me remains unharmd; my whole condition altered, I grew free, and free from love, to which I late was slave. Then finding this true virtue in myself, and my poor self returned to me again, I did embrace it in the same true sort that love held me, and so we did agree. I love myself, myself now loveth me. But after to avoid all new delights, or to be sued too, or enticed again, I put on these habits, hoping by pureness, and vowed chastity, to win Diana's favour, which now is all my ambition, and my hope. Thus here I live in expectation, not assurance of her acceptance: into this Brook I oftentimes do go, and now was going just as you did come; remembrance of my faith I keep, and joy alone in that, without desire, or thought of love's variety. My days remaining, I have given to truth, and as a Nymph I still will here remain; my name I also changed with my life, from Allarina to Siluiana, these habits keep me from discourse with men, my vow from yielding; so I now live free, and uncontrolled of Fortune's self. My Mistress I adore, I keep her Feasts devoutly, and thus I do remain your humblest Vassal, mighty Princess, else sole Mistress of my thoughts, and freedoms rule.  
Happy you are (said the excellent Queen) so to be able to master yourself: but did you never see him since you wore these habits? Oft-times great Princess (said she) I have seen him, and so perceived desire new in him to win me back, but now it is too late. I must confess, who once had told me, I could have beheld his face without my soul's affection to it, I should hardly have believed it, much more to find my heart so free from love, as now it is, and as he made himself to me, even a mere stranger; so are now mine eyes and thoughts as far, from touch of love, as if I had been borne never to know love, or such passions, when as once my eyes hung after him, as starved without his sight, my soul loved him as a blessing, and I was indeed only his, now am I free myself, void of those troubles, love provoked in me; I can with quietness hear all his acts, see him this day intolerably fond of one I hated, then change to a new; all that moves not me, save only that I out of pity, pity their ill haps. Once I was jealous, vexed if he did throw by chance a look on any, but myself, that fault he punished with his stern neglect, & plagueing me in the sharpest kind, striving to make me see his change, and scornfully expressing to my sight, disdain of me, and fondness in such loves. These are requited now, he grown to pity, when I scorn to take it, he to love me, when I am vowed elsewhere: thus love rewarded is with scorn, and scorn, with pitiless regard returning home. I cannot yet believe (said Pamphilia) but you love him still, for all this liberal and excellent discourse. I never will live hour (said Siluiana) to hate him, though I am made free from bond of vain affection; & thus much truly I do still remain his friend and servant, to defend him from all harms, I may by my respect make void, and were it in my way to do him, though a just ill turn, and many leagues off, I might do him good, that journey I would take, yet love I not aught, but fair chastity. This sweet discourse concluded, the brave Queen took leave of the fine Nymph, and so returned, with promise, when she hunted in those parts, she would find her: then going to the Court, she went into her chamber to take rest; little of that sufficed her, for though great as any, yet in love was as much subject, as the meanest borne. Pamphilia (said she) can thy great spirit permit thee to be bound, when such as Allarina can have strength to master, and command even love itself? Scorn such servility, where subjects soveraignize; never let so mean a thing overrule thy greatest power; either command like thyself, or fall down vassal in despair. Why should fond love insult, or venture in thy sight? let his babish tricks be prized by creatures under thee, but disdain thou such a government. Shall blindness master thee, and guide thee? look then sure to fall. Shall way ward folly rule thee? look to be despised. Shall foolish wantonness entice thee? hate such vice. Shall children make thee follow their vain tricks? scorn then self, and all such vanities. Yet when all this is said, and that the truest knowledge tells me these are true, my wounded heart with bleeding doth profess vassalladge to the great and powerful might of love. I am prisoner, guard me then dear love, keep me but safely free from yielding, and keep me, as thou hast already made me, thine.  
Much of the time, she had to be at rest, she thus employed: then rising, the day telling her all brightness waited on her; she rose, and went to the sweet Limena, who accompanied her, into her sad fine walks, being there alone, (save with her second self,) surely said she, you that so perfectly and so happily have loved, cannot in this delightful place, but remember those sweet (yet for a while cursed) passages in love, which you have overgone: speak then of love, and speak to me, who love that sweet discourse, (next to my love) above all other things, if that you cannot say more of yourself, than your dear trust hath graced me withal, tell of some others, which as truly shall be silently enclosed in my breast, as that of yours; let me but understand the choice varieties of Love, and the mistake, the changes, the crosses; if none of these you know, yet tell me some such fiction, it may be I shall be as luckless as the most unfortunate; show me examples, for I am so void of hope, much less of true assurance, as I am already at the height of all my joy. Limena beheld her, both with love, and pity, at last; my dearest friend (said she) fall not into despair, before joy can express, what surely is ordained for you. Did ever any poor drop happen to fall but still for love? Will you be poorer than the poorest drop of rain, which for the love to earth, falls on it? raise up your spirit, that which is worthy to Monarchise the world, drown it not, nor make a grave by sad conceits, to bury what should live for royalty; yet if you do desire to hear, of Love, and of love's crosses, I will tell you a discourse, the Scene shall be in my Country, and the rather will I tell it, since in that, you shall see yourself truly free from such distress, as in a perfect glass, none of your true perfections can be hidden, but take not this tale for truth. In Cicilie (not far from the place which gave my Father birth, and where I much was bred) there lived a Lady, mother to many, and delicate Children; but, whether her fortune fell with the loss of her Husband, (as many, woefully have with that felt their undoing) or that misfortune (so great a Prince) ought not to be unattended, I know not, but she affecting her friends, as friendship could challenge, a young Lord came with one of her nearest allies to visit her; this visitation made him see her daughter, elder than three more, that at that same time were in her house: he receiving welcome, took it, and occasion to come again, those again comings brought mischievous affection, that affection, mischiefs self, for thus it happened.  
The Lady loved him, he liked her, he sued, she innocent could not deny, but years did pass before they did enjoy. At last, three years almost worn out, he found a time, or rather her, much unprovided for refusal; both extremely loving, nothing was amiss as they imagined, nor was aught denied, some years this passed too, in all which time, she who did only love, for Love's sake, not doubting lest that might be a touch unto her affection, or spot in so much clearness, as her heart held to him, let busy speeches pass unregarded, smiled when friends bid her beware, esteeming her constant opinion of his worth, richer than truths which she thought falsehoods while they were against him. Thus the poor Lady was deceived, & most miserably undone, he falling in love with one so inferior to her in respect of her qualities, compared with hers, though of greater rank every way, as his nearest friends condemned him for so ill a choice; but she was crafty, and by art fair, which made him look no further. At last, it showed so plainly as she must (if not wilfully blind) see with the rest; but how did she see it? alas with dying eyes; all passions compared to hers were none, the ordinary course of sorrow abounded in her, rising to such a height, as out flew despair; melancholy was her quietest companion, while monefully she would sit, days without words, and nights without sleep. Oft would she tell these pains before him, though not to him, pitifully would she lament, and he take no more notice of it, then if he heard it spoken of an other. Alas would she cry, I am no more worthy to live, I am a shame to my house, a stain to my sex, and a most pitiful example of all mischief; shameful creature, why livest thou to disgrace all thy friends? poor soul, (poor indeed, but in true goodness) leave this unhappy body, take thyself away, and when thou hast left me, it may be thou mayst be better, and win pity: hence forth must blame enfold me, now must shame cover me, and despair with loss destroy me; yet hadst thou changed to a better, and constanter, it would not so much have vexed me, but when I see my deserts, my love, and myself cast off, only by subtlety betrayed, and in so vild a place, alas it rends my heart, both with loss, and your fault. Can worth procure no more favour? must all yield to outward fairness? she is fair I confess, so once you thought I was, and if not so perfect, thank your own strangeness, and my tears shed for your falsehood, which have furrowed, & worn wrinkles, (where smoothness was) with their continual falling. Had you no way to shun me, or my love, but by your change? you might have justly dealt yet, and but said, I can no longer love you, I had then sat down alone with loss, but now doubly afflicted, as losing, and being deceived; your want of truth, is a greater plague to me then my misery, in that I loved you better than myself, so much is your unworthiness my extremest torment. Oft was I told that I would hurt myself in trusting.  
I replied, I had rather be wretched in loss, then unhappy in suspicion; these now befall me, yet suspect I not, for apparent truth tells me I am forlorn. Once I remember I was to speak to him, and (fool) I took the time when she was by, with what scorn did he put me off, and slightness hear the business, which concerned himself, yet coming from me, was unpleasing: would yet I could be more luckless, so it came not from thy worthlessness, for 'tis that, not my misfortune, tortures me. While yet she thus continued in her woes, her beauty dying, as her fortune wasted, he careless man of any good, or respect, save of his own desires, would many times come to her, rather as I conjecture, thinking to betray her, then for any affection he then bore to her, while she (poor hapless lover) never denied what he commanded. Poor soul, how glad would she be to receive one look; one word gave her new life again, but a smile made her hope, which lasted to make her the stronger, to suffer again the misery he allotted her. Well, so it continued, and she was undone, imagine then, brave Queen, in what misery she was, and most, when he that should have comforted her harm, held still his cursed neglect: Till being near her end, as it was thought, rather (and only sure for his own honour) than her safety, he sent often to her; this made her take joy, assuring herself, he now felt, he was bound to love her, since thus she was near death for him; this made her hope, he would be grateful in affection, though not passionate. Much did he flatter then, and protest respect of her, above his life, and that her life and safety were more dear to him, than his own heart blood. Expresseles consolation were these vows, but broken, greatest plagues; what should we trust, when man the excellentest creature, doth thus excel in ill? No sooner was she amended, but he sent again with all show of affection, his coming he excused, as out of care to her, lest others would have visited her too, and so might trouble her in weakness, & bring danger to her health. These glosses were to her like faith, believed, & cheerished, till soon was she made to know, men's words are only breath, their oaths wind, and vows water, to begin with her ensuing grief, her new borne hopes soon died, those ties she had knit up were broken asunder, in more violence, which death brought heavy misery unto the mother of these misadventures; for soon after fell his direct leaving her, not scanting any contempt or scorn, but turning all show of favour to her; after that fell a new change, for then this dainty woman must yield her fortunes to a new choice in him, and to an other, whose beauty wins him from her craftiness. Then did she likewise fall to new dislikes, crying out against disloyalty, complained of her misfortune, cursed her credulity, and fond hopes, never ceasing complaints, nor revile, for her thoughts, choosing the first forsaken lover, to hear her accuse him even unto her face, he who had from her changed lately to her, and now from her unto an other love; cruel this needs must be to see him blamed, and for that fault which she had suffered for, alas than would she say, what hap have I to accuse my Fate, and still to hear the accusation from an other to the same purpose: Disloyal Lincus, hath thy poor lover Alena deserved this hate? canst thou without shame consider my wrongs? think on my deserts, I challenge none, but leave them to thyself to judge. I am your lost forsaken, I am yet your truest love, and I am indeed the unhappiest sufferer of your blame. Pelia complains of your disloyalty, and to me, from whom you flew to her, if she dislike, what shall I do, who bear the marks of shame, and loss for you? my reputation marred, my honour in the dust; are these requitals to be scorned, despised, and hated at the last? unkind man, for worse I cannot call you, yet turn back again, and look on my deserts, if not on me, and you shall find clearness in them, to discern these other faults by pureness to tell you, none but itself deserves you, grief to move all your compassions to it, lastly, just claims to make you grateful; but you I see despise all virtuous ways, go on your course then while I mourn for you, and my extremest cross. Thus did she oft complain, yet never shunned his sight, lest he should think his change could alter her the more he saw her patience, the more, and insolentlyer did he press on it, striving of purpose to afflict her most, which the sight of his alteration needs must bring, when she beheld him kiss his new love's hand, with melting heart, and passionate respect, smile in her eyes, beg for her grace, write to her praise, and expression of his love; these alas cried she were the baits that first betrayed me, thus once he did to me, thus fond was he of me, thus careless of all else, but now transformed, as is his truth, and faith. Many persuaded her to keep away, to scorn as much as he, to hate as much as he; no would she cry, his fault shall never make me il, nor will I change though he so fickle be, yet be assured I love him not, nor can be more deceived by him, or any other, only thus far the remnant of my love extends, that I wonll take any course, though painful, dangerous, and hazard my life, to keep him from least harm.  
Thus did a loyal lover live, and this is commonly the end of loyalty to men, who never knew but the end of their own wills, which are to delight (only Perissus excepted). And to satisfy you, I have given you this short example of true love, feigned I confess the story is, yet such may be, and will be lover's Fates.  
Pamphilia gave great attention to it, and the more, because her last adventure, and this discourse did somewhat near concur, as ending in misfortune. why (said she to herself), should all choose: these or such like woeful histories, of purpose to torment me with fear, that I may live to see like woes? alas, Love shield me from such harm; I now behold clear joy, so did Siluania, and Alena, and Pelia, yet what conclusion have they? utter ruin and distress for reward. These thoughts so inwardly afflicted her, as she sat still, her colour not changing, nor any motion in her outward part, while the soul only wrought in her, & yet, not to let the world be ignorant of her operation, sent tears from out her eyes, to witness the affliction that she felt; tears which did fall with such lovelynes, as loveliness did fall and bide with them. So much did Limena love her, as she grieved for those tears, and with cries gave testimony of her sorrow, while she unstirred, still let them slide upon her softest cheeks, as if she did consent to honour her true tears, with touching that earths-heavenly place; her heart did beat with pain, and I think grief, that her eyes should be more happy in ability to demonstrate her pain, then that which best knowing her mind could attain unto; I feel said it the torment, they show it, like players of an others part, and so did it swell, as Limena was forced to help, and with comfort and persuasions appease the rage.  
Thus they continued till Nanio the dwarf came to them, telling his Lady the happy tidings of Rosindy's arrival, with Selarinus, this awaked her, and made her melancholy companion, yield to her better friend, joy; back they went together, and with much content met the King Rosindy and his companion in the Hall, where the King and all the Court were assembled, joy plentifully disposing itself to every one. Amphilanthus holding his course towards St. Maura was thither brought safely, and speedily, then going to the Rock, he took Urania in his arms using these words.  
My dearest Sister, and the one half of my life, Fortune (never favourable to us) hath ordained, a strange adventure for us, and the more cruel is it, since not to be avoided, nor to be executed but by my hands, who best love you; yet blame me not, since I have assured hope of good success, yet apparent death in the action, I must (not to prolong time, or amaze you with discourse, alas that I must say these words) dearest Urania, I must throw thee into the Sea; pardon me, Heaven appoints it so. My dearest brother said she, what need you make this scruple? You wrong me much to think that I fear death, being your sister, or cherish life, if not to joy my parents; fulfil your command, and be assured it is doubly welcome, coming to free me from much sorrow, and more, since given me by your hands: those hands that best I love, and you to give it me, for whose dear sake, I only loved to live, and now as much delight and wish to die. Kind tears proceeded from them both, and mournful silence did possess their tongues, till she again besought, and he refused; but yet at last resolving, if she perished to end with her: he took her in his arms, and gently let her slide, showing it rather to be her slipping from him, than his letting her fall, and as she fell, so fell his heart in woe, drowned in as deep an Ocean of despair; but soon was he called to wonder, and all joy; for no sooner had she sunk into the water, but the waves did bear her up again, to show the glory they had in bearing such perfections; but then the Deeps, ambitious of such a prize, sought to obtain her, opening their hearts to let her sink into them, when two men in a boat came rowing towards her, and one who lay in a craggy part of the Rock, furiously threw himself unto her, she only saying, Live happy Amphilanthus, and my only dear Parselius, farewell: that called him, who leaping in, cried; Parselius will never outlive Urania; and sunk strait with her, than were both pulled up, and safely brought to land, by the help of the other two, who leaping out of their boat into the sea, spared not danger, or life itself; all four then sound washed, came a shore, where Amphilanthus embraced them, and with teares of joy welcomed his sister, and his friends, who now well understood the operation of that water; for Parselius knew nothing of his former love to her, only the face of Urania, and being assured of her nearness to him in blood, rejoiced with them, the others did the like. Now was Steriamus released of his unfortunate love, esteeming Pamphilia wholly for her worth, not with passion thinking of her. Vrania's desires were no other, then to go into Italy to see her father: and Dolorindus to accompany his friends whither they would go. Thus happily were all delivered of the most burdenous tormenting affliction that souls can know, Love, and Love was pleased, because now he might have new work in new kinds. Parselius longs to see his Dalinea: Urania wisheth it also without jealousy, or anger, but loves her heartily for her Cousin's sake: most happy Princess to be delivered from such a hell, as loving him, who had (although so near to her) been so far from truth to her. Amphilanthus was so overcome with comfort and joy, discerning this fortunate and blessed issue of the adventures, as kindness now wrought like sorrow: then embracing all, they took to the boats, the Hermit going with them to the Island, where with kind loving persuasions, they invited him to leave that place, and to accompany them thence: but he excused himself, promising to be ready at any time to do them service, but his vow he could not break: then he entreated them, that if by chance in their travels they happened into Dalmatia, they would inquire for his unfortunate daughter Bellemira, and by some means to let him understand of her. They promised this: so with more kind farewells, they parted from the Hermit, and at Amphilanthus earnest entreaty went together for Italy, where they arrived, and so passed unto the Court. But what joy? what content did all hearts feel, in seeing the Princess of true worth and admiration returned? Then did the old king, whose hair and beard like snow make a true resemblance of it, joy (like the Sun) heating and melting; so did joy melt his hart into tears, & they like a thaw, dropping on the lower snow, he held them in his arms; they kneeled, he kissed them, but could not speak, so was he wrapped and overwhelmd with joy. At last Amphilanthus spoke, beseeching him to salute the other Princes, which he did, and then turned to them, and again kissed, and embraced them. This being past, they were conducted to their lodgings: Urania having rich robes fit for her birth brought unto her, till then having worn her Shepherdess attire, which she resolved to do, as long as she lived unseen of her father, & only to receive them from his hands. Now was Italy filled with delight, being the pleasing'st and delightful'st of any; sports are new invented to give welcome, and justs proclaimed, wherein these Knights must also show their skill, the Ladies came from all parts to see Urania, the Knights to honour Amphilanthus: the first day of the justs, the King being ready to go forth of the Hall to the lists, there entered an old man, in habit like a Pilgrim, with a staff of that fashion in his hands, barefooted, and with all demonstration of that life, he spoke loud, and besought the King to stay till he had delivered some things fit for his knowledge, than all placing themselves, he began thus.  
Most happy King, receive these speeches from me (a miserable man, if you pity not), a Prince I am by birth, but a Villain by nature; Prince I was of Istria, and brother to the King of Dalmatia, proud I was, and accompanying that vice, I had malice, and all ill abiding in me, which caused a detestable treason in me, for hearing many prophecies, & likelihoods of the greatness, & worth of Amphilanthus, I studied how I might any way cross the success, he then being but of tender years, scarce having attained to seven years of age; but that which most moved me, was, that a learned man said, he should rule over the greatest part of the world, and live to be Lord of my Country also to avoid this, I vowed to lose no means or opportunity; wherefore I went to the Court of my brother, where there then lived a great, and a wise man; this man confirmed, what before I had heard, adding more unto it for his increase of honour, for he had cast his nativity, having gained it from one, who was at the birth of the world's wonder, your son.  
Upon this I disguised myself, and hither I came into your Country and Court, where I found the Queen newly brought to bed of a daughter; this I thought might be a means for my safety, for no magic could withstand the happy fortune of Amphilanthus (though a danger he should fall into uncertain to recover it, and by a woman). So determining to have my ends some way, having some skill in Magic, I cast a sleep upon all the attendants where the babe lay, and being in an evening, took the child, and conveyed it away with me, purposing to keep her to protect me from danger, while I would practise the ruin of the Prince by any devilish plot, and to be the cause of as much hurt as might be to his worthiness: but otherwise, and better for the good of all these parts it happened, I being in all my charms and spells, prevented by a greater power, yet was I glad I had the child, with whom I took my way to the sea, where fitting down, and looking on the sweetness and delicacy of the babe, unawares by Robbers I was set upon, no help being left me by learning, or art, to relieve me in that adventure, death being only expected by me, they proved more merciful, saving my life, but took what I had from me, and the child, which most of all I esteemed; then woefully did I return to mine own Country, there I fell to my books, and called others of that art unto my aid: but do what I, or they could, we were barred from knowledge or guess, what was become of the child, or what course it should run, heavenly powers hiding it from me, to keep her safety nearer to her, till this year it was discovered to me, that she was safe in the conduct of a great Prince, her estate unknown to herself, and him, nor was her inprisonment hid from me, though the place and manner was; her disguise was showed me, being Shepherdess's attire, since which time I have bestowed my time and labour in seeking her, and now Sir, where I stole her; here I find her:, this being your daughter, and I, (Sir,) the Traitor.  
This then being done, they all again embraced her, but Urania desired to know one thing more, which was how the Mantell, and Purse was left unto her. That (said the old man) was done by him or her I know not which, that protected you, nor can you know that, till you finish an adventure, which is only left for you to end. Then did every one adjudge the old Prince to no less than death; but the King nor Amphilanthus would consent to it, saying, Their joys and welcomes should not be mixed with blood: then did he profess repentance, and for that, and their great mercies, he received pardon, and so returned towards his country, half way in his journey he died: thus the adventure concluded, they went forth to the justs which were ready to begin with their presence. The first day was concluded by a match made of twelve to twelve, with sword & spear, which were to their renown's performed: then the prince determined to manifest their valours, yet every one privately taking this resolution, made a shrewd mistaking among them: for the King and Queen being placed, there entered a Knight in black armour, his device, the World burning, and Cupid hover in the flame; this Knight was strait encountered by a Prince of Apulia, a brave and valiant Gentleman, but too weak for him. then the Princes of Vihin, of Milan, Savoy, Florence, Mantua, Modina, and many others met him, and so the earth, as his Livery. Amphilanthus seeing this, stole away, hoping to revenge his Country men against this stranger; so taking a white armour, like a young Knight came in, and fitly; for than did the black knight want work: but long he did not complain of that, for this encounter was strong and furious, the black Knight taking him for some such an one, as the other kindhearted Princes were, which made him sit the more carelessly, and so gave the Prince the advantage to shake him shrewdly; which he meaning to mend the next time, with great rage met him, who never yet was overthrown, or near the hazard of it: but so terrible was the meeting, as both their horses were struck upon their buttocks, yet again recovered; three courses they ran thus without advantage, wherefore by the laws of those justs, they were to end it with the sword, which they did, fight without mercy or fear, the white armour of Amphilanthus looking pale with rage to see his blood, while the other mourned for his master's hurts, which were many. Long they fought on horseback, them both agreeing (their horses being faint) they lighted, and so continued the fight, till the King sent down Urania to entreat them, that they would give over, since they hoped the quarrel was not deadly, besides the greatest pity such Knights should be lost at the time, when pleasure, not war, should be exercised. They at her desire yielded, while all judgements gave them the honour, of the most worthy to be admired Combatants, Italy had ever known. Faint they were, and so sat down, taking one another by the hand, as witness their malice was ended, and so might every one truly believe, when they beheld their faces, for the black Knight was Parselius, who feigned himself not well, of purpose to be the abler to combat all comers. The two friends did then condemn each one himself for hurting the other (but these chances often happen among Knights): so they went to the King, whose grief was great to see their hurts; but knowing by his Surgeons none of them were dangerous, though painful, his content was infinite to see their valours. Urania was sorry for Parselius, but tended Amphilanthus wholly, till he came abroad, which was some two days after; strange happiness wrought by divine power to work such change, who once would have left all friends for Parselius. During which time, the sport ceased, and began again with his presence: the other Princes every one had their trials in full manner, and Steriamus for his honour had this adventure befall him. The fame of this meeting, and the justs being noised over all those parts, there came most Knights and Princes, to whose ears the tidings came, among which was the Prince of Piedmont, as proud and insolent, as those vices could corrupt man withal: this man puffed up with ambition in the worst kind, aspired to love Urania, and therefore put himself to the bold discovering of it, and not content with that, demanded a favour of her to wear, which she refused, hating vice so much, as for that, she abhorred him. He scorning to be denied, when he should have hated himself for such an attempt, gave some speeches not befitting her to take, and withal snatched a glove from her, which he swore to wear; yet mildly she took small notice of either of them, but her spirit made her colour show, she was offended; this was in the chamber of Amphilanthus in the window. Steriamus standing by, and seeing it grew offended, and so much, as it making his eyes give testimony of the fury he had boiling within him, he spoke these words; Presumption hath caused in you this unmannerliness, but truth in me provokes these words; lay down the glove again, and yourself at her feet, humbly submit and yield your life to her disposing, for having done so unpardonable an act, and leave your hopes to her mercy, or here receive this from me, that you shall have my heart, or I yours to satisfy her right. He laughed, and said, the glove did well become his hat (having put it into it in that time), and that there he would wear it in despite of him, or the best Knight. Steriamus strake his hat off, with all giving him such a blow in the face, as he made him stagger; then took out the glove, and kissing it, told Urania, that thereby he had the happiness to begin his service to her, being long before engaged unto it: if she would take it from him, she had the power to do that, and what else she pleased, since he desired to be but accounted her humblest servant; yet his desire was so much to be honoured, as to be permitted to wear it as her favour, till he brought him humbly to submit for so great a presumption. She who had ever loved Steriamus from his youth, and by this was engaged, besides his adventuring to save her in the sea, to gratify him, yet tender of being cause of harm to him, she only spoke thus: My Lord (said she) your merits so far beyond my deserts, make me amazed, in what manner to carry myself, I am doubtful; yet I will rather offend in the good, then ill; wear not this I beseech you, too mean for you, since taken from so ill a place, but let me have it, and accept from me a more worthy, and a fitter favour, and one untouched by any hands, but those that present it with all true respect unto you, He gave her the glove, and took from her a scarf, which with infinite content, he tied (assisted by her also) about his arm; then went she to the fire, into which she threw the glove, wishing that there the danger of Steriamus might end, with the consumption of that leather. Then did the disgraced Prince go out, and instantly send to Steriamus t, o give him satisfaction, which he presently did yield unto, and kissing Vrania's hand, went down to arm himself in a private place, and in an armour not known, being russet, and as plain an one as could be, his riches consisting in his worth, and his Mistress' favour. Strait was the Court filled with the news, that two brave combatants were entering the Lists; the King, Amphilanthus, (though weak) and all the Court came, except Parselius, who could not so well stir abroad as Amphilanthus, by reason he had lost much more blood; his staying within, made Steriamus not miss; so all assembled, the proud Prince comes in, suited to his humour, his attendants many, and showed they had received their education from him; the other had none with him, but carried his spear himself; the judges were made, the Prince of Savoy his Cousin-german, chosen by him; and Amphilanthus, desired by the other; the Trumpets sounded, and they encountered; Steriamus was struck back on his horse, and the other his horse fell with him, so they fought on foot; fierce and cruel was the fight, lamentable was the sight of it, for except those choice Princes, none could equal this Piemountois, and that he knew, which did encourage, or made him more prise his power then his worth, as one might say, a Horse were a braver Creature than a man, because he draweth, or beareth more. Steriamus' fought for honour, and that to be received from Urania, the other, to repair his honour, touched for Urania: thus they passed no fury, no strength, no harm shunned, or spared which was not called to the highest account, nor any skill wanting, which was not, (if a little stirred) renewed, and paid with judgement, and discretion.  
Most said, no combat, (except the last) could compare with this, yet in some sort did this exceed, as being one more bloody, ground hate, and all cursed additions being joined together in them, to be at height and govern, nay, spend themselves in the furious, and deadly conclusion. At last, much care was had to save them, when even their eyes dazzled, and their legs grew false to their bodies, no longer willing to support them. Then fell the Piemount Prince, and Steriamus upon him, not of purpose, but by weakness; his helm he pulled off, and would have killed him, but his spirit ended (in show) with his fury, for than he fell off from him in a swound, appearing as dead as he. The judges came in, and finding it was the brave Prince, Amphilanthus fell down by him, the King came from the window, Urania ran to him, and wiping his face, rubbed his temples with her hand, when life again possessed him, and how could it be otherwise, being in her arms, where life of love did dwell? When he beheld where he was, and remembering what he had began for her, fearing he had lost his honour by the others victory, he offered to get up, and being on his knees, scarce able to rise higher, crying out, Miserable Steriamus to live to see thy shame, and before her, where honour strives to be, and from whom all my honour must proceed; he cast his eyes, and saw where the other lay dead, than was he satisfied, and well might he be so, since this was none of his smallest, but one of his chiefest victories, the strength, valour and skill of the other being so well known, as none could yield him conquered, but by an unconquerable spirit.  
Steriamus gained the victory, and so, as great honour as could be given to any in a single fight; he was not the strongest, but as valiant as any, and (except the cousin and brothers) equal with any. This past, they were taken up, in the raising them, the Prince breathed, and looked up, whereupon Steriamus would stay, and hear him speak; he unwilling, yet by him before he would be dressed, was forced to confess his folly, and in as humble manner as he demanded, asked pardon for presumption to Urania; then he for gave him, and kindly reconciled themselves, so embracing the proud Prince, departed, proud now that he had lived to goodness, shaking off the other pride with his life. Steriamus was conducted to his lodging, where Urania visited him often: the body of the other to a place appointed, till his burial; the Prince of Savoy taking order for him, not with excessive sorrow for his death, who in his life time never cared for him, nor any that had so much virtue; for this was a fine young Gentleman, virtuous, and valiant, and now by his cousin's death, Prince likewise of Piemount. Every day were new shows, and triumphs, and by reason these brave Princes could not be any of the number, martial exercises were for a while laid aside, and Court sport's gained the place; Amphilanthus, Parselius, and (within few days) Steriamus being spectators: but one afternoon, with sound of Trumpets, there entered into the hall a brave Knight, and with bravery unusual, he was attended with many servants, all in one colour livery, which was Sea green and crimson, as coats of seagreene velvet, embroidered with crimson silk, in the fashion of hearts, struck through with darts; twenty of these he had, every one of them carrying a picture, then came two richer than the former, holding one fairer than the rest (or he was deceived) for this was the picture of his mistress, the Knight then commanded them to set them down, which they did on both sides of the chamber, the faces to the States, he standing in the middle with his mistresses thus speaking. Famous King of Naples, and no more famous, then truly meriting that fame; I am hither come upon command, sent by a power that only hath sovereignty over me, else free, my name is Polarchos, son to the King of Cyprus, but subject by love to the Lady of Rhodes; I went to the Court of her Father, desirous to see all places, there did love surprise me, and I sacrifice my liberty on the altar of her commands; Oft times I went afterwards to see her, and was (like the fulfilling of wishes) welcome to her, though not to her father, after he discovered our loves, which though his dislike could not alter our affections, being strong, and young, yet it opposed our oft delightful meetings, subtlety was then to come into freedom's place, and danger, where safety was wont to dwell, we only secure in our love's trials, I had many put upon me, but I passed them all, the more to increase her liking, and her father's hate to me. Then was there an enchantment, wherein faith in love, and valour was to be showed, and approved; but since the rarest living Prince, your most excellent son, had the power, as justly deserving it, to conclude those charms; I will let the description of that pass, since how impossible is it, but that you have heard the whole relation of it by him.  
Then to proceed, I was so much honoured, as to be carried to Rhodes, and peace made with her father, and his consent gained for our marriage: then departed he with his royal company, leaving me assured, and so certain of all content, as than I imagined; but after there departure, some two days before the solennizing of the marriage, we were discoursing of many things, among the rest, of the adventures at Cyprus, which brought on the pleasant Just we had there: begun by matchless Amphilanthus, and his worthy companion Ollorandus, with whom I did well enough, but was by your Son laid on the ground; this I took for no disgrace, but as a due, when I presumed to meet him, who was to be yielded to by all: but though I thought this no dishonour, the hearing it bred disdain in my mistress, wherefore she told me, that unless I would wipe away this stain, she would never look upon me, and though she could marry no other, yet she would not perform it with me, this grieved me, and so much was I vexed with the teller of this to her, as to begin, I could have found in my heart to kill him; but what would that avail? She was angry, and wilful in her resolution, and being Princess of that Island, I had but a small party there, to force her to perform her word, and faith engaged; yet thus far I brought it, I undertook to carry her picture through all Greece, and Italy, and Just with all, that would venture their Mistress' Pictures against mine, if I overcame, I was to have her instantly upon my return, and all their Pictures, as my gain to present her withal, only I excepted, Amphilanthus and Ollorandus whom I had before been so much engaged to. She was contented with this, and so I took my way; Most of Greece I have passed, and all good fortune hath yet attended me, never receiving the worst of any, but I must confess, my Destiny hath yet held me, from meeting the renown of Knighthood, the three Brothers, and their Companions; the last I met withal, was a Romanian Knight, and he brought, as assured gain, this Ladies, the Princess Antissia, but hath courteously left her to grace the other Ladies; Now Sir, my humble request to your Majesty is, that I may have permission to try my fortune here.  
The King rose up, and embraced him, giving him welcome, and liberty; so did Amphilanthus, Parselius, Steriamus, Ollorandus, and lastly, Dolorindus came unto him, but not with so loving a countenance, for he was resolved to encouter him, so much had the resemblance of Antissia wrought on his mind; then the King desired to have the orders of the justs proclaimed, which were, That no man must come into the Field to Just, without his Lady's Portraiture. That if he were overcome, he must leave it behind him, as his sign of loss. That he must not offer to defend that with the Sword, which he lost with the Lance. That they were to run six courses, if done equally, to continue till the judges decided it. And lastly, if the Challenger were overcome, the Defendant had free liberty to dispose of all the Pictures before conquered; this being done, for that night they parted, Polarchos to his Tents, which were set up at the end of the Lists, being infinite rich, and beautiful. The princes brought him thither, though fain they would have had his company in the Court, but that was contrary to her command, who he must wholly obey.  
The morning come, there assembled all the Court, the judges were the four first named Princes, than came in the Prince of Milan, attended on, like himself, two Knights of Milan carrying his Lady's Picture, which was, indeed, as lovely as any could be, but brown of complexion, Daughter she was to the Duke of Florence, and who at that time he was extremely passionate, of being to be his wife, within few weeks after; this Prince ran finely with an excellent grace, and delicate Horsemanship; but Polarchos had run with Amphilanthus, with equal strength, for some courses, wherefore this young Prince must be contented to leave his picture behind him, which he did at the fourth course, and thus did his misfortune bring in many, for that day he gained seven to the number of his Victories, & the second day, almost as many. Now was he to stay but six days in every King's Court, not as long as he found Knights to Just with, but those that would, must within that time do it, or not else. The third day he had but few, by reason the Knights were unprovided, but the fourth and fifth, he had enough to do, to conquer so many as came. The sixth day, there entered a Knight in gold armour, his plumes, furniture to his horse, liveries all yellow and gold, so as he was called the jealous Knight; before him was carried the picture of Antissia, so he came to the judges as the custom was, but they refused him liberty, saying, that since that Princess had been once before brought in, it was not lawful to bring her again, since so it run to infiniteness; yet he much urging, and the challenger being as courteous, as valorous, consented on this condition, that this should be the last example, so they parted, and encountered with great force, and fineness, the yellow Knight had a while the worse, but he recovered himself prettily well again, and brought it to that pass, that in five courses, there was little advantage; but then Polarchos knowing his conclusion was near an end, like a man that in earnest, desired to win his Lady's love, encountered him, and struck him flat on his back, passing only with the loss of his stirrups, so the honour was given him, and the other unknown, got away as he came, but with somewhat less reputation, yet no shame; since he did best of forty that jousted of that Court.  
Thus the justs had end, and Polarchos with much honour, was brought into the Court, where he continued some days, & having now finished his charge departed for Rhodes, with all lovely triumphant trophies. At Rhodes he was received kindly of all, except his mistress, who examining all that he had done, and finding none of the famous women among them, told him that those were nothing to her, unless he had brought Pamphilia's, Urania's, Selarinas, and limena's pictures, or that he had overthrown, Parselius, Rosindy, Steriamus, Selarinus, Perissus, Leandrus, or such Knights, looking with so despiteful a contempt on him, as it a new moved his passions, into a still continuing hate, for he seeing this, and all his labour no more esteemed, grew to abhorring that, which before he sought, and scorn, what he adored. Is all my labour (said he) requited thus? the travels, the hazards I have run into, rewarded with this slightness? Farewell, fond unworthy woman, and when Polarchos next seeks thee, use him thus; now I hate thee, and will no more ever see thee, or think of thee, if not with scorn. With that he flung out of her presence, and strait went to his lodging, where he meant to stay that night only, and the next day take his journey homeward, but he was thus prevented; for she seeing his mind altered, and how like she was to fall into this loss, she called her trustiest servants to her, and gave them charge how to fulfil her commands, which they accomplished; for in the dead time of the night, when he slept secure from Love passions, which were wont to hold his eyes open, and busy his soul, he now freed from them, enjoyed quiet rest, till he was disturbed by the rude rushing in of certain men into his Chamber, who taking him unprovided, laid hold of him, and binding him with cords, and iron chains, carried him into a strong tower, which was on the top of the Castle, the windows barred thick with iron, nothing else to keep Sun or cold from him, no bed but the hard floor, nor meat, but bread and water.  
Thus he lived a while, true spectacle of misfortune, in unfortunate love, those hands that lately defended her beauty, now bound for maintaining so false a shadow, and all the honour he gained for her, turned to disdained hate, surely a just punishment, when worth carries a sword against worth to defend the opposite, Poor Polarchos, into what affliction art thou brought: how will thy friends lament thy misfortune, and redress thy wrongs, if they may attain but the knowledge of it? but thus thou must yet continue tortured for thy too great goodness.  
Amphilanthus having now recovered his strength prettily well, came unto his father one day, telling him what promise he had made unto his cousin, the Queen of Pamphilia, to conduct her home, and therefore besought his leave to depart, and also permission for Vrania's going; beside, Steriamus was now to proceed in his business concerning the recovery of his kingdom; these he said, and no other should have carried him from his presence. This indeed was true, and so gained he the liberty he demanded, though with hearty grief to part with them: the Queen was also sorry, for he was their dearest child; yet his honour was more dear to them. Then took he leave of all the court, and, and with his brave companions, and sweet Urania, took shipping for Morea. Perissus having all this while continued in Arcadia with the King, fain would take leave of them, but the happy news of their arrival did stay him. If the Morean King were upon this, even ravished with joy, none can blame him, since he had at that time the whole worth of the world in his presence. Pamphilia never more contented, having her two dearest brothers with her, whither also soon came Philarchos to fill up their joys, bringing with him his beautiful, and chastely loving Orilena; all were full of comfort, all comforted with this happiness: bravery of Knighthood shined there, the only beauty of virtue, and virtuous beauty was there assembled. As thus the Court was flourishing in glory, despising any sorrow, a sad spectacle called them one morning a little to compassion, a Lady in mourning attire, attended on with numbers of Knights and Ladies likewise in that habit, came into the Hall, the Lady's face covered with a black Veil; next to her followed an other Lady, carrying a most sweet and dainty child in her arms, she coming to the State, did not kneel down, but threw herself at the King's feet, crying out with such pitiful moan, as all hearts did join as in love to condole with her.  
Long it was before she could bring forth any thing; at last, O my Lord (said she), as ever you had compassion of an afflicted creature, verify it in favour showed to me. I am a Lady, and a miserable soul, forlorn by fortune, and my love: I was resolute, but alas, what woman can see my years, and still continue so? I was deceived, and am, and this now grieveth me. Assist me gracious Prince, it is alone in you to redress my harm: then do it, and do it to her, who suffers by your blood.  
The King was amazed, not being able to guess at the business; yet taking her up, desired to know more of it, promising his best power and aid in it. The business than my Lord (said she) is this: I am dishonoured if you help not; one of your Knights travelling in search of a friend of his, unfortunately (for me) lighted on my house, where I with civility, and courteous manner entertained him: so well he liked the place (and then myself) as he never ceased continual importunity, wooing, and sparing no means to win his end, till he procured this end for me: yet being chastely bred, and honouring virtue above all respects, or passions, I would not consent till he married me: then we kept together some times, he leaving all other courses, contented to obscure himself, his name and estate, to be in my arms; happiness to me like assurance of heaven, for as heaven I loved him, and would not refuse any danger, his love might expose me unto. But he having enjoyed his desires, and seeing I had no hidden beauty more for variety to delight him with all, he left me with a feigned excuse, never since having so much as looked after me, or let me know he lived. What torment this was to me (Great King) consider? but most, finding myself with child; then came the hazard of my honour in mind, the danger of my disgrace, the stain I might bring to my house: for few will believe us, poor women, in such extremity, but rather will increase our infamy. What pain ever was suffered by woman, I endured in soul and body, till the time of my delivery came, when God sent me this babe: having gained some little strength, I left my Country, and hither am I come unknown to any, humbly to crave your favour; one of your Knights hath done me this abuse, and therefore from your hands I implore right.  
Sweet Lady (said the King), I pity much your fortune: but tell me who this Knight is, and I vow he shall not stay in my Court, or favour, if he do not before me satisfy you, so as this can be verified against him.  
Sir (said she) if one of these words I have spoken be false, let shame, and perpetual loss requite me: no Sir, I have spoken only truth, and desire but to be justified; yet wish I not so great an ill to befall him, for God knows my soul is purely his, loving him as itself, and but for him, would have so much tried the sincereness of it. Then call (I beseech you) your Knights together, and of them demand, what they will allot me; I will be disposed of by yourself and them, for justly may I put myself to you, since he is no other that hath abused me, but your own son, the winning and forsaking Parselius.  
The King at this grew infinitely troubled, not knowing what to say, or do in it; at last he called his son, who all this while was talking with Leandrus about Pamphilia: he coming to him, the king demanded of him, if he would upon his Honour, resolve him directly of one thing he would demand; nay more, he charged him on his blessing, not to conceal that from him which he was to ask. He vowed, nothing should make him answer false. Then tell me (said he), have you a child, or are you married to any without my knowledge? He fell strait on his knees; If ever (cried he) I gave my word to marry any, or had a child by any, let Heaven (bless you, said the Lady, staying him from further proceeding). Vow not (said she); for never knew I man but you, and you are husband to me, and father to this babe. Her voice he then began to know, yet being impossible (as he thought) for Dalinea to come thither, he desired to see her face. Nay (said she), first promise to be just before your father, and this royal presence, confirm what privately before only three you vowed in sacred marriage. What I did vow (said he) I never will deny then royal Father (said he) hear me with patience and favour; and yet before I speak, call Leandrus hither: so he was called, when Parselius with eyes filled with tears thus began. Wretch that I was, wand'ring in search of my friend Amphilanthus (as I pretended, but indeed that only was not my voyage), I fell into the confines of Achaya, where I met Berlandis, who came to seek me from his Lord, and to entreat my company in finishing the war for Antissius; I consented: but passing through that Country, I chanced to come to the Castle of Dalinea, your fair and virtuous Sister; her I fell in love withal, forgot all former vows, and truths in love; her I sought, flattered, wept to, protested what loves art could instruct me in: but all in vain, virtue in her was a strong rock against my vehement suit, till at the last pity procured reward; to me she granted, on the making her my wife: I did that willingly, and as my only happiness. But long I had not thus enjoyed her, but one sad night I dreamed of my first Love, who furiously revild me for my change, than sent revenge in scorn, and worst contempt. I waked distracted; she, dear she, my wife was grieved with my pain, asked the true cause, complained with me, grieved with me, wept with me, who wept to cousin her; yet I was forced to it. At last I made a faignd excuse, and by that means liberty to go. From thence I parted, after lost my Page, flying from all but sadness, which did live, fed by my sorrow, pressed with the heaviest weight of soule-felt-mourning, I got unto the sea, and so shipped and sailed to St. Maura, where with an Hermit grave, and poor, I wasted out some time, till sweet divine Urania was by her dear brother thrown into the sea. I saw her fall, and heard her cry, farewell; I leapt unto her, and so came a shore by help of Steriamus, and his friend, good Dolorindus. Strait I found the good, for then all fortunes passed in my crossed love; I quite forgot, nay, that I had e'er loved, so far was passion from me; yet the love, chaste love of Dalinea as my wife, I yet retain, and only she do I affect and love. This Sir is true, and humbly I ask pardon for my fault, which I had meant more privately to have confessed; and you Leandrus pray now pardon me, your Sister hath lost nothing by this match, nor shall have reason to complain of me, if true affection, and a loyal love, can merit love's requital from her breast. I know she loved me, and I love but her. For you sad Lady, if you be not she, you wrong yourself extremely; and I vow, that (but herself) I never yet did touch, nor ever will; then seek another husband, and a father for your child.  
I'll seek no other (answered she), then take your loyal Dalinea to yourself: and this was Dalinea, whose firm love, but violent, had brought her to that place, despairing of Parselius and his love. Parselius took her in his arms, and scarce could satisfy himself with joy, to see his dearest Dalinea. The King forgave them, and with fatherly affection wept, and kissed her, and the babe: then did Leandrus embrace them both, she ask pardon, and Parselius too he did forgive, and so all were content. Urania as untouched with love or anger likewise welcomed her, so did all else; the mourning was cast off, and all the joy expressed, that clothes or Triumphs could produce: but Pamphilia admiringly beheld Urania and her Brother, at last, O love (said she), what strange varieties are here? assuredly none but thy servants can let such waverings possess them; protect me yet from such distress, and let me be ordained, or licenced to be the true pattern of true constancy, and let my love be loyal to me.  
These passions oft did vex her, and perplex her soul, one day especially when all alone in the Woods she thus did complain. Never at quiet tormenting passion, what more canst thou desire? What, covet that thou hast not gained? in absence thou dost molest me with those cruel pains, in presence thou torturest me with fear and despair, than dost burn with desire to obtain, yet sealest up my lips from discovering it; leave these contrarieties, and make me live peaceably, and so happily: scorched I am with heat of doubt, my hopes are burned to ashes, and only the smoke of suspicion fuming of my whole self, now consumed by this fire. Could I believe those sighs were for me? Could I hope his sadness proceeded from this ground? Could I think his looks on me were love? Could I imagine, when he provokes me to discourse of such like passions, it were to find my affection's seat? I might then be so fortunate as to discover that, which hidden, ruins me: but passion, thy ends are only to afflict, never to help; thou dost still work against thyself, as if thine own mortal enemy. What ill spirit but thyself, would find causes to hurt? what nurse would not feed her babe rather with milk, then wean it, to starve it, if not able else to sustain it? but you a cruel nurse deny me food, and famish me with despair, a lean living, and a miserable fate; unnatural this is to murder, what yourself did breed; you bred me to this woe, will you forsake me now in necessity? you have given me education, brought up in the learning of love; was it to be after condemned, for being so ill a scholar? or have I learnt now enough, and so must make use of it? Teach me a little more, and only to know this, the Pelican lets out her blood to save her young ones: but passion, you let me with all your children's affections pine and starve; one drop of lifeblood, hope would cherish me, but hope abandons me, and I remain an unfortunate witness of your tyrannies. Welcome my tears (cried she) you are more tender and more kind, striving to ease me by your careful means; then wept she, sighed, sobbed, and groaned in her anguish; but when the spring had run itself even dry, she rose from off the grass, which a while had been her bed, when these extremest weights of heaviness oppressed her: and to make her the trulier delivered of her sorrow, Amphilanthus came unto her, and strait followed Urania and Limena. This brave Prince discerned her eyes somewhat swelled, whereat his heart did melt with pity, and kindly asked the cause: she that now might have had her wish, yet refused that happy proffer for her delivery; modesty and greatness of spirit overruling her, so as she made a slight excuse; and yet that enough to make him know, she desired not to reveal her secret thoughts. This taught him civility not to urge, that gave her time to know she did amiss in being so secret, as locked up her loss, in stead of opening her blessing. Then sat they all down together, Amphilanthus laying his head on pamphilia's Gown, which she permitted him to do, being more than ever before she would grant to any: then fell they into discourse of many things, and as all must come to conclusion, so they concluded with love, as the end of all sweet pleasure. Then variety of love came among them, I mean the discourses in that kind, every one relating a story, Urania was the last, and hers was this. In Italy as once I went abroad into some Woods, where a dainty river want only passed, it was my chance, walking up and down, to call to mind the sweet Island wherein I was bred, and all those pleasant passages therein, so far those thoughts possessed me, as they moved sadness in me, and that, passion, and passion, attendance on that power; so as I threw myself upon the ground, there a while remaining as in a trance, lulled into it by those charms. Awaked I was out of this sweet sleep by a voice, which I heard most lamentably to complain, sadness never being sadder than in her; this brought me to other of passions companions, desire, and longing to assist that afflicted creature, who by the words was spoke, appeared a woman and a lover. I drew nearer to gain a sight if I could of her, when I perceived her lie upon the earth, her head on the root of a weeping willow, which dropped down her tears into the Crystalline streams, hanging part of her fair arms over it, to embrace itself in that clear glass. She lay between the body of that sad tree, and the river which passed close by it, running as if in haste to carry their sorrows from them, but sorrow in them had too sure abiding: she was in the habit of a Shepherdess, which pleased me to see, bringing my estate again in my mind, wherein I lived first, that had been enough to call relief from me; wherefore I was going to her, when she broke forth into these speeches, being mixed with many sighs, and fearful stopps: Poor Liana (said she) is this thy fervent love's reward? have I got the hate of my friends, the curse of my parents, and the utter undoing of myself, and hopes, to be requited with falsehood? Alas unkind shepherd, what have I deserved at thy hands, to be thus cruelly tormented, and undeservedly forsaken? never can, or may any love thee better than I did, and do, and must, though thou prove thus unkind. That word (unkind) brought a kind company of tears to second it; which I seeing, stepped unto her, who sorrowfully, and amazedly beheld me, fear and grief joining together in her face, offering at first to have gone from me; but I would not permit her to have her mind in that, no more than fortune would suffer her to enjoy; she stayed, when I used these words: Seek not to leave me, who have been pinched with these torments, having loud, and sometimes wanted pity as much as you; shun not me experienced, since you cannot be better accompanied, then by me, who am not ignorant of such pains, and have as much lamented absence, as you can dislike falsehood, but now I have gained freedom. Would all could find that cure (said she): but since you command, who seem most fit to be obeyed, I will not flee from you, nor had I at first offered it, if not out of shame, to have my follies discovered by any except wild places, and savage mountains, as gentle and tenderhearted as my love. It is no blame (said I) to love, but a shame to him, who requires such a constant and worthy love with no more respect; nor think you do amiss, or shall do, if you relate to me the whole story of your (as you call it) ill fortune, since means are allowed in all businesses for redress, and that you may chance to find here, at least some ease, the very complaining giving respite from a greater sorrow, which continual thinking, & plodding on, will bring you. You shall have your will (said she) and be by me denied nothing, since I see you govern or master Fate; and most I am engaged to refuse none of your commands, since I have once seen a face like yours, and no way inferior to your beauty, as much tormented, as I am now afflicted; her name was Urania, her dwelling in an Island where I was borne, & my misery for me, though the place is called, the pleasant Pantaleria. I more curiously beholding her, called her to mind, having been one of my best companions; wherefore embracing her, I told her she said right, and that I was the same Urania, afflicted then for ignorance of mine estate, now known to be daughter to the King of Naples, but hers proceeding from love, I again entreated the understanding of it: she than rose up, and with sober, and low reverence she began her discourse thus.  
Most excellent Princess, poor Liana your servant, being (as you know) Daughter to the chief Shepherd of that Island, who had the title of Lord over the rest, being indeed a Noble man, and a great Lord by birth, in his own Country, which was Provence; but misery glorying to show in greatness, more than in meaner sorts of people. It happened so, as the Earl of Provence took dislike with him, and that growing to hate, he so far prosecuted his spite, as he ceased not till he had undone him, (an easy thing for a Prince to compass over a Subject.) Then having nothing left him but life, and misfortune, he left his Country, seeking to gain some solitary place to end his days in, he happened into that sweet Island, and (as you have heard I am sure very often) with his few friends, that would not forsake him, else left by fortune, inhabited in it, and called it by his name; nor did I till after your departure, know my Father to be other than the chief Shepherd. But my misfortune brought that knowledge, and makes me desire a speedy end; for thus it was.  
I being his only child, and so heir to all his estate, (which was great for a Shepherd) was by many sought, indeed most, if not all the young, and best Shepherds of the Country; those youths all striving for me, made me strive how to use them all alike, and so I did, liking none, but courteously refusing all, till (as every one must have a beginning to their misery) there came a Shepherd, and a stranger he was in birth to that place, yet gained he a nearer, and choicer acquaintance with my heart, and affection, than any of our homebred neighbours. He called himself Alanius, and so if you have heard part of my discourse, I am sure you have already with that understood his name, being the head-spring to my calamity; for, Alanius I affected, and only loved; and to say truth, most desperately did love him, (O Love, that so sweet a name, and so honoured a power, should bring such disasters;) secretly I loved somewhile unknown unto himself, but not before his heart had made itself my prisoner, little imagining, mine had been so much his subject.  
But so it continued, till his pain made him discover his love, and that pity I held over his pain, mixed with mine own affection, compelled me to yield to my misfortune; yet, was Alanius then worthy of my love, for he loved me, and I must ever love him still, though he be false. False, murdering word, which with itself carries death, and millions of tortures joined with it; yet thou art so, and I unfortunate to call thee so, else no worth wanted in thee. But this is too sad a relation, I will proceed with the continuance of our Loves; which was for a pretty space, when another, who had before Alanius his coming thither, sought me for his wife, being of good estate, and of equal hope, to rise in his fortunes, given to husbandry, and such commendable qualities as Countrymen affect, and so it was my father's mind to breed me too, and therefore had given his consent, looking to the towardliness of the man, and the great blessing he had received, in more than usual increase of his stock. These were allurements to him, while they were scarce heeded by me, the riches I looked unto being fortune in our Loves, till one day, my Father called me to him, telling me, what a match he had made for me, and not doubting of my liking, showed much comfort which he had conceived of it, and so went on with joy, as if the marriage had been strait to be consummated. I was, truly, a little amazed withal, till he finding I made no answer, pulling me to him, told me, he hoped my silence proceeded from no other ground, than bashfulness, since he assured himself, I would not gainsay what he commanded, or so much as dislike what he intended to do with me, wherefore he would have me join my dutiful agreement to his choice, and order my love to go along with his pleasure, for young maid's eyes should like only where their Father liked, and love where he did appoint. This gave me sight to my greater mischief, wherefore I kneeled down, words I had few to speak, only with tears I besought him to remember his promise, which was, never to force me against my will, to marry any. Will (said he) why your Will ought to be no other than obedience, and in that, you should be rather wilful in obeying, than question what I appoint; if not, take this and be assured of it, that if you like not as I like, and wed where I will you, you shall never from me receive least favour, but be accounted a stranger and a lost child.  
These words ran into my soul, like poison through my veins, chilling it, as the cold fit of an Ague disperseth the coldness over all one's body; for not being Alanius whom he meant, it was death to me to hear of marriage, yet desirous to seem ignorant, and to be resolved, who it was, I desired to know, who it was it pleased him to bestow upon me. He replied, one more worthy than thou canst imagine thyself deserving, then naming him; that name was like a Thunderbolt to strike my life to death, yet had I strength, though contrary to judgement, to do this. I kneeled again, and told him, that if he please to kill me, I should better, and more willingly embrace it, else, unless he did desire to see me wretched, and so to conclude my days in misery, I besought him to alter his purpose, for of any man breathing I could not love him, nor any, but. That But I stayed withal, yet he in rage proceeded: But, cried he, what, have you settled you affections else where? Who is this fine man hath won your idle fancy? Who hath made your duty void? Whose fair tongue hath brought you to the foulness of disobedience? Speak, and speak truly, that I may discern what choice you can make, to refuse my fatherly authority over you? I truly trembled, yet meaning to obey him, as much as it was possible for me to do, in my heart, loving the expression of duty, I told him it was Alanius. Alanius, a trim choice truly (said he) and like your own wit, and discretion; see what you have done, choose a man, only for outside; a stranger, and for any thing we know, a runaway from his country, none knowing him, nor himself being able to say, what he is? I weeping implored a better opinion of him, since I assured myself, that if I could come to the blessing of enjoying him, all happiness in this world would come with it, else desired he would wed me to my grave, rather than to any, but Alanius, whom only I did, or could love, and one whom I had not placed my affections upon alone, but life, and all hope of comfort. How he was moved with this (alas sighed she) imagine you; truly so much, as (being by nature choleric) I verily thought, he would have killed me, his eyes sparkled with fury, his speech was stopped, so as not being able to bring forth one word, he flung out of the room, locking me fast up for that night, without hope, or comfortable company, but my own sorrow, and tears, which never left me; and those were more pleasing to me, when I said to myself, thus do I suffer for Alanius. The next morning he sent one of his servants to me, a young Lad who loved me well, (but was faster tied in service to your command, said she to me, once overjoyed, when you sent him to attend a Knight, and after your going away, also left that Island, whether to seek you, and so to serve you, or hating the poorness of that place when you were absent,) but this youth being sent by my Father, to know if I continued in the same disobedience, I was in the night before, I sent him word, that I should hate myself, if my conscience should ever be able to accuse me of such an offence; but true it was, my love continued as firm, and unremovable to Alanius, as it did: for alas, what can change a constant heart, which is fixed like Destiny? I could not let any thing come near me, which might be mistrusted to lead one piece of change, or carry one rag of it abroad, my heart like the Wool the briers catch, torn, and spoiled, rather than pulled from it. O intolerable servitude, where fast holding is a loss, and losing a gain, yet rather had I lose, while I keep virtuous constancy.  
With the answer I gave, returned the youth, whereupon without seeing me, he sent me to a Sister's house of his to be kept (and sorry I am, I must call her his Sister, or keep this memory of her, for a more devilish creature never lived) there I was half a year, without means to let Alanius know of my imprisonment; he sought (guided by love) for me, but having no truer a director found me not, till one day coming with his Flocks, as he was accustomed to do, into the fair Plain, where we were wont to meet, he met this Lad, who seeing him sad, asked what he ailed. Alanius replied, how can he choose but mourn, whose heart is kept from him? Indeed (said he) I cannot blame you having such a loss, and yet sure you have a heart in place of it, else could you not live to feel, and discover the want of yours; but did you know what tormenting sorrow she feels for you, you would yet be more perplexed. Wretch that I am (cried he) can she be tormented, and for me? and live I to hear of it, without redressing it? Yet what talk I (fool that I am?) Can my cries aid her? Can the baying of my Lambs assist her? Can my poor Flock buy her freedom? Can I merit her release? Or can, indeed, myself think I am worthy, or borne to such a blessedness, as to relieve her, vexed, and harmed for me? What power hast thou but over thy tears to flow for her? What assistance, but sheep, innocent, as thyself, and loyal passion? What Arms but thy Sheephook, which can only catch a beast, while thou (unworthy creature) art not able to help her? The poorest thing can assist a friend of the same kind, but thou canst neither help her, nor thyself, worst of things created; end, and rid the World of such corruption, for why should I breathe, if not to serve Liana? You may serve her, and relieve her, said the youth, if you will hear, and but take advice: and more will I do for you, than I would for any other, since I find you love her (as indeed you ought to do). Then be satisfied thus far (if you will trust me, who will never be but true), I will tell you where she is, and give you all assistance towards her delivery. She is in yonder house, upon the top of that hill, which shows itself as boldly boasting in the cruelty is committed there, by warrant of a cruel father: with her Aunt she is (yet still your Liana) so close kept, as none, save myself, may see her, who from her father visits her once a day, though not for love that he sends, but to try, if by his unfatherly tortures, she may be wrought to leave loving you: but so much he fails in this, as it is impossible by famine to make one leave to wish for food, but rather with the want, to increase the longing to it: which he seeing, threateneth the forsaking her. Oft have I carried this message, and as oft returned sorrowful, receiving his doom, but direct denial to his demands; and truly it hath even grieved my soul, to see how terribly she hath been perplexed and handled, by those rude and merciless executors of his will, who can no way alter her, if not to blame them for their curstness, who never was but mild to them, and this morning did I see her, when she uttered these words. Alas (said she) unhappy Liana; how art thou afflicted for thy constancy? yet this tell my father, his kind commands had more wrought in me, than his cruelty, yet neither against my loialty in love; but now so hardened I am against pain, with use of pain, as all torment, and millions of them added to the rest, shall have no power to move, the least in my affection to unworthy change, for than should my soul smart, as only now my body is subject to these torments. This I told truly to my Master, who nothing was moved by it, but to more rage, sending another of my fellows to his sister, conjuring her, that since neither persuasions, nor the begun tortures would prevail, she should use any other means, with what affliction she could to alter her, sparing none (so her limbs were not harmed by them) which no doubt shall be executed. Wherefore you must think speedily to aid her, who endures for you, still resolved to bear misery for you; and assure yourself she will endure all can be laid upon her, rather than fail in one title to you, or Love's fealty; and no way I know more sure and speedy, then to write her a letter, which I will deliver, and therein let her know, the true and constant affection you bear her (which will bring sole comfort to her doleful heart), and that (if she will venture) to bring herself to happiness in freedom, and to make you mutually contented, she must meet you in the little wood, next below the house, where you will not fail her, & carry her from these miseries into all delight and pleasure. Ah my dear friend (said he), how hast thou bound me by thy friendship, and loving care to us both? but how canst thou perform this? If that be all (said he) let me alone, nor take you care, for it shall be my charge, which I will honestly discharge, and deliver it with mine own hands, as if it came from her father, which shall be the means to have the room private for our discourse: what shall then hinder me, from discovering your desires, and her happiness? This agreed upon, they parted for that time, the youth to his flock, Alanius to his pen & paper, that evening meeting again, according to appointment; and then leaving Alanius to prepare all things ready against my coming, to convey me to the next town, there to be married, himself coming to me, leaving the false shepherd, who fairly like the falsest betrayer of bliss, promised to be in readiness for us: the honest lad did his part, telling my aunt that he was to speak with me presently, and in great private. She mistrusting little (and glad to let any of my father's men see how circumspectly she kept his orders), brought him up, instantly after, she had afflicted me with iron rods. When I saw the Youth, Alas (said I), are you come with more torments? for pity's sake let me now have an end, and take my life, the best and last prize of your tyrannies. His answer was, he could not alter his Master's will, nor be a messenger of other, than he was entrusted with all, as he was with a secret message unto me; wherefore entreating mine Aunt, and the rest by, to leave the room, they left us together; they gone, and we free from danger, he began thus: Think not sweet Liana that I am now come with any matter of grief, but with the welcome tidings of the long desired bliss of enjoying, if you will not yourself mar your own content. Is it possible (cried she) that I can live to see happiness? Read this (said he), and then tell me, whether you may resolve to be happy or no, or so refuse it. I took the letter, and with excessive joy (said she) I opened it, finding in that his firmness: for what was there wanting, which might content me? loyalty professed in large protestations, affection expressed in the dearest kind, and sweetest manner; besides a means for our happiness most of all believed, and sought. What can you imagine then Madam (said she) that I did? I kissed the letter, wept with joy, too soon foretelling the greater cause, which for his sake I suffered, tears proving then but slight witnesses for my far deeper suffering; when I found all this contrary, and my Alanius false, the heavens I thought would sooner change, and snow lie on AEtna, than he would break his faith, or be ungrateful to me, who then for him ventured life and fortunes; for, to fulfil his desire, I went with the Youth, called Menander, having gotten such things as were necessary for my escape, assisted by a maid in the house, who much pitied my estate, but more loved Menander, who made use of it that night for my benefit. In a disguise which he had brought thither, under colour of necessaries, we left the house, and soon arrived at the appointed Grove, which was at the Hills foot. All the way fear possessed me, left I had too long stayed, and so given him cause of unkindness, that I no faster hasted to him, who alone could truly give me life in comfort, and desire to see him, made me accuse myself of long tarrying, especially when I saw him there; but what saw I with that? death to my joy, and martyrdom to my poor heart: for there I saw him in another's arms, wronging my faith, and breaking his made vows. I stood in amaze, not willing to believe mine eyes, accusing them that they would carry such light to my knowledge, when to bring me to myself, or rather to put me quite from myself, I heard him use these speeches: It is true; I loved Liana, or indeed her fortune, which made me seek her; but in comparison of thee, that affection borne to her, was hate, and this only love, rather esteeming myself happy in enjoying thee, and thy delights, then if endowed with this whole Island. What is riches without love (which is in truth the only riches)? and that do I now possess in thee. These words turned my amazedness to rage, crying out; O false and faithless creature, beast, and no man, why hast thou thus vildly betrayed thy constant Liana? He looking up, and perceiving me, and his fault, said nothing, but as fast as guiltiness stored with shame could carry him, he fled, his delight (or wanton) following him, which way they took, when out of the Grove, I know not, nor the honest Lad, who would not leave me, bearing part with me in grief, and I with him of shame, infinitely molested, that he was made an instrument in my betraying. When I had endured a little space (like a Cabinet so filled with treasure, as though not itself, yet the lock or hinges cannot contain it, but break open): so did the lock of my speech fly abroad, to discover the treasure of my truth, and the infiniteness of his falsehood, not to be comprehended, Passions grew so full, and strong in me, I swooned, and came again to feel and increase misery: he persuaded, I was willing to hear him, who I saw had been in goodness to me, cozened as I was. We left the Grove (accursed place, and in it my cause of curses) coming into a fair meadow, a dainty wood being before it, and another on the side of it; there did my unfortunate eyes again meet with Alanius, unlucky encounter where I saw such falsehood, which yet boldly ventured towards me, he running with greatest haste after me, but sending his voice before him, conjuring me by the love I bore him, to hear him, calling me his Liana: but as I saw him, so did his error appear unto me, and yet did grief rather than hate hold the glass to me; for though he had neglected, and deceived me, and so forsaken my truth, to joy in the loose delights of another, yet I mourned that he was deceitful, for (God knows) I love him still. I fled from him, but sent my hearts wishes for his good to him, like the Parthian arrows, which by his cries seemed to wound him, and my words (though few) to strike him, which as I ran from him, I threw back to him; It is true, I was yours, while I was accounted so by you; but you have cut the knot, and I am left to join the pieces again in misfortune, and your loss of love: all happiness attend you, the contrary abiding in me, who am now your forsaken, and so, afflicted Liana. With this I got the Wood to shelter me, and the thickest part of it, at my petition to grant me succour, coveting now the greatest shade to hide me from him, to whom, and into thick shades, I lately ran. In this manner I lived a while there, never seeing company, or light, but against my will, still haunting the privatest places, and striving to gain the sea, which soon after I obtained, getting the opportunity of a youths passing into Italy, who had sought Perissus, to bring him notice of his Uncle's death, the King of Sicily; with him I passed, and so came into this country, where ever since I have romingly endured, never in any one place settled. The youth Menander and I, parted at the sea, he (I think) going to seek his Master, or rather you, than did she close her speech with multitudes of tears, which truly moved me to much compassion, beginning then to hold her dear to me. I persuaded her to leave that life, and live with me, who would accompany her sorrows, rather than afflict her with mirth; and beside, it might be, in my company she might gain remedy for her torture. No remedy but death (said she) can I have, and too long (O me) have I sought that; yet to obey you, I will abide some time here, and but here in these woods, beseeehing you not to urge me to the Court, when the poorest place, much better doth agree with my estate. I to enjoy her conversation, granted to any thing, concluding that I should often visit her, and so pass our times together in loving discourse.  
This, said Amphilanthus, (by your favour sweet sister) proves you love; the water it seems, hath not so thoroughly washed away your affection, but relics remain of the old passion.  
No truly dearest brother (said she) all those thoughts are clean drowned; but yet; I will go on with my story. Do dear Sister (said he) and begin again at (But yet). She blushed to find he had taken her, and yet daintily proceeded. That promise most religiously was kept between us, every day I visiting my Shepherdess. But one day as we were together discoursing and walking in the wood, we heard one not far from us, sadly to sing an odd kind of song, which I remember, getting afterwards the copy of it; and if I be not deceived sweet Cousin (said she) you will like it also; the song was this, speaking as if she had by him, and the words directed to her, as his thoughts were.  

YOu powers divine of love-commanding eyes,  
Within whose lids are kept the fires of love;  
Close not yourselves to ruive me, who lies  
In bands of death, while you in darkness move.   

One look doth give a sparck to kindle flames  
To burn my heart, a martyr to your might,  
Receiving one kind smile I find new frames  
For love, to build me wholly to your light.   

My soul doth fix all thoughts upon your will,  
Gazing unto amazement, greedy how  
To see those blessed lights of loves-heaven, bow  
Themselves on wretched me, who else they kill.   

You then that rule loves God, in mercy flourish:  
Gods must not murder, but their creatures nourish.   
Pamphilia much commended it, which pleased Urania infinitely, touching (as she thought) her one estate, while a proper song, and well composed: truly (said Amphilanthus) is this to be so much liked? but my cousin only doth it to please you. No in truth, said Pamphilia, it deserves in my judgement much liking; he smiled on her, Urania going on, you seem Brother, said she, a little willing to cross me this day, but I will proceed in discourse. The song (you are pleased to jest at) being ended, the same voice again did begin to lament in this manner: If scorn be ordained the reward for true love, than I am fully requited? if firm affection must be rewarded with contempt, and forsaking, I am richly paid? but if these deserve a sweet payment, which alone consisteth in dear love, then am I injured, and none more causelessly afflicted, or cruelly rejected? Love, suffer what thou wilt, faith endure all neglect, but ever be yourselves pure and unspotted. Unkind Liana, yet pardon me for calling thee so, since my heart grieves at that word unkind, yet give me leave to tell thee, I have not deserved this punishment from thee, nor merited this rigour, if another's offence may make me faulty, I am most guilty, else as free as my love still is to thee, from blame, or thought of stain in it: art thou not then unjust (sweet judge of all my harms) to punish me without a fault committed: Pity me yet, and recall the censure wrongfully given on me, condemned without a cause, and still led on towards execution in daily tortures without merit. Did any man die for another's act? then I must also suffer that tyranny, else consider, false judgement is a shame unto the judge, and will lie heavy on his conscience: call back then e'er I die, this unmerited verdict, since my truth with-stands thy cruelty. I would with Liana have gone to see who this was that thus accused her, but that we heard him again say some Verses, which being concluded, we went to him; but as we went, we heard another speak unto him thus. Alanius, why do you thus accuse Liana, and torment yourself with that, which were she certain of, she would, and must pity you? nor can you blame her for flying you, seeing as we both believed your unkindness and foul error. Alas, said Alanius, far be it from me ever to blame her, nor can my soul permit me to love her less, though she were cursed; nay, were she false, I yet should love her best; but being by you assured of her truth, give me leave to blame her rashness, and curse my own ill fortune, and unlucky life, which gave, and gives such dislike and smart unto my dearer self, and my sad days. Liana now knew not what to do, when she was certain this complainer was Alanius, and the other (as she did imagine) Menander: but I willing to reconcile such broken fortunes, made her go towards him, accompanying her sorrows myself. When being near him, and he looking up, perceiving her (without ceremony, or regarding me) ran unto her, and kneeling down, cried out these words. Alas my dear Liana, what hath your unhappy slave Alanius deserved to be thus pitiless tortured? hear but the truth, and before you rashly censure me, consider my great wrongs, which I still suffer by mistakes in you. Liana, who loved as much as he, and was as equally perplexed, yet now a little more, if possible bearing her own, and his sorrow; for her affliction as being his, and caused by her, she lifted him up from the ground, and with tears said: Think not my Alanius thy Liana can be other to thee, than thou wilt have her be, yet blame me not directly for these things, since here Menander can resolve thee of the cause: yet let that pass, and now be confident, thy love hath such command me, as hadst thou been (false she would not say) as we imagined thy repentance, and thy loved sight should have destroyed all those thoughts, where in offence might have been borne to thee, and so forgetfulness in me had governed with the memory of thy love. Then rising, with a kiss the lovers reconciled themselves, and cast away their mourning: but the story being strange where on their mistaking did arise, you shall hear that some other time.  
Nay sweet Urania (said Amphilanthus) let us hear it now, where can we be better than here? what company so pleasing, or dearer to us? If Pamphilia be agreed (said she) I will continue it. Take no care of me (said she), for believe it, I am never so happy, as when in this company; eyes than spoke, and she proceeded. We sat then down, and Alanius kneeling before us, began: The first part of my life (and the happy part I am sure) this Shepherdess hath related, and brought it to the full period of it, nay to the height of my misery; wherefore I will begin with the succession of that, and as I imagine where she left, which was with her leaving me in the plain, or better to resolve you of the deceit, with the night before we were to meet; she coming before me to the place appointed, saw (as she imagined) myself her lover, wronging my love, and her: well, and ill for me she might conceive of it so, but thus in truth it was. There lived a Shepherd then, (and my companion he was) who bewitched with a young maid's love, that unluckily had placed her love on me, plotted to deceive her, and in my shape to win, what his own person could not purchase him; wherefore that (in that) unlucky night, he came unto my lodging, and stole away my clothes, I usually on solemn days did wear; in these habits he went into the Grove, being so like in stature, speech, and favour, as he oftentimes was taken, even for me. Knowing her walk in the evening, to be towards those woods, in the Plain he saw her, and followed her into the Grove, overtaking her, just in the same place appointed for our bliss; being a little darkish, she mistook him, and hoping it was I, was content to be blinded: but wherein I do most accuse him, was, he used some words (to give her true assurance 'twas myself) concerning dear Liana. These unhappily she heard, and these, I must confess, gave full assurance of my faulsest fault. I cannot blame thee sweet, love made thee fear, and fear enraged thee, and yet (my heart) thou mightest have heard thy poor Alanius speak, yet, as this honest Ladd told me, thou didst never hate my person, though condemn my disloyalty, which in my greatest misery, gave yet some easy stop unto my pain, and that thou didst assure me of, for in all thy fury and flight, thou seemedst to wish me blessed. She having made more haste than I, came thither first, and so perceived (as she mistrusted) my amiss. I following my first directions, likewise came, but in her stead, only I discerned the footsteps of a woman having gone in haste; I had no thought, nor end of thinking but of Liana, feared some danger to herself, or harm which had ensued, as the night and unfrequented places might produce. Not dreaming on this harm, I followed those steps, (for hers I knew they were, her foot so easy was to be discerned from any others, as a dainty Lambs from any other sheep) long had I not pursued, and even but newly in the meadow, when I did see my dear, but she as much offended therewithal, as I was joyed at first, fled from me, giving me such language, as my fate appeared by that, to be undone. I cried to her, she fled from me, accused me, and yet did wish all happiness attend me; this was comfort in despair. I followed still, till I lost, not myself, but my wits, growing as mad, and doing as many tricks, as ever creature distracted did or could commit.  
From Pantaleria I got into Cicilie, in a boat taken up by a Pirate, for a booty, but finding in what estate I was, he landed me at Naples. There I passed some time, where yet the fame lives of my madness; distempered as I was, I fell in company with a loving Knight, (as since I understood by this my dearest friend) who was in the next degree to madness, loving overmuch, and with him came into this kingdom, where I have lost him, but here gained my friend Menander, who conducted me unto a virtuous Lady, skilful in Physic, who never left with curious medicines, and as curious pains, till I recovered my lost wits again. Then being sensible (and most of my distress) I took my leave, and with Menander, came unto this place, being directed by as sad a man, as I then was, now come again to life by you, my dear forgiver, and my only joy.  
What man directed you so near the Court, said Liana? an unlikely place to find my sorrow by. A poor, and miserable Lover too, said Alanius, who we found laid under a Willow tree, bitterly weeping, and bewailing the cruelty of a Shepherdess who had unwillingly made herself mistress of his heart. We went to him, to demand some things of him, which as well as grief would suffer him, he answered us, but so strangely, as appeared, he desired to speak of nothing but his Love, and torture for it; telling us, that he was a man, whose Destiny was made to undo him, loving one, who no grief, tears, prayers, or that estate they held him in, could bring to pity, having settled her love so much upon another, as she hated all that sought, (though for their good) to work her thoughts to change.  
By the discourse, and description, we soon found, it was no other than your sweetest self, my dear Liana, that brought us hither, where we are assured of you, and what we hoped for before; under that tree we left him, where he vows to remain while he hath life, and after, there to be buried, that being his bed, and then shall be his Tomb. Liana modestly denied the knowledge of any such matter, so with much affection, and such love, as I yet never saw the Image of the like; they welcomed each other, hearts, eyes, tongues, all striving to express their joys. Then did they return with me to the Court, and were those two strangers, you dear brother, commended so in the Pastoral. Menander I took to wait on me, who confessed, he had (as Liana told me) left Pantaleria to find me, and now is he here attending in my Chamber. This sweet discourse ended, they rose and went into the Court, the Princes liking this which so kindly concluded with enjoying.  
But that being so blessed a thing, as the name is a blessing without the benefit, must be now in that kind, only bereft some, who deserves the richest plenty of it. Ollorandus continuing in the Morean Court, news was brought unto him of his Brother's death, by which he was now Prince of Bohemia, and beside desired by his old Father to return, that he might see him, if possible, before his death, which, both for age, and grief of his Son's death, was likewise soon to befall him. The Prince met Amphilanthus just at his return from the walks, having left the Ladies in their chamber, and was going to seek him, to discourse some of his passions to him, but he prevented him thus.  
Most dear, and only worthy friend, read this; I dare not beseech your company from this place, but see my necessity, and so weigh my fortune; you know that I have been enjoind not to leave you, you know likewise, what good I must receive from you, when is that likely to come but now? Amphilanthus read a letter which he gave him, and thereby saw he was to accompany his friend, and leave his better friend (because more dear) behind. In great perplexity he was, divided 'twixt two loves, and one to be dissembled, yet he answered thus.  
The happiness befallen to Bohemia in you, I joy for, and yet in comparison of you, it is but little, your merits being more than that Kingdom can pay, or many answer; but are you resolved to go strait thither? What needs such a journey, since passion is strongest at the first? and if it would have caused your Father's death, that before now happened; never be so doubtful of his safety, but be confident he is well, or if other, you may (time enough) go thither: the Country so much loves you, as they will never let your absence wrong you; the same of your valour is such, as none dare go about to usurp your right: your cares then, thus may be settled for home businesses, and you resolve to hear once more from your Country, before you go thither. Your promises here infinitely engage your stay. How will you answer the going yourself, and carrying me, (who I must not leave) from the succour, you formerly promised Steriamus? The time grows on, and the Army will be together within this month, ready to march; beside, his confidence is as much in you, and me, as in a good part of the Troop, how can we dispense with this? Put it off I beseech you, if you will favour us so much, and yet, think not I speak this to deny going with you, or to show unwillingness, but in truth, out of these reasons.  
And one more (dear friend) said Ollorandus, the Queen Pamphilia I hear, is shortly to return into her own Kingdom, whither you promised to conduct her. That is true, said Amphilanthus, yet I prefer my friendly respect to you before such a service, and to such an one whose judgement is mixed with that nobleness, as she will not bind one to another's harm, to perform a compliment to her; yet I must confess it would grieve me to fail her, who on my promise came hither from Cyprus, nor would I leave her unguarded, or guarded by any but myself, if not to go with you; whose love, and company, I esteem above all men's, or any fortune.  
My love, said Ollorandus shall wait upon yours, equal it, I dare not say, myself being so much inferior to you in all perfections, as all parts of me must yield to you; but to my ability, mine shall approve itself, and ever be faithful; but let me say this to you, that these reasons are nothing to hinder me, your commands hath more force, and ever shall be of power, to alter and rule my courses. For Steriamus, I love him next to you, and above mine own Kingdom, which else is most to me; if alone, that called upon me, I would stay: but I am summoned by my Father, duty herein obligeth me, nor is there such present need of my going into Albania; it will be a month, you say, before the Army be joined, it may be two, well then, How long will they be marching? Besides, you have no certainty which way you must pass: through Epirus, you shall not without fight, the brave and fair Queen of that Country hath already refused it, Wherefore I say, by that time every thing be ready, and the Army near Albania, we may meet it, and come time enough to serve Steriamus. You said, answered Amphilanthus, I had one reason more than I alleged to you, but I will swear you want not another cause to invite you that way; must not I be favoured by you to see your Melysinda, this is the kingdom you provide for, and this is the true end of your obedience. If you have guessed right, I cannot blame you, said Ollorandus, having a sense of parting in you. Well, let my going be for her sake, and your stay for the other, here we must part then? Not so, said Amphilanthus, I will go with you, especially if you intend to go into Hungaria. I intent that, said he, if I live; then must I break all appointments, and attend you: they embraced, and so parted, resolving with all speed to take their voyage. Ollorandus promising himself much good in it, Amphilanthus heartily mourning; but the grave Melissea had conjured them not to part, and therefore he must obey. When Supper was done, Amphilanthus and Selarinus, (according to their custom) brought the Queen of Pamphilia to her Chamber, with whom Urania lay by her entreaty, and Selarina in the next room, being then likewise there. When they were thither come, Amphilanthus countenance changed from the wont manner of mirth, and excellent discourse turned into silence, and sighs: It made the Lady's sad to see it, and desirous to know the cause, Urania therefore began to ask the reason of this alteration. He casting his eyes with true sadness where his heart was prisoner, (Selarina standing just before him) only said, that till that time he was never so afflicted. Whereby my Lord, said Pamphilia, if I may ask the reason why, being with desire to serve you, if my service may avail you? Alas Madam, said he, it is in you to make me happy. Then can you never miss happiness, said she.  
With that Urania and Selarinus, and his Sister, left them together sitting on the bed, they walking to the window, and finding their discourse long, went into the next room, which was a Cabinet of the Queens, where her books and papers lay; so taking some of them, they passed a while in reading of them, and longer they would have done so, but that they heard excellent music, which called them to hearken to it. It did consist of Lutes and Voices, and continued till the end of the discourse between the matchless Princes; which being finished, they came to them, and Amphilanthus told them, he was now at liberty to go: To go, whither (said Urania)? a tedious, and unwilling voyage (said he), but Destiny will have it so; yet shall I go better contented than I feared I should have done, and yet with that more perplexed, because I go. Some other speeches passed, Urania extremely bewailing his going, and more grieving, when she knew the resolution taken by Pamphilia also to depart. These sorrows took away their attention from the song, and now being late, Amphilanthus and Selarinus took their leaves for that night, going down a backway through a Garden where this music was; being to pass by them, and unwilling to be seen, they threw their cloaks over their faces, and so purposed to pass. But the Master of that company hating any man that received favour from his Lady, when he wanted it (not imagining Amphilanthus had been one) rudely pulled the cloak of Selarinus down. Amphilanthus instantly drew his sword, and strake him on the head, the other likewise struck, but they were parted quickly, and making no more noise, the offence giver knowing Selarinus retired, they passing on without more hindrance into their chambers. Amphilanthus come to his, endured the night with much impatiency, the day being as he thought spiteful to him, and therefore would not appear; when she did, he kindly forgave her stay, & instantly made himself ready to attend her. Into the Garden walks he went, knowing the Ladies would not be long from thence; but wand'ring up and down, as his thoughts were restless, he came to the Willow tree, where Antissia found Pamphilia: under that he lay, where not being long, he heard the voices of men, on that other side of the river, & harkening a little, understood what they said, & by their voices who they were. He marvelled infinitely at the discourse, when he found it was Leandrus whom he had struck, & was as sorry for it, as if he had willingly hurt his brother: but remembering the manner, he knew he was not to be blamed, for the man who pulled his friend's cloak down, had drawn his own hat so low over his eyes, as although he was able under it to see him, yet it hindered the discovery of himself. Well Leandrus (said he) thank thyself for this; and though thou didst offer the injury, I am sorry for thee, and glad I did no more harm to thee. But the other pursuing their discourse, he heard it resolved, that if Pamphilia did refuse him, he would use all means possible to win her by her friends, the last means he would use, should be by Amphilanthus, who he would entreat to be a mediator for him, if he denied, he might take unkindness to him for it, if Selarinus married her, he might have a just quarrel to him for seeking her, when he was a professed suitor to her.  
These things troubled the Prince, and most to see such ill nature in Leandrus, for the other he knew he should have time enough to be revenged of him at his pleasure. Having heard thus much (and soon is enough found, when ill is discerned where goodness should be seen) he went back into the Woods, and there met Pamphilia, Urania, Rosindi, Steriamus, and Selarinus, coming together, and saying, they had sent Philarchos to seek him. Hereplyed, those Woods and walks could give the only account of him since day. Pleasantly they passed a while together, when Parselius and his Delinea also came unto them, and passing down towards the river, Amphilanthus turned them back, they wondering at it, but he entreating them, they obeyed. Surely (said Rosindy) it is because he will not see the place where he had so great an injury done him, as to have me taken for him. Amphilanthus never having herd of that before, would not be denied, till he had all the story, which the brother and sister delivered to him.  
And have you suffered (said he) thus much for me? alas that I might live and be worthy to deserve it. They then turned again towards the company, but the place being divided into many several walks, the troop had divided itself, every couple having taken a different walk: which Rosindy seeing, and besides perceiving Orilena coming alone; I will not sure (said he) be out of fashion, wherefore I will leave you two together, and take yonder Lady to walk with me; then were they well placed; for Steriamus had Urania, Parselius his Dalinea, Rosindy his sister, and Selarinus was before gone in, to call forth Selarina.  
Thus they passed the morning, and then returned to dinner, where they found Leandrus full of discontent, but this company made him dissemble it. After dinner the King called his daughter Pamphilia to him, telling her what an earnest suitor Leandrus was to him for his consent to have her in marriage, which he liked very well of, considering his worth, and the fitness of his estate, alleging all the reasons that a wise and careful father could make unto himself, or persuade with, to a beloved daughter. To which she humbly made this answer; That all those things his Majesty had said, she confessed to be true, and that he was worthy of the greatest fortune the world had in a wife: but his Majesty had once married her before, which was to the Kingdom of Pamphilia, from which Husband she could not be divorced, nor ever would have other, if it might please him to give her leave to enjoy that happiness; and beside, besought his permission, for my Lord (said she) my people look for me, and I must needs be with them.  
Why, said the King, that is but as if it were a portion given you to your marriage? Not to Leandrus my Lord (said she) I beseech you, for I cannot love him; nor can I believe he loves in me aught besides my kingdom, and my honour in being your daughter; Antissia better fitteth him, who was appointed for him. The King knew she had reason for what she said, and so assuring her, that he would not force her to any thing against her mind, though he should be glad of the match, if it could content her, they fell into other discourse, and then the King going in, the young Princes every one discoursed where they liked best. Amphilanthus was gone forth with Ollorandus, the rest altogether; Selarinus coming to Pamphilia, and telling her what an accident happened to him the night before, when (said he) I was likely to have been well knocked (but for Amphilanthus) for being honoured in your presence so late. The Queen who bore dislike enough before to Leandrus, was even enraged now against him, yet her discretion told her, the less that were spoken of, the much better it would be, wherefore she said little of it, but discoursed with Selarinus, as she used to do finely and plainly, being the man she only trusted as a friend, and who indeed ever proved so unto her, as in many actions she had trial of. Now was Selarinus in love desperately with Philistella, the second daughter to the King of Morea, a young princess so excelling in fairness, as snow & roses could but equal the white, and red in her face: never was seen so excellent a beauty for whiteness, for though Pamphilia had the fame for the only Princess living, yet was she not so white in the face as Philistella; her beauty being in sweetness and loveliness, most excelling, and in the richness of her mind, which beautified her person, and yet the pureness of her skin (for as much as was seen as neck and hands) did far surpass her sister, which yet was thought to be, but because the younger Ladies face, was without all comparison so pure and fair, as made her other skin (though excellent) show duller by it: her hair was whiter than the Queens, but hers was brighter, having a glass upon it, matchless for rareness of colour, and shining. This Philistella had conquered the hearts of many, but Selarinus was the man, that sought her with most hope, the others either not daring, or knowing they were not fit for her, contented themselves with beholding her, and knowing they fruitlessly did languish in that love.  
Now had Selarinus broken this secret to Pamphilia, who at this time took occasion to speak again of it, which was such content to him, as nothing could be more; and moved that passion in him, as his face and eyes spoke for his heart, that it was upon the rack of hope and fear. Leandrus seeing this, believed it had been for Pamphilia, which moved him to greater hatred against him, verily thinking it to be this Prince whom she affected, seeing how willingly she did embrace his company. Amphilanthus then came in, whom Leandrus strait went unto, desiring him, that he would give him one thing that he would demand of him. Ask (said he) any thing of me whereto I am not engaged, and I will grant it you. I know not how I may secure myself in that (said he) for if you have a mind to refuse under this, you may deny me all.  
Nay (said he) mistrust not me causelessly, nor touch me with such baseness, for never yet dealt I but truly with all men. Pardon me my Lord (said he) and I will take your word, if you will first except some number of things whereto you are engaged. Only two (said he), and on my world I will grant any other.  
Then said Leandrus; My suit to you is, that since I have been a long, earnest, and passionate suitor to your fair (but cruel) Cousin, & now having got the consent of her father, her mother, her brothers, and most of her friends, that you will likewise join with them, and speak unto Pamphilia for me; I know she respects you much, and will be as soon directed by you, as by any friend she hath: wherefore I beseech you grant me this favour, and by it tie me perpetually to your service.  
The King replied, that it was true, they had all seen his affection to her; they confessed his worth and deserts to be equal with any Prince, and to merit any wife, whose answering love might meet his: but for his Cousin, she was of herself, and as far as he could understand by her, she purposed not to marry: if he had gained the consent of her parents and brothers, he had purchased the surest to prevail with her: but for himself, although he confessed in that his happiness, that she did so much esteem of him, and fowd that she would hear him as soon as any other; yet it was his misfortune in this, that he could not do him that service he desired to do, to make manifest his love unto him, for he had now lighted on one of the excepted things, since but this last night (said he) speaking of marriage, she said, she was already bestowed upon her people, and had married herself to them. I urging her youth, and the pity it would be she should die, without leaving some pictures of herself, so excellent a piece. She said, her friends (she hoped) would keep her memory, and that should be enough for her. But I striving further to persuade her to the altering of that determination; My Lord (said she) it is settled, and as you will ever make me see you love me, and would have me confident of your well-wishings to me, let me beg this of you, that you will never speak to me of any husband. I swore it, and sealed my vows on her fair hand. Wherefore my Lord Leandrus, you see how I am bound, otherwise believe it, I would not deny your noble request, but speak for you (I protest truly) as soon, or sooner than for any other living. The Prince Leandrus was contented with this answer, believing him, as justly he might do, for he had said but only truth to him.  
Then parted they, Leandrus giving him many thanks for his noble freedom, going to Philistella, who with Selarina was passing the time, Pamphilia bringing Selarinus to them, and so prettily did discourse, while Steriamus earnestly did pursue his affection to Urania; which although she willingly entertained, yet she meant to be as wary as she could (having been once deceived), wherefore with much modesty and mildness, she denied; and yet with her sweetness in denying, gave him hope and heart to proceed, which at that time they being together, he gave witness of, having gained the favour of her standing alone with him in a window, protesting all the true and zealous affection, that a man could bear unto a woman. She told him, that these protestations he had so often before used to Pamphilia, as he was perfect in them; for (said she, my brother hath told me, and many other, what a power her love had over you, though she never received it, or did more, if so much as pity you.  
It is most true (said he) that your brother found me a miserable piece of mankind, made anew by love, to be less than any of my sex, and yet his greatest slave: she rejected me; I now thank Heavens for it, since I was kept for this happiness, she for a greater than myself, which I wish thee may enjoy, and I be blessed with your favour; which as my only blessing I do wish for, and ask as my only bliss. But what let can my former love be to your receiving me? I am not the first that hath lost my Love? What blame then can that be to me, my choice being so good? did not (I pray you) Parselius your Cousin, love before he married Dalinea? and Urania (I think) liked, before she was thrown from the Rock. Cast away then all former faults, and bury them in the Deeps, where those loves were cured, and take a perfect one, new borne unto you, and with you.  
She blushed, and told him, he grew bitterer than lovers use to be. He smiled, and told her, none that had a spot should find fault with another's, unless theirs were clean washed away, and the other remaining. But I fear (said she) you will not now be true.  
Nothing (said he) but that water could have cleansed my heart from that rankling wound, nor now shall any thing alter my truth to you. Another charm may cure you, said she? Never (said he) nor help if not your love. It grieves me (said she) that I cannot then present you with my first affection; yet truly may I in a kind; for I liked you before I loved the other. Give me this second (said he), which as the first I will esteem, and cherish it; for a new created one it is, and so shall live in me, never more blessed then now, never truer shall any love be to one: nor more just than mine, said she.  
Thus they giving these pretty assurances of either's affections, he presented her with a Bracelet of Diamonds. She the next day requiting it with a much more precious one to his thoughts, being a breed of her hair. No day passed that some sweet delightful passages passed not between them. The Court now filled with love, Parselius perceived their loves, and was as well contented with it, as Urania had been with his, and as freely did they before him show it. Amphilanthus infinitely glad of it, and seeking all means for the continuance of it, so as each day Pamphilia's chamber swarmed with lovers: Steriamus and Urania, Selarinus and Philistella, Parselius and his wife, Philarchos and his Orilena, the Queen herself beholding them, while her heart was as true a patient, as any of theirs, but must not show it. Leandrus with the rest had leave to visit her, but to see his passions, to one that were sure never to be in such a snare, it were sport, else a terrible fear to fall into such a Labyrinth. The Queen graciously respected him, but when he spoke of love, she then was deaf, & ever found occasion to discourse of something else, or to some others. Amphilanthus graced Selarina most with his discourse, which made the whole Court judge his affection was placed there, & in truth she did deserve it, for she was an excellent fine Princess; but from all these amorous delights the brave Prince must go, & betake himself to the field, and adventure with Ollorandus; the next day was the time for their depart, and also for Pamphilia's going, who over night took her leave of the court, not willing (as she said) to be seen so much a woman, as to weep for parting. Yet Urania was witness of it, both getting up early, and Amphilanthus, with Ollorandus coming to them before they were ready, stayed with them till they went down, Urania bringing her to her Coach, with the other two Princes, when with tears they parted on some sides: Urania wept to part with her dear brother, and cousin. Pamphilia's heart was pierced with like sorrow, or greater, but stopped her tears, as having a stronger spirit, till beholding the water in Amphilanthus eyes ready to fall, and wait upon the least summons her eyes would give; she than let some few slide, and drop, and so saluted him, love smiling in their tears, to see so kind, and affectionate parting, glorying in his own work, as proud in such a conquest. Part they did, taking their leave without saying, farewell, which their hearts and eyes did for them, making them then, and as long as they could, attend and behold each other, which was not long, for the ways being contrary, the sight was soon lost.  
Pamphilia went alone, save for her own Train of Knights, which were come out of Pamphilia, to attend her thither, and quickly, with the haste she made, arrived at the Sea, where she shipped, and so passed to her Kingdom, where with infinite joy, and troops of people, she was received, and conducted to her chief City of Perga; where she remained in plenty of all things, but the delicate conversation she used to have in Morea, which want, made her for a while melancholy: but afterwards she comforting herself, with hope, and resolution, she came abroad, and followed those delights she was wont to affect, which was, Hunting and Hawking, and such like.  
The two brave Companions holding on their way, hating the land, chose the Sea, and took Shpp at Sornesse, and so passing by Zants, and Setalonia, went up the Gulf of Venice, and landed in Triale, from whence without any one adventure, worthy the rehearsing, they came into the confines of Bohemia, when they met two knights, of whom they demanded the news of that place; they resolved them, that the King was dead, and that they (as many more) were going in search of their Prince, and Lord Ollorandus. Then did he discover himself unto them, which they infinitely rejoiced at; so passing on, they came unto a Castle, where they would (as they said) lodge that night, but the two Knights told them, that by no means they should do so, for their dwelled the cruelest man that was in all those parts, his name Severus, and was next of the blood to Ollorandus, wherefore by no means they would advise him, (none being left but himself of the Stock) to adventure into his doors.  
The new King imagining this a disgrace unto him, to let any such thing pass for fear, would not be persuaded, saying, He was assured that he durst not attempt any thing upon his person; but Amphilanthus dissuaded what he could, yet all in vain, for he was resolved. When nothing could prevail against staying him, yet they obtained of him, that he would hold himself unknown, he replied they need not call him Ollorandus, but he would never leave that happy name of the Knight of the Forest, with which he had passed through so many adventures; thus rashly would he run into danger, and which was worst, hazad the bravest Prince. To the Gate they came, and presently were bid welcome, with many servants who attended on them, and took their Horses, some of them conducting them into the Hall, where the old Duke Severus sat in a Chair, with a little staff in his hand, his thumb on his staff, and his mouth on his thumb, which ever was his fashion, when his mind was set upon any plots; Their coming in called his mind a little to him, and looking on them, seeing such rareness in their persons, and loveliness in their countenances, imagined them to be of great quality, especially Amphilanthus, to whom he went, and welcomed him with the rest, desiring to know who they were, that thus courteously had honoured his house. Amphilanthus told him that he was an Italian, and hearing of his bounty, by some of the Country, made him take the boldness to visit him, hoping by him, also to understand the manners of that place, to which as yet, he was a mere stranger. The old Duke told him, that he had done him an especial favour in it, and that (wherein he could do him courtesies) he should find him most ready, in requital of this honour. Then he demanded who the others were, and their names.  
Amphilanthus replied, that his friend, and himself, upon a certain vow to their Mistresses, till they saw them again, were not to disclose their names, but were only known by the titles, of the Knight of Love, which was himself; and the other, the Knight of the Forest, and thus they had passed most parts of the world.  
Whence came you last, I beseech you, said he? From Morea, said the Knight of Love.. And what news there, I pray you, said the old Duke? have you not heard of Ollorandus our Prince, and now our King, by his fathers, and brother's death? I heard of him, said Amphilanthus, for no ears can (unless deaf) but have notice of his valour, and excellent goodness, and much have I desired to be honoured with his sight, accounting it one of my misfortunes, that I am not known to so famous a Prince. Hath his Acts (replied the Duke) made his name so well known? I am heartily glad of it, for now shall this Kingdom again flourish, when it shall be governed by so brave a King. But what is become of him, I pray, that you having such a desire to see him, could not compass it? Truly (said the Knight of Love) I was going to find him, but an accident unlooked for, called me from Morea, and so much against my heart, as never any thing was more, when I could neither go, into Albania, where they say, he must be shortly, nor stay where I most desired. With that he sighed indeed, and so passionately, as they all pitied him. Then the Duke demanded who the others were. He answered, strangers they encountered upon the way, but it seemed good Knights; So the Duke took the Knight of Love on his right hand, and the Forest Knight on his left, desiring the others likewise to sit: so sitting down altogether, Amphilanthus besought him to let him know in what estate the Country stood, for (said he) I desire to go to the Court, and see it; but hearing the King is dead, I would most willingly be ordered by you, what I should do. Truly (said he) Sir, I can direct you no better way, then to stay here, till such time as we hear of our King, nothing to be seen, nor safety much in this Country; for an Army is providing, men raising, and much business toward. By whom, I pray Sir, said the Knight of the Forest, are these men raised? The chief yet, replied he, hath not declared himself, but there are four Great men, that call these Troops together, yet none of them having right or claim: it is thought they have some other, who yet will not discover himself. Who is the next in blood, said he? Marry that am I, said he, being the last King's Uncle, Brother to his Father. Will not you Sir then be pleased, said he to withstand these forces in the King's right? Alas Sir, said he, you see I am old, nor ever was I a Soldier, borne deformed as you see, not for Arms, but Carpets; these shoulders crooked, and mishapen, were not ordained, but to be kept from eyes, which would rather bring contempt, than respect: my Stature low, my body weak, all framed to be a Chamber-keeper, rather than a Knight at Arms: but I have a Son, who I hope, will be worthy of his blood. Where is he, I pray, said he? Truly, now I am not certain, but I think he will be here this night, answered the Duke. These things nettled Ollorandus, yet he covered his rage as well as he could; and thus they passed the time till Supper, when the old Duke desired them to go to their lodgings, and unarm themselves, which they did, and returning, sat to meat. The Duke all Supper time, curiously beholding the Knights, especially Ollorandus, who, he imagined by his complexion, and the favour of his face, to be the King, though it was long since he had seen him; but the ground he had in malice made him discern that, which otherwise had lain hidden (envy having sharpness in discovering.) Thus the night grew on, and Supper ended, the Knights were brought to their several lodgings.  
Amphilanthus desired to lie with his friend, but the Duke, out of compliment, (as desiring they should see their welcome, by the respect done them) would not permit them to lodge, but alone: the other two were carried to an other Tower far from them; they being in their Chambers, Ollorandus safe, as he thought from discovery, went to bed taking his rest very sound, his Dwarf lying in the next room to him. Amphilanthus, had not so much liberty, or freedom by rest granted to him, wherefore he went not to bed, but walked up and down his Camber in his old posture, arms across, and breathing in sighs, wishing his eyes might be once more blessed with seeing, what his soul ever beheld with fervent love, that never dividing itself no more than heat from fire: Passion grown such a commander over him, as he was an Image of Love's torments, curiously carved to the life of passionate distress. Measure some of his thoughts he did, and delicately express his pain in Verse, but so dainty was he, as few, save himself, (which was his Mistress) ever saw them, especially those which were for his parting, and those he made that night. But his Muse had no more than finished that conceit, when she, and he, were called to attendance, summoned by a fearful and terrible noise, mixed with voices and armour, at last he heard his friend say, O traitors, thus betraying a stranger, and Villain to do it in thine own house; farewell dear friend, let misfortune wholly be, and end in me.  
Those words, and the knowledge of the speaker, quickly make the King prepare for rescue, wherefore arming himself, he ran towards the Chamber where Ollorandus lay, but by the way he saw him fettered, and leading to a Gate, where it might appear, a Prison was. He quickly came to him, crying to those, who led him, to stay; they refused, but he, who feared not many more then they were, set upon them; they divided themselves, and some of them held him play, while the rest went away with the King, taking the advantage of his busy fight: but his hands were not so employed but his eyes also used their office: and so well did he consider the traitors, as he never let them be, but in his eyes, which made him soon perceive this villainy, and as readily prevent it; for they thinking to steal him away, were stayed, and made in streams of blood to deliver their confession, and lives to his victory. The Dwarf in this time had so roared about the Castle, as the other two Knights awaked, and came to the rescue (Amphilanthus throwing a Sword and Shield of one of the vanquished to Ollorandus), and in time they came, for he was then ready to be slain; the old Duke and his son coming together, and encouraging their servants by promises, and commanded by threatenings to kill him; but those Arms protected him, and then furiously did he fly among them, the old monster reviling his people for letting them escape death, till Amphilanthus got to him, and as he was opening his mouth to speak hatefully to them, he thrust his Sword into it, hindering those villainous words which he had else delivered. The other two also came, and saved the brave Prince from killing such a worm, dispatching that ill natured man out of the way, of molesting any more good creatures. But his son revenged his father's death, killing the elder of those brothers, whose death Amphilanthus quickly paid, with the young man's end, striking off his arm, whereof he died; then getting close to Ollorandus, they set back to back, and so fought, till they gained the steps which went up to the Hall, and getting even into it, they pressed to that door; but some who continued fight with them, kept so near, as they got between Ollorandus and the door, so as Amphilanthus hoping in the crowd, his friend was come in, locked the door, but shut Ollorandus out, where he was ingirdled with his enemies, and past hope; but the never daunted King espying his error, soon amended it, yet was he forced to leap out at the window, which was but low, to aid him, the door opening outward, was held so close by the enemy, but when he was got among them again, he was like a thunderbolt, piercing and killing all resisted him, who but like poor feeble dogs, that snarld for their best defence could not bite him. Once more he rescued his friend from apparent death, and thus performed the prophecy Mellissea had made, with double joy to save him, and thus soon to be at liberty to return to his heart, for he found that now he might be privileged to part. This business done, the old, and young Dukes killed, the two honest brothers slain, having gained the fame, to die, and be laid in the bed of honour, allotted such as die in their King's sight and quarrel; they stayed a while in the Castle, seeking for any such unfortunate man, or creature, as had fallen into the cruel power of this man. Many they found, and among them some of their acquaintance, then setting them all at liberty, they departed towards Prage, the chief town of Bohemia, attended by all those released prisoners; Ollorandus then openly discovering himself, troops of his subjects came daily in to him, and so within few days he was crowned, sending some forces against those scattered troops were raised by the dead traitor and his confederates to oppose the King's quiet possession: who now settled, and all solemnities past, he sent his Dwarf into Hungary with a letter to his love. The Dwarf knowing his Lord's mind, as well he might (if by nothing but that hast guess it) performed his part, being fearless of all things now but the Lord of Strombolly as he arrived in Hungary, and so by inquiry got to Buda: thence he was directed to a Castle some ten leagues off in a Forest, whither the Queen was gone to take her pleasure, the King staying at Buda: the Dwarf being benighted, was glad to take his lodging in a poor house, and happy so to find one in a wild place, having lost his way.  
The next morning he had no sooner taken his horse, and road half a league, but he met some Knights, and others riding with great speed, and apparelled all in green, demanding of him, if he met not the Stag: he told them, he met nothing except themselves, since he took horse. They passed on, and still he met more, who made the same inquiry. At last he saw a Lady coming at full speed, attended on by many more, whose riding, and horses showed, they could more willingly have heard of the Staggs fall, than any other tidings. But this Dwarf, witty, and careful of his charge, imagining this Lady (by herself, more than her attendants, though many, and bravely clad) to be the Queen, he stayed, and of one who came within some two or three of her person, desired to know, if that were not Melisinda: he answered, it was: whereupon he stayed, and so just in her way, as she must stay too. She offended, began to correct him: but he kissing the letter, delivered it unto her. Soon she knew the hand, and so commanded him to stay, and attend her answer.  
Love, now express thyself; is the hunting pleasing, the sport she most delighteth in, is it not now tedious and wearisome? was it feared but now the Stag would fall too soon? Is it not now required, and wished for? Rude Beast (would she say to herself) that knows nothing but brutishness, canst not thou finish thy days with my best wishes to thee, for favouring me? fain she would see what was in it, and sometimes a little slack her speed: but then fearing the company would know why her stay was, guiltiness overruld her, and she went on, sometimes meaning to mend her seat, and so counterfeit cause of stay; than not liking that, again in fury against the beast, pursuing him.  
Thus she rid, and travelled her thoughts irresolutely, till just before her, as if to claim a pardon for the former offence, he fell, yielding himself, and life into her power. Quickly she alighted, and performing those Rights required by the Huntsmen, in honour of Victory and Funeral, she walked into a little Groave, while her horse was stirring up and down, being hot and sore ridden.  
When she was there, she kissed the letter, than opened it; but having read it, kissed it often. O dear Paper (said she), welcome as heavenly blessings to me: thou bringest me word my Ollorandus lives; and more that he thinks of his poor Melysinda: live still dearest love, and let honour glory in honouring thee. Happy news to hear my Deer is a King, but most happy that he crownes himself with constancy, the perfect laurel for lovers. Dost thou (most loved) remember wretched me? Nay, make me see thy mindfulness by writing to me, and such sweet lines, where expressions rather want than love; and yet such loving expressions, testifying nothing but absence makes the want. Blessed be my Destiny, that brought me thus to hunt, mine eyes thrice happy that have seen these words written by the best of men, and yet sighed she, when all is done the fire must consume you, that is the cabinet must hold your truths, and you most loved, must to my beloved and me, prove a sweet sacrifice for our safeties. O jealousy that spreads itself so far, as only memory can be safe, but no relics save ashes remain safe in keeping; thy ashes yet shallbe preserved, and as most sacred, still continued. Then came she forth, and so returned unto the Castle, many examining the Dwarf from whence he came, what he would have, and to whom he came, or whether he would go. He had his errant well, and told them he was a wandering youth, once servant to a knight, who now imprisoned, he was free, but from joy bard for the loss of him he loved. Many desired to have him, but he refused all, saying, he would now return into his own Country, and there end his days, if so his Master could not be set free.  
Thus he put them all off, till a day passed he was dispatched by the Queen, whose letter was no sooner ended, but with tears with the same light she sealed hers, she also gave the death to the other, or rather the safer life, sacrificing it unto their loves, carefully putting the ashes up in a dainty Cabinet, and enclosing them within; these Verses she then made, witnessing the sorrow for the burning, and the vows she made to them burned.  

YOu pure and holy fire  
Which kindly now will not aspire  
To hot performance of your Nature, turn  
Cross to yourself and never burn  
These Relics of a blessed hand,  
joined with mutual holy band  
Of love and dear desire.   

Blame me not dearest lines,  
That with love's flames your blackness twines,  
My heart more mourning doth for you express,  
But grief for sorrow is no less.  
Deepest groans can cover, not change woe,  
Hearts the tomb, keeps in the show,  
Which worth from ill refines.   

Alas yet as you burn,  
My pity smarts, and groans to turn  
Your pains away, and yet you must consume  
Content in me, must bear no plume,  
Dust-like Despair may with me live,  
Yet shall your memory out-drive  
These pains wherein I mourn.   

You relics of pure love  
To sacred keep with me remove,  
Purged by this fire from harm, and jealous fear,  
To live with me both chaste and clear:  
The true preserueresse of pure truths,  
Who to your grave gives a youth  
In faith to live and move.   

Famous bodies still in flames,  
Did anciently preserve their names,  
Unto this funeral nobly you are come,  
Honour giving you this tomb.  
Tears and my love perform your rights,  
To which constancy bears lights  
To burn, and keep from blame.   
This did not satisfy her, grieving for the loss of those kind lines, but each day did she say the Letter to herself, which so much she loved, as she had learned by heart; then looking on the Ashes, wept, and kissing them, put them up again; and thus continued she, till Ollorandus himself came, to whom these daily offerings were made; for he, after he had settled his Kingdom, longing as much to see her, as she desired his presence, put the Government to the charge of a precedent, and his Counsel, assuring them, that nothing should have so soon parted him from them, but that he must now perform his part of friendship to Amphilanthus, which was required of him, who had so lovingly, and bravely accomplished his.  
None were against that, all honouring and loving him so much, as he had much ado, but with kind quarrels to leave the Country, without some of them to attend him; yet by his mild persuasions, and the new Kings commanding power, they two took their journey, the Dwarf again returning the very day before they left Prage.  
Towards Hungary they then haste, passing through Moravia, where they met a strange encounter, and a sad spectacle, which was a company of men all on foot, being apparelled in long mourning Gowns; and after them a Chariot, being drawn by six Horses, they being covered with black; and in the Chariot was a body, being covered with a black Velvet covering; and at the feet of this Body sat a Lady, her face being towards it, and most pitifully weeping; many more in mourning likewise walking by the Chariot, round about it, and behind it.  
This lamentable and doleful spectacle moved the hearts of the Knights, who being very passionate, quickly felt pity, and riding presently to one of the followers, desiring to be resolved of this matter; the Gentleman courteously answered, that the business was of so long a times discourse, as would demand more leisure, than he thought their business would well allow them; therefore he besought to be excused, unless they meant to succour that distressed Lady, who most justly might claim assistance, and revenge, for a murdered Knight, uniustly, and treacherously slain for love. Love's their Master commanded their service, so as they said, they would willingly do their best, to redress such an injury.  
Then the Gentleman going to the Lady, told her what the Knights said; she casting up her eyes, which before she held on the Coarse, the body and soul of her affections.  
Alas Sirs (said she) what misfortune hath brought you to engage yourselves to true misery, as in joining with me you must do, for a more wretched never lived to die so.  
Our fortunes (said Ollorandus, speaking in her own language) is the best we could covet, if they may prove available to you, nor do we desire any more, then to know how we may serve you.  
Then Sir (said she) let me be so bold, as to demand first, who you are, that I may discover my estate the more freely, and willingly to you.  
My name (said he) is Ollorandus, King of Bohemia; and this is Amphilanthus, King of the Romans.  
Happiness beyond all hope (cried she). Alas my Lord, this is the King that of all the World I have desired to meet, and now travel to seek in Italy: then kneeled she unto him, beseeching him to grant her, what he had of himself so nobly promised.  
He vowed to perform any thing whatsoever that lay in his power to do: then coming forth of the Chariot, and they lighting, they retired into a little tuft of Thorns by the way side, she beginning her story thus.  
Most brave and renowned of Kings, and you great King, be pleased to give ear to the saddest story, that ever love, and lover's end hath produced.  
I am that miserable unfortunate woman Sydelia, passionately loving, and being beloved of the excellent and virtuous Antonarus; long we loved, but a hate between my brother, called Terichillus, and my love grown in their youth, hindered our enjoy; my brother so curiously watching me, himself, or others, never or seldom from me, as I was able only to see my afflictions and wants, but not the Sun of my content: for my Brother being the Heir of Moravia, and the other the Prince of Silesia, that kept him from venturing into his Country, knowing the infinite malice he bore unto him, alas, no way deserving it.  
But at last, my brother was to marry Orguelea daughter to the Duke of Bavaria, and going thither to perform it, left me guarded by his servants, whom in his absence so well I wrought with, as I compassed the sight of my Dear, who in the habit of a Huntsman came unto me; we married privately, and so enjoyed the time till my brother's return with his new Lady, as full of spite, and ill nature, as a Spider with poison: to her he had disclosed this matter, with his hate to Antonarus, and to her gave the charge of me, my Father having before given over the world, and was retired into a religious house, having left me, and all his estate to my brother, yet during his life, my brother would not take the title upon him, but the authority of the County of Moravia. Now was my Hunt's man to return, small safety being where such hateful spies inhabited, no more surety than a poor hare hath in the hands of the hounds, who have long hunted to prey upon it: so did they seek to ruin us, the extreme hate my brother bare to Antonarus, rising from this cause.  
When they were youths, and both in the Emperors Court, there lived at that time, a young Lady of the house of Austria, excellently fair, and as fairly conditioned, whose virtues were such, as most prising worth, for Virtue's sake, she made choice wholly of worthiness in conversation, choice of companions, and the whole course of her life ran that way, which made her chooce Antonarus, and so much to affect him, as nothing but death, could be ender of her affection, and yet I know not how I can say so, since dying, she expressed her affection to him she loved, and no question but his goodness requited it in his wishes to serve her; but friendship wrought so in him, as he would not seem to receive it, my brother being so passionately in love with her, as Antonarus saw, if he accepted her love, he must with that, kill his friend, rather than to do so foul an act, he would seem cruel, and wrong, and harm himself, sooner than hurt him: yet oft hath he told me, that he hath from his soul, wished my brother had never discovered his affection to him, for then ignorantly he might have made himself happy in her, whose happiness only consisted in him, and yet was denied, because he loved his companion. O friendship, excellent virtue to be embraced, and cheerished, yet herein would such friendship had not been. Still did Terichillus tell Antonarus how he loved, and how he saw she slighted him, and yet cried he, she loves; would I were the Dog she so kindly treats, and plays with all, or that little bird, which she still kisses, and carries in her breast, or any thing save wretched me myself, so loathed, and hated by her. Then did he comfort him, telling him, patience and constancy might solicit for him, and his still presenting himself in her eyes, might win, if any thing could prevail by love. At last my brother plainly discerned the love she bore to Antonarus, than he grew furious, and for all these former passages mistrusted this firm friend; he finding it, and no way to kill this Canker, took leave of the Court, and my brother, at his parting telling him, that whatsoever he imagined of him, he should find him true to him. To the Lady he went not, but privately in the morning he stole away, and passed many Countries with much honour, but now comes the woeful part of this Story.  
She seeing him gone, and Terichillus stay, quickly guessed the matter: then grew rage in her, and whereas, before she would use him civilly, for Antonarus sake, now she plainly showed the hate, she bore him, who she believed to be the cause of his going; that belief told her she must not suffer such an injury, that injury being above all, where love was by it barred: his sight grew odious to her, when she remembered that with him Antonarus used to come, now she saw nothing but the foul Copy of an excellent work, his presence, made her see the absence of her sole content, as the bare shelves do of the ebbed Tide: and as bare without liking did he seem: yet could she not beware of the flowing ill, which followed by his spite, nor did she strive to shun any thing but his presence, he infinitely loving; she terribly hating, let her passion grow to such violence, as it grew infectious, and he that but now sought, still continued in search, but of what? Not of love, but means to be revenged of her, whose love he could not compass, but whose overthrow he meant to gain. Eyes which lately served to bring his comfort to him, in seeing her, are employed to be curious spies over her affections: hours spent wholly in examining her worth, and virtues, changed to plot her ruin; admiration of her goodness, to admiring, why he could affect such a body of disdain; alteration so beyond expectation, as understanding when this happened, was to seek, yet did he dissemble still, and made love (the honour of noble hearts) the colour for his wickedness, making his malice spring and overgrow his love, as Nettles do Violets, or Hemlock Pinks: yet did his counterfeit affection grow with it.  
At last, he wrought so cunningly, as he intercepted a Letter which she sent to Antonarus, which having opened, and read, he made the answer, counterfeiting his hand so well, as none could discover it, or know it to be other than his; the messenger he made safe for telling tales, making blood accompany his Treason. Thus he continued, heaping more ills upon his soul, than shells in number are upon the Seashore; alas that he were not my brother, since I must thus speak of him, or rather I would his last act, had not made me the unwilling, and unfit relater of his ill. The poor Lady, still loving him, written, and with all the zealous affection she could, persuaded his return, with whom she would go and bring him to the famous Duke her father, where all honour should be done him. He still answered with delays, at last, (or indeed, his unappointed Secratatary) made this answer, that good manners had made him thus long answer respectively, but since he found, that nothing but his company, and marriage would satisfy her, she must be contented to be plainly told, that he despised her forwardness, and as much herself, his heart being set already on one, far more deserving then herself, who deserved nothing of him, to alter his former affection, nor could merit any thing of the world, if not by marrying Terichillus, who affectionately loved her, and thus she might honour herself in requiting him, and that if she desired to have so much as a good thought from him, she must perform this, or else to be assured of a mortal hater of herself, and house.  
She (alas) whose heart love had made tender, and tenderness, pitiful; could not but so much pity itself, as to break with this unkindness; yet died she not speedily, but which was worst (yet in a kind, happy for her) her woman wrought such means, as a brother of hers found Antonarus, to whom he discovered the pitiful estate of the Lady, and what complaints she endured the absence, and cruelty of him, who sought to murder her, for faithfully loving him. This discourse made him resolve to see her, and if it might be, to save her, dying, or shame of it working more in him, then living love could purchase; so as he went to the Court, where he found her ready to depart, yet not past sense, but that she knew him; or rather having only sense of love, took quick apprehension, so as she looked up, and spoke cheerfully to him, desiring all else to avoid the chamber, when that was done, she took him by the hand, and weeping, thus spoke.  
Antonarus what fault have I committed, that hath brought this cruelty from thee? If extreme, and loyal affection can offend, then have I infinitely offended? But alas, blame yourself, your virtues made me choose you, your winning eyes, made me your subject; your worth, commanded my fidelity; you only I loud, and you only murder me with unkindness; yet pardon me that I speak thus boldly, since I fear my former boldness made you despise me. Chide Love, alas, it was he offended, and I did but by directions, write those Letters so rejected, and despised by you. He hearing her speak thus, and touch upon Letters, desired to be resolved of that; she admiring at his seeming ignorant of that, yet loath, even at the last to seem harsh to him, told him of his cursed answer, and to satisfy him, showed him the Letters themselves, with the Copies of hers, which (said she) I had burnt, had you not come as you did. When he saw them, no man could manifest more furious sorrow, for he could not speak, but wept, and sobbed, toare his hair, and remained like a distracted creature, till she urging him, and he desiring to satisfy her, swore they were none of his, nor that ever he received any from her; O miserable man said he, thus to be betrayed, what have I done to be thus plagued, and insufferably afflicted? Alas, my dearest, I never heard from thee, never writ to thee, but if I had, sweetness, and love, should have been the subject, and not this.  
False Terichillus, this I fear, comes from thee, for this is thy hand, I know it is the same in jest, that thou wert wont to counterfeit, and hast thou practised it for this? unkind, and cruel man. She seeing his sorrow and his clearness, received much comfort, and taking him again by the hand, happy am I, my Lord, (said she) that shall now end contented, blessed in your love, and clear from the end, I feared, you had sent me; be happy my only dear, and live with all content, let that Lady, whosoever you shall choose, love you no less than I do; let her be as just, and loyal, but so much more fortunate, for your sake, as to live to enjoy you longer. Had you been cruel, as you were accused falsely, my love had pardoned it, and welcomer had my death been to me (sent by you) than life, if in dislike of you. My soul loved you, and loves you, nor ever suffered it show of dislike against you, I had clearly passed into the other world without blameing you: yet am I happy to see you, and your truth before I part. I must leave you, my only love I must go, and yet this I will beseech you to keep of me the memory of your truest love, and let that memory be put with love, and not moved with rage to revenge these wrongs; he hath done you a favour it may be, in keeping you for a worthier, but never can you have a truer. He weeping told her, he took that last ill, that she would say, he could have a worthier. O no, said he, that cannot be, thy worth cannot be equalled, no more than my wrongs revenged sufficiently. They both wept, then spoke a little, and so took their leaves, she seeing his sorrow, was afflicted for it, he finding it, sought to cover it, so he kissed her, and went out of the chamber, with as dying a heart as she had almost, no sooner was he gone, but she calling her woman to her, willed her to burn those papers, then taking a ring from off her finger (which was a pointed Diamond she ever wore, & had vowed to do so, till she died or married) charged her to give it Antonarus, then turning her to the other side, tell him (said she) I bequeath this my truest love, and last love to him, & so I conjure him to keep these. She went to perform her command, he instantly with the rest of the company came in, but there they found her dead. It was (alas) too late to recover her, but not to give a more happy end: how he took it, only such a love can express, which began but when she was dying, and enjoyed but in death. He instantly left the Court and hearing Terichillus, had stolen away upon his coming, guiltiness condemning him, he went in search of him, putting on an armour, as black as his sorrows: & so he traveled, clothed in sorrow, accompanied with remembrance of her chaste and loyal love, her death, the treason that caused it, the injury done him, yet her spotless affection. All these were motives, the more he ran from one to the other still the first held him, and wrapped him fast in all.  
Thus he went, caught in himself, till he met Terichillus in a plain between two hills to whom he sent his Squire, who was all his company, not to discourse with him, but to call him to answer the wrongs done to him and his love; when the Squire came to him, he made no answer but this, he had cause to call him to account, and he would satisfy him, so he prepared himself, and they met, where they fought a cruel fight; but Antonarus having justice on his side, got so much the better; as he had Terichillus under him, and at his mercy, which when he had confessed, asked pardon of him for his fault, he took him up with these words; Rise Terichillus, thy shame and conscience are sufficient revengers, I will not shed thy blood, which cannot cleanse so foul a fault, or satisfy for loss of her so chaste and immaculate; make it more clear, and purer if thou canst with true repentance, while mine eyes, and heart drops, fulfil and serve for her funeral.  
Then leaped he upon his horse leaving my brother hurt, and wounded, more with scorn, and hate of himself so to be saved, then kindly thanking him that had done it. Away Antonarus posted, and came into Moravia, to visit me, who indeed was only his servant, Infant Love on my side having made me so; he stayed not long but told me all this story, for which I loved him better than before, gratefulness having large command over my hart. He never by my words had knowledge of my love to him, till two years after passing by that way, and privately desiring to see me, (unfortunately for us both) I did confess it, he embraced it, and so we loved, my brother still continuing his hate, but in my Father's time of life, did make no public show of it.  
Upon the death of him he took the title, and first began with open proclamations of his hate, and the first forbidding me his company, yet where were these proclaimed, but in his house, and to his private friends? yet I went further, and did warn my love of him; this was the cause he came not in his sight, nor to his knowledge: and in huntsman's habit was the last time I did see him; for my brother returned with his wife, the watches were made new, and stronger over me, yet love made them fruitless, for on a time appointed we met, and meant to keep together; then boldly I writ to my brother, telling him what I had done, and that I hoped he would excuse me, since I had taken him for my husband, whom love and youth had chosen for me, and now was gone with him, whom most I loved to live with, and whom I now was happily to obey. My brother grew infinitely enraged with this, and strait sent out many horses to stay, and interrupt our passage; but in vain, for we were passed, and had laid such spies for them, as kept us free. Into Selesia we came, finding, and bringing with me all content, in having my own hearts desire with me. Antonarus welcomed me with gift of all his estate; I returned that to him again, taking a far greater (as I esteemed it) which was himself and his true love, my best and only fortune. Terichillus this while imagined himself highly injured, wherefore he sent Antonarus word, that so ill he took this affront, as he would with arms regain his honour touched. He replied, that he had rather in his opinion, done him honour to match with him, nor did he do it for other cause than his affection, which begun in our youths, had grown to this perfection; therefore he entreated him rather with love, than Arms to end the business; if not, he would prepare to attend his coming, as he pleased. Within some few months, Terichillus with an army entered Selesia, but only entered it, when an army led by Polisander brother to Antonarus, met him, giving him battle, and life also, for he in an encounter might have killed him, but mercy more than judgement governed him, so as he spared him, on condition the wars should cease, which he promised, and a firm league should be made between us, which Polisander should have the glory of.  
Thus agreed, he came with him where we were; Arms dismissed, and swords laid down, he was nobly entertained, and received by Antonarus, who meant truth; and after some days were passed, an oath of friendship was taken of both sides. Then Terichillus returned into his Country of Moravia, Polisander bringing him to the confines thereof, there committing him to his own safety. Antonarus was glad of this conclusion, because it joyed me, and I for his quiet did rejoice. One whole year this lasted, in which time we had a son, after whose birth, and my recovery again, Terichillus invited us unto his Court with all love (or better to say, show of it) we believing, went thither, trusting, as not meaning to be false. Into Polisanders' hands my Lord put the government of the State, and also to him gave the charge of his son; and well might he do it, for a more noble honest man lives not, than he is. Into Moravia we went, met we were in the confines by noble men and Ladies, and still by more, and greater, till we arrived at the Court, where at the gate my brother and his wife met us; no state, nor welcome wanted, which outward testimony could express, nor doubted we; but like the silly birds, who hearing the sweet singing of other birds set for stales, thinking by that mirth they had no imprisonment, fall by innocent belief into the nets: so did we, seeing smiles, and hearing nothing but welcome and joy speak, grew confident and bold upon our harms. Some days we stayed there, Feasts, Tilt, and all bravery that the Court could yield, showed itself unto us.  
After those sports were passed, Terichillus would have us go a hunting, which we did, for two days having excellent good, & great variety of sport; the third day we also were to go and conclude our delights, which indeed we did: for in a great Wood (and the same where my Antonarus was accustomed, when he was a Huntsman to bide in, and from whence I heard his Horn, which was the sign of his being there, and of call for me to him) this unnatural man Terichillus (for longer I cannot call him brother) had laid traitors in ambush, with command to execute his will, he in the mean time telling us, that a mighty Stag was within, harboured of purpose for us. Then carried he us into the thickest of it, placing the train on the outside, far enough from help or hindrance; with him we went to rouse the Deer, and so we did the too costly beasts that murdered my content, for than they showed themselves, suddenly rushing on Antonarus, who had only a little hunting sword by his side, with which he killed one, but they many soon possessed themselves of his sword and him. Then Terichillus reviled, and scoffed at him and me, telling us, that here was a youth, had wont to walk those Woods, and call a Nymph unto him by his Horn: but Satyrs found their wantonness, and so had vowed revenge, and thus do we said he. Then those men, who were disguised in that shape (and the fittest for so savage an act) murdered him, making me behold the cruelty for the greater torture. When all was done (which ended with his life) they went away, lifting the body only up upon a horse, and setting me upon mine own again, gave me the bridle of the other to lead with me, as the substance and demonstration of my misery. Out of the Wood I went with this pitiful, and yet my beloved companion; excessive sorrow had so shut up my senses, as I wept not at the instant, nor till I was to tell the Tragedy, which was presently after my coming into the Plain, meeting some of the Selesians, who accompanied me in mourning, little else we could do, for in the County, where the murderer ruled (and alas our company a handful, in comparison of his people), what could we do but weep and wish? Then got we our small troop together, and with as much haft, as our heaviness could allow us, we gained the Country of Selesia; to Polisander we related this villainy, whose sorrow and sadness was such, as he was not able to give or take counsel, sometimes he did purpose to revenge this treachery himself, cursing himself for sparing the murderer, when he might have killed him, blaming his Fortune that let him live to slay his brother: lamenting the time he made the reconsiliation, accusing himself as much as Terichillus, for having been the unfortunate instrument of this mischief. Alas (said de) how happy had Selesia been, if I had been slain in the battle, and how more blessed I, that had not lived to see this day: dear Antonarus, hath thy brother, beloved so much of thee, been cause of thy loss? accursed creature that I am, yet pardon me dear brother, I lament thy death as much as heart can do: Selesia, yours is the loss unrecoverable in losing such a Prince, punish me then, I am ready: and dearest Sister (cried he) take this life from me, how can you see me, who brought your worthy Lord into this misfortune? O Antonarus my soul dies for thee.  
His infinite grief was such, as most were forced to watch him, lest he made himself away; yet such was, and is his virtue, as I hope will protect him from using violence on himself. Much ado we had to persuade him from going into Moravia, to revenge his brother: but at last I gained thus much of him, to leave the revenge to me, whose loss was greatest, and cause demands most pity, to gain some brave Prince to right me; upon counsel, and my petition he granted it, whereupon I put on these robes, he providing this Chariot, and all other things necessary for our journey, appointing the mourning in this kind. The same day that I took my journey, he proclaimed my son, heir and Prince of Selesia, himself protector, and so have I travelled now two months, Terichillus giving me leave to pass through this part of his Country, to go to find a Knight, whose valour, and pity will assist me. To find you most brave and excellent King, I took my way, with hope to beg such a favour of you, whose compassion and worth all tongues speak of, and hearts admire; none but magnifying Amphilanthus, for true nobleness, excellent goodness, perfect virtue, and matchless valour; Wherefore I beseech you, as you may be, or are a lover, in that regard, aid me, as a King, assist me against a murderer of a Prince, and as the best of Knights, against such treachery. The cause is strange, and the business, it may be, will to some seem nice, since a sister urgeth revenge of a brother; but weigh with all, that my love, and husband is murdered, and by my brother's own hands, that will wipe away all doubts, and clear me to implore your aid. The King, and Amphilanthus much pitied, and admired the Lady, who had related this story, with as much passion, and fine expression of witty sorrow as could be; Amphilanthus moved so much with it, as he presently consented, and gave his promise to assist her: so they passed to the Court in the same manner as she before had travelled, for she had vowed, never to leave the body, nor to bury it, till she had his death revenged. When they came where Terichillus was, she sent unto him, to let him know she had brought a Knight to defend her wrong, and to call him to account for his Treason, he made his wont slight answers: but the Lift, and all things were prepared; then entered the Lady with the body, and the two Knights accompanied with the mourners; the Princess of Moravia, because her husband was one, would not be present, the other Ladies were placed to see the fight. Then was it proclaimed, that if the Knight were overcome, he should lose his head, and the Lady should be at Terichillus disposing, if the Knight overcame, than the Prince, if vanquished and alive, should be disposed of by the Lady, and the Knights, with all the troop, should have safe passage, without stay, or disturbance in return.  
Thus all agreed on, the Trumpets sounded; Terichillus furious, and ambitious of victory and peace, encountered Amphilanthus with such strength, as he made him bow backwards on his horse, but the King struck him flat on his back upon the ground, having means by this, to ask pardon from heaven for his offence: but he least thinking of so good a matter, quickly got up, and with his Sword in his hand, did attend Amphilanthus, whose noble courtesy was such, as not to take advantage of him, lighted also to fight on foot. Terichillus was valiant, strong, and now to fight for life, and honour, so as he held Amphilanthus longer play, than many had done; yet at last he acknowledged with all others, the King to be fittest to be yielded unto, and so perceiving his life at an end, curstly set his sword on the ground, and broke it, desirous as it seemed to die unarmed, rather than disarmed by Amphilanthus; which was to no purpose, he making him openly make confession of his fault; ask pardon, direct, that all should obey his sister as their Lady and Princess; weep and lament his fortune without compulsion, and according to his ill life, he frowardly and peevishly concluded his days, leaving behind him this certainty, that such treasons are never any more left unpunished, than Countries without Princes: for strait was his Sister proclaimed, and he as soon forgot, as she speedily received.  
The King of Bohemia, and the King of the Romans were carried into rich chambers, but they since the last business in the Castle, would never lie alone, so as they were lodged together, and as soon as Amphilanthus was recovered of some slight wounds, he received in this combat, they took their leaves, following on their journey for Hungary. But as they were even ready to leave Moravia (hard by a Wood, which grew from the bottom of a hill to the top, the hill steepy, craggy, and full of rocks, and places where stones had been cut for building of a stately Abbey, which was among meadows, not far from the foot of this hill, between two dainty rivers, but than decayed by war) they met a Lady running, her hair loose, covering her face, her cries loud and fearful, her clothes half on, and half off, a strange disorder in her words, she spoke as if danger pursued, and help requisitly demanded; a little from her were some men, who hastily followed her, one especially from whom it seemed, she sought to be delivered. Amphilanthus willing to aid, and she seeming to beseech it, rid to her, to demand the cause; she fled, he pursued till they came to the bottom of a great quarry, there in some thickness she offered to cover herself; but he lighting, desired to know the cause of her flight and danger. She, as if her enemy had been at hand, amazedly, and frightfully answered; Alas Sir? what mean you? what injury have I done you, that you should thus follow me? I never wronged you, why seek you my dishonour? He replied, that she was deceived, and therefore entreated her to look up again upon him, & she would see her error. Then beholding him wishly, as if she had been till then in the wrong; Pardon me my Lord (said she) for I mistook you, my misery being such, as hath quite distracted me, I am a poor Lady dwelling here, not far hence, in yonder old Abbey, Lady thereof by the death of my Husband, since which time a young Lord hath been an earnest suitor to me; but my love and fortune dying with my husband, or but living to his memory, I refused him, as many other that have sought me, whereupon he vowed to have me by force, since no other means would prevail, and this day to perform his vow; he came, found me but slightly guarded, and newly out of my bed, took me out of my house, bound my servants, and thus far on the way hath brought me: but when I saw this thick Wood, and being acquainted with the hidnest parts of it, I slipped from behind his servant that carried me, and with all speed possible ran (as I think you must needs see me) towards this wilderness, here I hope I am secure, and shall assure myself of it, if it might please you, to take me into your protection. He courteous beyond expression, promised to defend her. I pray Sir (said she) let me yet ask some things more of you, which are, what your name is, and how long you have been in this Country? My name (said he) is Amphilanthus, my being here, hath been some time, being brought hither by the Princess Sydelia. Let me be so bold, I beseech you, to demand one favour more, which is, Whether you were one of those two that came with her, to revenge her quarrel? I am indeed (said he), and the same who fought with Terichillus. Then am I blessed, said she, for I may assure myself of the valiantest man alive.  
While they were thus discoursing, an other Lady, with as fearful cries, & shricks passed by, running from the Wood-ward, with such haste, as her fear had made her so light, as she left no print, so much as pressing the grass whereon she ran, the impression it seemed being in her, and no weight but witness allowed her feet. Ollorandus followed her, she fled still, till she had lead him a good distance from his friend. Oh Ollorandus, what misfortune now befalleth thee? What Witchcraft made thee forget thy vow, and Melissea's command? Thy friend was carefuller of thee, and with more constancy accomplished thy desire, how hast thou abandoned him in greatest need? For he sitting by the Lady, as she had done speaking, out of the deep part of the Quarry came many armed men, and all set upon the King. He thinking they had been her enemies, defended himself, and willed her to take heed, take that counsel thyself, cried she, thou hateful murderer of my Husband, and dye for kill Terichillus. Then he found he was betrayed, wherefore taking the best courage he could, (and that was the best of the world) he resolutely withstood their fury; but at last their company still increasing, and his wounds, and weakness growing with them, the place besides ill to fight in, being uneven, full of bushes, and all disadvantages that might be to him, he was brought into infinite danger, and so much, as giving himself lost, he recommended his last love, and best wishes to his dear self, and so resolved, bravely meant to end.  
But what did Ollorandus all this while? He was held with discourse by a like deceiver, as his friend had met, till he heard the noise of the Dwarves, who called him to that place with fearful, and lamentable cries; where he found Amphilanthus, now ready to fall among the bodies of those he had slain, as if he had killed them, to lie the hansommer on their bodies, in that ill favoured place, and to have an easier bed in death. When he saw this sad sight, how did he curse himself? Then remembered he what he had been warned to do, than saw he the fault committed in belief, and their treachery; all these together made such a full consent of fury, as he flew amongst them with blows, like shame for villainy, heavy, and thick, and such good did he, as what with his valour, and the new courage his presence brought Amphilanthus, his weak limb, they gave a little respite to him, who sat down within the cleft of the Quarry; but then an other mischief followed, for that devilish causer of all this, beholding him, and having the power as she thought to hurt him, she rolled a stone (which was loose, of great weight, and bigness, staying but upon the edge of a cleft) down upon him, which gave him (though falling not directly, upon him, but a little part upon his shoulder) such a cruel stroke, especially to his weakness; as he fell with it on his face. Ollorandus seeing it, verily thought he had been dead, whereupon he cried out; damned Country, that must be the death of that, which all the world envied Italy for, the blessing of nursing brave Amphilanthus, farewell, and farewell all worth with thee. Then did his fury increase, and to that height, as but two being left of all the number, the Neapolitan Prince having brought them from many, to almost none, yet few; too many then for him sore wounded, he dispatched the rest, one only surviving who much molested him, & soarely handled him, going as he thought to take up that unmatched King, he saw him stir, and rise: With greater joy he then ran to him, who embraced him, and welcomed him as the saver of his life; but the other craved pardon of him even upon his knees, acknowledging his unpardonable fault. Amphilanthus quickly forgave him, and seeing the one surviving man again, set on them, finished that noble days work, and killed him with his own hand.  
Then did Ollorandus look about, and with wonder admire that exploit, wondering that such a multitude set upon the King, and that his strength and courage had withstood, and overthrown so many; this indeed being one of the greatest victories, and without comparison, the most hazardous and dangerous that ever he fell into. As they were thus beholding the slaughter and thinking how to go thence to cure their wounds, they heard one speak these words; Accursed fortune, that still hath crossed my desires, now will I not be more crossed in this wicked world; farewell cruel men, all mischiefs attend you both, and cursed be your best wishes. With that she threw herself from the top of that huge Quarry, into the place where Amphilanthus sat, when she (for this was the Princess) threw the stone upon him, and against the same stone, stid she break her neck. Then did they strive to bring some of them that lay on the ground to life, if but to tell the plot, but in vain for they were all dead, yet for their better fortwe, the same woman who had lead Ollorandus away, they saw again, wherefore he rid unto her, and not purposing to be any more abused by her, brought her to Amphilanthus, then did she confess all the villainy, but yet not till she saw her Lady dead; the Treason was when the Princess saw her Husband dead, killed by Amphilanthus, she one of the wickedest living, set some to inquire what course these Knights would take, and so gaining notice that they were to go into Hungary, she appointed one of her servants, (a fit creature for such a mistress) to offer his service to them. They not knowing the way, were very glad of such a conveniency, and so entertained him, who brought them to this place, where they met this terrible encounter, the Princess herself contented to act a part, for the getting of her devilish purpose, and as a perfect actor did perform the last act best of her Tragedy. Then did she warn them of passing on that way, for (said she) an other ambush is laid for you, but if you will credit me, though (I confess) I may be ashamed to expect it, having been already one that deceived you, yet as I have any faith, I tell you now but truth, and will advise you to the best, go not this plain way, for by yonder Abbey, is as dangerous a troop laid for you, but cross this Hill, which though rough and uneasy, yet is the way secure and safe. They thanked her, and for her punishment only appointed her to go to the new Princess, and to her discourse all this business, and then if she could turn good from so much ill, as she had been bred in, they should be glad, and so they parted; the false and treacherous Princess having no other Tomb than the Quarry, nor rights but her own actions, nor monument but the carcase of her wicked servants.  
The Knights following the Gentlewoman's directions, passed with much difficulty the hill, and craggy rocks, getting on the other side, which was a fine and pleasant Country, to a grave Knight's house, where they continued, till they were cured of their wounds. The Gentlewoman performing their command, arrived at the Court, where she related the whole treason, danger and success of it, telling withal, how that was the only punishment allotted her.  
The kind Sedelia grieved in her soul for this mischance, yet was comforted when she was assured of their safeties; then sent she some to visit them, but they could not meet them, though they found the noble memories of them in the slaughter, but heard by a Pastor that they were well, & gone from the old Knight's house perfectly whole, and recovered. At their return, the Princess rejoiced, and in remembrance of Amphilanthus, and his friend, set up a pillar in that place, of excellent richness, and bigness, in which was curiously engraven that famous victory: the Abbey being daintily seated, & having all delights of pleasure, either solitary or otherwise, she built anew, & much more glorious than before, wherein she made the tomb for Antonarus, laying his body there, leaving a place for herself, and as soon as her Son came to years, fit for government, she put the whole rule into his hands, retiring herself to this place, where with loyal love, and sincere faith, she ended her days, being after buried with him, from whom living, she would not be parted, nor dead, severed.  
The noble companions being recovered, took leave of their kind host, who would not be contented, till Amphilanthus entertained his only Son for his Squire, which he did, and so they passed towards Hungary; riding by a fair and pleasant river's side, which Ollorandus knew, and welcomed each drop which passed by him, knowing, the place where his Mistress most commonly lived at, was seated on this stream, his thoughts were busied on her, and Amphilanthus as passionately contemplated his love: thus they rid together, yet their thoughts so far asunder, as might have made them strangers. As thus they passed among some Osiers, which grew by the side of that River, some of them within it, or the water in love with their roots, chastely embraced them, making pretty fine ponds between each other, the arms, and bodies of the trees, lying so kindly to each other, as with much ease, and fine coolness, one might pass from one to the other. A dainty Maid among the trees, had taken up her abiding, having made a kind of bed among them, upon their boughs, which twinned within one another's arms made the lodging secure. She had an Angle in her hand, and lay as if fishing, but her mind placed on a higher pleasure; she little regarded the biting of the fish, being herself deceived with a cunninger bait, the hook of love having caught her so fast, as nothing could release her, and as she sat, she would make pretty, and neat comparisons, between her betraying the poor silly fish, and her own being betrayed by the craft of love, which some times she commended; and yet again would condemn. At this time she was in a reasonable good conceit of love, & favourable enough to him, as appeared by this song she sung, the voice being the cause of their seeking any body in that place.  
Love peruse me, seek, and find  
How each corner of my mind  
is a twine  
woven to shine.  
Not a Webb ill made, foul framed,  
Bastard not by Father named,  
such in me  
cannot be.  
Dear behold me, you shall see  
Faith the Hive, and love the Bee,  
which do bring,  
gain and string.  
Pray desist me, sinews deigns  
Holds, and love's life in those gains;  
lying bare  
to despair,  
When you thus annottomise  
All my body, my heart prize;  
being true  
just to you.  
Close the Trunk, embalm the Chest,  
Where your power still shall rest,  
joy entomb,  
Ioues just doom.  
The Song ended, they went towards her, desiring to discourse with her, she courteous and excellently witty, gave them entertainment, her apparel was such, as said for her, she was of the best sort of women: her Gown was of green Satin, with long sleeves to the ground; they, and her gown buttoned to the bottom, with buttons of Diamonds, so were her wearing sleeves; but by reason the weather was warm, they were left open in spaces, through which her cut work Smock appeared, and here and there; her delicate skin was seen; she held her angle as neglectively, as love the ill causer of her pain held her, when the poor little fish did play with the bait, or offer to swallow it, too big for them, yet made the cork stir: so (would she say) doth Love with me, play with me, show me pleasures, but lets me enjoy nothing but the touch of them, and the smart of the hook that hurts me without gain, and only gives as light a good to me, as the hope this floating corck did give me of the fishes prison. But these imaginations were laid aside by the two Princes coming, to whom she presently rose up, and with fit and excellent respect she saluted them, throwing down haet rod, wherewith she had threatened, but executed little hurt, & passing over her transparent bridge, went unto them, whom she used according to their merits, when she understood who they were, conducting them along that river to a most curious garden, and so into another, and then into as rare a place for building, as they in all their travels had everseene, being a house of white Marble. Variety of all delights were there, and she desirous that they should enjoy them, giving all the free and noble welcome that could be afforded.  
After they had been a while in the house, she desired them to be pleased to unarm themselves, which they did, being brought into a rich chamber, wherein there were two marvelous fair beds, they having before entreated to lodge together.  
Then did she leave them till supper time, coming then again to attend them; but when she beheld them, she could not but extremely admire the loveliness of Amphilanthus, for no woman, were she never so passionately in love with any, but confessed him fittest to be beloved, though such were his worth, as few had the honour of his affection, and most of them gratefulness wooed more for, than his own choice. Thus they went together to the room where they were to eat, the King of Bohemia using all respect unto the Lady, who he thought did much resemble his Mistress: but as a true lover thought she came far short of her perfections. At supper there were many Knights more that came to visit this Lady, she being much honoured, and beloved of all: her husband was likewise there, but such a man to be her mate, as if he were made for a punishment to her, for being so excellently perfect above the common rate of her sex, her fashion such, as no stranger could but commend to be full of modesty, and judgement towards him; but as it was discreet and observing, so was it to be discerned distant enough from affection, yet as far from neglect as fondness, his likewise to her, as if she governed both parts of love. He entertained these Princes with much kindness keeping them company, and showing them all the rare delights he had about his house, which were many: but the greatest rareness they saw, was the Lady, who so much Amphilanthus marked, as he discovered her to be one of their fellow prisoners in the Castle of love; wherefore desirous to hear that discourse, especially loving to hear love described, and related by a woman, out of whose lips those sweet passions more sweetly proceeded, he gave occasion for it, as they walked along a dainty pleasant brook, the banks whereof were of such sweetness, as the plenty of the most delicate smelling flowers could yield unto them, being shadowed from the Sun's parching by Myrtle, and that Myrtle preserved by high, and brave trees, whose breadth and large boughs spread to give content to those, who under them would submit to solitariness. This place (said Amphilanthus) were fitter much for lovers, than such free Princes as live here. Is there any free from that passion my Lord, said she? Only such (said he) as you are, whose sense of love doth rather from you command hearts to your service, then presume to bring you into the fetters, being rather his commanders, then subject. An untoward government (answered she) assuredly I have yet had, I never having enjoyed quiet minute, since I knew this state, but that rebellious passions have ever tormented me. Can that be, cried Amphilanthus?? I am sensible of them, said she. Alas, said Amphilanthus, that I might be so fortunate to merit so great a happiness, as to understand the way, that bold love takes to conquer such perfection.  
That may soon be gained (said she) for requite me with your story, and I will truly discourse my fortunes to you. Never let me be rewarded for my pain (said he) if I refuse this noble offer. Begin you Sir (said she). I will obey in that also (said he): and then did he tell her the whole story of his affection, only keeping her name secret, because Ollorandus knew her, and had mistrust of it, but no assurance; after which she began thus.  
My Lord, so ill it seems love hath carried himself, as it is a kind of fault in a woman to confess any such matter; yet I knowing myself innocent of ill, and now engaged by your freedom to make a requital, I will venture to speak of this Lord, Love.. My father had a sister married to one of the noblest and greatest Princes of this Country, as rich in possessions as any, yet possessed he not so much treasures, as he did virtues, being richer in them, than any other of this land, true nobleness and noble hospitality abounding in him. He had to inherit his estate, two Sons and one Daughter, children fit for such a father, truly and lawfully being heirs to both his estates of riches, and virtuous qualities.  
Many years this good Lord lived, but age claiming the due belonging to time, and a sore disease taking him, he died, leaving his honours, virtues and chief estate to his eldest son, called Laurimello, who had been much in my father's house, his father putting that trust in his brother in Law, as to leave his dearest part of comfort with him: beside, my Father's estate lay near to the City of Buda, which was a conveniency, by reason of the Courts lying there, for his seeing, and frequenting that: by reason whereof, after his father's death he brought his sister likewise thither, between whom and myself, there grew an entire friendship. She being great, and her brother beloved, and honoured above any other Prince, many sought her for wife: but she knowing her perfections and greatness, was nice in accepting any, nor indeed had she much mind to marry, loving her liberty more than marriages bondage.  
Among others that offered their service to her, there was one called Charimellus, who by his friends and parents, was sent to sue for her favour; thither he came; but I coming with her into the room where her suitor was, and her brother, with many more, he cast his eyes on me, which brought him that misfortune, as to be so suddenly surprised, as he knew not scarce how to salute her, which made her scorn him, laughing at his bashfulness, which caused so much blushing and trembling in him. I regarded not his trances, beginning so much as to think from whence it proceeded, but out of good nature was sorry for the man, who in troth deserved much pity, and merited great respect: but my heart elsewhere placed, held mine eyes in their set way, not marking any thing but mine own fortunes, no more than one star troubles itself with another's course: but my cousin, who would not keep her thoughts from imparting them to her friends liberally used her wit on him, whose part I took, ignorant of the cause I had, till some days being passed, in which she gave him refusal; he discovered his love to me, and withal, protesting how he was surprised at my first sight. I told him, I could not believe one fight on such an instant could work such an alteration; nor if it were true, that I would so soon accept of a refused suitor, since my fortunes I trusted would not be such, as to bind me to take my cousin's leave.  
This answer grieved him, yet did it no way allay his affection, but rather like snow, which played with all, doth make ones hands burn: so did the cold despair of my words make his hart hot, & glow in love towards me, my friends liked and loved him, he being of a sweet and mild disposition, valiant, and accompanied with many brave, and noble conditions; and such a one, as none, I think, could have disliked, that had been ordained to marry with judgement only, or had not their heart before settled as mine was. Long he pursued his love, at last he gained my father's consent, my mothers, and most of my friends, the estate, and antiquity of his house, besides his person, meriting any subject for wife. When I saw this, and the danger I was in to be bestowed; I then wholly employed my time, in studying how I might gain mine own desires, and finely put this off. While this was in my mind, a third business came in, which was another match offered my father for me, whose estate was greater, and nearer to our dwelling: to which my father (being more than ordinarily affectionate to me) quickly hearkened, and willingly embraced. Then was I in more danger than before, my heart so perplexed, as I knew not what I did. Poor Charimellus came unto me, wept to me, presented his affection to my memory and eyes: I pitied him, and truly had as much compassion upon him, as I, or any other (whose soul was in another's keeping) could have of him; and so much favour I did grant him, as to promise to speak with my Father, and directly to refuse the new proffered match.  
This contented him, hoping my refusal had been only for his good: I performed my promise, and spoke with my father, telling him, how much he was afflicted, how passionately he loved me, what reasons I had rather to accept of him then any other, how the world had taken such notice already of his two years' suit, as it would be a disgrace to him, and a touch to me, to take this new one; nor did I find that I could affect him, therefore I besought him to grant me that blessing, that I might not be thus yielded to every great match, but that the business might be carried more to my honour and content. My father I confess was vexed with these words; yet being as kind as any man, he moderated his fury something, more than I might expect, bringing forth at last these words. The confidence I have had in you, I hope may still continue in that strength, since I cannot think, you dare for goodness sake commit so great a fault, as to deceive, especially your father; therefore I doubt not, but your freedom is as ever sure; yet I must needs say, the suit of Charimellus continued thus long, hath given occasion of discourse, I dislike not your care of that, nor be you afraid more, than reason wills of the world's reports, which are like the discharging of pieces of Ordinance, where fire, smoke, and noise, are the companions, but one bullet hurts but in one place, and often times misses: so may harm by loud talking people miss hurting you, although the bruit fly; yet do I not condemn, but prize your care, honour being as necessary to a woman's happy life, as good Lungs to a healthful body: but yet I trust you are not engaged by promise. I assured him I was not, though I could not deny, but my affection was settled. My father imagined he knew the place, thereupon proceeded in the former match; then was I to work my end, having no means, save mine own industry, and strength of mind busied like a Spider, which being to cross from one beam to another, must work byways, and go far about, making more webs to catch herself into her own purpose, then if she were to go an ordinary strait course: and so did I, out of my wit weave a web to deceive all, but mine own desires.  
The last plot I had, was to make Charimellus entreat my Cousin, to be his means to me for him, which he (good man) fulfilled; the discreet and brave Laurimello speaking to me as earnestly, and affectionately, as if for himself: I received his words, and accepted his counsel, as a patient doth the advice of his Physician: and so wrought it in me, for he was able to cure me, and only he, yet not weighing what, and whereto my answers were directed, he let them pass, my accounted servant remaining secure, as it was imagined in my opinion and love, but contrary it proved; for soon after he seeking to have assurance from me of my grant to be his wife, I refused it, telling him I had privately vowed unto myself, never to be betrothed, nor assured, until the time I married. He was troubled with my refusal, yet so civilly I used him, as he was reasonably contented there withal; never were Bees so busy in a Swarm, as my thoughts were how to set my mind, and ends aright; sometimes I resolved to speak, but bashfulness withheld me, casting before mine eyes the stain, that justly might be laid on me, a maid, and of so tender years to woo a man: then how often I had heard him say, that he hated forward woman, and could love none but such an one, who he must win by suit and love, and who would love him so, as though most earnestly, yet prettily to make him think, neglect did govern her, which would be like Cordials to his heart, or a diet to increase the stomach of his love. These hindered me, and I continued like a branch placed to the wall of faithful affection, while the blasts of desire did move the leaves to speak, or show so much, as might be called love. While these doubts ruled, Charimellus fell sick, being then many miles distant from me. for his estate lay in Austria. I hearing of it, sent to visit him, but so late, as my messenger could only deliver, as to his last senses my message, and he for his last words return me thanks, and so he died, sending me a token, which he took from about his arm; with that, and the news, my servant came, in troth I was sorry for him, and found that I could weep for him, and did so too; yet was there no room left for any, but my first chose love to inhabit. After his death, the second came again, and with his friends, and all apparent means, did set his rest to win me; but I freed, meant so to hold myself, nor could there be lest colour for them so soon to move me; hope began then to flatter me, & I saw (or that deceitful thing did see for me) that no bar now did lie between my joys, & the obtaining, save a little nice, & childish modesty, which would a virtue prove in showing modest love. But so long did I feed myself with baby fancy, till the truth was lost, for he not once imagining my end, married another Lady, rich, and therefore worthy.  
This misfortune past repair, and fall'n on me, I privately lamented, moaned my state, grieved and still quarrelled with myself, and then when all was lost, and hope of joy quite dead, I yielded to my second suitors mind, with the consent of all my friends, and public feasts, I married him, with whom I now (thanked be Heaven) happily have lived these many years. But do you not some times said Amphilanthus, see your best chosen friend? Oft times said she, and in that am I blessed, for here we have all pleasures we can wish, content, and love, and happiness in that.  
No happiness can be compared to that, said Ollorandus, where love meets, and mutually is blessed with one, and the self kind. But how doth the goodman like of this? so well said she, as if he made the choice, being secure in my chastity, yet this I needs must say, I lived an ill, & froward life with him, for some two years, while ignorance held me, and wilfulness lived in him; but when we came to know, or better, to be clean deceived, we grew good friends, and like kind mates, have lived these last three years. Humours he had of jealousy, which I could not blame him for, my fashion being free, and such as having still been bred in Court, I carried with me, but since he discerned, that more innocency lies under a fair Canope, then in a close chest, which locked, the inward part may be what it will. He accused himself, and is now grown so free, as I do rather doubt myself then him, and in truth I needs must say, I am so much a servant unto love, as I discover more in outward show, then grave discretion can permit me with, yet always have I, and still will rule my affection by virtue.  
By this they were arrived at the wall of the garden, having still followed that pleasant brook, which was an arm of the large and brave Danubia; being entered the Garden, they met her Husband, and with him the sweet enjoyer of her free given joys, none need to tell the Princes who he was, for who but he could hold her eyes so fast? so eagerly did they behold each other, as if they feared one part of sight had failed to make a full conclusion of their bliss, or as if they through them would look into their hearts, to see the settled dwelling of each others faith: there was affection discovered at the height, and as true love would wish, freely given and taken. Most blessed pair said Amphilanthus, sighing in himself; alas, may I not live to see such good? may not my dear behold me with such looks, such smiles, such loving blushes? may not her virtue freely grant this to me? yes I have seen such, but accursed man must not enjoy, but what cursed Destiny will allow my wants.  
Then made he some excellent verses, the subject being desire, and absence, and so much was he transported, as he stood not like a beholder, but as an Actor of love's parts: Ollorandus talking this time with the husband, returning all into the house, Amphilanthus passing in his accustomed manner, the brave Laurimello leading his beloved Lady by the hand, after supper they walked abroad again, and so till bed time, passed those hours in pleasant sweet discourse, the Lady making her own words true, for never did any woman make such free, yet modest show of love as she did, yet expressed with such fine judgement, & sweet chastity, as that love, was in her deemed a virtue, and his wanton faults commended by the wit, and dainty manner of her earnest love. The next day the two Princes took there leaves, and so for Buda took their journey, Ollorandus contenting himself, with the hoped for joys he should receive in the conversation of Melisinda, and Amphilanthus thinking how to return unto his dearer self, blaming, and condemning himself, for being so long absent, and accusing fortune for such cruelty, as not only to make him lose the comfort others had, but also to make him witness of their gain, & by that to behold his perpetual harm, and unbearable want. To Buda at last they came, where they were entertained. Amphilanthus as his merit, and dignity required; Ollarandus with such affection, as all the school of love, could instruct Melysinda with: Rodolindus with triumph, and feast, giving them testimony of their welcome. Many days the feasts continued, and still increased the banquet of love, between the King and his Mistress, when Amphilanthus was entreated to show is skill in arms, which he did in a just, wherein he encountered the King Rodolindus then unknown for the manifesting of his valour, would disguised meet the incomparable Prince, who not understanding any reason why 〈◊〉 spare him, but to add to his honour, gave him such unkind greetings, that although he were as valiant, and strong as any in Hungary, yet at the fifth course, he was thrown to the ground much bruised: which hurt he never recovered, but within some few months after deceased, leaving his delicate wife, as perfect and excellent a widow.  
These jousts being done, Amphilanthus desired liberty of Ollorandus to return, who, though infinitely grieved to yield unto it, yet judging by himself the causes that moved him, he consented, telling him he would also accompany him, but by no means would he consent to that, no more loving 〈◊〉 part, then to be parted from his love. Alone he resolved to go, but for his dwarf, who attended him, sending his new Squire unto his Mistress, to advertise her of his safety, and of his speedy repairing to her. The first day's journey, the Queen, with the two Kings accompanied him, then parting, Amphilanthus took towards Stiria, and so, that way to go into Italy, in which Country, he met a very fine, and strange encounter, in a delicate meadow, (being newly entered Stiria) there was a fountain, about which were many Ladies sitting, all apparelled after that Country manner, but in one colour, which was willow colour, embroidered with gold, neatly, but not extraordinarily rich; they were, (as he perceived being near them) some singing, some playing with the water, others discoursing one to another, all busied; and yet none busy, but in play. They hearing his horse, looked up, he saluted them, and alighting came to them, with whom he had many pretty passages of wit; at last he disired to know who they were? they answered servants, as their livery might testify, and Ladies of honour to the Princess of Stiria, who was absolute Lady of that Country, being subject to none, and yet not free. Where is that Princess said Amphilanthus? not far hence, answered one of them, being walked into yonder wood, where she is the saddest, and most discontented of any Princes living. May the cause be known said he? To such an one as will offer his help, said the first of them. I will do my best said he, else shall I forswear arms, when I am so unworthy a man, as not to serve brave Ladies. Then Sir, answered she, I will tell you the matter as well as I can, but not so passionately, as my Lady herself would do, if she were to relate it. Emilina (for so is the Princess called) having been sought of most of these Princes, which are neighbours to this Country, and many more neighbours to love, refused them all, some of them so loving, as love might have pleaded, and won for them, others have conquered by their valour, some have gained pity by their afflicted passions, but all were as one thing, a lover rejected: she having wholly resolved within herself, to give her possessions, her heart, and all to the renowned Prince of Naples, and lately King of the Romans, Amphilanthus, whose fame had won more in her, though in person then to her never seen, than all they with their continual petition. At last this Prince came, whose name had so sovereignis'd, as she stood not to behold, or examine what causes might in him move her affection, but as Amphilanthus she loved him. He subtle above all men, and as any, faulse, flattered her, and so much wrought with her, as he gained what he desired, and what he most esteemed: for had she given him les, she had, as she believed, wronged her fervent love: he seemed as passionate as she, and surely was so, but unconstant creature, he did change, and so will all you do.  
While he loved, none loved more earnestly, more fond, none more carefully, but how can loyalty be where variety pleaseth? scarce cold he endure any to look upon her, much less, suffer or permit her to use any but himself familiarly; which he need not find fault withal, for so did she love, as she never looked on other, with the eyes of more than civil courtesy. Some while this continued, the marriage was expected, he gained her promise, to have only him; she never doubting, pressed not for his vows, more crediting his word, which she assured her love of, then seeking by desire of stricter vows, to make him think she did mistrust, lest action of his, gave her steady trust, and so she trusted, till she was deceived, for after he had gained her firmest love, and so by vows obtained what he sought, most vildly he began to change, and fell enamoured of a Prince's maid, who being near allied unto my Lady, often came to visit her at Court; this Gentlewoman truly was most fair, and I think good till then, if not then too; we saw it, and were vexed with it, yet knowing that no curster corrosive can be to a lover, then to be despised, especially by him that once did love; at last she found it, (miserable knowledge,) how then was she grieved? if I should offer to discover, I must say I am a lover, and forsaken to, otherwise can none, or ought any to presume to tell a forlorn creatur's woe. First, in silence she did bear her pain, and with attendance, and continual kindness, strive to win him back, or rather, that he might not think she did mistrust, she strove to hold his love, But that ungrateful man, (which name is more than her gentle affection will yet permit her to give him,) discerning her respect and love, would seem to see neither, yet failed he not in all outward shows, to manifest his change. She writ unto him, she wept before him, she complained, she bewailed others that were forsaken; he heard, and not regarded, he answered but slighted, he joined in pitying them, but neglected her that most wanted; she lost her beauty with sorrow, with weeping whole nights, and sobbing, that I have myself come in, uncalled but by those sorrows to her, the greatness of her heart, though able in the day to cover them, yet was forced at night, to borrow assistance of breathing out what her spleen was over charged withal, and what, save tears, sobs, and silence would she trust for her associates? Forgetful man that so abused her, who wronged herself alone in trusting him, nay wrong himself in such a base unworthy change. I adventured to advise, when I saw all misery over take her; she took my counsel, which was, to urge the marriage. He slighted her, and told her she was grown old, and her beauty altered, willed her to recover that, and when he returned from a journey that he had in hand, he would be as he was.  
Alas, what torment was this to her, who was only his? she took it to the heart, though he smilingly delivered it, as if in jest, till all considered it aprooved true; then feigned he an excuse, that the King his father sent for him, and that at his return he would not miss to perform what he had promised, so he found her as he expected. His leave he took of her, which went as near her heart, as marrow to the bones, yet stayed he afterwards with the other wench some certain days. We used all means to hold her ignorant of that, and many more his passages: but what more clear and perfect sighted, then true love? She knew all, and yet knew her faith so clear to him, as she would blind her sight, rather than touch his truth. O faithless Amphilanthus, accursed man, that brought this hard insufferable wrong and harm unto the faithfullest and the worthiest lover, that ever love did wound. But to proceed, he went and left my Lady quite forsaken and forlorn, who since (unhappy woman) lives in groans, and daily sorrowings. But where now is the Prince, said Amphilanthus? Truly Sir (said she) where the falsest, ficklest, waveringst, and unworthiest man doth live, and there is he, and else where know I not. No such unworthiness lives in that Prince, I know him well said he, and lately saw him, but I will not say 'tis the same you speak of, for it may be, some such creature hath abused his name, and for these ends given out to be the man. Know you the Prince then, said she? if you do, he is a fair false man, a treacherous well shaped man, not tall, though high in mischievous ill nature, slender, but full in wickedness, curled hair, and thick; yet bald in virtue, and this is Amphilanthus, as he called himself. The Prince knew strait it was another man she meant, yet grieved to hear his name so much abused, and that a Princess should bear wrong for him. This, besides his own interest in the matter, made him vow revenge, wherefore he desired to see the Princess, the first Lady told him, that if he would attend her coming forth of the Wood, he should be admitted to her sight, he would not further urge, and so with them sat down, while one of them sung this Song, telling him it was made by her Lady, who was as perfect in all noble qualities, as subject to love, and so to be for too much faith deceived.  

FRom victory in love I now am come  
Like a commander killed at the last blow:  
In stead of Laurel, to obtain a tomb  
With triumph that a steely faith I show.  
Here must my grave be, which I thus will frame  
Made of my stony heart to other name,  
Than what I honour, scorn brings me my tomb,  
Disdain the Priest to bury me, I come.   

Clothed in the relics of a spotless love,  
Embrace me you that let true lovers in;  
Pure fires of truth do light me when I move,  
Which lamp-like last, as if they did begin.  
On you the sacred tomb of love, I lay  
My life, neglect sends to the hellish way,  
As offering of the chastest soul that knew  
Love, and his blessing, till a change both slew.   

Here do I sacrifice world's time of truth,  
Which only death can let me part with all,  
Though in my dying, have perpetual youth  
Buried alone in you, whereby I fall.  
Open the graves where lover's Saints have lain,  
See if they will not fill themselves with pain  
Of my affliction, or strive for my place,  
Who with a constant honour gain this grace.   

Burn not my body yet, unless an Urn  
Be framed of equal virtue with my love  
To hold the ashes, which though pale, will burn  
In true love's embers, where he still will move;  
And by no means, let my dust fall to earth,  
Lest men do envy this my second birth,  
Or learn by it to find a better state  
Than I could do for love immaculate.   

Thus here, O here's my resting place ordained,  
Fate made it e'er I was; I not complain,  
Since had I kept, I had but bliss obtained,  
And such for loyalty I sure shall gain.  
Famebeares the torches for my last farewell  
To life, but not to love, for there I dwell,  
But to that place, neglect appoints for tomb  
Of all my hopes; thus Death I come, I come.   
Did Emilina (said the Prince) write this, sure Amphilanthus could never be false to such a creature. He was, and is (said she), and truly doth he make good his name, that signifieth the lover of two. That name (said he) was given him, ere he knew what love was, or himself. The latter sure he knows not yet, said she. You will I doubt not shortly have a better opinion of this Prince. Neither of him, nor those that be his companions, said she, unless I grow so unfortunate, as to be a lover of all variety, and so for that, I may like changing men, or delight in Chameleons. With this the Princess came, a Lady not of highest stature, nor low; so handsome, as one well might see, there had been excellent beauty, but decayed, as love was withered to her, who now resembled the ruins of a fair building; her countenance grave, but courteous, showing rather retiredness, then much given to conversation; her pace, slow, and her apparel careless: her clothes were of Tawny, cut with Willow colour, and embroidered with Willow garlands of that colour, and gold to show the forsaken part was noble. She came towards them, and with a modest gesture saluted the Prince, who with his helmet off, presented the true Amphilanthus to her eyes; she desired to know of whence he was, and what adventure brought him thither. He told her, he was of Italy, and that his blessed fortune had brought him, where he might repair an injury done to a wronged Prince, and serve her in the business. Alas, said she, what service can I have in that, since none lives wronged so much as I? nor can one of that country, or all that Nation, right the injury received by one, and yet dear one to me. That one that wronged you (answered he) shall right you, or my life shall pay for it; tell me where you think he is. If I did know (said she) and with all understood a danger to him by revealing him, for all the harm I have received, I would conceal him, and thus hapless live, rather than be a means to harm his person, which still I hold dear. How happy is that Prince (said he) and yet unfortunate to be so injured, as to be defamed by a suborner, and a traitorous man, falsely assuming thus a Prince's name. Wrong him not with that tax (said she), for sure I could not love a meaner man, not any but that Prince, and so the bravest Amphilanthus. But you it seems, have heard of his light love, his change and falsehood. Alas hear, with that; what man, nay, even yourself hath loved and never changed? may not then Amphilanthus do the like? What a perplexity this was to him, judge bravest lovers: but she did proceed; What shame then is it to him? and to whom can harm ensue, save to us wretched trusting women. Madam (said he) I seek to clear the Prince, and to let you discern the wrong he bears, that one so base and so perfidious, hath taken his name on him. She was speaking, when a Knight, who newly there arrived, kneeled to him, telling him he was most glad to find him so near home, but sorry for the news he brought, which was, he must repair with all the speed he could into his Country, for otherwise he could not enjoy the blessing of his aged father's sight, who then was ready to yield unto death; withal he gave him letters from the Lords, and from his brother. While he thus discoursed, the Prince took them, and then the Lady asked of the stranger, who this Prince was, to whom he had used such reverence. He answered; Amphilanthus of Naples, Prince, and now he thought, the King. She then turning to him; My Lord (said she) I must needs blame your name, that hath brought me my discontent, yet honour your person, though the love to that, was the sweet betrayer of my bliss. Then did she freely confess, what the Lady before had related, which being heard by the young Prince of Venice (for it was he that came unto him with the news), he assured Amphilanthus, that he had met the Knight, and by him had been overthrown; so as truly Sir (said he) he is valiant, and as strong as a man need be, to maintain so bold a charge, as to counterfeit your strength; he hath also now got a companion, who calls himself Ollorandus; and thus they pass, your fame makes few, except strangers, meddle with them. But I seeing his face, and with that his falsehood, ventured to fight with him, having justice on my side, which I hoped would bring me victory; but I see, that a good arm must hold the balance, else sometimes truth may fall (as I did) to the ground. Amphilanthus confident of the truth of the deceit, took his leave of the Lady, who earnestly desired his presence to her house, but he taking the occasion of the Venetians coming, would excuse himself, and keep him free from temptations, till he saw the perfect commandress of his dearest love. The Lady was troubled, yet at last, like other crosses, she did bear with that, but in the night she thus lamented. Wretched woman, above all accursed, must my affection first be placed on worth, & that worths name abuse me and my trust? which were I better hope of, that I was betrayed and cozened by a false and treacherous man, then by the Prince? No sure I was deceived, for none but he that did betray me, spoke of him; here one calls him away unto his country. O I was deceived, and am, and shall be, hapless Emilina, borne to ill, nursed to misfortune, and must die by change. Alas Amphilanthus, I did love thee most, best, and my youngest love, and most innocent was given to thee. I knew not love, when I did find, that I loved thee; my heart was thine, before I knew it was mine own to give: thou tookest it, I thought did prise it too; thou called'st it thine, thine own best heart, didst cherish it, and kindly made of it; said, I did arm the God of love himself, giving him sight and power; and when in Verse I once did wail a little absence, which I was to suffer by thy going for one week from me, in that small space thou didst repay my lines, calling me sweet more kind; & telling me, if I did harm mine eyes, I should disarm love, and undo the throne of him and his; and yet all this is false, and thou (O thou) untrue. Deceived I am; yet why didst thou plot for my ruin? If to gain by me, why didst thou not make all the Country thine, as well as me? No, I do see thy conquest was but me, and I was only for a prey to satisfy thy will; variety of loves, not fair possessions, are thy aimed at-games. Yet Amphilanthus true or false, I must still love thee best, and though thou wrong me, I must love thee still. What torments have I alas for thee endured? How have I searched my heart, and found thy Image, as if limned in each small corner of it; but all joined in that service, made it round, and yours, yet are you false; O me that I must live and say, Amphilanthus is proved false, and unto me; yet this brave Stranger says, he is abused; well, be it so, I loved him as that Prince, and so my crosses came.  
Is it not possible, O cruel man, Prince, or whatsoever else, that thou wilt back return? Come home again, and be thy first sweet self, kind, loving; and if not a Prince, I'll make thee one; and rather would I wish thou wert not one, but with that title throw thy fault away, and be a lover, just and excellent; thou mayst be so, for where doth lodge more ability of good, of valour, virtue, and all else, but constancy, which I will pardon: come unto me, I forget that ever I was left, that thou wert false, unkind, and will remember only our first joys, think all this other time was absence, or a dream, which happiness likely contrary to what appears. O let this be so, my dear, and (only dear) I do forgive thee: I invite thee, come accept my state, a gift laid at thy feet, myself thy vassal, these are worthy thanks, and these I will perform. Leave those enticing beauties, and great wits, that snare-like catch, & hold for mere advantage to them, and their ends; 'ticing thee by fine Brades of vowed locks, and plaited hair, a dainty show; nor didst use with me, my hair unworthy of the honour to be worn by thee: thou thinkst I know not this; yes, and do grieve for it, yet will be silent to thee. I am a woman free, and freely offer, I not beg, but give, and ask but love for principality, and rule of me: many I know do seek thee, and thy gentle disposition (apt to be deceived, as I was when I loved) will be abused. Beware, cast those dear eyes that won my freedom on my faith and zeal, and then discover what a difference there is betwixt fervent love, whose ends are love; & such, where only use & gain attends desire. But if thou wilt continue thus, be yet still safe, let their loves to thee, be as firm as mine; let dangers fly from thee, safety be near, and all ill shun thee, blessings prosper with thee, and be thou blessed with them.  
Then turned she fighingly within her bed; all night she thus did pass those hours, with such distracted passions: and so full her mind was stored with memory of him, as she did call all actions into mind, and as new done, did lively make presentment to her eyes, and so of all past happiness she knew. Then mixed she them with her new discontents, and so comparing them, make her poor self the stage, where joy and sorrow acted diverse parts, her heart the sad scene where the story lay; oft did she call him false, then love enraged, made her recall that, and complain of spite, concluding still, I cannot yet but love, though thus forsaken, and forlorn I live.  
Amphilanthus gone, he fell into discourse with the young Venetian, who related unto him what he had heard of the counterfeit Prince, then did he proceed, how he understood, he had taken his way by sea into Greece, and thence for Asia, and there no question (said he) the dainty Pamphilia will be; the kingdom he'll first visit, and good welcome surely (said Amphilanthus) he'll find there.  
Thus they rid on, the King contemplating his Mistress, beholding her as present, as if by; and the Venetian plotting how to gain the loving Emelina to his wife, but that was difficulter to be gained, than their arrival without more adventures into Italy; so as being thither come, the King was met with many, who were going, some to seek, and some from seeking him, were returned.  
At last he came to Naples, where he found his father sick, and past recovery, yet so much comforted to see his son, as life in the last power did express it both with face and smile: but that as joyful news crossed by the next unlucky messenger, is as a greater cross, then if at first time known: so did his death more heavily encounter the good hope his son did then receive.  
He dead, the Lords and Commons all with one consent (and that consent accompanied with gladness in their good) received Amphilanthus for their King. A marvellous brave funeral was then prepared, within which time the Princes near and far, as fast as notice came, sent their Ambassadors to condole and congratulate his happy beginning. The funeral once passed, strait followed the Coronation, where the Ambassadors did assist of Morea, France, great Britain, Bohemia, Romania, and the sweet, and delicate Pamphilia; all being done, the Ambassadors took their leaves, the King presenting them with presents rich, and fit for him to give, and them to take: then the next business was, to settle all his estate in good or quiet government, to which end he did appoint the Prince his brother to be Regent, and settled such a grave and honest Counecll, as he was secure (though absent) of his Kingdoms good.  
Then went he with some forces he had raised, which were in number twenty thousand Foot, and five thousand Horse to the place appointed, to ship them for Epirus, directing them the time of putting forth, which way he resolved, the rest would pass into Albania: the Princes of Florence, Milan, Ferrara, Naples, Modina, Apulia, and many more officers of this Field in this brave army went: but he trusting the army with these commanders, himself accompanied only with the Prince of Venice, landed in Morea, from thence being able easily to meet his men, and time enough, for any service. Being landed, he heard nothing but Drums, and Trumpets, and such warlike music, which well pleased his ears; much haste he made, till he came to the Court, where he found great sadness for an unhappy accident befallen Selarinus, which was this, going (as he thought safe enough because disguised) into Epirus, the proud Queen of that Country, who had denied passage for the Army, got notice of him, and that notice gave danger of his life; for her Mother being Daughter to one of the Kings, or Lords of Albania, treachery, and falsehood, having divided it into five parts, he and the other Towns, had made a combination, never to suffer either to be harmed, but chose to harm any should molest the other, and to seek all means to ruin the two brothers, whose fame had, though with honour, unluckily come to their ears, virtue in them, having brought the world's companion, malice, with her.  
This was not only agreed of among this wicked confederacy, but also taught as a necessary lesson to their Children; this Daughter, having married herself to the like vow, else a maid, and fair, but proud, insolent, and as those creatures, are commonly ignorant enough. She first to give occasion of offence, denied passage for the Armies, having so much foolish pride about her, as she was blinded from knowledge, that those forces could pass with her loss of her Realm, if they pleased; but she, who saw but as through a prospective glass, brought all things nearer or farther, as she pleased to turn the ends to her sight: so she drew danger to her, and put assurance with judgement, and goodness from her, laying wait through all her Country for either of those Knights, or any other who belonged to the united kings, that by chance, or hope of disguises, surely might offer to pass that way. It was Selarinus his mishap, first, and only at that time to adventure, and having rid two days journey without let, or any kind of hazard, the third day, he unfortunately happened into a house belonging to a Keeper, and standing in a great Forest: this Keeper, had in his youth been an Esquire to an Epirian Knight, slain at Mantinia, at a great just there held, after whose death he returned, and putting himself unto the Queen, he gained the keeping of this Forest: this man fell into discourse, being crafty, and so fit for so ill an employment, as he was used in; by discourse he gained knowledge, that this was one, belonging either in place, or affection to the Morean Court; then having enough to work upon, as if he had eaten much poison, he must break, so broke he into the open way of destroying Selarinus; for sending his boy to the Court, which was then but ten miles off, by the next morning he had forty Knights to secure him, and conduct the Prince, treacherously made a prisoner, to the Queen, who mistrusting no Treason under green clothes, nor falsehood, where so fair language and welcome dwelled, at night being weary, unarmed himself, and went to bed, where he slept, till he was awaked with the pain, which hard cords cast about his arms brought him, he did after confess he heard some noise, but thought it had only been his Squire putting up his Armour, or making it ready, and fit against the morning; but when he saw how he was deceived, and heard his poor servant cry also out against them, he only with Princely patience said this; suffer imprisonment with me, poor boy, said he, as well as thou hast enjoyed freedom, and content, witnessing that Fidelius can serve Infortunius in all estates faithfully. By that the youth knew his Lord, would not be known by other name than Infortunius, wherefore he resolved to dye, rather than betray him. Till morning he was thus held, then delivered to to the Knights, who strait carried him to their Queen; she hating all that had but seen Morea, or any of those Countries belonging to them, she called enemies, went into her Hall, and with all magnificent state sat to behold, & so to scorn the unfortunate Knight, who was brought in chained; the Queen sitting with a settled resolution, to manifest hate, scorn and contempt, but seeing his sweetness, and loveliness, his tender youth, his modest countenance, triumphing as it were over his misery: with noble patience, only showing stoutness in bold suffering, and giving way to Fortune, as subject in that tyranny, yet inwardly his estate molested him, & shame to see those brave arms fettered, and bound, brought some blood into his face, which though showed upon such occasion, yet it provoked an other conclusion, for he being naturally some what pale, this made his beauty appear more delicate, as if of purpose to purchase his liberty; thus was he forced to be beholding to that womanish part, to restore his manly power to liberty, that working for him, which his worth held least worthy in him, for the Queen (though most ambitiously, raised in conceit of herself) now found there was a greater Prince, and a higher authority, which might, and would command. She gazed on him, she blamed the small respect their rudeness had showed to a Knight, to bring him like a thief, chained, she caused his bands to be taken off, and strictly corrected them, (who expected thanks) telling them the disarming had been an honour, but their taking him naked was a shame unto them, and to all brave spirits. Then called she the Prince to her, desiring to know his name, and Country, kindly smiling on him, holding him by the hand, the softness, and fairness, of which she grieved should handle a sword, or be used in fights, fitter to be held by her like-loving self; withal she assured him, his imprisonment should be no other than content, if he would but yield to her desires. He answered, his name was Infortunius, nephew to the Lord of Serigo, who was killed at the King of Morea's Court, in his presence and many more, having thither brought a fair Lady, whose love he was to win by fight, but he was slain by Selarinus, younger brother to Steriamus, for whom the great preparations were now made to win Albania. Are you of their party said she? Truly Madam said he, I wish good to all just causes, otherwise, I being but one, am little able to assist any, therefore dare I not venture to say I am of any side, but I did intend to see the wars. If you did but intend that, you may said she still continue that purpose, nor will I hinder you, yet I must enjoin you to some things for my sake. He answered her, his life was in her hands to command. Not but to save, and cherish it, replied she: therefore go with this Gentleman, who shall direct you, and convey you to a chamber fit for you; then did one of her chief officers conduct him to a marvelous rich room, which she had appointed him to carry him unto, where he had all things necessary, and brave, save his arms, than did he leave him there, and his own Squire to attend him, with many more, whose respects, and officiousness was such, as moved trouble, and proved such liberty, a true imprisonment, yet at night he had freedom, for by the Queen's appointment they were not to lie in his Chamber, but in an other room, where for his safety, & no way to trouble him, they might conveniently remain. Supper was served unto him, with all serviceable duty, infinite rich, and sumptuous fare, glorious plate, and nothing wanting, that so proud a woman could to satisfy that humour, think of; to glorify herself, and oblige him. He fed, and after supper went to bed, the doors were shut, and he laid down to rest, but what quiet could he enjoy? fearing all these fair beginnings would turn to his greater harm, for no end could he see, but dishonour to him, as himself, and certain danger, as Infortunius abuse; and what was most as Philistella's servant, shame, and just reproach if he falsified her trust, or his affection. Tormented thus, he did remain till towards midnight, when a door opened at his bed's head, out of which came six Ladies, each carrying two white wax candles, which they set down upon a cupboard, placed of purpose before the bed; then they returned, when the Queen, as rich and glorious as juno, came in, her mantle was Carnation satin embroidered with gold, and round pearl, fastened with a fair Ruby; her waistcoat of the most curious work could be made with needle, her petty coat suitable to her mantle, her head dressed with a dressing framed of the same work with her waistcoat, through which, her hair was delicately drawn in many places; daintily she was apparelled, able to win any, but such a spirit as Selarinus: for never did curious carelessness better adorn creature, than it did this Queen, who with care sought to be neglective in her apparel; To the bed side she came, and sitting down upon it, so as the light might serve to show her beauty, she thus spoke.  
Your name, and coming into my power, so nearly agreeing, cannot give you other hope, then to follow them, who have before run into this danger of breaking my commands, which are not without death to be satisfied, especially, if you, like those wilful men, will not obey me: yet this favour you have to lead you to happiness, that I never honoured any before with thus much kindness, which in an other (if not so great a Queen) might be called love. But I, that scorn subjection, cannot allow such a power, only confess my liking you, hath made me pity you, and pity, brought me to offer you an unusual honour, for till this time, did never any thought wherein ill might lurk inhabit, nor ever was I moved to thus much show of immodesty; yet flatter not yourself with thought, of over much gain, since my attendants witness my truth, and such boldness, as durst not be matched with looseness. But indeed, I must say, I did like you, when I saw you first, and so well, as I then resolved to be courteous to you, that hath made me willing to speak with you, and to be truly resolved of you; the night time I chose by reason my spirit having hitherto ever commanded, and not in the least, yielded to any authority, I should now be ashamed to give occasion of the contrary conceit, either by my countenance, or fashion, which I doubted would be so much more altered, as my desires to faor you, might purchase me; yet hope not more than your duty, and respect to me, may lawfully challenge, lest you fall into as great a hazard, as a Lark doth, who to shun the Hobby lies down, till the net be laid over her, and so is caught by her own folly, or base yielding. But if you yield to me, it shall be noble, if you refuse death: honour will not permit me to demand aught but noble things, honour likewise ties you to obedience, you a Knight, I a Queen, able to crown you with the title of a King, as it may be with the honour of my love; fear not, nobleness dares adventure any thing that's noble. I come not to you with threatening Arms or weapons to endanger you, only with love armed fully, and so I would conquer. What needs Arms (replied the distressed Prince), where such unmatched power reigns? weapons where beauty dwells: or can refusal live, where such perfections authorize yielding? Command me great Queen, I am your servant, your prisoner; what use of words when the heart submits? or speech, when I am in your royal hands a Vassal at command? She was pleased, and well liked this answer, her pride and power satisfied, yet out of pride ordering her actions, so as calling her maids, she went away, assuring herself, that his love must be answerable to her ambitious coveting it, and servile to her will: but her maids coming to her, they brought a marvelous lovely banquet of several sorts of fruits, both preserves, and other as that time afforded, and the delicatest wines Greece did know. Then took she him by the hand, with a countenance of majesty and love mixed, neither too high in state, nor with show of submiss affection. She was no sooner gone, but Selarinus shut the door, grieved to the hart, that he should be so tempted to injure Philistella, whose love was to engraven by truth in his breast, as he vowed to die, rather than consent to any greater kindness, than that night he had yielded unto. The rest of which time he spent in thinking of his love, and weeping out compassion on his woes, that were remediless; yet such were his tears, as they made prints in his soul, for every one shed seemed like a drop thrown on fire, that makes 〈◊〉 black, but quencheth it not: so did those spots of falsehood (as he termed them) disgrace, not disannul his vowed faith. Dear Star (said he), which onely gives me light, how mayest thou darken thyself from favouring me? and how justly may I condemned demand no pardon? My dearer life, hadst thou heard my words, or seen my manner, mightst not thou too justly censure me? I am unworthy of thy smallest grace, and unable to excuse my error; yet this consider, I must get liberty to serve thee, and how but by deceit? of each one may use deceit, it will be surely permitted, if not allowed, to enjoy their loves; then for that purpose bear with me, but let me deceive her, to be true to thee, and to be with thee. Pardon then this ill, and give leave to use Art to be more plain with thee; my body's liberty lies in her to grant, my hearts in thine to kill or save, sweet now be like thy like, gentle, and sweet, and be assured, I will not live to be untrue unto thy loved self. Then turned he in his bed, sighed, and wept, and so continued till the day appeared, than rose, and dressed himself, his Page, and the attendants first appointed by the Queen waiting upon him. When he was ready, he walked about the room, at last he looked out at the window, not to see, but to be unseen to lament, breathing his private sighs into the air; the chief of his attendants, thinking he had stood admiring those sweet fine delights, told him, if it pleased him, he might go into that Garden, for such leave he had. He willing to have any sign of freedom, quickly gave consent, so little a place as a Garden being like freshwater, comfortable to stenched fish: so this to a prisoner.  
Down they went, the walks were extreme high, and no way to be climbed, gave them certain assurance of his safety, wherefore they left him. When he was alone, he threw himself upon the ground, beat his breast, and still cried out; O me wretched of all men, why am I thus punished for ambition's choice? Love, thou didst choose, or say I did, why Love, I do the more deserve thy favour, when choice and love are honoured in the choice. Where he had cast himself, it was under a fair shade of Oranges, a purling brook whispering close by him, which still he thought, said; Philistella see, see; I see my wrong, cried he, but better consider my true love to thee; avoid temptations poor distressed Selarinus, and proud lascivious Queen, forbear thy shame, and mine. Then came she in, for from her cabinet, she might behold that garden plainly, and perceiving him, she said within herself, my love is there, my love commands, my love invites, the time allows, and all things with my longings now agree. As she was thus resolved, she left her Cabinet, and hasted towards the Garden, to win, assure, and so enjoy him, whom she found enjoying as much grief, as absence, and imprisonment could bring a loyal lover. He saw her not, till she threw herself down by him, he started up, and with humility demanded pardon for his boldness, in not rising to her Majesty, which fault might be excused, by not perceiving her, till she down was laid.  
Your fault is greater (said she) in rising, since that witnesseth your desire of leaving me, no ill proceeding from kind love and stay. He then kneeled down, and so they did discourse, she making love, he coldly answering it, yet covering still his backwardness with fear, and his respect unto her greatness not daring to have an aspiring thought to rise so high, till almost she was forced plainly to woo, which hardly he did understand, wherefore ignorance, and duty beg his pardon: which so liked her, being assured to hold him, till she had what she desired, and then might dispose of him according to her mind and will. She bravely wooed, he humbly entertained, and thus that day passed.  
Night again was come, when he afraid of such a loving visitant, lay musing, and beseeching love itself to keep her from him. This his prayer was heard, for she came not, but in the morning sent to speak with him, who was conducted to her chamber by many Gentlemen through brave Galleries, and stately rooms. When he was arrived at the place where she was to give audience.  
I sent (said she) for you about a business, which may bring good to you, and which is more, liberty if you perform it. My life Madam (said he) is in your power, command, I will obey. There is (said she) a proud vain man, so over-esteeming himself, as he dares think himself a match for me, a subject, and what more, is my Vassal: this arrogant creature hath often sued to me, now threateneth (if I refuse) the winning me by force, how he will bring the Army that is going to Albania through my Country, which I have gainsaid, and sent refusal to the admired brothers, whose part he boasts that he will take, and by their help 〈◊〉 shallbe made his wife. These, though only threatenings, yet are much unfit for me to suffer; wherefore I desire that you will undertake the quarrel for me, and defend my state against the insolent subject. Selarinus was loath to fight with one, who he found by her relation was his friend; yet liberty, the comfort of ones soul, went beyond all other considerations, so as he undertook the business. She comforted with that, answered the letter he had sent, which was this.  
TErenius of the Castle, to Olixia, Queen of Epirus, sends this world, that if my affection be thus still slighted, and forgetfulness rule, where fondness once remained, I will no longer endure wronged, but by force obtain right. I have loved you, proud Queen, these many years; you loved me likewise, or told me so, expressions some I had, as my chamber and yours can witness. I honour you too much yet to defame you, if fair means may prevail, happiness may succeed to both, if not, expect sudden shame, and cruel force.  
OLixia of Epirus, to Terenius. Presumptius vassal, abuse not my chastity with thy soul reports, which cannot be hid under the few touches you give me, of your chamber and mine, where God can witness, no thought of my side tended, or looked towards ill; the only offence I have committed, being the good usage I gave to so a base a deserving creature. Your threatenings I fear not, and scorn your unworthy self so much, as I almost hate myself for answering you, which honour you never should receive, were it not to let you know, that I will have men ready, to bring you, and your rebellious company captive to me, as soon as I heat you dare move in arms: or if your pride will let you defend your honour alone without an army, I have a Knight here shall defend me from you, and make you confess you were insolent, but by his might, and my justice, again my vassal.  
This letter was sent, whereupon Terenius conceived such disdain, as giving order for his raised men to attend Steriamus (what ever became of him) he went to the Court, where he found the Queen like her letter towards him, telling him, that were it not for the honour she bore to Arms, he should have bolts, and a hard prison, rather than liberty of combat, for his presumption; but coming upon her summons to defend his unjust cause, he should have leisure to fight. Then was Selarinus preparing for the business, his armour being brought him, likewise his good sword, whereof he was infinitely glad: but coming down into the lists, as soon as he saw Terenius, he knew him, having seen him do very bravely in Morea, in a Just there held for the arrival of Amphilanthus, and his friends after the enchantment. This, and besides the love he heard he bore his brother, and himself, troubled him to fight against him, yet no remedy there was as he could yet perceive, which afflicted him, till Terenius saying, that he for many years had not fought with any, but he spoke some few words with him, upon a vow made after encountering his own father; he desired therefore to see the Knight's face, and to say something to him. The judges gave leave, so coming together, Terenius knew him, than wept he for grief, and unkindness, that he should forget him, and fight for her, who hated him, and true worth, especially against his friend and servant. Selarinus told him, he was there a prisoner, not known, but would fain get liberty, for if he were once discovered, nothing could save him from death. Be rule by me (said he) in the fight I will make show to run away, follow me close, and I will lead you out of the lists, being content to be held a coward for your service and good, what then shall hinder us, till we come to my men, which are but six leagues hence, armed, and armed for you. He consented to it, but then speaking aloud; Villain, said he, dost thou think to make me betray my Queen, and Mistress? With that the Queen smiled, thinking herself secure, and assured of her servant. They met with the sound of trumpets, but both miss breaking their staffs, though so fairly they ran, as had it not been meant to be in earnest, they might have given content with great show of fury: they threw away their Spears, and drew their swords, fighting most eagerly to show, but the blows falling flat-long, did no harm, like clouds threatening storms, but in pity breaks up again to clearness. Then did Terenius retire a little, and Selarinus press much on him, and so much, as being near overcoming (as the people judged, and all laughing at Terenius) he turned his back to the Princes, and fled, who with all speed, and loud cries willed him to stay; but he heard not, the other still followed. The company attended the return of the Victor, till he staying longer than the custom was, a certain place being limited for one that fought on such terms, to return with honour from slavery, some ran after him, to let him know the fashion, and the acknowledgement of the victory, with entreaty to come, and receive thanks from the Queen, for the honour he had done her: but all this needed not, for they that went, might see the two late seeming enemies appeased, their swords put up, & riding together, as fast as their horses could carry them towards Terenius Castle. The messengers returned with this ill news, the Queen stormed, tore her hair for mere anger and vexation, men were presenty raised to raze his Castle to the ground, and sums of money offered by proclamation to any could bring in Terenius, or Infortunius his head. Thus, was Selarinus delivered, by the virtue of worth, from enticement, and by love from danger to be tempted, to wrong a constanter lover of him. Philistella, how art thou engaged to praise Terenius, and his fortune, to bring freedom to thy love? but how much more to honour that chaste affection in him? which could not be wrought to wrong thee, nor to give consent so much as to it. Thus he free, the Queen in her rage and fury sent for the Youth his Squire, who she threatened to execute, if he did not vow, and perform it, to deliver Infortunius into her hands again, dead or alive; or if she had his head, it would be sufficient satisfaction. He swore he would, and so took his leave, following his Lord, till he gained the Castle, where he remained some days to consult upon the affairs of Albania, where it was concluded, that the army should pass that way, and join with them, and if they had resistance to begin there. Thus they concluded, by which time infinite numbers of men came unto them. The Squire to perform his promise, got a head made to the life for Selarinus, which so justly resembled him, as none at first could think it was other than his fleshly, pale, deathlike was the complexion, the eyes settled, the mouth a little opener then usually, the hair of the same colour, but so much wanting the clear brightness, as a dead man's hair will want of a living man's, the blood as trickling down out of the veins, some spinning, and so naturally was all done to the life, as cunning could not perform more. When this was ready, and the army marching to the confines of that kingdom, to welcome the Moreans, the Squire took this head, and wept to see it, being so like, though he knew the contrary, and saw his Lord by. Into a coffer of Cyprus, of purpose made, he shut it up, with some lines written by his Lords directions; then gave he charge for the delivering of it, to a young desperate fellow, who cared not for his life, or had so much wit, as to know how to save himself, withal, some money he gave him, gold blinding all sight of danger from him. This mad man went to the Court, when he arrived there, and demanded for the Queen, answer was made, she could not be seen. She must be seen by me, cried he, and so tell her, for I have brought her a token she will joy to see. This being told her, she rose, and sending for the man to her, he delivered the present, nailed and sealed as it was given him. She demanded what it was? The head you desired, said he, sent by the Squire; then claimed he his reward, she granted it, and having discharged him, he departed, glad of his good fortunes, & so hasted away for fear of recall. She strait called the Court together, and being all assembled in the hall, she came in, two of her greatest Lords carrying the coffer before her; then made she a solemn speech, telling them what wrong she had sustained by the cozenage of the stranger, and yet that none of them would (to right her) take so much pains, as a mere stranger had done for her, faithfully discharging his word unto her, for here (said she) is Infortunius his head, the head of that traitor, who betrayed my love and content. Then was the coffer opened, one of the Ladies (who attended her that night of her loving visit) holding a basin of pure gold to receive it in, framed of purpose to hold it for ever, she determining to keep it, as a testimony of falsehood, to be showed to all men, and the cruel example for it. All at the first sight imagined it his, but handling it, found the deceit, which she did not so soon as others (yet durst none be the discoverers, but her own eyes which proceeded in cozening her) for she was busily reading some lines, which were laid upon the face of him, which were to this purpose.  
To witness faith is eternal, I perform this part, in part of your commands, the head of Infortunius I send you, which may be called so, since he is dead, and that brave body lives to the honour of the earth, and Albania's good, famous Selarinus. The first name as counterfeit, so is this head, the other true, will let you and Epirus know, the wrong he suffered by imprisonment.  
How now (cried she) nothing but treason and deceit? Infortunius turned to be Selarinus, and my shame for rashly loving discovered to mine enemy? then flung she away into her chamber, vowed to make no show of revenge, since said she, nothing can come to me but misfortune. Vexed & angry she remained, fed on her own curstness and scorn, hated food, as being too mean a help for her to receive after such an affront; in sum, she pinned with mere ill nature and disposition of body & mind, so as she fell into a fever, and wilfully would not be ruled, who she said, was borne to rule, and so brought herself to the last act: then beholding deaths ugliness, she would not die, nor could she handsomely, for she would have lived, if possibly; but 'twas too late; & so too soon by her own desire, and yet unwillingly she ended her days, just as the armies met; but Selarinus had in the mean time assured Philistella of his safety, which was so welcome to her, as the other was contrary to Olixia. Now had Epirus anciently belonged to the Kings of Albania, being annexed unto that Crown by a match, which the good and honest Terenius alleging, and none standing for the Crown, nor heir being left of those, who unjustly held it, the Crown was by Steriamus' consent, and the whole Army, set upon Selarinus his head. Then went they to the chief City, and after marched toward Albania, all wishing for Amphilanthus, and none being able to tell what was become of him; most conjecturing, that he was gone to release Selarinus, but then he must have been heard of in those parts; others that he was called away upon some adventures, because the night before, a strange Squire delivered him a letter, since which time he was not heard off.  
Steriamus was loath to begin without him, the rest advised not to stay, being assured he would make all haste after them. Then met they with the Italian Army, and so joined; then likewise came the Romanian Army, led by the King himself, who told Parselius, that Antissias was gone to visit Pamphilia, whereof he was very glad, since his sister might enjoy so good company. With him came Dolorindus, for after he had beheld her picture which Polarchos brought, he was never free from her affection, he being the yellow Knight, that had the ill fortune to receive the worst in the Court of Morea; yet was that service a means to bring him to antissia's favour, for he taking that occasion to let her know his affection, she entertained him, being assured of her first love's loss, yet vowed she to see him once again, or write to him, before she would wed Dolorindus. Besides, she had engaged him by oath, to perform one service she would employ him in when she demanded it, and that done she would marry him. He contented himself with that hope, which proved as empty as itself; without gain, so far as that promise did engage her, yet he after enjoyed her.  
All the famous Princes met, the question was, who should command in chief over all. Parselius had the Moreans, Amphilanthus was to command his Italians, which without comparison were the bravest, and best ordered, Rosindy the Macedonians, Leandrus the Achaians, Selarinus the Eperians, Antissius his Romanians, Dolorindus those he brought from his Kingdom of Negropont, whereof he now reigned King. Other troops there were, whereof the chief of their own Country commanded, but over all, as it was then resolved, Steriamus, for whom all these were joined, should have the power, and name of General. He was loath to take it upon him, so many Kings there, and himself having no army of his own. All his arguments were turned to his honour, and gain of that place, which he with much respect, and care accepted. Imagine how brave a Prince he now is, and what joy this would be to his Urania, to see her Steriamus command five Kings, besides innumerable Princes, Dukes, Earls, and valiant Knights. But the first and bravest King her brother, was not yet come, nor could there be just guests where he was; yet on the Army marched, news being brought them that Plamergus had taken a strong passage, to defend, and hinder their passing further into the Country.  
This Plamergus was one that enjoyed a part, and that part of Albania, having in times past been a servant to the last true King: but ingratitude, of all faults the greatest, being such as it reacheth to a sin, he was infected, and possessed with. The brave Steriamus called his magnanimous Council together, where it was resolved that he should be fought withal, and that Antissius with the Romanians should have the honour of the Vanguard, and so it was agreed upon. The next days march brought them within sight of their enemy, but together they could not come, a great River parting them, and he having thrown down the bridge in spite. On the other side the Country was hilly, (if not more properly to say mountainous) and not one, but many strait ways, so as judgement was here required to equal valour and direct it. Their first resolution therefore was altered, & as there were five ways, so they divided themselves into five devisions. The Italians Steriamus took, joining Dolorindus with him, and so determined to take the middle way. The King of Macedon was to take the first way on the right hand, and Parselius on the left. Antissius to go on that side with Parselius; and Selarinus with Leandrus, were put to the last on the side with Rosindy. Much did Leandrus grudge at this, that his rival (as he deemed him) should be matched with him, wherefore he began to repine at it, till the rest told him, that he was joined with him, only out of respect that he was one of those two, for whom all this quarrel was. Hardly this could prevail with him; wherefore Steriamus discerning it, changed the order, taking the forces which Selarinus had there of Epirus into his division, and sent those of Negropont to Leandrus: but because Dolorindus was a King, his Lieutenant went with them, and himself stayed with the General.  
The next care was how to pass the River, which might have been the first, considering that was like the bar, let down at barriers to stay the combat, and such a bar was this, as all their judgements were called to council, how to avoid the danger, and pass the water, on the other side whereof was the desired fruit. At last Steriamus gave this advice, that they should cut down part of a wood, along the side of which they had matched, & lay those trees close together, then fasten them with chains one to another, and so lastly all together, and pass over some first in the night, who might both help to fasten the trees on that side, and if they were discovered, hold some play with them till the army passed. This was well liked, and his advice applauded, so was the practice instantly put in hand, and by morning (many making quick work) the Army passed. At break of day the Enemy discovered them, which amazed them, for so many they went in front as they covered the trees and so thick they came, as if they had walked on the water; the enemy apprehended fear, which was as terrible to them, as if a wife went out confident to meet her husband, to joy with him, and encounters him slain: so were they wedded to assurance of safety, and unmarried by this stratagem.  
But Plamergus gathered his spirits together, and so drew his men into the heart of the straits, where he could compel them to fight, and most wrong our men, not being able to go above three in front; besides his horse he placed on the side of the hills, most advantageously for them, but harmful to us, had not fortune favoured, and made Antissius the instrument; for he something forwarder than the rest, having got his Army over, and put them in battle, marched on, and coming to the entry of the passage, perceived the place filled with the planks, & posts of the bridge, which they had enviously pulled down, those he took up, and as a certain foretelling of their success, made use of the benefit, commanding his soldiers to carry them to the River, and laying them upon the tree-made-bridge, made a reasonable way for the horse to go on; now was there no want, horse, and foot being placed. Then were the horse likewise divided, and the hills given them, so as on hills, and in the valleys, the enemy was answered with forces. But now it is time to leave these affairs to Mars, and let his Mistress have her part awhile who always, and at all times hath some share in businesses, Pamphiliia in her own Country contented, because as she thought safe in the happiness of her love, though tormented with the burden of absence, one day walked into a Park she had adjoining to her Court; when she was within it, she commanded her servants to attend her return, herself taking a path which brought her into a delicate thick wood, a book she had with her, wherein she read a while, the subject was Love, and the story she then was reading, the affection of a Lady to a brave Gentleman, who equally loved, but being a man, it was necessary for him to exceed a woman in all things, so much as inconstancy was found fit for him to excel her in, he left her for a new. Poor love said the Queen, how doth all stories, and every writer use thee at their pleasure, appareling thee according to their various fancies? canst thou suffer thyself to be thus put in clothes, nay rags instead of virtuous habits? punish such Traitors, and cherish me thy loyal subject who will not so much as keep thy injuries near me; then threw she away the book, and walked up and down, her hand on her heart, to feel if there were but the motion left in the place of that she had so freely given, which she found, and as great, and brave an one in the stead of it, her servants dwelling there, which more than hers she valued, and dearly held in her best dearest breast, which still sent sweetest thoughts to her imagination, ever seeing his love, and her's as perfectly, and curiously twined, as ivy, which grown into the wall it ascends, cannot but by breaking, and so killing that part, be severed: not like the small corn that yields forth many staulks, and many ears of wheat out of one, making a glorious bunch of diverse parts: this affection was but one in truth, and being as come from one root, or gain of matchless worth, brought forth but one flower, whose delicacy, and goodness was in itself. Many flowers shows as fair as a Rose to the eye, but none so sweet: so were many loves as brave in show, but none so sweetly chaste, and therefore rich in worth; this inhabited, and was incorporate in them both, who as one, and as it were with one soul both did breath and live.  
Sweet wood said she bear record with me, never knew I but his love. Love, answered the wood being graced with an Echo. Soft said she, shall I turn blab? no Echo, excuse me, my love and choice more precious, and more dear, than thy proud youth must not be named by any but myself, none being able to name him else, as none so just, nor yet hath any ear (except his own) heard me confess who governs me; thy vast, and hollow self shall not be first, where fondest hopes must rest of secrecy in thee, who to each noise doth yield an equal grace. As none but we do truly love, so none but our own hearts shall know we love. Then went she a little further, and on a stub, which was between two trees, she sat down, letting the one serve as the back of a chair to rest upon: the other to hold her dainty feet against; Her arms she folded on her breast, as embracing his brave heart, or rather wrapping it within her arms. Dear hart said she, when shall I live again, beholding his loved eyes? can I in possibility deserve aught? he not here, am I alive? no, my life is with him, a poor weak shadow of myself remains; but I am other where. Poor people, how are you deceived, that think your Queen is here? alas 'tis nothing so, she is far off, it may be in the field performing famous acts, it may be on the Sea passing to fetch more fame, or indeed speaking with thyself, as I discourse to him, his time employed in thoughts of love like mine, and so he thinking of me, brings us both together in absence, present when distance is, and absent oft in greatest companies. But dost thou think on me dear love? thy heart doth tell me so, and I believe it as 'tis thine and mine. Sweet hope to see him flatter me, but pay for such an error, and make good the joy I take in thee; bless my poor eyes with seeing his, that make mine lowest slaves to his commands, yet greatest Princes since so prised by him; Let these hands once be blessed again by touching his, and make this Kingdom rich by bringing him, the truth of riches to her; let me enjoy those loving looks, which in me force content beyond itself, smile in those eyes, which sparkle in desire, to make me see, they strive to express, what flames the heart doth hold of love to me. Do I not answer them? let me then strait be blind, deprived of that joy of sight, and happiness of joy, for that alone in him, and from him can I have.  
And thou most kind and welcome memory, add to my soul delight, the sweet remembrance of our perfect loves, bring to the passionate eyes of my imaginary sight those pleasures we have had, those best spent hours, when we each other held in sweet discourse: what wanted then but length of dear enjoying, when his dear breath delivered unto me, the only blessing I on earth did covet, telling me he was mine, and bid me be assured when he was other, he must not be living, death must only alter him from me, and me from him, for other can I not, or will I be. Sweet memory 'tis true, he vowed this, nay took me in his arms, and swore, that he embracing me, had all the earthly riches this world could afford him; so thought I by him: thus still you see one thought, one love still governs him and me, are we not most properly one? and one love between us, make us truly one?  
Further she had proceeded and run on, to infiniteness of content in these imaginations, but from them she must be taken, to be honoured with the presence of her bravest Cousin, for than came one of her servants (who knew, that breach of obedience in such a kind would be pardoned) telling her, that the King of Naples was come to visit her. She quickly rose, nor did she chide the man, who surely had been sorely shent for troubling her, had any other cause brought him, and so disturbed her amorous thoughts. As she returned, Amphilanthus met her, their eyes saluted first, than followed all the other ceremonies that do befit so sit a welcome.  
To the Palace they came, where nothing wanted to manifest the certain government that he held there, he being the Prince she most respected; but whom she loved, she never would to any other once confess. With delicate discourse they passed the time, she never satisfied with hearing of his acts, yet never ungrieved when she heard of danger, although past, still curious of his good. Some days they thus remained, when news was brought, Antissia was arrived. My Lord (said she), are you not happy now, that in this place you shall behold your love? The assurance of that happiness (said he) did bring me hither from that royal Campe. She was no whit displeased with this reply; the next morning Antissia came to the Court; the King holding the Queen by the hand, met her at the gate. Antissia was so much joyed, as she was but that cozening thing itself, ravished with false delight; she triumphed in the blaze, while the true fire burnt more solidly, and in another place. She was conducted to the Palace, Pamphilia with her left arm embracing her, holding Amphilanthus with the right hand. Into the Hall they came, where choice of music entertained them: Antissia never more pleased, Pamphilia seldom so well contented, and Amphilanthus enjoying too his wish. Antissia gazed on him, and happy was when she could catch one look cast on her, out of which she found millions of sweet conceits, conjecturing, that by that look he told her, she had still the whole command of him, as once she had. Dissembling enemy to perfect rest, vain hope thou art, why didst thou cousin her, and after thy deludings, let her fall from that height to cruelest despair? As the variety was great, and pleasing of the music, so were their thoughts every one moving in their own Sphere. Antissia as her joy was most excessive, as more unruly to be governed, by how much her strength of judgement was inferior to the other two, she could least keep silence, but began discourse, and still continued so, as she contented them exceedingly, who while she talked, discoursed with eyes and hearts, her over-esteemd good fortune, taking most of her judging senses from her. Amphilanthus with grateful respect carried himself to her liking sufficiently, whose belief was such of him, as she took all to herself, and so took the injuries for courresies.  
Some days this continued, but now the time for the King's departure drew near, the day before which he spoke to Pamphilia for some Verses of hers, which he had heard of. She granted them, and going into her Cabinet to fetch them, he would needs accompany her; she that was the discreetest fashioned woman, would not deny so small a favour. When they were there, she took a desk, wherein her papers lay, and kissing them, delivered all she had saved from the fire, being in her own hand unto him, yet blushing told him, she was ashamed, so much of her folly should present herself unto his eyes.  
He told her, that for any other, they might speak for their excellencies, yet in comparison of her excelling virtues, they were but shadows to set the others forth withal, and yet the best he had seen made by woman: but one thing (said he) I must find fault with, that you sergeant loving so well, as if you were a lover, and as we are, yet you are free; pity it is you suffer not, that can feign so well. She smiled, and blushed, and softly said (fearing that he or herself should hear her say so much) Alas my Lord, you are deceived in this for I do love. He caught her in his arms, she chid him not, nor did so much as frown, which showed she was betrayed.  
In the same box also he saw a little tablet lie, which, his unlooked for discourse had so surpressed her, as she had forgot to lay aside. He took it up, and looking in it, found her picture curiously drawn by the best hand of that time; her hair was down, some part curled, some more plain, as naturally it hung, of great length it seemed to be, some of it coming up again, she held in her right hand, which also she held upon her heart, a waistcoat she had of needle work, wrought with those flowers she loved best. He beheld it a good space, at last shutting it up, told her, he must have that to carry with him to the field. She said, it was made for her sister. She may have others said he, let me have this. You may command, my Lord, said she. This done, they came forth again, and so went to find Antissia, who was gone into the Park, they followed her, and overtook her in the Wood, where they sat down, every one discoursing of poor Love, made poor by such perpetual using his name. Amphilanthus began, but so sparingly he spoke, as one would do, who would rather clear, then condemn a friend. Pamphilia followed, and much in the same kind. Antissia was the last, and spoke enough for them both, beginning her story thus.  
I was till sixteen years of age so troubled, or busied with continual misfortunes, as I was engrafted into them; I saw no face that me thought brought not new, or rather continuance of perplexity, how was liberty then prized by me? envy almost creeping into me against such, as felt freedom; for none was so slavish as I deemed myself; betrayed, sold, stolen, almost dishonoured, these adverse fortunes I ran, but from the last you rescued me, and saved your servant Antissia, to live fit to be commanded by you; yet gave you not so great a blessing alone, but mixed it, or suffered mixture in it: for no sooner was I safe, but I was as with one breath pardoned, and condemned again subject, and in a far stricter subjection: you brave King delivered me from the hands of Villains, into the power of Love; whither imagine you, is the greater bondage, the latter the nobler, but without question as full of vexation.  
But to leave these things, love possessed me, love tirannized, and doth command me; many of those passions I felt in Morea, and whereof you most excellent Queen have been witness, but none so terrible, as absence hath since wrought in me, Romania being to me like the prison, appointed to contain me, and my sorrows. One day among many other, I went to the sea side through a Walk, which was private and delicate, leading from the Court at Constantinople to the sea; there I used to walk, and pass much time upon the sands, beholding ships that came in, and boats that came ashore, and many times fine passengers in them, with whom I would discourse as an indifferent woman, not acknowledging my greatness, which brought me to the knowledge of many pretty adventures, but one especially, which happened in this kind,  
A ship coming into the Harbour, but being of too great burden to come ashore, in the long boat the passengers came, and landed on the sands; I beheld them, among whom was one, whose face promised an excellent wit and spirit, but that beauty she had had, was diminished, so much only left, as to show she had been beautiful. Her fashion was brave, and confident; her countenance sweet, and grave; her speech mild and discreet; the company with her were some twenty that accompanied her, the number of servants answerable to their qualities. Thus they came on towards us; I sent to know who they were, and of what Country (for their habits said, they were not Greeks). The reply was they were of Great Britain, and that the chief Lady was a widow, and sister to the Ambassador that lay Leigeir there for the King of that Country. I had heard much fame of the Ladies of that Kingdom for all excellencies which made me the more desire to be accquainted with her, yet for that time let it pass, till a fitter opportunity, which was soon offered me, for within few days she desired to be permitted to kiss my hands. I willingly granted it, longing to hear some things of Britain; when she came, I protest, she behaved herself so excellently finely, as me thought, I envied that Country where such good fashion was. After this, she desirous of the honour to be with me often, and I embracing her desire, loving her conversation, we grew so near in affection, as we were friends, the nearest degree that may be. Many times we walked together, and down the same walk where first we met with our eyes; one day we fell into discourse of the same subject we now are in, freely speaking as we might, who so well knew each other, she related the story of her love thus.  
I was (said she) sought of many, and beloved (as they said) by them, I was apt enough to believe them, having none of the worst opinions of myself, yet not so good an one as aspired to pride; and well enough I was pleased to see their pains, and without pity to be pleased with them: but then love saw with just eyes of judgement that I deserved punishment for so much guilty neglect, wherefore in fury he gave me that cruel wound with a poisoned dart, which yet is uncured in my heart; for being free, and bold in my freedom, I gloried like a Mary gold in the Sun. but long this continued not, my end succeeding, like the cloasing of that flower with the Sun's setting. What shall I say, brave Princess? I loved, and yet continue it, all the passions which they felt for me, I grew to commiserat, and compare with mine; free I was in discourse with my rejected suitors, but only because I desired to hear of it, which so much ruled me, like a Soldier that joys in the trumpet which summons him to death. Those hours I had alone, how spent I them? if otherwise then in dear thoughts of love, I had deserved to have been forsaken. Sometimes I studied on my present joys, then gloried in my absent: triumphed to think how I was sought, how by himself invited, nay implored to pity him, I must confess not won, as most of us by words, or dainty fashion, rich clothes, curiosity, in curiousness, these won me not; but a noble mind, a free disposition, a brave, and manly countenance, excellent discourse, wit beyond compare, all these joined with a sweet, and yet Courtier-like dainty Courtship, but a respective love & neglective affection conquered me. He showed enough to make me see he would rather ask then deny, yet did not, scorning refusal as well he might; free gift was what he wished, and welcomed, daintynes had lost him, for none could win or hold him, that came not half way at the least to meet his love, I came much more, and more I loved, I still was brought more to confirm his by my obedience. I may boldly, and truly confess, that what with his liking, and my observing, I lived as happy in his love as ever any did, and blessed with blessings, as if with fasts, and prayers obtained.  
This happiness set those poor wits I have to work, and so to set in some brave manner forth my true-felt bliss, among the chiefest ways I found expression in verse, a fine and principal one, that I followed, for he loved verse, and any thing that worthy was or good, or goodness loved him so much as she dwelled in him, and as from ancient Oracles the people took direction, so governed he the rest by his example or precept, & from the continual flowing of his virtues was the Country enriched, as Egypt by the flowing of Nile gains plenty to her fields: But I a poor weak creature, like the Ant, that though she know how to provide, yet doth it so, as all discern her craft: so I, although I sought the means to keep this treasure, and myself from starving, yet so foolishly I behaved myself, as indaingerd my loss, and won all envy to me; I considered not, I might have kept, and saved, but I would make provision before such, as might be certain of my riches. This undid me, carrying a burden, which not weightier than I might well bear, was too much seen, an empty trunk is more troublesome than a bag of gold; so did my empty wit lead me to the trouble of discovery, & changing the golden weight of joy to the leaden, and heavy despair; but that came many years after my happiness, for seven years I was blest, but then, O me, pardon me great Princess cried she, I must not proceed, for never shall these lips that spoke his love, that kissed his love, discover what befell me. Speak then said I, of these sweet days you knew, & touch not on his fault; mine dear Lady cried she, it of force must be, he could not err, I did, he was and is true worth, I folly, ill desert; he braveness mixed with sweetness, I ignorance, and weakness; he wisdoms self, I folly's Mistress. Why what offence gave you said I, speak of your own? I cannot name that, but it must (replied she) bring the other on, for how can I say I saw the cloud, but I must feel the shower, therefore O pardon me, I will not blame him, I alone did ill, and suffer still, yet thus far I will satisfy you. Having searched with crurious, and unpartial judgement, what I did, and how I had offended him, I found I was to busy, and did take a course to give offence, when most I hoped to keep, I grew to doubt him to, if justly, yet I did amiss, and rather should have suffered then disliked. I thought by often letting him behold the pain I did endure for being blessed, took away all the blessing, wearying him, when that I hoped should have endeared him: but that though sometimes is away, yet not always to be practised, too much business, and too many excuses, made me past excuse. I thought, or feared, or foolishly mistrusted, he had got an other love; I under other men's reports as I did feign did speak my own mistrust, whether he found it, or being not so hot in flames of young affection, (grown now old to me) as once he was, gave not such satisfaction, as I hoped to have, but coldly bid me be assured, he loved me still, and seemed to blame me, said I slact my love, and told me I was not so fond.  
This I did falsely take like a false fire, and did work on that, so as one night he coming to my Chamber as he used, after a little talk he was to go, and at his going stooped and kissed, me. I did answer that so foolishly, (for modestly I cannot call it, since it was a favour I esteemed, and ne'er refused to take:) he apprehended it for scorn, and started back, but from that time, unfortunate I, lived but little happier than you see me now. Pamphilia smiled to hear her come to that; the King was forced to cover his conceits, and wish her to proceed. She took herself, pray God said she, I do not play the Britain Lady now. They both than did entreat to hear the rest; that soon you may said she, for this was all, only in a finer manner, and with greater passion she did then conclude.  
They found she was not pleased, therefore they sought some other way to please, and rising walked into an other wood, and so unto a pond, which they did fish, and pass the time with all, while poor Antissia thought herself each fish, & Amphilanthus still the net that caught her, in all shapes, or fashions she could be framed in.  
Then came his going, all the night before, his whole discourse, and manner was to purchase still more love, greedy, as covetous of such gain; he wished not any thing that he enjoyed not, all was as he wished. At supper poor antissia's eyes were never off from him, she did lament his going, her heart wept; he looked as glad to see she loved him still, (for what man lives, that glories not in multitudes of women's loves?) so he, though now neither fond nor loving to her, yet seemed to like her love, if only that his might be the more prized, won from so brave and passionate a Lady; and thus she often caught his eyes, which on what condition soever, yet being on her, were esteemed, and gave content, as debtors do with fair words, to procure their Creditors to stay a longer time,: so did she, but prolonging the time in her torments to her greater loss. Amphilanthus being to depart, offered to take his leave, but Pamphillia refused it, telling him she would be ready the next morning before his going, which she was, and with Antissia, brought him a mile or more from the Court into a Forest, than took leave, he making all haste to the Campe.  
The Ladies to avoid idleness, the Queen especially to prevent frivolous discourse, called for her hounds, and went to hunt a Stagg; it was a sport she loved well, and now the better, presenting itself so fitly to her service. The Rainger told her of a great Deer, which he saw in a wood as he came to her; she followed him, and so uncoupling the Dogs, put them into the wood. The Stag came forth with as much scorn, and contempt in his face, and fashion as a Prince, who should rather be attended then pursued, hating that such poor things as hounds should meddle with him, as if he were rather to be attended then hunted. But quickly he was made to acknowledge that he was pamphilia's subject, and by yielding his life as a sacrifice for his presumption, showed if he had not been a beast, he had sooner acknowledged it, both in duty to her, and for his honour, which he could receive but by letting her delicate hand, cut open his breast, there to see it written. But during the hunting he was yet more unhappy, for the most excellent Queen after one round, scarce made him happy with pursuing him, taking into a Grove, feigning an excuse, and there lighting, passed most part of the time in calling her thoughts into strict examination; which when she had done, she found them so true, as she could see none to accuse the least of them, or the busiest, for being a thoughts time severed from her love.  
When she found them so just, Dear companions in my solitarynes, said she, furnish me with your excellency in constancy, and I will serve you with thankful loyalty. Then took she a knife, and in the rind of an Oak insculpted a sypher, which contained the letters, or rather the Anagram of his name she most and only loved. By that time the Stag came by, grieved at her unkindness, that she would not honour his death with her presence; which she by his pitiful countenance perceiving, took her horse again, and came in to his death. As she returned, Antissia told her she was much altered, for once she knew her so fond of that sport, as she loved it more than any delight: she desired her to have a more noble opinion of her, then to think she was subject to change, which was a thing she so in finitly hated, as she would abhor her own soul, when it left loving what it once had loved.  
That was not hunting sure said Antissia, for you love not that so well as first you did. Enter not into my love sweet Princess said she. I will never offend you answered the other; so home they went each going to her Chamber, Antissia in as great a rage as when she mistrusted Rosindy to be Amphilanthus, but more discreetly she now carried it, Pamphilia to her lodgings where she remained till they were called to dinner; the Queen with the greatest respect in the world entertaning Antissia, whose heart now filled with envy, received it with no more delight, than one would do a bitter potion, yet was her fashion sweetened with discretion: for the time she stayed which was not long, taking her way to Romania: whither being arrived, she called her sad but froward thoughts together, thanking her Fate, that brought her to see Amphilanthus, but cursing her Destiny that gave her assurance of his change. Oh my heart said she, how canst thou bear these torments, and yet hold, continually furnished with new discontents? accursed eyes that made thee subject to so excellent falsehood, & so pleasing deceit. Pamphilia, I confess that thou art most excellent, and meriting all, but yet not comparable (were thyself only virtue) to make up the loss, that Amphilanthus hath lost, and broken in his faith, and worth, Fair, and dear gaining eyes, why smile you still in your disguising love, betrayers of my liberty? why join you hope together with yourselves not to be seen, much less beheld with freedom? only like the fawning Crocodile to win, and kill? dear lips that seemed to open but to let the hearts desires to come unto mine ears, severed you deceitfully yourselves to ruin me? that only excellent, and loved breath, could it be thought it should prove poison to my choicest bliss? farewell delights, the truest flatterers, and thou despair enfold me, I am thine. Then writ she certain verses, they were these.  
I Who do feel the highest part of grief,  
shall I be left without relief?  
I who for you, do cruel torments bear,  
will you alas leave me in fear?  
Know comfort never could more welcome be,  
then in this needful time to me,  
One drop of comfort will be higher prized  
than seas of joys, if once despized,  
Turn not the tortures which for you I try  
upon my hart, to make me dye.  
Have I offended? 'twas at your desire,  
when by your vows you felt love's fire.  
What I did err in, was to please your will  
can you get, and the offspring kill?  
The greatest fault, which I committed have  
is you did ask, I freely gave.  
Kindly relent, let causeless curstness fly,  
give but one sigh, I blessed shall dye.  
But O you cannot, I have much displeased  
striving to gain, I loss have seized.  
My state I see, and you your ends have gained  
I'm lost since you have me obtained.  
And since I cannot please your first desire  
I'll blow, and nourish scorners fire  
As Salimanders in the fire do live:  
so shall those flames my being give.  
And though against your will, I live and move,  
forsaken creatures live and love  
Do you proceed, and you may well confess  
you wronged my care, while I care less.  
With great spleen against him, and affection to herself for her braveness, she read these lines over again; but then whether judgement of seeing them but poor ones, or humble love telling her she had committed treason to that throne, moved her, I cannot justly tell, but some thing there was that so much molested her as she leaped from her stool, ran to the fire, threw in the paper, cried out, pardon me great Queen of love I am guilty. I plead no other; mercy take on me thy poorest vassal, I love still, I must love still, and him, and only him, although I be forsaken. The sweet Rivers she visited and on their banks continually did lie, and weep, and chid her eyes because they wept no faster, seeing them but drop unto the stream. My heart said she yields more plentiful & dear shed tears than you. Alas Antissia how do I pity thee? how do I still lament thy hap, as if a stranger? for I am not she, but mere disdain, yet than she stayed, soft fury, cried she, I must not permit your harshness to creep into my heart; no I shall never hate, I loved too much, and do to alter now. Then took she forth a picture he had given her willingly when she did ask it; that she wept on, kissed it, wiped it, wept, and wiped, and kissed again. Alas that thou alone said she the shadow should be true, when the true substance is so false; cold Crystal, how well doth thy coldness suit his love to me, which once was hot, now colder than thyself; but were it chaste like thee I yet were blessed, for 'tis not loss alone but change that martyrs me. The picture she then shut, and put it where it was, which was upon her heart, she there continually did cherish it, and that still comfort her, when by it she did see he had loved her, and though now quite bereaved of happiness in that, yet did that clear her from the folly, idle love without reward had else condemned her in. Oft would she read the papers she had gained from him in his own hand, and of his making, though not all to her, yet being in that time she did not fear, she took them so, and so was satisfied. Read them she did even many millions of times, then lay them up again, and (as her greatest prized and only blessing left) kept them still near, apt many times to flatter her poor self with hope he had not clean left her, who did so kindly let her keep those things, contrary to his manner with others, as he reported to herself, for from them he took at varying all they had of his, as from Lucenia, who he told, she could not esteem of his shadow, so little prising the substance; but then as many bold assurances told her, she was deceived. The Meads she much frequented, walking in their plains, especially she did affect one, more than all the rest, a Willow tree growing in the midst, and plentifully spreading branches, witnessing forsakennes round about, so as she might be held in that sad shade from the heat of Sun-hope-ioy. Miserable Antissia (wailed she herself), in how few years hast thou made a shift to see the whole world of misfortune? yet of the worst, and the only worst, is disdain and loss in love. Then carved she in the trunk of that tree, till she had imbroiderd it all over with characters of her sorrow: in the crown of this tree she made a seat big enough for herself to sit in, the arms, and branches encompassing her, as if she were the hat to wear the Crown of Willow, or they were but the flowers of it, and herself the forsaken compass, out of which so large and flourishing a crown of despised love proceeded, so as take it either way, she was either crowned, or did crown that wretched estate of loss, a pitiful honour, and grief-full government: but this was the reward for her affection, and which most poor loving women purchase. Melysinda was yet more fortunate, for within some two months after Amphilanthus his departure, her husband by a bruise he received at the justs held there, had an Impostume bred within him, which was not discovered, till help was past, so as he died, leaving her a brave and fair Widow. Good nature made her sorry for him, but she took it not so heavily (though tears she shed) as to give cause to the world to lament the marring of so excellent beauty for the loss of a husband, who if he could have been by sorrow brought again, there had been reason for it, but otherwise she must have run into the danger of being thought unreasonable too much to sorrow, and as if dislike, what heavenly powers willed: wherefore obediently to them, and discreetly to the world, she grieved sufficiently for him, keeping as strict a course of mourning, as the most curious could not think it in any place or manner too little.  
She saw no man in two months after his death, the first were the Counsel, in which time they had governed; then came she forth to them into a private room, where they only were, her face covered below the eyes with a Scarf thrown carelessly over (not a Veil, for so much fineness had been much, and too little mourning) another piece of mourning came, and covered her chin to her lips, and a little past: her Gown made with a wide long sleeve to the ground, was of black Cloth, a Mantle over it of the same, to which was a train, carried by two Ladies of her Bedchamber likewise in cloth, but their faces bare; the whole Court hung with Cloth; no Room that mourned not, as if each had a particular loss, no people of the Court, or that came to the Court, but were in that doleful livery, Ambassadors from all kingdoms to condole.  
And thus she lived, till Ollorandus came unto her six months after, which hindered his going to the army in Albania, love ever having, or taking the liberty to command, scorning then but to be obeyed, which the fair cousins, Urania, and Philistella made experience of, to whom the news of Selarinus his imprisonment came, and presently after the happy delivery, and Coronation of him to mitigate the fury of her sorrow, which was such as tormented Urania to see, whose heart was perplexed especially for parting and absence, often bursting into passions like these. Can you tell me, you poorest eyes where my loyal heart remains? have you not perceived it in his loving, and still answering looks; from which, and in which truest beauty smiles? did it not there descry the joy itself, striving to let you know the place it happily obtained; playing, and making baby pastimes as it lay closed in that shrine of glory? but much more triumphed it, when you might know his breast embraced it, surprising the runaway, as by sweet force made his, while greatest hearts for pity cries, and wails neglected; nay, so dies. If thus you then be placed, no marvel sure you leave my poor afflicted body desolate, where nothing but distemper, or love's pains inhabit; yet cast your looks this way, see my petition for your safe return, hear me make vows that none but you can bring content, your absence mastering me, your presence bringing bliss; yet absent, your loved Image, and your dearest self remains infigured in my chastest breast, and myrrour-like presents you to my sight, yet coldly, like a Statue made of stone: or as the picture, while loves sweetest race runs to the warmth of sight. If then remembrance, or the perfect memory of you be but a picture, whereof I am made the lively case, faithfully keeping that rich portrait, still from change or thought that relic to displace, nourishing, and with it living, as oil, and lamps do sympathize in life: each look alluring wish to our joys. Restore that life-peece now and make me blessed, crown my souls longing with thy grant, and come to see me triumph in thy dearest sight, my only self, my only love. These passions was she in when Philistella found her in the walks, speaking unto herself, and walking with so fast, and unused a fashion, differing from her grave, and discreet manner, as if love had laid a wager with discretion, yet he would make her at that time (to fulfil his will) forget herself and wholly serve him; he won that, and judgement made her ashamed, when Philistella came unto her, and told her she wondered to see her so. Love, love fair Philistella (cried she) can do this, and more, but happy you can keep your pains more secret, and more close; that is not, not e'er yet hath been my hap (said she) for no eye hath beheld me, but together saw my love.  
No sweetest Cousin said Urania, wrong not your great wit with taxing it unjustly, have I not seen how prettily and with an excellent disdain you did refuse his humble suit in love? his eyes have been even ready to burst out in tears, when you have smiled, and changed your first discourse, as if of purpose to deny his plaints. Alas, would I think happy Philistella, how art thou above thy sex most fortunate? poor me, had I but one such, or the like content, it were for me eternal happiness while she rejecteth love; did Steriamus love like as his brother doth, were I not of all women blessed? but his affections, are in an other seat enthronised; these thoughts, (while you like Summer flourished) nipped my days, yet now I praise my destiny nothing except sad absence grieveth me, while you, whether not grieved, or not so loving I cannot well judge, feel not, or show not that you have the sense, which absence brings us lovers. Sweetest Urania answered she, my soul can tell you I dissemble not, nor did my manner, or my face cover yet my flames, when I did hear my dear and only Lord imprisoned was, did I not faint, and lose my strength, as hating that, since not sufficient to release my love? Was not the Court distempered, and my Parents grieved, fearing my coming danger, when the harm was nearer to me, than they could imagine? Wept I not, when the mastering grief was passed? sighed I not still, & cried against proud, and cursed treacheries? how did I hide the boiling heat of sorrow I contained? Waved I not with each passion up and down, as boughs blown with the wind, some times resolved to die, other times to live for a revenge, and still distracted? more I sought to turn, more fast tied still, my heart like lead in fire, melting with the heat of fury call you this discreet, and wise behaviour? could love no better be dissembled, or the sparks no finelier raked up in discretion? But now I see you smile at me, while you indeed do better, and more curiously, like cunning workmen best beguile our eyes. It's well sweet, daintiest Princess, you may flout your friends. But said Urania, when did you see me one whole day, and not sigh, or weep, or steal away to do them? I here vow unto Love, which vow I will not break, that never creature felt more pain, nor ever any more discovered it; I do confess it as a weakness in me, but I cannot help it; if I did see him one poor instant space alone, me thought it was my duty to go to him, if he spoke to another, was I not, nor am I not think I as worthy, or as fit to talk with, as herself. Almost suspicion ofttimes grew in me, but absolute fondness never was away, I do not think in hours, while I have stood at audiences, which the King hath given, I have been one minute altogether joined with my eyes held from him, I have looked off 'tis true, but like a Dear at feed, start up for fear, but strait again returned unto the food, which from his eyes I took, yet I am secret, and discreet in love. Never credit me dear Cousin, if I speak not truth, I found not that you did requite his love, till your own lips to honour me delivered it. I shall the better credit this, and love my fashion so much more (said Philistella), since you commend me, but in troth I spoke as guiltiness forced me: but now we are so free, let me be bold to ask this question; In this heat of love, did not your former passion never come glancing into your eyes? could you behold Parselius with freedom, and Steriamus with affection?  
I will, said Urania (as to my confessor) tell you the truth; it was me thought a wonderful odd change, and passing different affection I did feel, when I did alter: for though I were freed from my first love, and had a power to choose again, yet was I not so amply cured from memory, but that I did resemble one newly come out of a vision, distracted, scarce able to tell, whether it were a fixion, or the truth; yet I resolved, and so by force of heavenly providence lost the first, and live in second choice, and this dear sovereign good received I from Leucadia.  
But when I had thus far proceeded, then did fear accompany my change, lest Steriamus should despise my second love, not having given him my first as the best, which in troth in some sort he had obtained, for I liked him, before I loved the other. Oft did I study, how I might compass my blessing, when for my most, and future happiness, he was as much engaged unto me, and so was Melisseas' Prophecy performed, for we from death in show rose unto a new love; he feared likewise, that I would scorn his gift, and after many vehement and affectionate suing, he presented me with a little book of Verses, among which were many to excuse himself, and to commend a second love, I remember one Sonnet, being this.  

BLame me not dearest, though grieved for your sake,  
Love mild to you, on me triumphing sits,  
Sifting the choicest ashes of my wits,  
Burnt like a Phoenix, change but such could shake.   

And a new heat, given by your eyes did make  
Embers dead cold, call Spirits from the pits  
Of dark despair, to favour new felt fits,  
And as from death to this new choice to wake.   

Love thus crownes you with power, scorn not the flames,  
Though not the first, yet which as purely rises  
As the best light, which sets unto our eyes,  
And then again ascends free from all blames.   

Pureness is not alone in one fixed place,  
Who dies to live, finds change a happy grace.   
These I did learn, for these did fit me best, and from that time contented was to let him see, I entertained his suit, which was his kingdom won in sweet delight; then was that as an Empire to my gain, when I first saw him rudely, yet innocently clad, like a Lamb in wool for colour and softness to the eye, or touch his face blushing like modesty, after his arm had showed manly power, his delicacy ask pity, but his commanding absoluteness, disdaining it as much, as the bright Moon, if we should say we were sorry in a frosty night, to see her face in the water, lest she might be cold: rather might I say, I feared the Sun would burn him, when he enamoured of his dainty skin, did but incloase him with his power from other harm, touching him not to hurt, but to make difference 'twixt his favours, shined, and shielded him, while others he did burn, kind in embracements, and soft in his force. The language he did speak, was mild, so were his looks, love shadowing all himself within his eyes, or in his face, keeping his greatest Court, because most gaining.  
Ah sweet Philistella, had you seen the un-relatable exquisiteness of his youth, none could have blamed me, but even chid me, for not instantly yielding my passions wholly to his will; but proud ambition, and gay flattery made me differ, and love your brother: thus if I changed, 'twas from sweet Steriamus to Parselius, for his excellency won me first; so this can be no change, but as a book laid by, new looked on, is more, and with greater judgement understood. You need not (said Philistella) strive to make me see your love, and cause thereof to Steriamus, since (I truly speak) I think none worthier to be truly loved (except my Lord) than I imagine him, nor can I much, or any way defend my brother, who, (had you still continued loving,) I should have blamed he proving so unjust, yet this only salve and good excuse is left, Destiny did, and ever still must rule. Now for me dear Urania, all I aim is love, if I discourse, what is it of but love? if I walk out, what travel in but love? if I sit still, what muse I on but love? if I discoursed be withal, what answer I but love? so as being made, maintained by love, and in love shaped, & squared only to his rule, what need excuses but plain truth? and say if I do speak from purpose, or extravogantly fly from the matter we were talking of, if cleave to other subject I diuert the proffered speech, say this, and only this, Love who is Lord of all brave royal minds, hath like the heavens beheld my lowly breast, and in it taken lodging, gracing it with humbling his great Godhead, to embrace a true, and yielding heart, in comparison of his supreme authority most mean, should I not thus without excuse be freed, nay even respected when love is adored? As if he spoke from me, so hear me now, love dwells in me, he hath made me his host; then if I only do remain (as sure I shall) wholly affection, and his humblest slave, scorn me not, but still reckon me a servant nearest waiting on great Love.. Others like Painters better can set him forth in his colors; Kings we see have pictures drawn to be eternised by, but 'tis themselves for which the picture is drawn, not for the workman's skill: so favour me for Love, nor blame me though an ill piece, 'tis the best though by an ill hand drawn; 'tis to the life, others may smother be, and fairer, none more like, nor just unto the perfect true resemblance of pure love; & thus see you before your royal self, the humblest vassal Cupid cherisheth.  
Urania in her soul commended the pretty confession, fair Philistella made, admiring her sweetness of disposition, as much as before she wondered at the beauty of her person, embracing her, my dear companion in true love said she, now shall we with more ease, and freedom serve our Master; days must not pass without our service done to him; nor shall, my dear Urania said the other, let our most private thoughts be to each other plain and open, seacrysie to all others held, and only love, and we, know what we think, thus they did live and love, and love, and live. Nerana still remaining in Cicely, now grown as humble, as before proud, and ashamed as before scorning, living in a Cave alone, and feeding on herbs, roots, and milk of Goats which fed on those rocks: playing the milkmaid better than before the Princess, extremity forcing her, contented with patience, and patiently contented, nothing troubling her but her love, which was, and is enough to vex the greatest, and best governed Spirits, she being none of those the exactliest ruled. To bring her from her misery, (Love having sufficiently tyrannised) the King Perissus came thither, who in love to his friends, the brave, and matchless Princes, meant to assist them; journeying towards them, he happened to that place, where he beheld the sportful exercise of Fortune, a Princess without a Country, clothes, or servants, a Lady that must tell herself to be one, else not to be mistrusted, a miserable woman, and the more so because she felt it, experience, and sufferance making her sensible of misfortune. She sought to shun the King at first, but afterwards considering her good might come from him, her hurt likely if kept close to abide with her, she came unto him, and with much humility made her approach, who beheld her with a gracious, and pitying eye, seeing in her more than ordinary behaviour, and a countenance that might carry greatness with it, and had it in it, though shadowed under poverty. Perissus took her to him, and demanding some things of her, she answered with these like words.  
Said she, this estate may justly merit contempt, and scorn from you, or so great a Prince as you appear to be. I am a creature living by ill chance able to relate my misery, which if you please to give an ear unto I shall tell you. I am called Neraena Princess of Stalamina, made in mine own Country, and in the most perfect time of my rule, subject to a stranger, both to me, and I fear good nature so far scorning me, as it brought me to this estate you see me in; for after with cursed, and scornful words, he had refused my love, and loving petition for pity, left me, and with his friends as courteous, as he was proud, and kind, as he cruel, the renowned Princes Amphilanthus and Ollorandus took ship. I could not but pursue in folly, as in love, and so took a troublesome, and tedious journey; to Morea I came of purpose to see her who was my undoer, for he loved Pamphilia, and she, would I behold, desiring or so gaining my end, no more contented with hearing it, but like Procris, would seek it, and gain it. There I had entertainment, like my search, smiles in scorn, and loss in hope; for in that Princess I confess worth to conquer hearts, and thus I yield his choice most perfect. But this could not hold me from accusing my want of judgement in going thither to behold her, as if I would wash mine eyes the clearer to see my ill.  
What folly said I, led me to this Rock of mischief, to be cast down, and ruined on the ground of scorn? yet did not this hinder my journey, for me thought I was more deserving him, than the rare Princess, so partial are we to ourselves, that I could almost have believed she seemed excellent, because mine eyes, like a flattering glass showed her so, yet again thought I, why should I commend her, who undoes my bliss? My spleen then swelled against her, and I was sick with anger, that I as abruptly left Morea, as Steriamus did Stalamina; thence I was by the brave Amphilanthus directed to Saint Maura, but a storm brought me hither, where with a greater tempest I was molested, falling into the hands of a madman, who dressed me as you see, and with diversity of frantic fits, perplexed me. I have since lived in these places, and seen Winter in cold despairs, and Summer's heat in flourishing misery: nor saw I any, of whom to demand favour these many months, first shuning all, till now; wherefore from your hands I implore it, let not my outward means hinder your noble mind from pity, but rather show it where most want claims it. I confess contempt is likelier to be my reward, whose pride was such, as that punishment best fitteth me, but I am humbled, and my former fault looks more odious to me, than thought of this fortune would have done, in my height of greatness. The King had before heard of her, and took compassion of her, carrying her to the Town, where that night she was to lie, in his own Chariot which was led spare, she rid thither, where he clothed her according to her dignity. But when she had her greatness again in good clothes put about her, she began to grow to her wont accustomed humours, like a garden, never so delicate when well kept under, will without keeping grow ruinous: So over-running-weedy pride, in an ambitious creature proves troublesome to govern, and rude to look on. Fear to see her poorness, held her from looking in either the face of a fountain, or River, but now her eyes tells her, she is herself, which is enough to make her remember, she was, and must be again as she was directly.  
Shall I said she, change from lownes to nobleness, and not come to my noble spirit? then were I more unfortunate to have such an alteration, then if held in rags; the mind is above all but itself, and so must mine be. Ought I not to glory in my good, that I am redeemed from a private life? nay must I not love myself, who I see Heaven hath such care of, as not to let me be obleiged to other then one of mine own rank for the favour, as esteeming none other worthy to serve me? Steriamus, would thou didst but see this, and thy disdainful Mistress behold my honour, it might work good upon you both, and teach you, how to esteem of those, (or indeed her) who the highest powers observe, and reverence. Alas, what a fool was I to be molested with my former fortune; had I been able but to see what now I discern, I should have rejoiced at it, since without question, it was done for my greater honour, and of purpose to show me, how much the highest would express affection, nay respect unto me. Mark but the whole carriage, did not all adore me? the madman were his fits other then worshipping me, as Sheephardesse, Nymph, or any thing? did he not humble himself most respectively unto me?  
Then be thyself absolutely blessed Neraena, all creatures made to secure thee, and of all kinds, command then, and show thou art worthy of such happy authority; Soare like the Hobby, and scorn to stoop to so poor a prey as Steriamus, who now looks before mine eyes, like a Door to a Falcon; my mind preserved for height, goes upward, none but the best shall have liberty to join with me, none Master me. Ignorant Prince what glory didst thou shun, when thou didst despise the most reverenced of women, the favourite of the loving Gods, and Goddesses? Dull man to love any but Neraena, the most loveworthy of her sex, and her whom all may glory in for affecting, and that judgement I discern in this King, who was even at first sight ravished with beholding me; true love that only regards beauty, not apparel, & to that end did love clothe me in rags to conquer a King. Poor Perissus I pity thee, that thy constancy must lose the strong power it had till now, and yield to my victory, who cannot requite thee; yet fain would he cover his affection, but 'tis plainly seen, how doth he steal looks on me? cast up his eyes, than sigh? these tell me that his heart is my prisoner, and the contention is 'twixt his difficulty to part from so long a fixed affection, and fear of my refusal, which he must find, if he pursue in it. Alas, I fain would help it if I could, but constancy (though a fruitless virtue) governs me.  
With that the King came to her, whom she used after the same manner, as if he had been in love (as she imagined) which was nothing so, but made him conjecture that she had been with good feeding grown into her fury again, and fullness had renewed her madness; he was sorry to see her so, that she accounted passion, which was pity of her, he being the worthylest constant, and who would not let one spot come to touch, or blemish that pureness which remained in him: like the fixed Stars, shining with joy, and giving light of purest content unto his excellent soul; but at last he found her false imagination grow troublesome, to avoid which, he meant to be rid of her, wherefore at the Port where he was to take Shipping, he appointed a Bark of purpose for her, to carry her to her own Country, and some servants to attend her, besides some of her own who came unto her, when her finding was noised abroad, and upon submission were received. When she saw herself thus slighted, as she termed it, because the King her new servant as she called him, did not attend her in his own person; she froun'd; He found she disliked it, and therefore sought to excuse himself, the more he proceeded in that, the greater grew her insolency, so as at the last she answered his compliments, with unmannerly replies, and in the end, flat revile.  
He noble, and courteous, would not be seen to wrangle with her, nor suffer her follies to offend him, wherefore he Shipped himself and his company, commanding the Mariners to sail for Greece.  
When she was with all her greatness thus left on the Shore with a train of twenty, instead of a King, and five hundred Knights, which she flattered herself should have weighted on her, she stormed extremely within herself, having such a tempest of rage, as it could not be told, whether pride, or scorn blew highest in her fury; but time brought a little calm to her, so as cursing Ceicili, Perissus, and all men, but such vassals as were to serve her, and almost herself, for having need of such vassals, she shipped with resolution to exercise her just anger upon her people, where she found a new business; for being landed in Lemnos, and going to the City where she expected solemn entertainment, bonfires, and such hot triumphs for her welcome, contrariwise she encountered the cold face of neglect, and loss of her Country, being possessed, and governed by a younger sister of hers, who she had so contemned in times past, as she disdained to let her appear before her presence, but held her enclosed in a strong Tower, many times to molest her, making her prepare herself to dye.  
This had so tempered her, (who it may be had some sparks of the fire of pride which flamed in Neraena) as she was as humble, and mild, as her sister excelld in the opposite, and so had she won the hearts of the people, who after Neraena was lost, quickly fetched out the other, and as soon acknowledged her their Princess.  
But now she is returned, what diversity of opinions were among them, some out of honest dispositions, and good plain conscience would have their true Lady restored; others for fear wished the same, but all joining together, and every one having spoken, the chosen resolution was, she should no more govern; pride could not gain obedience, nor scorn, command, but what most urged against her, was the politic fear they apprehended of her revenge on them, who had given themselves to an other Governess in her absence, so as they chose rather to commit a fault unpardonable, then to venture under her pardon, as if one should burn all the furniture of a House, because one Room was infected with the Plague.  
Now Neraena, where is thy greatness, but in misery? where the so often named title of Princess but in bondage? where all thy glory but in subjection? and where thy subjection, but in thy brave Stalamina, and under thy despised Sister? punishment justly allotted for such excessive overweening: but how she was imprisoned in the same place she had made her sister's abode, attended on but by one jailor, fed neatly, and poorly to keep down her fancy, told still she was mad, and threatened to be used accordingly, if she raved, accused of fury, and that made the cause to satisfy the people, who ignorant enough, had sufficient cause to believe it, seeing her passions, which though natural to her, yet appeared to their capacities mere lunatic actions; how these things proceeded and increased, after some time was expired, shall be related.  
The end of the second Book.   

THE COUNTESS OF Montgomery's URANIA. THE THIRD BOOK.  
AMphilanthus being now to be spoken of, after he had left Pamphilia, passed along the sea, purposing to go to Morea, and so to Albania; but one in the Ship advised him rather to take a nearer course, and undertook to be his guide, so he resolved, knowing him to be of Macedon, and one who knew all those parts perfectly well, beside, a servant to his Cousin, the King and Queen thereof, gave credit and trust unto him, and so they sailed, directed by him: yet Amphilanthus remembering the adventure in Cyprus, called to mind his acquaintance and friend Polarchos, wherefore he would needs put into Rhodes to visit him, and take him along (if he could) with him. This was a happy thought for that poor Prince, who all this while continued in the Iron Cage weatherbeaten, and almost starved by the cruelty and ingratitude, of his once best, and only beloved. When the King landed, he demanded of one that he met, where Polarchos was; he being of a good nature (though a Rhodian) answered, Alas Sir (said he) where he hath been ever since his return from Greece, in an Iron tower prisoner. The King admired at that, never having heard one touch of it, so as desiring to be resolved, he particularly demanded the causes and reasons; he as freely answered, so as the truth and manner being known, the King altered his purpose of going like himself, and a Visitor, changing it to go as a Knight of Cyprus, and one of purpose come (hearing of his imprisonment) to release him upon any condition. Then changed he his Armour, taking one of Azure colour, his Plume Crimson, and one fall of Blue in it; the furniture to his horse being of those colours, and his Device only a Cipher, which was of all the letters of his Mistress' name, delicately composed within the compass of one, and so was called, the Knight of the Cipher. Being arrived at the Court, and his coming made known to the Princess, she gave him hearing, and after some words delivered with neglect enough, she told him, that he should have the honour to encounter a Knight of her appointing, whom if he could overcome Polarchos should be delivered him free out of prison; if not, he should yield himself, if vanquished to her power, and that I rather believe (said she) will happen, and that my Knight will make you as little, and of as little account, as your device and name signifieth. He made her answer, that although a Cipher were nothing in itself, yet joined to the figures of her worth, whose name was therein, it was made above the value of herself or Country. She was mad to hear him so bold with her, yet having given licence before to his demand, she could not by the laws of that Country, do him any affront: so as she was forced to content herself with hope of his overthrow, and vow of the cruelest revenge, that might be inflicted on any (who had so much offended a vain woman). The day come, which was the next that followed, the night she had passed with so many frets, and distempers against the stranger, as she thought him, who had been once so near of her acquaintance, as she confessed only from him to have received her content, and happiness, when he gained her father's liking to Polarchos, now her enemy, than her friend. She came forth in all the magnificence that Country could afford to serve her foolish pride with all; the Court as glorious, as if going to a wedding, not a funeral, as that was likely to prove. Poor Polarchos was led forth in his chains, and by them fastened to a Pillar, not having so much favour allowed him, as to be permitted to sit or lie, to ease himself, grief only showed in his face to be predominate. Amphilanthus beholding him; Alas brave Prince, said he, must those excellent arms and hands be bound to her cruel ingratitude, and inhuman unkindness? must thy worth be chained by her unworthiness? and thy excelling self, a prisoner to her pride? Then hasted he the combat, wherein he encountered a valiant and strong Gentleman, being one fit to defend an ill cause, by reason that strength is most required, when weakness governed by justice will be strong enough; but his strength, though justice had been joined, would have failed against this King, who had so soon ended the business, as it appeared rather a thought of a combat, than the executing of one. The Princess in infinite fury flung from the window, commanding that the strangers with their gain, quickly left her Country, lest they obtained Polarchos Cage. The King was offended with her arrogancy, yet being slightly attended to oppose a whole Country, went quickly thence, glad of his happy adventure to have his friend with him, and in that manner redeemed by his hand from such a bondage. On they pass towards Greece, determining to hold that name, the Princess had been so bold with all, having had so great fortune with it in the beginning, and so to go unknown towards the Army, where with some pretty fine adventures, they arrived, one being this. Not far from Athos where they landed by a delicate Woods side, they saw a Forest Nymph lie on the ground, and hard by her a youth, who as he beheld her (with as much amorosnesse as his young years could entertain, or love be pleased to enrich him with all) sang this Song.  

Love among the clouds did hover  
Seeking where to spy a lover:  
In the Court he none could find,  
Towns too mean were in that kind,  
At last as he was ripe to crying,  
In Forest woods he found one lying   

Underneath a tree fast sleeping,  
Spirit of Love her body keeping,  
Where the soul of Cupid lay  
Though he higher than did stay,  
When he himself in her descrying,  
He hasted more than with his flying.   

And his tender hand soft laying  
On her breast his fires were playing,  
Waked her with his baby game,  
She who knew love was no shame  
With his new sport; smiled as delighted,  
And homeward went by Cupid lighted.   

See the shady Woods bestowing  
That, which none can ask as owing  
But in Courts where plenties flow,  
Love doth seldom pay, but owe,  
Then still give me this Country pleasure,  
Where sweet love chastely keeps his treasure.   
She was fair, and he lovely, being apparelled in green made so neatly, and fit to him, as if he had been a Courtier, or one of those finer people had had his clothes, might have been called curious; his legs strait, and of the curiousest shape, were in white stockings, Garters he had none, his Hose being fastened above his knee; under his Girdle stuck his Arrows, his Bow he held in his left hand; in stead of a Scarf he had the line and collar, where with he was to lead his hound baudrickwise athwart his slender body, the Dog lay at his feet, waiting on him, it appeared willingly he attended, for he needed no bands to tie him to his service; his hair was thick, something long and curled, the Sun had made it something yellower, than it naturally was, as if he would have it nearer his own beams, so much he loved the Lad, & used to hold him near, for he had kissed his cheeks too hard, leaving the remembrance of his heat, which yet did well with him, manifesting the better his manner of life, and the practice of hunting, wearing that livery. Such quickness he had in his eyes, which were full, and black, as they looked like sparks of Diamonds set in jet; his lips red, his teeth white, and such an one, as might truly be called a lovely youth. She every way meriting such an one, being as delicate, as he handsome; she was partly in Greene too, as her upper garment, white Buskins she had, the short sleeves, which she wore upon her arms, and came in sight from her shoulders were also white, and of a glistering stuff, a little ruff she had about her neck, from which came strips which were fastened to the edges of her gown, cut down equally for length, and breadth to make it square; the strips were of lace, so as the skin came stealingly through, as if desirous, but afraid to be seen, knowing that little joy would move desire to have more, and so she might be wooed to show her neck more bare. She was as curiously proportioned, as all the Artists could set down to make excellent.  
Her hair was not so white or yellow as others, but of a dainty, and lovelike brown, shining like gold, upon black, her eye brows thick, and of so brave a compass, threatening, that the arrows which those bows would shoot, were not to be resisted, but yielded to, as a Deer, shot to the hart, falls down, and dies: so they must overthrow, and conquer; her eyes grey, and shining like the morning, in each of which a Venus Starr did rise, and dwell; her lips as delicate, and red, as if they were angry at him, and would have no other satisfaction but by meeting, for she did love as much as he. So fine a couple these were, as Love did glory in them, and they joy in him, happiness beyond all others, loving, and blessedly being beloved again. When he had finished his song, she smiled upon him, ask him how he came to be acquainted so perfecty with love's wants, or gains; My heart saith he hath so long served him, as that tells me what my Master doth, when he conquers, when he fails, as not being able to subdue your breast, he cries for want of power, but martyrs me in fierce revenge of his unwinning force. Yield then deep Nymph, if but in pity, and that pity will proceed to love. Love then did speak so lively in his eyes, and made itself come forth of such dear lips, as she, (poor she) could not, though armed with woman's greatest strength resist so good a charm; she looked, and blushed, and was about to speak; than cast her eyes upon the ground, but strait looked up again, and fain would say, I must requite your love, but loath she was to speak it, and yet kind pity moved, and so at last with pity, love, and Maiden blushing modesty, she said. If you prove just, I will yield to your love; but be so, since I leave this habit, and the chastest life to live with you, and in a forest state. Those eyes that first had won her, he cast up to heaven, before which he did vow truth, and pure love than brought them to his bliss, beholding her as timorous, as loving, not knowing what she had done, innocent and passionate, was between those two, a delicate unknowing creature. Nature taught her to be careful, and yet kind; thus she beheld him now with love, and such respect, as she must bear him, whom she had made her Lord (for Lord the husband is in all estates from Shepherds unto Kings). Then did the pleasing difference begin, each striving how to show the most respect, she to maintain what she had gained, he to requite what she had given. Amphilanthus and Polarchos admiring them as much, as either had in former times themselves, when first in love, calling their passions round about them, wrapping themselves in them, as in their mantles, but closer did they sit to them; Amphilanthus being so much love itself, as he might be compared to be itself, as near as a round glass made of the clearest temper, and filled full of the clearest water; turn it any way, you see thorough it, yet both seem one colour, and clearness in agreeing; so did the clearness of his love show through him, or was itself only love, and purely clear, no vacant place, least turning of the glass might make a bubble to appear a change; no, he was round and true.  
Poor Polarchos, he stood like a blasted tree, the blossom of his affection killed, and withered; yet he called to mind how he had loved, and how she used him. No more expression had this dainty Lass given to her forest Lad, than she had made to him, but now decayed, and all her favours dried, and wrinkled like the last year's fruit: poor Prince turned to the lowest slavery, of Love's meanest castaways, he wept, while the other smiled, the Forester joining in present gain. Amphilanthus feeding on the knowledge of his absent love's affection: here did love play his part in diverse kinds, & made himself this mirth, sporting like wantoness with the baby, loves of these poor prisoners. Amphilanthus pulled off his helm, and went unto them, who with a fashion not rude, nor Courtly, but fine, and civil received him; the like they did unto Polarchos; Amphilanthus giving them the welcome salutation of the first wished joys, being (as he did tell them) witness of their vows: they both seemed glad, that such brave witnesses they had unknown till then obtained; the Forester replying thus.  
Sir, never could a better or a richer gift be given me (except herself) than this wish, which from you doth bring the joy we hope to find & keep, and which two years affection hath ambitiously desired, now by her grant enjoyed; but may it please you to grace us with this a second honour, we shall have just reason to acknowledge our poor selves your servants, and our lives your own to be commanded. 'Tis the manner here that when a Nymph doth change from that strict life, to be a happy wife, if she be such an one, as length of time, or honour hath engaged, she must by two brave Knights, be brought unto the Temple of Diana, where she must remain that night alone in prayers, and then cast off her weeds, and offer them: and leave them with the Priest; the Knights than come unto the door, and call her, with whom she comes forth, they then do give her to her chosen mate, and so conduct them to the Temple of Venus, where they are received, and there by Himen's Priest are married.  
This if we may obtain of you, so fitly come to us, brought by that Fortune which hath made me blessed, aptly to give conclusion to our woes, and fair beginnings to our happiness, you shall make us the happiest to pray for your enjoy that ever lovers had; and sure you must be one Sir, for love shines in you. The King made answer he would do that kindness, and any other to so fine a pair; then took he the sweet Nymph, who now must change her name, and gain the best, and blessedst estate. Unto the Temple they directly went, and there without the gate attended, till the time of going in; till she must return, which at the ringing of a little Bell, did summon them to call her; her they took, and Amphilanthus gave her to her love, wishing even from his soul the time were come, to have the dearest gift he most did long for, given so freely to him.  
Then to the other Temple strait they went, which was not far, but in a dainty wood, this other standing in a plain, hard by a cool, and crystal River, there she was received with joy by Venus' Priests, and Hymen's Priests came, and clothed her in wife's weeds, and so even laded with content they left the Temple, and went to his Lodge, which was in a forest, whereof he had the charge under the King, who loved the deserts, and those sports most of any thing, the first, and chief cause being his affection to a Lady living in a Forest, and wholly affecting that life: every man seeking to please him, took the estates of Foresters on them, and so made a delightful kind of wildness please them, and him, who thus enjoyed pleasures, and his ends, coveting to appear like their living, but the true root of virtue, and good breeding shunned savageness, and only made room for a little neglectivenes to cover them with all, so as the great men were but Courtly Foresters, and civil wildmen. The Lodge was a fair house built on a Hill, at the foot whereof ran a River, over which was a bridge; from thence they passed through a delicate walk made by Art, and at the end of that, (which still ascended) was a garden, through which they came unto the House, furnished with furniture fit for a Court, the servants all in green, and in good number, showing fellowship in their apparel, but obedience in their fashions. There the Knights were welcomed like themselves, and then the brave young Forester desired to be so much graced, as to know their names, nor would I said he ask this favour until now, that you might see your servant myself could entertain you for the honours done, and to be worthier of them I'll first tell you who I am, although appearing outwardly more mean.  
I am the third son to an Earl, who is chief Forester unto the Prince of this Country; this Forest is the daintiest, and the best beloved of any by his Majesty, being called by himself his garden: this hath he given me as my charge, and here I serve him, and do please him well, by leading of this life; this Lady is the Daughter of a Lord, near neighbour to this place, but being thought too worthy for me, as I must confess they erred not in that, though did commit high treason unto love, seeking to bar us from our wished joy, they gave her to Diana, being then under the years which they might rule her in, she was constrained to do as they commanded, and was sworn a Nymph, dedicated to the chaste Goddess by her friends, but when she came of years, by the laws of this Country, she might choose whether she would continue so or no. Two years she wanted of the age of freedom, in which time they hoped she would forget, and by example love fair chastity; but she never ordained for such a dull concluding of her days, by the example which was showed of strictness she loved freedom, for Chastity affection, and so we met, and still increased our flames, till now that you were brought for our eternal good to see us joined, and to knit our bliss. Now Sir I do beseech you tell me who you are. My name (brave Sir) answered the King, is Amphilanthus, this Knight Polarchos; my Lord said he, I humbly crave pardon for my rudeness, yet may you the better pardon it, since but that, you could expect from wild men, and Foresters: but I have not so lived, that your fame hath not come, and spread itself into each corner of these parts, as the sweet west-wind doth grace each flower with a kiss: so live you honoured by each hart, and loved as he, who glories mankind with his excellence. The King replied, those words did show his inside still remained most noble, and like so delicate a Prince he was; then he did salute the Lady, who feasted them with all delicates, staying them two days, in which time the marriage was diuulged, and all his neighbour Foresters came in to joy with him; his friends, and hers now met, were forced of all sides to show great content.  
Then Amphilanthus left them, and passed on toward the Camp, the brave Forester bringing him through his command to the next town from whence he had a guide. O love said Amphilanthus, how precious a Prince art thou, that thus command'st over all, mak'st Kings Foresters, Forester's Kings in happiness, and leavest us to travel up and down neglected, roaming like Beggars, still ask of thee: but thy gifts are slow, and sparing, one days sight, or one poor hours discourse with much petition thou wilt grant me, and to others, lives-time of comfort. Why didst thou not make me a Forester, or a Shepherd, or any thing, so I might enjoy my love? What life would I despise to undergo, or danger shun, so she might like, and I live in her eyes; for in her heart I know I do, and thus am doubly grieved both for my want, and her dear, yet impatient suffering, my absence working in her, as upon my heart with sorrow for both parts. pity us, great King of hearts, we will beseech and beg of thee; if not, most cruel let me justly call thee.  
Thus perplexed he road, not speaking all that day to any of his company. Polarchos was content, as well with silence as the King, so they rid, as if they had vowed not to speak, or to try how they could perform such a vow, yet still did they dispute with love, and all for love's dear sake. Many pleasant adventures they passed, finding one evening a delicate Lady following a Hawk, attended, or accompanied with many brave Gentlemen, and as gentle in behaviour, as blood, being the chief and principal of that country; the Lady affecting pleasures, they loving her for that, and her fashion, which was full of spirit, sweet, and mild discourses temperate and respective: by her they passed, and so by many more such meetings; they staying no where, till they came to the skirts of Albania, where they encountered two Knights, of whom they demanded news; they told them, that they could give them no certain notice of any thing, since the last battle which was fought against Plamergus, wherein he was slain, and his only son; Steriamus having behaved himself so bravely, and judicially, as he had gotten immortal praise; the other kings and Princes deserving to be eternised for their valour and judgements.  
Were you there (I pray Sir) said Amphilanthus? Yes indeed Sir, said the first, we were both there, and hardly escaped the fury of that day. How was the battle, I beseech you, said Amphilanthus? Marry Sir (said he) the place was first troublesome, and very full of disadvantage to the strangers, Hills and little Bottoms between them, wherein Plamergus the king of those parts had placed his men, a great River before him; the bridge he had pulled up, leaving no possibility for the army to come to him; but they by means and advice of Steriamus, passed the water, dividing themselves in five parts, as the passages were in number.  
It was Steriamus his fortune with the Italians, whose skill and valour was matchless, and guided by such a Commander, who did well, and best in the absence of their Lord, not to be resisted, he met Plamergus; Rosindy and the Macedonians encountered his son, the rest the other troops; it was my hap to be where the furious Italians met us, but they made quick work with us, running through us, and over us, as Lightning, killing as they went so fast, as I had but speed enough to run away, not resolution, or heart to stay, for it seemed to be more than humane force, or speed they came with all. Parselius with his Moreans did as bravely, Antissius and Leandrus no less, and Selarinus as well.  
Then got we over a Hill, and joined with the king's son, who was fight with Rosindy, but soon saw we an end of him and his army; so as away again we went, as if but to behold our party lost, which when I saw, and the battle won, Trumpets sunding the retreat, we went away, resolved in my heart, never to draw Sword against the rightful King. Steriamus was proclaimed King, and so by that name now is called; but though I will not fight against him, yet I will not take his part, till I see the next encounter past, which will be more terrible, by how much the army is greater, led by braver and stronger men, and the other army something lessened by the last, and many of their best men hurt.  
How shall we gain so much favour of you, brave Knights, said he, as to direct us the nearest way to them? Truly Sir (said he) by this I believe they be met, but if you will go and try your fortune, I will bring you within sight of them. He gave him many thanks, and so he conducted them according to his promise.  
Steriamus after the battle, had called his Commanders together, and took a certain note of the number lost, and hurt in the battle, which in comparison was nothing to their gain and victory. Then marched they on towards the second let, and King of the middle. Albania, called Pollidorus, and who was a brave man for courage and force, Antissius gaining the honour to lead the Vanguard, as it was at first granted him, but altered by reason of the place to fight in. With great courage they march on, and with as much resolution the other attend them; for except strengths were equal, no glory by victory can be esteemed.  
The strange Knight performed his promise, and brought the King with his friend to a great Lakes side, the armies being on the other side, he desired to pass that, and to be able to assist (if need were), the Knight then guided him by the banks of it, and brought him to a hedge, wherein were many high trees which shadowed them well; they standing up to the bodies of them, there they saw the charge given: but as he was beholding them, another Knight was seen by him on the other side of the hedge, wearing his own Colours; whereupon Amphilanthus demanded of him, who he was, and to what end he stood close in that manner. To see the battle, replied he, and to do as you do, spare myself from fight. It may be, said Amphilanthus, we do the better, since there is no jesting (as they say) with those Lads. 'tis not for fear I assure you (said he) that I am not among them. I believe that (answered Amphilanthus) nor is that the cause of my being here, but to see what service I may do my friends if occasion serve, else stand as I do. The better and the nobler side (said the other, will hardly want your company, or mine, unless we were able to equal their valours, which I make doubt of.  
It were modestly spoken of yourself (said Amphilanthus), but if I be not mistaken, you might have had better manners, then to compare those together which you know not. Why? what choleric Knight are you, said he, that takes this exception, Parselius, Rosindy, Steriamus, Selarinus, Leandrus and Dolorindus, besides the brave King of Romania being there: but since you now know who I mean, I must be satisfied by you, who you are, that dare compare with them. I make no comparisons with them, but only answer you, wherefore tell me your name, and I will satisfy you with the like, and something else to make you know, courteous answers better fit Knights. I am not said he, ashamed of my name, therefore know, I am Philarchos of Metilin, newly from thence come to serve my friends. I see (answered the King) that your extreme affection rather moved your care and haste, then ill nature, therefore pardon me, and take this satisfaction for the other, which I threatened, that Amphilanthus loves Philarchos, and will be his servant. With that they both saluted with such love, as Cousins ought to bear one to another, and such who were so like, as they were. Then stood they ready to behold what happened, which was this. Antissius with his troops charged the enemy, but they were led by a young man, who rather rash then valiant, came with such violence against them, as he disordered the rank, and broke Antissius order, whereupon their men were in routs, and Antissius in some danger, whereupon the three Knights ran in, and rescued him, Amphilanthus fight, while Philarchos remounted Antissius.  
Then came to them twenty thousand, led by Leandrus, which were encountered by as many, led by the King's favourite, who was Martial of his Kingdom. The two Commanders met, and Leandrus was unhorsed, whom Amphilanthus (killing first the Marshal) again mounted, and told him, he was sorry pamphilia's servant had so ill fortune. He knew his voice, and replied, that the honour was greater, to be aided by him, then if he had kept his horse, and won the day; these men shroudly set to, so as the brave Princes stood at last all on foot, like the towers of a mighty Castle, the rest of the walls ruind, and thrown down: so the dead bodies lay round about them in rude heaps. Then came up the rest of the Albanian army in gross, which Steriamus perceiving, went down with all the forces and Princes. The encounter was terrible between them. Rosindy came with some horse, and helped the other five to fresh horse, and so together charged in, but such was their force and cunning, compassing their enemy, and charging on all sides, as they broke them, and put them in the like disorder, they had brought that part, which Antissius had: all brave men, all equally resolved to fight for victory, resolutely made proof of their wills and powers, as had not the last three, come in happy time, the victory had been doubtful.  
Twice Amphilanthus was unhorsed, by the death of his horses, and once helped by Rosindy, whom he requited in a greater measure (though almost the same kind) taking him from under his horse's belly, ready to be smothered by the multitude, that were pressing on him; the other time he was furnished with a Horse, which Selarinus brought him; he saved Parselius and Steriamus beside from death, one having his Helm struck off, he covering him with his Shield, till a new one was brought him. The other he rescued from many men's hands, having broke his Sword. Antissius he horsed, and many brave acts he did, so as all attributed the happiness of that day's Victory (which then was gained) to him, who unknown, they came to salute, but he not willing to hide himself from them, besides wanting air quickly discovered himself; then, if any envy were in them before to the deserving stranger, when Amphilanthus was the man, all was rooted out, and supplanted by true affection to him.  
The Princes of Italy, and his soldiers were over-ioyed at their King's arrival, and ravished with his magnanimous valour and courage: then the Trumpets were sounded, and all retired to a Plain close by, keeping the field that night to witness their Conquest. The King was taken alive, but hurt to death, dying within five days after, but he heard Steriamus again proclaimed by the Army, as a salve for his wounds. This was a sharp and terrible fight, wherefore they went to the next Town, which was the chief, and yielded to their force: there they rested their men and themselves, never an one having escaped without some hurt or other: the Usurper died, and was buried.  
When all were refreshed, they began to think of marching forwards, and the two Knights which had guided Amphilanthus, undertook to be the guides to the Army, putting themselves dutifully and affectionately under Steriamus, serving him with all loyalty. Amphilanthus and Selarinus with as much comfort, as absence could afford them, got by themselves, to give account to each other of their passions; for none else were made fortunate to know their sufferings, nor did Amphilanthus for all his trust in him, impart his Mistress' name, holding that too dear, even for his friend to hear. Into a Garden they went, but that, because the chief windows of the house were upon it, was thought not private enough, they went into an Orchard beyond it, in which was a place raised with three ascents like, a triple Crown, the trees being Orange and Lemond trees, then in their pride, having blossoms, unripe, and ripe fruit upon them. In the midst of this place was a stone, not unlike a Tomb of red Marble, as high from the ground, as a large chest, and of that proportion; round about it, or better to say, on three full sides encompassed with Cyprus; on the other side was a Ring of Gold, as if to open the Tomb, like the Ring to a Latch.  
The amorous Kings sat down upon it, being so enriched with their passions, as other thoughts were too mean for them to suffer. Amphilanthus relating the blessed content he felt in his fortunate enjoying, truly and affectionately discovering the express knowledge of her love, by the sincerest expression made unto him, and such, as Selarinus grew to be jealous he should never compass; for it seemed impossible, that any more than one woman could be so excellent and perfect a lover. As he was ready to make reply in that kind, they heard a voice (as if within the Tomb) bring forth some words, which made them at the first hearing it, start up, afraid of discovery, or as if troubled that they had hurt her; the speech betraying the heart to suffer excessiveness in misery.  
Unfortunate woman (said it) that cannot die, having such occasion. Is it possible dear Tomb, that thou canst hold, and enclose my woes, yet keep them safe in thee, and with the multitudes of them? at last conclude my grief, let my sorrows swell against themselves in justest rage, and with their furies choke my breath that serves to speak them, and to be drawn contrary to my only desires, to save my weary and afflicted life; tedious, unpleasing time, finish thy labour, and my woes, let this be my last minute of unquietness, redeem me from the cruel slavery of living, and bring me to the excellent liberty of dying; for how can life be pleasing, when Polidorus is not? My dearest, and alone dear Lord, I know that thou art dead, else were I fetched by thee, to joy with thee, where as now I remain in my living death. Would I did know the truth, then might I give thee my last farewell, and with that join my soul with thine, but 'twixt these violent despairs how am I tortured?  
Then was she quiet a little space, while they perused the place: but long continued she not so, like to women spinning, stayed but to fasten the thread to begin again to turn, and twine her sorrows: but now she had spun them into Rhyme, like the Swan in a most weeping Verse: they hearing her, stayed from the releasing her out of the Tomb, till she had said her Verses, being these.  

INfernall Spirits listen to my moans,  
From Cavy depths, give hearing to my groans  
Great Pluto, let thy sad abiding move  
With Hellish fires, to flame for fires of love;  
Let Charon pass my woes unto thine ears:  
His boat if empty they shall load it well,  
With tortures great, as are the pains of Hell,  
And weightier than the Earth this body bears.   

Take down my spirit, cloyed with grief and pain  
Conjure the darkest Pits, to let me gain  
Some corner for a rest; if not, let me  
O Pluto wander, and complain to thee:  
No corrosive can make wounds have torture more,  
Nor this disfavour vex a forlorn soul;  
(If all thy furies were put in a role)  
Then Love gives me; ah bitter eating sore.   

Call thy great Counsel, and afflicted Spirits,  
Examine well their woes, with all their nights,  
And you shall find none there that are not mine,  
Nay, my least, with their greatest jointly twine.  
Let saddest Echo from her hollow Cave,  
Answer the horrid plaints my sorrow gives,  
Which in like mournful, and vast cavern lives;  
Then judge the murdering passions which I have.   

My judge is deaf, then, O thy justice prove,  
Mend thou the fault of proud forgetful love,  
Release me from thy Court, and send me out  
Unto thy Brother jove, whose love and doubt  
Hath oft transformed him from his heavenly kind:  
So now from thee transform my kill care  
To blessing, and from Hell into the Air,  
Dark grief should not a loving fancy bind.   
Yet love thus binds me even unto my death, and welcomest were that, might I obtain it, but yet that must not be. What joy did I ever know? yes I did love unknown, then known enjoyed; enjoyed, how long? the quarter of the time I loved in vain, and that poor quarter how oft crossed, afflicted, and tormented with all varieties of pains? yet my dear Lord thou ever wert most kind, and so true loving, as one death is too too little now to have for thee, although a wasting lingering end. Would ten times more I might bear, so thou wert fafe; unfortunate, but bravest Prince to be embraced in such a business, where not only honours, Crown, possessions, but thy life, must be a sacrifice, unto the pleasure of two young men.  
My sweetest love, thou must be the poor Lamb, offered for others faults. O my dear Polidorus, thou didst merit fame, and love, not trouble, and revenge; thou didst not err, but if thy Father did, must his sins lie on thee, and thou be punished for his pride? yet dear thou hast required my best love, and made provision for thy other self, for after thee, none should ere have had my love, since with thee it ought to have, as first creation, lasting burial, and that assurance thou hast given: but keep thy promise, which was, if with victory thou didst return to bring me unto thee, if thou wert killed, to be brought unto me, that in this vault we might have our graves, and that red Marble serve for such a Tomb, as might best witness, blood did cause our ends. Thou art o'erthrown, I find it dear, and hindered I am, confident else, none could keep thee from remembering thy poor love; but if thou wert so hindered, cursed be the causers, and my Destiny, to bar my last enjoying of my best loved Lord, & let those never joy in happiness of love that be the parters of our bodies; a poor gift it had been to give a chosen grave, alas he must be buried, and if so, where easier, and with lesser pains, or fitter then with her, that lives to dye, when she's certain what becomes of him? dear Polidorus, here I live to thy dear memory, feed on the sweetest word thou gavest me when we parted, but will live no longer than thy end be known to me. If thou be'st living quickly come to me, if dead, as soon the tidings, then shall I witness my constant woe, and pay to thee what thou deservedst, and only unto thee will I commend my love, and dying pains; others to others yield their last made vows, my first, and last were dedicated, and so given to thee, and thus a dying life do I continue in, till thou or thine release me unto thee.  
When she had ended these lamentable speeches, they tried to open the Chest, which easily they did; she seeing it open, her heart even opened with it, as embracing the joy her loved Lord should bring her, ready as it were to take, or love, or death, equally fit for either; the place by opening, being fit to be discovered, they found the stone to be like an upper box in a Cabinet lesser than the other, but part of it as the light to the ancient Halls in Princes houses: but this was dark; the lower part was a bed of gold, upon which she lay; her apparel a Robe of purple, embroidered as the King's Robes use to be, under that a petticoat, or round kirtle of Crimson; her arms, fingers, and neck, adorned with the richest jewels; her buskins were of white, laced up with Rubies, her hair combed down, and a Crown of infinite value on her head; a Sceptre in her hand, which at the opening of the Tomb she cast down, raising herself a little up, and throwing her arms abroad, ready to welcome her heart unto her, as if before gone thence. The sudden light to so much darkness, at the first dazzled her eyes, but when she recovered and saw in stead of Polidorus, two strangers, she crossed her arms, lay down again, seeming so like a dead body, as they were afraid, they had but heard a voice which caused their search, but that she had been dead, that spirit which she once had, had guided them to her. But soon were they put beyond that amazedness by her speech. If said she, you be of Polidorus servants, directed by him to bring me his death, quickly give me mine likewise, and then most welcome, or do but favour me so much, as to shut me up again; this is the Throne, and Tomb which I must have, and only will enjoy.  
The Kings, whose hearts were mollified with love, were so tempered to pity, as they were not able to know what to do, but gazed on her, who appeared the most peerless Tomb their eyes had ever beheld, and the strangest; they saw she lay still, like her own monument curiously cut. Alas said Amphilanthus, what comfort can a victory bring, that finds such a conclusion to accompany itself with all: A victory cried she, than raised she her sweet saddest self a little on one arm; I beseech you both, or either said she, be so charitable to tell me the truth, they loathe to tell her what must bring her death, yet still besought, and that implored with tears, they looked on one another, sighed, and with their eyes entreated each to speak; at last brave Amphilanthus as kind, as excellent in all other virtues gave these words.  
Madam said he, to obey you, whom we must after sue to for a favour, I will discover that, which my soul, (as for you, doth grieve for.) The Army is overthrown, and your beloved Lord, who we have heard you so much speak of. slain, said she, I see it in your face, though you will not in pity speak it. Charitable Sir, how am I bound to you? but I beseech you, add one favour more unto your first, and then an other as the last to that, where is his body? Laid said he in the chief Church among the other Kings, by Steriamus own command. It was an noble act of him said she, whom Heavens protect for it, mercy in Conquerors being as excellent as their fortunes: the last request I'll make Sir is this, that by your favours I may be laid by him, since I will not ask to have him brought to me, I am and was his wife, dearly beloved of him, and here for safety, and by mine own petition left by him. I was Daughter to a King, the unfortunate Plamergus, but my greatest happiness I ever gloryed in, was his true love, lay me then brave Sir, with my Lord, and only dear Polidorus, and thus my dear, my soul to thine doth fly.  
Amphilanthus did beseech, Selarinus wept to her; all would not serve, she stretched herself strait out, and by curious Art laid herself forth, fit to be carried to her burial, dying as if the word dead had killed her; excellent grief, and most excellent strength of passion, that can bring so resolute, and brave an end. The Kings then changed their discourse from love to sorrow; they stayed by her, seeking all means to recover her, but finding she was gone, and so all hope of life in her, they went into the Court, where they found the King new risen from Council, and all his Princes, and Lords about him. He went to meet them, but seeing such sorrow in their faces, wondered, and a little feared, but soon he was brought out of that, they telling him the cause, and sad adventure. Then he sent for the Guard, who had kept the late King Polidorus, of whom he understood, how he with tears entreated to be laid in a Tomb made by himself in the Orchard; but they, though he besought them to go to the Conqueror, (as he called Steriamus) and beseech that honour from himm, to perform a vow which he had made, they unwilling to busy themselves, fearing to distaste the King, had never let his last request be known; some said they thought his wounds, and pains of them, had made him rave, others, that being dead, what matter was it where his body lay? comparing him unto himself, who being gone said he, what care I where my body is bestowed? But these things Steriamus liked not, being so infinitely offended with them, as had it been a fault, they might have died for, they had surely paid their lives for such neglect, but not ascending to that height, he banished them, hating neglect to any creature dying, imagining his soul that dies unsatisfied, must part with trouble from the body, and for that was grieved; and this justice did he unto love, for which, love must be just to him.  
Then made he Proclamation for their banishment; and strait himself went with the whole assembly of Kings, and Princes fetching her, and went as the chief mourner with her, weeping to her grave; the other Kings did carry her, and were as they thought, honoured with the weight of such worth, and constancy, she seeming on their shoulders like her effigy, carried to her own Funeral. The Tomb was graced that night with her lying on it, the next morning with solemn state opened, and she laid by her Lord; this noble act did Steriamus as the first in Albania, & the beginning to his famous life. This being past, and a Commander left in that town, which was the chief seat of the Kings of those parts, and from whence all the Ancestors took their claim, the new and rightful King, marched again towards the third king, guided by his new servants, and followed with many great men of Albania, who like the world ran with the stream of Fortune, and left the overthrown party, as soon as it was made miserable with that knowledge. Antissius had had his time for leading: Leandrus now desired to have the next; it was granted him, and so they marched; Amphilanthus, now in the head of his own troops, Steriamus having a Guard of them, next his person, as their Country woman guarded his heart safe from hurt, or change: the Albanians next to them, which were in number that went forth with him after the two victories as many as were lost, so the Army was of the same bigness, as when it came into Albania. Perissus after he had left Neraena in all her rages for his neglect, yet saluing it, as desirous to deceive herself, with saying that the danger he found himself in of change, to his first, and only love, made him for fear leave her, not being able to withstand her power in love; but he in the contrary part pitying her, and weary of her frantic discourse left her, and with slew hundred Knights took Shipping, landing in Epirus, where he met the glad tidings of the victories, and winning Princes: then hasted he, guided by many, every one desirous to do service to him, or them that came to serve their King; he passed on quietly, for there was no resistance, but desirous to be with them, he commanded the rest of his train to come with more leisure after him, he posting away only with his Squire, and two guides. As he rid, it was his chance to meet two armed men, and two Squires, carrying each of them a great Sword, and Spear, they came to him with these words.  
Sir said they we be two young Princes, sons to the Duke of Corinthia, desirous we are of Knighthood, but such hath our fortunes been, as not being able to gain it as we desired, we resolved to take this course, and from the first Knights hands we met, (that was fit to give it us) to demand it; you look like such an one, wherefore from you we require it, yet we beseech you, tell us who we shall have it from. My name said he, it may be, will rather make me seem vuworthy of the honour you offer me, being scarce known in these parts, yet because you so civilly desire the knowledge of it, you shall have it, I am Perissus of Sicily; That name said they is come with wonder to our ears, and happiness to us to gain this honour from so royal hands; then lighting all on the ground Perissus took their swords, and girt them to them, putting on their Spurs, and so finishing their Knighthood, kissed them, being two delicate, and lovely youths.  
Now Sir said they, let us beseech one honour more from you, which is to run one course with each of us, not that we will seem ungrateful for this favour, but only to see what we may be able to do against you before we fall, since that we are to encounter the bravest man of the World, as he is esteemed, and for that cause we demanded Knighthood.  
Truly (said Perissus) I should be wonderful loath to harm you, so much I affect you; but first tell me who that brave man is, and if he be none of my best friends, I will serve you against him. That we do not desire (said they) for he having killed our father, we must revenge it ourselves, or die in the quarrel; therefore we beseech you first, let us be graced for our first trial to run with you, and we shall esteem it a happiness, though thrown by you: but to satisfy you, the Knight which we must fight with, is Amphilanthus, who coming to my father's house, used himself so insolently, as he a grave man could not like it, boasting of what gain he had of the honours of Ladies, in that dishonouring many, one amongst that number being the Princess of Stiria, a Lady my father honoured much, and was his Niece, whose honour he could not leave touched unrevenged. But he ancient, the other strong and young, got the better so much, as he slew my father: we being then too young to carry arms (for is is three years since we were with poor & miserable patience, forced to be at quiet). Now we have traveled, half a year we have spent to find some worthy Prince, at last by storm were cast on shore in this Country, where we heard of these brave wars, & now we were going to receive the honour from one of those Kings, and strait to challenge Amphilanthus, who we hear is there. Truly (said Perissus) you have undertaken a very hard task, but I pray tell me what manner of man is that Prince you speak of. He is, said he, much of your stature, fair, and curled hair he hath, and in troth such an one, as may well win Ladies, and such is his fame, as we desire to die by his hand, for we cannot hope to overcome him. To this end said Perissus, you shall excuse me from running with you, and assure yourselves, you are infinitely mistaken in him, for the true Amphilanthus is neither of the stature nor complexion you speak of, but as excellent a creature, as can, or hath been framed by Nature, free from these things, he is accused of, therefore be persuaded by me, go into the Army with me, if when you see him it prove to be he, I will then not only fulfil your desire in this, but bring you to call him unto account; yet trust me on my honour it is not he, for he is as wise as valiant, and just as wise.  
Thus satisfied they rid together towards the Army, which then was marching, and making haste to the third encounter, which was to be had with Nicholarus, an other partaker of Albania's misery, and Steriamus injury.  
As they road, Perissus thinking of his Limena, the two young Knights of nothing more than how to attain to some encounter to try their valour, it was one of their chances (being the elder, and riding nearer a wood side then the others did) to hear two within discoursing in this manner.  
I wonder said the one, that Amphilanthus, the worthiest, bravest Prince for all noble virtues should let ingratitude live in him, (a thing I have so often heard him despise) especially to a Lady, who (as by her letter you may see) for his sake hath refused all matches offered her, wholly reserving herself for him, now to forsake her, and not only so, but in her sight striving to let her see her loss, and to use her with such scorn, as her affection is forced to change love to a friend, to an enemy; Yet to move me to revenge her, who am most bound unto him, I more marvel at; for he only hath set my Crown upon my head.  
Must I be made to fight with him, who fought for me? Shall I seek to take that life from him, which was so willingly and bravely ventured to keep mine? Or to make mine fortunate; from a Runaway and poor Fisher-boy he made me a King, for one whose head was at sale, he brought a Crown unto it, and royal dignity to the poorest Subject. Shall I (I say) turn against this man, as if the longer I knew virtue, the more I should dislike it? No Antissia, love is full of variety in Passions, and many false conceits will arise; which, when discovered, sorrow is the period, but repentance may follow this.  
Besides, Love tells me I must love these Kings, else how shall I obtain my wished blessing to enjoy sweet Selarina; but indeed truth says, I must not be unthankful. I would venture far for thy good sweet Antissia, and prefer thy gain equal with mine own, but neither must make me ungrateful. From Amphilanthus I have got my life, and fortune, to him they both belong, and they shall be paid to serve him, not to offend him, my Sword to attend him, not to hurt him. Shall this be requital for his last care of me in the battle against Polidorus, where he rescued me, and horsed me again? That had been enough to win respect, and truth in love, both together set as obligations never to be broken, nor shall be touched by me. I love my Aunt well, but my honour more; then must she pardon me, I will not fight with him for her. Amphilanthus, replied the other, hath been so blessed with fortune, as he hath obliged the best to be his servants by his favours done them; who lives of all these Princes in the Army, that hath not (at some one time or other) directly taken their lives from him; the bravest he hath saved, and the valiantest rescued, my poor self released from cruel, close, and dangerous imprisonment. These I consider and allow, but then comes love, and tells me, he must be obeyed, my vow unto your Aunt commandeth me, and that I must observe; she wills me to kill Amphilanthus, and then she will marry me. And this you will attempt, said Antissius? Attempt, win or die in it, said Dolorindus. You must first begin with me, said Antissius, if you be resolute in it, and will suffer the canker, ingratitude, to rule: but think again; for rather had I do any reasonable matter, then break friendship with you, yet rather that, than where I am so infinitely bound, and more contentedly die thus, then live to have a thought to hurt that Prince. I love Antissia, said he, yet must I consent to withstand you, since you leave the due respect to Antissia, which blood and her affection to you may claim, it frees me who loved you most for her sake; nay it commands, and threatens me; wherefore I am ready to encounter you first.  
As they were going to venture an end to their lives, two Knights more arrived, and seeing them ready to fight, stepped in between them. They furious, and enraged with their let, demanded who they were. I am, said one of them, Ollorandus: and I, said the other, Amphilanthus. With that Dolorindus turned on him; And you (said he) are the man I looked for: with that they fell to blows, his Companion did the like, but Antissius a little paused, and having asked a question or two more of him, was assured by his voice and gesture, it was not his friend Ollorandus. Dolorindus so furious, as his senses had left him to ignorance of voice or knowledge. Then hoping the other was that counterfeit Amphilanthus, he willingly entertained the combat, which was sharp. Dolorindus did well, but had the worse; for how could it other be, that name being enough to vanquish without force. He fell, and his enemy being ready to cut off his head, the brave Perissus came to the young Knight, who had heard all this, and stepped in; Nay Amphilanthus said he, hold your hands, here is another hath as much to say to you for killing his father, Prince of Carinthia.  
He remembered that, and he turned unto him, and a new fight began, wherein the young Knight did so well (helped too a little by his enemy's weariness, the which gave advantage to him, who had otherwise been too hard for him) as he brought him to the like pass Dolorindus was in: but when he had him thus, less favour was showed in more speed, for he had got off his Helm and Head, before help could come in, although Perissus hearing the name, made all the means he could to save his life for names sake only, he came to hear the young Prince say, Farewell Amphilanthus, I am now revenged of thee; and I, said Antissius for the abominable treason, in taking such Prince's names upon you. The Prince of Carinthia held the head in his hand, which when Perissus saw, he was sorry, because it had carried that name, but could not but much praise Fortune, who had so cunningly wrought the satisfaction to the Princes, the punishment for falsehood, and the revenge of love. They took up Dolorindus, who was wounded with shame, as much as with the Sword, weakness from fury getting place; he wept, and petitioned for favour from Antissius, he confessed his fault to be fouler than sin.  
Antissius replied, he must first satisfy Amphilanthus, than he should answer him. He vowed never to fight with him. The brave young King told him, he was contented with that, so he submitted to the king of the Romans, and that should be the satisfaction he would take. Perissus in the mean time had gotten the slain Knights Squires to him, to be resolved of this cozenage; they had not full knowledge of it, but the other Knight not being dead, he conjured him to relate it, and why? to have as he told him the happiness to end in more quiet, when he might with a clearer conscience depart. He yielded unto him, and made a true and plain confession to him in this manner.  
My friend (said he) being in love with the excellent Princess of Croatia, neither having means by estate to gain her, nor hope to win her by his love or service, she having resolved to love none but Amphilanthus, love having conquered an unusual way on her, when only fame, not sight, or knowledge, but by reports had grounded such an affection in her. He obtained to know where that brave Prince remained, he was certified, that he was in a search for a Sister of his, some time unheard of. In this unlucky season he took his name upon him; after hearing of his Companion, Ollorandus, he enjoined me to take his name likewise on me; truly I must confess it was an unexcusable fault, and the greater, because those names, especially his, was so honoured, as wheresoever we passed, we had our own wills. Knights refused to combat with us, Ladies soon yielded, believing they ought not to refuse what he demanded, who commanded all hearts. I also had my share in this pleasure, as now in death. He won the Princess of Croatia, left her afterwards, keeping the same name, finding such sweetness in it: but now being here, and the true Amphilanthus his fame flourishing for his incomparable glory, we purposed not to tarry, knowing it would prove too hot a business for us, if once it came to his ears. Wherefore we made what haste we could to get to the Sea, and so meant to leave these parts to his true light, and carry a few flashes with us in farther remote places. Into great Britain we meant to pass, but now are stayed by your force, we were Gentlemen of noble houses, but such hath been our ill living, as I desire for him, and myself we may be privately buried here, never more enquired after, nor if you please to favour your own worth so much henceforth mentioned, letting our shames die, and be enclosed in the earth with us.  
Perissus promised to fulfil some of those requests, the rest were not in his power, such a business depending upon their knowledge, as the reconciling of such Princes. There they were buried, and the three Kings took their way to a little house in the Wood, where they more freely discussed of the matter, which was this.  
Antissia after her return, filled with hate in stead of love, never left plotting for revenge, till this came (as often it doth in her sex) into her mind; whereupon she writ to her Nephew; but if that failed, she trusted on her servant, and therefore likewise did she write to him: a letter from her was a comfort sufficient, but a command, his honour, and happiness. This was the cause, and nothing but death would satisfy her, as at that time her fury was nothing being so revengeful as a forsaken woman, shame like love provoking her; and that he freely granted her, though it had fallen out to be his own to have paid her.  
Antissius mistrusting as much by his distemper, led him forth of the Town to this place: the same day the Army marched thence toward Nicolarus; there they had remained till Perissus his finding them; Antissius striving to dissuade Dolorindus persisting in his resolution, which had end by this adventure. They stayed there till he was something recovered, in which time the Sicilians arrived with whom they all followed the Army, but Dolorindus afflicted doubly left them to their will, he following a course to redeem his honour quenched. They arriving found the King's ready to give battle, the Army was ordered before their coming, wherefore those troops stood by themselves to watch when they might assist, and not trouble them.  
Antissia after she had fed herself with this fury, was more than satisfied, for Envy being a little appeased, she came to her good nature again, or love, or fear, or, and indeed all passions, whirling about like a wheel they draw wire out with all: so drew she painful thoughts, longer than before, lengthened, with despair; for now said she, wretched Antissia, what hope can be so flattering, as to show itself in any colour like itself to help thee? Amphilanthus must for ever hate thee, and all his friends despise thee. Thou hast engaged a loving King, who will (I am assured) be so oreruled by thy commands as he will lose his life for thee.  
How can Negropont forgive me? but most I have offended mine own Country dear Romania, in seeking to make thee a widow by losing her King, who if he meet Amphilanthus in the field, is sure to dye for it; if not, yet have I sought to murder his honour, in desiring to make him ungrateful: either way I am a Traitor to my Country, and deserve the sharpest punishment. Yet I hope they will consider what unquiet passions may produce, and like men, have staider judgements about them, then on my request to endanger themselves, or let their honours perish for my wil This hope pleaseth me, but now again, I doubt; O fond Antissia, wicked Antissia, to let so vild a thought inhabit in thee: it had been too much to be nourished, and brought to the ripeness of so much mischief.  
Alas sweetest Pamphilia, how mayst thou curse me, for having a thought to hurt thy love? much more to plot his ruin, and so thine in his; yet thou art the cause; for had he not changed from me to thee, all had been safe, yet I may wrong thee this way too: how know I that he loved me first, may it not be, that he did love thee long before I saw Morea? His fashion at the first encounter 'twixt you, when we came to Mantinaea, expressed a dear respect, and familiar love, than I wronged thee, to purchase him. If from thee he did change, the blame is there, and I ask pardon for it; but pardon cannot be, where so much ill remains.  
What shall I do most miserable creature, wretched beyond all women, and not fit to live? How ever businesses pass, thou art a mere shame to thy sex, and the disgrace of lovers. Die cruel Antissia, and abuse not this place with thy vild living in it. How can this earth bear without swallowing thee up? considering that he brought quiet peace, the blessing of a Country unto it. But thy hate is such to me, as thou wilt not let me lodge within thee, but rather doth cast me out, like the worst weeds, to ease thyself of the poison I am filded withal, and to expose me to the end, worst serpents are brought to, which ought to be destroyed, lest they infect the earth; and should I be slain for my venomous practice, and have no burial, I were justly used, who could not bury a little loss without the grave were lined with murder.  
A little loss said I, no sure it is the greatest; yet love should still be love, & not let malice be the Hyaena to so sweet a Prince. Perplexed wretch, what shall I do? wander away? abide not here for shame, the air cannot afford thee breath, the ground rest, nor thine own lost self quiet. Cursed be thy days, and thou the most accursed soul living; end, or be transformed to misery itself, and be any thing rather than Antissia. Sought I to make Antissius ungrateful? cursed was the act, and I accursed in it. Would I have Dolorindus kill Amphilanthus? why did not that desire murder, or indeed justly execute me? Hate is above all, and highlyest to be hated, and if that to be misprized, what must the Nurse be that nourished it? As a mother of a brave good son, is reverenced, and sought: so may I be hated, and shunned for this birth. Romania I am a Traitor to thee, thou canst not but abhor me. I am guilty, accuse myself, and know what thou must do in justice to be revenged on me. I will fly from thee, and ever blame myself. Then went she down out of her chamber, taking to the walk she had described to Amphilanthus, and Pamphilia, there she walked like a hurt Dear, staying no where, vexed, and tormented, thinking stirring, and running would help, but all proved contrary, she must yield to her hurt, and lie down with her harm. There she passed up and down till a boat came in: she asked of what place they were; they said of Metelin: when they returned, they answered instantly when they had unladed. In conclusion, she agreed with them, and so returned better quieted, because business employed her. She was now resolved to go, who to take with her she must think of, what manner to go in, what provision to carry with her. These employed her wits, so as she grew to be a little pacified, and these things to put the other out of mind, at least the minds trouble with perpetual vexation. But when she was ready to take her journey, many great Ladies came to visit her, as if sent to hinder her; she took it so, and although a Princess who loved noble conversation, yet coming unwished for, it now perplexed her; her judgement commanded, and she entertained them, discharged her Bark, and stayed with them. Her sorrow she covered, or masked, with the absence of her Nephew; but Lucenia was one, and one bred in Love's School, she knew her pain, and the cause of it, and wrought so well on it, as she had what she came for, and left Antissia, a more unquiet woman than she found her, adding to the aptness of her amorous nature, correcting her thoughts, and making dangerous additions to her passion; if one woman's hate be harmful, what must two be, and specially two such? for she had merited all, though Lucenia revenged not.  
Amphilanthus I pity thee, who for all noble parts oughtest to be admired, and art reverenced of all, being matchless in all virtues, except thy love; for inconstancy, was, and is the only touch thou hast, yet can I not say, but thou art constant to love; for never art thou out of love, but variety is thy stain, yet lest is that blame of any, were not peril to ensue, plots laid to destroy thee, yet wilt thou pass them all, and be thyself; Women are ominous to thee, shun them, and love her firmly who only loveth thee.  
Her secret journey, or pilgrimage thus put by, she remained like a Nettle, hardly scaping the weeders hand, but growing on, turns to seed, and from thence springs hundreds as stinging: so did she, (scaping out of good Nature's corrections) overgrowe by envious absence, to the seeding plenty of all mischief's growth, Now she commends her first action, prays for the proceeding: loves Dolorindus if he performs her command, vows hatred to him if he attempt it not, and so far it spread itself, as when she confessed him too weak to encounter her Love-growne-enemy, she suffered Treason to say he ought to be employed, and that he should revenge her wrong, so as she was so far from fearing his harm, as she studied ways how to harm him, & having found them, wished them all presenting themselves before Dolorindus, that he might choose the most mischeving, & most speeding hurt for him. Sometime Lucenia stayed with her, and so bewitched her with her witty person now, as she would return with her; virtuous friendship never linked so fast, as those conditions tied themselves together, and all employed against the worthiest man the earth carried, the true sum for excellent light of his time, and for whose sake the Sun would hide himself, in grief he could not shine so bright as his glory did; Fame spreading like his beams about him, rich, fair, clear, and hit equally, and surpassing him,  
Lucenia and Antissia knew this, this increased love to breed envy, and malice, because they enjoyed him not, and so in the end, all his virtues were but ways for their ill to travel in, the more to hate him; for, the braver they confessed him, the greater worth to be in him, the fuller happiness she was blest with that held his love, made them to see their loss, and as from twilight to Sun rising they increased in fury, and so built their ill, upon his excellent deservings; thus may goodness be a ground to ill, and thus wrought they. They that before heard not his name without heart-leaping, now with scorn to think that cruel thought of being left, his remembrance is with cursings as with prayers, with blames as with joys, and all changed like Snow to dirty water, wherein they drowned their amorous thoughts, and brought forth cutting Sedges of hatred against the exquisite Prince, springing out of the foul mud of their devilish dispositions. At last it was agreed on, that if he escaped from their hands, he should be invited, or trained thither, (being assured of the secret carriage of their plots) and to some other place where they might have their ends. Envy, what canst thou bring forth more in abundance, than the richest root of goodness? like a staulke on which divers colours, and several flowers grow: not like a pure Lily of chaste, and virtuous love. Pamphilia in this flourished, who longed for nothing but power, or means to express her love by; She now in her Country, alone spent her time as a faithful lover doth, never but thinking of him, calling all delightful times they had enjoyed, to mind, joying in them, as in blessings, never thinking of blessedness, but when she might think of seeing him; to which end, and to cover her longing with some probable occasion of bringing her nearer to him, she called her people, and after she had gained their consents for a journey to visit her aged father, being moved unto it, both by reason of his weakness, and the desire he had once to see all his children together, which he should do, at their return from Albania; besides to meet her most honoured friend, the widow Queen of Naples, whom in many years she had not seen; these were fair motives, had there not been a fairer, and more dear one, which darkened these with the greater light of love.  
Well, she prepares for the journey in infinite pomp, she goes attended on by the best of the Kingdom; a grave, and good Council she left behind her, to govern in her absence. As she was ready to Ship, there arrived Orilena, of purpose come to visit her, but finding her ready to leave Pamphilia, she consented to accompany her into Morea. As they sailed, all their discourse was of love, Orilena being as fit a companion as might be for the sad Queen: both their loves absent, both extremely loving. While they were at Sea, they made verses, comparing the evening to the coolness of absence, the day break, to the hope of sight, and the warmth to the enjoying, the waves to the swelling sorrows their breasts endured, and every thing they made to serve their turns, to express their affections by. By the Sun they sent their hot passions to their loves; in the cold Moon's face writ Characters of their sorrows for their absence, which she with pale wan visage delivered to their eyes, grieved as to the death, she could not help those amorous Ladies; yet Pamphilia was most to be pitied, because her love was most, and most painful to endure, as being haunted with two hellish Spirits of keeping it secret, and bearing the weight itself. The other Lady had more liberty, so more ease, for she might boldly say she wanted Philarchos, and bewailed his absence, yet never did she so, but Pamphilia sighed with her, and so sisterlike condoled with her, as she excelled her in passion, which made some eroniously say, that counterfeiting was more excellent than true suffering, because judgement governs where passions are free, when fully possessed they master beyond, and so express not so well, as if ruled with discretion; for an Actor knows when to speak, when to sigh, when to end: a true feeler is as wrapped in distempers, and only can know how to bear. Many of these passages there were in dispute, none scaping censure, how great, or good soever.  
These Ladies standing one day upon the Hatches, they saw a little Bark come towards them; Pamphilia commanded the Boat to be called to them, which was done, when out of her came a well known Squire from him, she most loved, he kneeled, and presented her with letters, and in them a token from him; she took them with such joy, as her heart, did like the waves, swell: her colour came into her face, and she was so surprised with content, as she could not tell what to say unto him; at last she remembered that she was not alone, but that she must consider all, eyes were not her servants, she corrected herself, yet could not blame that passion for so deserving a cause. My dear said she, I cannot hide my happiness, nor am I sorry for it, since it is for thee, I suffer this, unless that holding it so dear, I may grudge any should partake of it. Yet calling her senses more about her, to avoid suspicion, she demanded how Parselius, Rosindy, and Philarchos did, and Amphilanthus said she, I hope also doth well. That came out so sweetly, and lovingly, as one might judge, she asked for the rest for his sake, because she would name him, or named him last, as more to stick in memory. Orilena was so desirous to know, how her Philarchos did, as she ne'er heeded how Pamphilia carried herself. Surpassing passion, excellent, still govern, how delicate is thy force? How happy thy rule, that makes such excellent women thy subjects? made so by thy government, instructed by thy skill, taught by thy learning, and indeed made by thee. Be thou still, and worthily adored, and this Pamphilia doth agree to; excellent Queen, the true pattern of excellent affection, and affections truth. She than called the Messenger, and having called her Spirits to her, asked particularly of the estate of Albania.  
He related the whole discourse, as instructed to set forth his Lord to his own love; she needed not much inviting to that banquet, this discourse fed her day and night. They talked of the wars, and of the brave Champions, whose honours were never greater, than when extolled by her. At last to Morea they came, the King and Queen coming two day's journey to meet her, the most perfect Queen her Cousin, joying in her sight, as in heavenly happiness, for so she held her Dear. Great joy was made for her coming, and still augmentations of that by the news from the Army ever bringing good. Urania's rejoiced, and Philistella was overcome with content: sweet Selarina was as glad as any, but her passions were moderate, and discreetly held themselves within, yet she would finely (though in show carelessly) inquire how Antissius prospered. The other Ladies would smile at it, and sometimes to make sport so prettily anger her, as was delightful pastime; every one envious to have each others passions known; not doubting but their own were equally discovered, jealous only of each others power, for being better able to conceal their flames then themselves; here did Love truly, and royally triumph.  
Pamphilia gotten alone, looked as often on the token, as her hearts eyes looked on the sender; it was his picture: she kissed it, she laid it and wore it continually in her breast; careful she was, lest her Chambermaid might see it, because it was more than her reservedness did warrant, yet rather had she all should know and see it, then be one minute hindered from the enjoying it so near; My dear self (would she say) what happiness find I in thee? how am I blessed alone in thee? and above all by thee? Dearer part of my soul, take the other to thee, pure love calls thee to acceptance, and thou dost, I hope, take what I so firmly give thee. What shall I say? thou sayst thou wilt not be ungrateful, I assure myself of that, and blame myself extremely, if I said any thing might make thee think I doubted thee; thou knowest I never urged so much, as by question to know, if thou didst love me. I saw it, what needed I to ask, much less to fear. No sweetest love, I love too much to mistrust, and love thee more than to demand assurance, which needs not, where such confidence remains, nor is fit, since if manlike thou shouldest once live to change, thy change would grieve my heart, but kill my soul to know, thou wert both changing and forsworn, falsehood were double here, and single even enough to murder me: but those dear eyes assure me, those lips swell in anger I should thus dispute then, and now dearest, take mine unto thine, which with whispering let my breath say, I do long only to see them move again, and tell me of thy love, soul's comfort; how I see in my soul spirit-like clear, and bodiless from corruption, govern and command like love; a thing adored and reverenced, but not seen, except to lovers: so art thou to me, my spirit, and my All.  
While she was thus in love's best clothes apparelled, the bravest of Ladies of her time came to her, finding her in her ancient loving walk; she met her with joy and respect, knowing her so worthy, as she was only fit to be mother to such a son, who alone deserved so matchless a mother. To her she went, who in her arms entertained her, that humbly took her favour with a low reverence, which love made her yield her. No time was lost between them, for each minute was filled with store of wit, which passed between them, as grounds are with shadows where people walk: and the longer they discoursed still grew as much more excellent, as they, to nightward seem longer.  
Among other speech the Queen of Naples asked Pamphilia what she heard of the wars in Albania. She discoursed it all unto her, but the last business seemed the strangest, & unusuallest, said she, although Polidorus his fortune in his wife's affection was rare, the discourse was this. Nicholarus (being one of the Kings of Albania, as they falsely termed themselves) a Gentleman endued with all virtuous parts of learning, courage, and in truth, all that could be required in a brave man, yet was encountered with a stronger enemy than his judgement could resist, which was love, and love of one, who for his misery loved another. Nicholarus came oft where she was, oft showed his affection, the other came with him, as if to glory in his mastery, or to enjoy with triumph what was refused this King, as a prisoner led, is a more glorious spectacle, then to know he is in a Tower: so are injoying before refused more happy, and prized, then if by stealth, or kept in private, though love can be held as dear and best. The poor Prince having a Scarf by cunning love thrown over his eyes, never misdoubted any thing, still loving, and cherishing him more than any, because he saw she respected him. Once to her house he came, where they were entertained, as their places and dignities required, but the lover as love commanded. The Prince, or King, or what you will call him, because in his Neighbour's Country, watched as he thought an opportunity, and in the morning when they were to meet the other Kings who were near to that place, assembled about an especial business of hunting: her husband loving that sport well, was soon up, and called the King; he employed him in some other business, while he went unto his wife, whom he found in her chamber in bed, attending (not his Majesty) but the King of her heart. She rose up in her bed, and opened the Curtain with love, and joy in her face and eyes. He took it meant to him when he perceived it, for hard was such a joy as she expected, to be drawn back on the sudden; but when, like violence followed, for her smile was frowning, her joy displeasure, her rising to embrace him, to turning her face from him, her speech to welcome him, to crying out, I wonder (said she) my maids have thus betrayed me, leaving the Chamber open to my shame. Alas, my Lord, I wonder what you mean to come this way, it is an ill one, and unfit for you. I have not mistaken, said he, I come to visit you, and to entreat you. What to do my Lord, said she? To pity me, said he. To dishonour myself, cried she. Why? if you can but pity me, you may, answered he. Pity of myself makes me refuse you, replied she. What can you pity in yourself, said he? to deny me for? The honour (answered she) which calls to me for respect, and care, which borne with me, is my fathers, and my brothers, and my houses, these claim my care and pitey.  
None need know your favour to me, but yourself and myself, who with all affection ask it, and with all truth will keep it close. I cannot, nor will not trust mine own soul with unworthiness, lest accusation justly merited, fall on me, and inwardly afflict me; therefore my Lord I beseech you (said she) be satisfied, and as you protest to love me, make demonstration of it, and leave me pure from touch of any ill, but your discourse, which so far hath troubled me, as I truly swear, I never was more molested in my days.  
He with that drew his sword, whether to threaten her with harm, if she consented not, or to make her yield, by offering violence on himself, I know not, but she was distempered with the manner, and wished her love, or husband, the worse of the two by much, had been present. The better happened, for her servant came at the instant, hindered it seemed only by higher powers to stay, to serve her, his affection else bringing him usually rather before, then after time, and so soon some times, as he hath been forced to use his best wits for his excuse, yet now he came late, but in best time for her. His coming in, made the King start, and strait put up his Sword, making some feigned, and so idle cause for drawing it. He strait left the room, and the other attended him, till he saw him horsed; then returning to his love, came to excuse, and to be certain; excuse himself for stay, and to be resolved of his being there in that sort. She wept for both, telling him, that he had betrayed her, he grieved to be taxed so, yet with much ado gained the truth; then was he joyed, and tormented, joyed with her loyalty, vexed that his negligence had given such advantage to his Rival.  
All or both causes of trouble at last were ended, and concluded with the sum of blessedness, content in affection. The King yet left it not thus, but pursues with fair words, and letters what he sought; She with as fair (but not so kind) replies, gained that he troubled her not in some months with such importunity.  
At last he writ some Verses to her, wherein he commended variety in love, as inviting her unto it, being the most pleasing and fruitful, telling her whom he could love, on all causes and reasons, as either beauty, greatness, wit, or for variety's sake itself could move him. The copy of his I have not, but most excellent Madam (said she) by hers you may see what he hath said, and hers be these, and these your most excellent Son hath sent me, for Nicholarus is his prisoner, taken, and saved by him in the last Battle, that Country wholly by the matchless King of Naples conquered, and won; for by his coming, Polidorus was vanquished, and Nicholarus quite overthrown, now remaining but one more to be subdued, and then Steriamus hath all, and for that, all must thank Amphilanthus. And he your love (said the Queen) who thus commendeth him. She blushed to hear her judgement so free with her. She kissed her, and willed her not to fear, though she discovered her, but proceed sweet Niece, said she. The Verses Madam (said she) were these.  
THe joy yond say the Heavens in motion try  
Is not for change, but for their constancy.  
Should they stand still, their change you then might move,  
And serve your turn in praise of fickle love.  
That pleasure is not but diversified,  
Plainly makes proof your youth, not judgement tried.  
The Sun's renewing course, yet is not new,  
Since 'tis but one set course he doth pursue,  
And though it feigned be, that he hath changed,  
'twas when he from his royal seat hath ranged:  
His glorious splendour, free from such a stain,  
Was forced to take new shapes, his end to gain.  
And thus indeed the Sun may give you leave,  
To take his worst part, your best to deceive.  
And whereof he himself hath been ashamed,  
Your greatness praiseth, fitter to be blamed,  
Nothing in greatness loves a strange delight,  
Should we be governed then by appetite?  
A hungry humour, surfeiting on ill,  
Which Glutton-like with cramming will not fill.  
No Serpent can bring forth so foul a birth,  
As change in love, the hatefullst thing on earth.  
Yet you do venture this vice to commend,  
As if of it, you Patron were, or Friend.  
Foster it still, and you shall true man be  
Who first for change, lost his felicity.  
Rivers ('tis true) are clearest when they run,  
But not because they have new places won;  
For if the ground be muddy where they fall,  
The clearness with their change, doth change with all,  
Lakes may be sweet, if so their bottoms be;  
From roots, not from the leaves our fruit we see.  
But love too rich a prize is for your share,  
Some little idle liking he can spare  
Your wit to play withal; but true love must  
Have truer hearts to lodge in, and more just,  
While this may be allowed you for love's might,  
As for days glory framed was the night.  
That you can outward fairness so affect,  
Shows that the worthier part you still neglect.  
Or else your many change best appears;  
For beauty changeth faster than the years:  
And that you can love greatness, makes it known,  
The want of height in goodness of your own.  
'twas not a happiness in ancient time  
To hold plurality to be no crime,  
But a mere ignorance, which they did mend,  
When the true light did glorious lustre lend.  
And much I wonder you will highly rate  
The brutish love of Nature, from which state  
Reason doth guide us, and doth difference make  
From sensual will, true reasons laws to take.  
Were't not for Reason, we but brutish were,  
Nor from the beasts did we at all differ;  
Yet these you praise, the true style opinion,  
By which truths government is shroudly gone.  
Honour by you esteemed a title, true,  
A title cannot claimed by change as due.  
It is too high for such low worth to reach,  
Heaven gifts bestow'th as to belong to each.  
And this true love must in revenge bestow  
On you, his sacred power, with pain to know:  
A love to give you fickle, loose, and vain,  
Yet you with ceaseless grief, seek to obtain  
Her fleeting favours, while you wailing prove,  
Merely for punishment a steady love:  
Let her be fair, but false, great, disdainful,  
chaste, but to you, to all others, gainful,  
Then shall your liberty and choice be tie  
To pain, repentance, and (the worst sin) pride.  
But if this cannot teach you how to love,  
Change still, till you can better counsel prove:  
Yet be assured, while these conceits you have,  
Love will not own one shot (you say) he gave.  
His are all true, all worthy, yours unjust,  
Then (changing you) what can you from him trust.  
Repentance true felt, oft the Gods doth win,  
Then in your Wain of love, leave this foul sin:  
So shall you purchase favour, banish shame,  
And with some care obtain a lover's name.  
These Verses being sent to Nicholarus, by the same messenger that brought his, he fell into so violent a despair, and hate of himself, as being more subject to passion, than strength of judgement, or power of virtue, he grew distracted, or indeed stark mad, so as care was had of him, and governors set about him, as over his estate; till at last by diligence, & faithful Physicians, & servants, he recovered; but how; only to be made more miserable, or to have juster cause to be mad, as if the other were not sufficient; for then succeeded the invasion and he gained his wits to see his Country lost, and feel his weakness in estate, as before in sense, yet was he happier then, for that want, made him not want it, this finds it. In his mad fits he once writ to her, and would needs convey it by a Romanian, who then waited on him. He honestly delivered it but more honestly wept, and bewailed his Lord's misfortune. She carried it bravely, and that is all can be said; for what should she, or could she do loving an other? she was (no question) sorry in a noble sort, but not in respect, that had he been other she must have run a greater danger in hazard of her honour, and breach in faith to her beloved. This made her imagine the other the less, and her fortune the better.  
The same Lady, and her lover likewise, (but at several times) were brought to the victorious King, whose pardons he gained, being as merciful, as brave; and this relation have I from the Prince of Savoy, a Gentleman excellently bred, and discreetly living, good as any, learned above ordinary Princes, and delicately skilled in Poetry. This discourse he hath put in verse, which is that I meant he sent me, and daintily expressed all the passions: The Queen of Naples desired to see it, she promise the performance; then walked they a little farther, still taulking of love, the brave Queen longing to hear the young Queen confess, she willing enough if to any she would have spoken it, but he, and she must only be rich in that knowledge.  
In the evening the other Princess came unto them, and so all attended the rare Lady into the Palace, who was as perfect in Poetry, and all other Princely virtues as any woman that ever lived, to be esteemed excellent in any one, she was stored with all, and so the more admirable. With in a short time after the King of Morea intending to meet the Princes, who he imagined would be in that time upon their return, determined to encounter them, (more clearly to see his love) for he took a journey towards them, and so resolved to remove his Court to Corinth, that famous, ancient, and fair City; there he purposed to stay, and to have the fitter opportunity to entertain them: how happy a resolution in show this was for the amorous Ladies, lovers can well, and best conjecture.  
Being arrived at that beautiful place, the young loving Princesses must needs see the Sea, and not only that, but go upon it; Pamphilia went to the shore with them, but then considered her gravity was too much in the opinion of the world to enter into so slight an action, wherefore desired pardon. They would not allow it her, but with sweet persuasions, and enticements got her a board with them; they sailed some leagues from the shore with much pleasure, (and as they called it) content, Pamphilia and Urania discoursing, Philistella, and Selarina: Orilena was at that time with the Queen of Naples, whom they would not call, lest their journey might be hindered; thus they plotted to deceive themselves, and ran from safety to apparent danger, for what is the Sea but uncertainty.  
Why should Pamphilia, (unless on necessity) venture her constant self in such a hazard, as if to tempt her enemy? which surely she did, for she grew angry to see she was made to serve her perfections, & in fury waxed in raged, the Ship grew kindly with bending herself to each wave to ask pity, and bowing with reverence to demand safety, and return. But she the more sought to, like a proud insolent woman, grew the more stout, and haughty, regarding nothing more than her own pride and striving to molest those beauties. The Ladies cried; the Sea unmercifully stubborn, was deaf to their laments. They besought, she came up to the very sides of the Ship, as if to hearken, but then slid down, and smiled at their fear, and rose again in glorious height to behold more of their sorrows. O said Pamphilia, when did I ever play so foolish a part? justly may I be condemned for this error, and blamed for so much lightness; how she despised herself, and complained to her love, how she accused all but him, how she wept, and as it were saw by the course, a coming harm to her soul, which then, and after, for a long space best knew the hurt, wailing in condemning her. The storm continued, the winds calling loud to the Sea, to assist, or continue her fury. To the shore of either side they could not get; Fortune would not permit aught but misfortune to govern; at last they were quite carried out of the Gulf, and being in the Adriatic Sea, the Ship was tossed as pleased Destiney, till at last she was cast upon a Rock, and split, the brave Ladies saved, while she a while lay tumbling, and beating herself, as hoping to make way into the hard stone, for those, who could pierce the stoniest heart with the least of their looks.  
When they were got upon the Rock, and seeing no place but itself, (which appeared to be at first but small) they were in an excessive perplexity, wishing rather in the storm to have been swallowed, then brought thither to some hope, and then cast into the depth of Despair, except it were to be famished there.  
Pamphilia most patiently took it, at least most silently: She climbing the Rock till at the top she discovered a fine Country, and discerned before her a delicate plain, in the midst whereof was a most sumptuous building, of Marble, she joyfully called to the other, who followed her, and viewing it, I fear this storm, and adventure said Urania, ever since I was carried to Cyprus; if it be an enchantment, woe be to us, who may be bewitched to the misery of never seeing our desires fulfilled, once was I made wretched by such a mischief. Let it be what it will said Pamphilia, I will see the end of it, led as in a dream by the leader, not with bewitching dull spirit but craft. You may said Urania, having had such success in the last, yet take heed, all adventures were not framed for you to finish. Nor for you to be enchanted in, answered she. So they went on, the two other marking what they did, who sent some one, or two of their servants to discover what this was. They found a round building like a Theatre, carved curiously, and in mighty pillars; light they might in many places discern between the pillars of the upper row, but what was within, they could not discover, nor find the gate to enter it. With this they returned, the Ladies proceeded, and arriving there, found it just as the servants had described; but more curiously beholding it, they found in one of the pillars, a letter engraven, and on an other, another letter. They understood not the meaning, while Pamphilia (more desirous of knowledge than the rest) went as far behind that pillar as she could, and there perceived a space, as if half of the pillar, and then a plain place, & so half of the other behind it had left a passage through them. She came back and finding her imagination likely, she lookd' upon the middle plain which made the space, while the four pillars making a square, and therein found a keyhole. She looked for the key, while the other three did likewise busy themselves in such search, having found in every plain such a place, Pamphilia at last found the key, at the foot of one of the pillars. She took it, and tried to open it, which presently it did, as if opening itself willingly to her power, or renting itself asunder, to let her go into it. Instantly appeared as magnificent a Theatre, as Art could frame. The other Princes seeing it open came to Pamphilia and all of them stood gazing on it; there was a Throne which nine steps ascended unto, on the top were four rich chairs of Marble, in which were most delicate, and sumptuous embroidered cushions, a Carpet of rich embroidery lying before, and under them. Needs this richness must be nearer beheld, and (like women) must see novelties; nay even Pamphilia was enticed to vanity in this kind. In they go, and venture to ascend the Throne, when instantly the sweetest music, and most enchanting harmony of voices, so overruld their senses, as they thought no more of any thing, but went up, and sat down in the chairs. The gate was instantly locked again, and so was all thought in them shut up for their coming forth thence, till the man most loving, and most beloved, used his force, who should release them, but himself be enclosed till by the freeing of the sweetest and loveliest creature, that poor hahits had disguised greatness in, he should be redeemed, and then should all be finished. To say these brave princes were in pain, I should say amiss, for all the comfort their own hearts could imagine to themselves, they felt there, seeing before them, (as they thought) their loves smiling, and joying in them; thus flattering love deceived the true, and brought contrary effects to the most good, and this those brave Princes felt, when at the concluding of the last battle, just as they had taken possession of the greater towns of that Kingdom, and settled all things in quiet, received the people into subjection, taken their oaths to Steriamus, crowned him as their manner was in the Army, and so returned to the chief City, resolving thence to send news to Morea, and every one to their loves, of their brave and happy success, there arrived a messenger with the heavy tidings of the loss of the whole world's beauty. Steriamus fell into such passion, as none thought he would have enjoyed the Kingdom, longer than one doth their love in a vision, crying out, have I lost the Kingdom of my hearts content, to gain a poor Country of earth, and dirt? have I gained to lose more than earth can give me? must I be crowned King to dye a beggar? never was man in such perplexity; nor any so molested as Amphilanthus, who wisely covered his passions, much condemning their indiscretions that went with them to Sea, lamented, and heartily grieved for the misadventure, and so resolved to go instantly in search of them. Olorandus had arrived there some weeks before, and well, for the last battle was hard, and terrible, as being the last the Rebels could hope on, all but this last overcome; He helped well, and so had Perissus in the former, without whose assistance, the business had not so clearly passed, yet did they not fully end with their victory, but with the loss of almost as many men as the other partly lost in that battle: so as only their gain was by the noble valour of the peerless Kings, but now must they undergo a more dangerous business. Amphilanthus and Ollorandus went together, Steriamus and Selarinus parted, Antissius going with him, Steriamus would go alone, and by none could be dissuaded; Leandrus with Parselius; Dolorindus was gone before, never showing his face after his folly concerning Amphilanthus. Perissus and Philarchos joined companions. Excellent care was taken in the choice of the Lieutenants, the two first met Knights by Amphilanthus had the charge as principal of the Counsel of Albania, being of great blood, and Tireneus of Epirus, Philarchos, and Perissus went to Morea, to comfort the King and Queen, and to see Orilena. Rosindy and Polarchos took together, but first went to Macedon, to see Meriana. Thus all divided, Amphilanthus must first be attended, who having the part allotted him to go to the Sea (as if the business most concerned him, and the hopefullest) shipped in Epirus as soon as he could, and came all along the Coast, visiting every Island, and searching in all ships for tidings, complaining in himself, that such misfortune should be, and at so much an unlooked for time, when all happiness appeared ready to embrace them. As he passed, his heart on a sudden leapt within him, but strait again tears followed, to see how he was void of all comfort, yet did it truly offer him help, but he must not take nor give it, for by the fatal Rock, he passed, when that joy was in him, and no sooner passed, but was possessed again with sorrow. Alas Pamphilia his help was near thee, but thou must not have it lent thee, but lose more. A ship at last came towards him, to demand news, and if they came from Greece, of Amphilanthus.  
He made answer himself, that he was the man they sought. My Lord said he, your brother by me salutes you, and desires your speedy return, the cause you shall by these letters understand. He took them, and found that a great war was begun between two famous, and great houses in Italy, by reason that the Duke of Milan's younger son, had stolen away the Duke of Urbin's only daughter; the business at first was but between themselves, than grew further, all neighbours taking part with them, so as Italy was all on fire, and the Regent no more respected, then as their king's brother, but power he had none, or very little, so as he remained at Rome in the Castle, and thence sent to his brother to return and govern, whose sight they all thought would appease the fury. He was grieved to go from seeking her, and them he loved so dear, yet this was an occasion to be looked unto, nor could it be long that it was likely to hold him; wherefore by Ollorandus his advice, and the care he had of his poor Country, for her sake more than his own to prevent the ruin, he bent his course that way.  
Alas unfortunate Lady, what will become of you? this is the last time for some months, he shall come so near, but years before his affection be so much. Unluckily did Fortune provide for thee, when blessings only kiss like strangers, but have their dwellings other where.  
He arrived in Italy, presently letting his coming be known, all flocked unto him, and as when a civil war in a Country hath made parties, yet when a common enemy comes, they all join against him: so did they flee now from the partake, but run to happiness and welcome. He examined the cause, found matters ill on both sides, yet at last with power, love and judgement, appeased them all, and settled Italy in as brave peace and quiet as ever it was, flourishing now doubly, as in riches, and the joy of such a King. While he remained there, much people frequented thither, and the fame of his acts, brought most eye to behold him, and as he returned, so flew the report of his being there with them; whereupon the King of Dalmatia sent Ambassadors to treat of a marriage, 'twixt his daughter, and Amphilanthus, a thing long before spoken of, and wished, but this father would never hear of it during his life, now revived again, and with much earnestness pursued. The King made a courteous, and civil answer to the Ambassador, but said, for marriage, he did desire to be excused, till he knew by his own labour certainly what was become of his Sister and Cousin, than he would come himself into Dalmatia, and satisfy the King to his full content. This answer was sufficient for the time; thus resolved he to go in the search appointed, and to that end (having called the Princes together, who were all met, and those from Albania returned) gave charge of his estate to the counsel making an old grave man of much reverence in the Country, and of the house of Florence, Precedent of the Counsel; his brother he would have settled again, but he desired to be excused, and to have the order of Knighthood, that with the rest of the brave Princes, he might seek his sister, and Cousins. The King refused him not, but himself gave him the order, and then parted he one way with Ollorandus, the young Leonius another way by himself, having none but an Esquire with him. Amphilanthus changed his armour, and colours, making all tawny, as if forsaken, which was but the badge of the Livery he gave her soon after, who best deserved from him, and therefore least merited that reward; he also gave himself another name, and was called the Lost Man. Ollorandus must likewise alter, else one would make the other known, wherefore he chose called himself, the Happy Knight, carrying in his Shield Victory, crowned with Love.. Thus they traveled uncertainly where to stay, or land, letting the Mariners guide them as they pleased, who were strangers to them, and of Dalmatia, whither they carried them; they asked no more questions, but landed, and so went up into the Country, coming into a Wood, which was great, and every way thick and desert; they yet travelled, when they came to a way that parted in three, they stood in question what to do, at last they resolved to take the middle way, and by no means to divide themselves. The course they took, brought them to a mighty Hill, whose curled sides were so thick with trees, as no possibility was to go down, being so steep, as they must hope to do a miracle, and walk on the crowns of trees, or else fall to their ruin, like Icarus, melted for presumption: so they might be bruised for proud hope, and broken in their fall. They lighted from their horses, to try if so they might go on, but all was in vain, so as they kept the Hill, till they came to a place where trees had been cut; this was little better for their horses, yet some thing more easy for them. Here with much difficulty and pain (which to adventurous Knights is called pleasure, their life being a mere vexation, wilfully disguised to content) they got down, and then came into a most lovely Valley, which had been the persuasive part to their descending, loveliness being as attractive, as the Adamant, having a property in love to Iron: so loveliness hath to affection.  
In this valley they rid a pretty space, but not one word passed between them; to a River they came, fierce, and violent in the stream; no way might be found to pass it in many miles riding, till at last they came unto a Bridge, which was defended by two Knights. They would pass; the Guarders refused, unless they would fulfil the orders there. They desired but to know what they were, and they as willingly would obey, as they demand. The orders (said they) are these: you must just with us two, one after another; if you overcome the first, you must proceed to the next, and if vanquish both, the passage is free, but one must venture first: nor his companion help, but stay his turn, and so fight with both. The unmatchable King would take that task on him, his companion standing by, he began, and bravely concluded it with the Victory. Then seeing no more to be done, he took the Swords of the vanquished, and hung them on a Pillar hard by, commanding them not to touch them, but to go to the King of that Country from him, and to tell, what had befallen them, and swear to carry no swords for two years, nor ever more to defend so slight a cause. They desired first to go to the Lady, who had set them there, and tell her, then to do the rest; desiring to know who had overcome them. He answered, the Lost Man; they found some thing was in that name, wherefore they would not press, but left him, promising to observe his commands.  
The two Companions rid, till they came again to a Wood, but not so thick as the other, but of great huge trees, and such a place it was, as offered delights, to most hearts to stay, and receive it there. The bodies white as snow, testifying innocency; and their tops so large, and thickly spread, as expressed glory for their pureness. In this place they lighted, giving their horses to their Squires, and the very content of that solitariness broke their silence. Here (said Amphilanthus) is a place fit for such a creature as myself to dwell in; here alone am I fit to inhabit, and leave all government to him that can rule, shunning that, when I cannot rule myself. When did I ever see you my dearest friend (said Ollorandus) in this tune? What have you done with your spirit? where drowned your judgement? and how buried yourself? What if you live to be crossed in your desires? believe it, it is not to other end, then to make you happier with the sweet meeting, of what the miss will make dearer to you, when passed. Pamphilia cannot be lost Urania drowned, Philistella cast away, or Selarina stolen. What vexeth you, if they be carried to a far place; if the worst, as those parts are full of enchantments?  
Enchanted (cried Amphilanthus) dear friend, 'tis we that are enchanted from finding the truth of their loss: they are lost, and weeled by the same Devil in ignorance, the more to torture and scorn us. Ollorandus persuaded, and spoke hours to him, but he was deaf, or speechless, for not a word could he get of him; his sighs were his answers, his groans his speech, and thus they walked, till they met a Lady (as she seemed to be) in mourning attire, her fair eyes showing more grief, than her apparel sadness, yet had they red cirkles about them, threatening revenge for their sorrow; her train was only one Page, who showed as little mirth, as his Mistress did content; they came one a little before the other, as if sorrow could have most liberty in loneliness, and therefore although but two, would go asunder. Amphilanthus sad, found, or sadness found for him, that distress in her demanded his help; wherefore he went to her, courteously demanding, if his service might avail her. Sir, said she, your tawny livery so well suits with my fortune, as if I saw, but that I might from thence ask help; but alas Sir, my misery is but one way to be redressed, my woe no way equalled, nor can my afflictions see end, but by the end of me. Misery's face, said he, is so perfectly (yet in delicacy unfortunately) presented in you, as would make one wish, rather to be thus, miserable, then free otherwise affected; but as in you excellently are these perfections, so in me are as excelling crosses. I knowing these, can with more feeling understand yours, and with a more revengeful mind serve you, having that abounding in me; for behold here before you, the man, who never saw morning joy, that was not nipped by cold evenings' malice. Comparing griefs, said the Lady, are but to augment sorrow, without help coming to extremity, but in your discourse I find by you, that you want help as well as I. And help only of one like yourself, said he, can make me blessed. I will not touch on that, said she, though thus I might, since if she were like me, she would be much more pitiful. How can I know that, said he, but thus I may guess it, that none being able to compare with her, except her own excellencies, they governed by herself can suffer no comparisons. This shows you to be a lover said she, and for that, I bewail likewise your fortune, for hell cannot inflict a more terrible torment on a heart, then loves power settles in him. Do yours spring from that ill, said he? I thought only my stars had directed me to such distress. They spring and flow, cried she, increase and dwell in this subject. May I know the cause said he? Yes said the Lady, if you will promise me pardon for my boldness, and tedious discourse which it will prove, and other assistance I need not. Alas (cried he) that shall be most willingly lent you, though I may fear as little to help you, or my patience being a poor, though nessary virtue. Tell me who you are, said the Lady? I am (replied he) called the lost Man, my name little famous here, not having done any thing, but against two Knights at a Bridge, from whom I won passage. If you have done that answered she, the more assurance have I of your worth and valour, for they were two, counted the strongest, and most valiant of this Kingdom, and part of my story toucheth on them, but now have I cause to be ambitious of your knowledge, and by the want of it, reason to distrust the continuance of mine own unblessed destiny, which increase in harms, pursuing and following me. Alas, said the lost Man, what hope is there left, where two such fortune's encounter. Only this said she, that the extremity may change to good out of that confidence, you shall know the unkind fortune that governs me.  
This image of grief, or rather true grief, myself am called Bellamira, my father was called Detareus, a great Lord in this Country, and Steward of the King's house, favoured by him, but at last sent in an Embassage, wherein he was lost, wherewith my misery ran on to this height. He had many children, but most borne to misfortune, myself being his first, as sent the sooner to taste of misery; for being much at the Court with my father, before I knew what love was, I was his prisoner. I pined, sigh, wept, but knew not what the pain was, till at last the Tyrant showed from whence the danger came, but with it showed the impossibility of obtaining, he having settled his affections in another place, nor had I pride enough to think myself able to win him from the Princess, for she it was, he did affect, a Lady deserving the title of excellent, had not her pride, and other defacing imperfections, thrown a black Scarf over her outward fairness. This Lady he loved, but (as afterwards I found) no more constantly than your sex useth, not meaning to be a Phoenix among men-lovers, for fear of envy. When I perceived his eyes somewhat favourably to bend themselves to me (unhappy fool that I was) I held and valued it, my certain coming fortune, giving me such hope, as persuaded me without fear to see the end; which brought me to the ambition, to be at a great marriage, which was at the Court, the King gracing a young Lord so far, as to have his Nuptials performed there. Then did I more plainly see his respect to me, his shifts and means to be near me (certain proofs of love), his alluring eyes tell mee, his heart appointed them the messengers, to discover what he sought, which was, that I should understand, I believed them, and blame me not brave Sir, for never was man Lord of so many women's souls, as this my Lord had rule of, who without flattery, did deserve it, never being unthankful for their loves.  
Thus my belief gave my faith, I ever after constantly loving him, he showed as much to me: thus we loved, or thought we loved, which no sooner had possession, but freedom followed, as the second to love, and this brought me to my only playing part of misery. For being young, and full of joy, enriched with the treasure of his affection, I fell into a snare, closely covered, and so more dangerous, being caught by the craft of one, whose wit was to strong for me, being as plentiful in wickedness, as excess could make, or execution demonstrate in fullness. I so true a lover, as I thought on nothing else, if aught, it was how to endear myself in his favour, by respecting and loving those he loved (a way much used, and to some profitably practised) this yet threw me into the Gulf of mischief, giving welcome to that Wretch, who under show of respect, spoilt my only comfort, stealing like rust, and eating my heart, with as marring, and harmful deceits. The love I saw my Lord bore him, was the chief cause that made me like him, trusting his choice above mine own judgement, for I knew him once thankless enough to another, from whom my Lord took him, to be his companion-like servant. His discourse was delicate, and so unusual his wit, not lying the same way, that other good ordinary ones did, and so excelling; for what pleasinger then variety, or sweeter than flattery? which he was filled with all, and made me give, or credit to a treacherous deceits which persuaded me, he was full of honest plainness, so pretty, and familiar his discourses were, as showed a pleasing innocency, yet endued with admirable learning. This moved me to trust, considering that the greater his knowledge was, the more he should know truth, but chose, he was the breach to my misery. My Lord employed him in some occasions abroad, whether by his own desire to see, or his will to be certain of some foreign knowledge, he went away, leaving me secure, and happiest in my Lord's affection. Many letters I received from him, wherein he witnessed his truth, which indeed did well, for only paper and ink said it, not being worthy, or honest enough to blush for his shame; but in the time of his absence, my loved love, did (like all men) alter: it may be caused by greater beauty, it may be provoked to it by my imperfections; but some thing it was, (I dare not say a natural inconstancy, but rather tax myself with the blame, then touch him,) made me unfortunate. This unworthy man found it; and as vildly pursued it, smoothing me with flatteries, while he glossed with him, and her, to whom he had changed, as long as ever he discerned courtesy in him towards me, (which at last most cruelly was likewise taken from me) he followed me, but then looked on me as a rainy day doth on the earth, after a flattering morning: I was deceived, and indeed undone, but 'twas by him, and for him whom I loved, yet after some respect I found, therefore I pardon, & forgive him? Sometime this lasted, succeeding as I should have told you, the death of my husband, and son, by him; for married I was, and having ambition enough to hold me from that, in hope of obtaining him for my husband, while the King still favoured me, and (if I might with arrogancy say) loved me. But my love to my chosen, refused all others, and he at last refused me; which, when the crafty unhonest man directly saw, he not only (as I told you) left observing me, but proudly sought my love; if I scorned his baseness, a thing raised by my Father to be known, but made by my Lord to show in light. Consider you, who needs must know, what can be yielded by a spirit true to noble birth, and more noble love to a worm boldly crawling before the best, and lifting up an unvalued head as if a brave beast; but a beast indeed he was, and I the misfortune had to be a taster of his Villainy, under colour of visiting me after my loss, he gained still in my true heart a confidence of his renewing respect to me, which I prized him for, confessing still, and purely all the flames I felt for his Lord, and soon after this, he showed his dishonesty, and such neglect, as if I were a blab, or one desirous to do ill, I might yet mischief him. But I am far from that, and will do well, let all other ills succeed that can, for goodness and truth shall govern me; yet because all his falsehood shall not remain hid, or be unknown. I will tell you somewhat that he did, for something it concearns this story. He came to me, and found me apt, or took occasion to think so, for he spoke of love, and proceeded so far, as he brought it to my fortune. I answered moderately, yet so home to my own hart, as he saw, I was the same, how ever he was changed, for whose change my affliction was, and so I discovered my pains, and sorrows, as he said, I complained fitly to be commiserated, and that he pitied me. Do not so said I, for I contemn pity; from thence he grew to aspire to win me, and so boldly, and saucily at last carried himself, as if my dearest known it, (though he now shuns me) he much more would scorn him, that durst attempt to win her, whom he had once loved, and yet holds as his own, though in despised sort: And more to show his villainy, he only serves, and seeks, and sues to have her grace, who he perceiveth keeps my love from me, thinking himself (base villain) good enough for me, who now do wear the wretched livery of loss, & what is ever shunned I have in store, forsaken and forlorn in love. Yet be it as it is, and they continue as they do, I am, and ever will be myself.  
But what, (said Amphilanthus) is the cause of this extremity of grief? Have I not told you Sir, said she, being forsaken and despised? and why? only for loving. Dull I have been called, for constancy is now termed so, and his assurance of my faith made him leave me, a thing he thinks soon won, or rather held at pleasure, confident assurance of firmness, growing to contempt; & this course do unfortunate poor constant lovers run. What is become, said Amphilanthus of this man? He lives said she I hope to shame himself. Where is your love said he? Fixed truly in my heart, other where I can give a small account of: but as I have heard, living with a new love, bewitched sure with some charms, else could he not continue closed alone within her arms, while arms, and all true nobleness is buried in his loss: for lost he is, since he fell to her power.  
Why did those Knights maintain the passage said he? To defend poor me cried she, who since now left ungarded on that side, I beseech you will convey me to my house, which when you see, you will find likewise cause of pity there. Then brought she them unto her dwelling, which was in a Cave, of great bigness, and large proportion, a Monument in the midst of it, of the most precious stone of that time wherein she lived, being the Tomb of her sweet, and last dear love, her son. Divided the Cave was into pretty rooms, finely furnished, but such as seemed rather to affect delicate cleanliness, then sumptuous ornament, yet were they rich enough. Her attendants few, but their service showed them sufficient for that place; with a modest, and sad kindness she bade them welcome thither, and instantly ask pardon that she must leave them for such a time, as she might perform her vow of mourning over the Tomb, which having finished with numbers of sighs, groans, and tears, she returned to them again. Amphilanthus, was not yet satisfied with the discourse, wherefore again he urged her; Then Sir said she you shall have all: I was borne to be betrayed, for before this cunning ill man came, I was undone in former hops by one, that had been with my Lord almost from his birth, who with flatter had sealed up my heart to his use, never hiding any thing, (not my love itself) from his knowledge, he making the greatest show of obligation to me for my confidence, that might be expressed by so rare a wit: striving by subtle means to make me think he used all ways he might to make me happy; still urging me, who needed no enticement to think how worthy the love was, how fit the match, and then showed me the likeness of it, our loves being so perfectly, and reciprocally embraced: the strong bond of friendship, 'twixt our fathers, and the continuance of that, between him, and my father, as inheriting it from him; lastly of our breeding together, which though in our infancies, yet the more naturally bred love, and increased it, adding to love, as the smallest sticks do with momber to the fire of triumph: but what above all indeed was the earnestest mover, (as he treacherously protested) was the true, & even consent of our dispositions, which seemed so near being one, as though by birth made two, yet created so, as to be joined in one, for the more direct, and unpartial strength of perfectness; and thus were you made to be one said he, in all fortunes and beings. Heaven I confess I held his love; Father, Mother, friends, all were strangers to me, in respect of the nearness of my affection to him, and next to that did I think my best spent time was with those he most affected, in his absence, in that kind serving him. Fortunate I thought myself and honoured, when his companions accompanied me, and so much I loved him, as being forsaken, I now the more am tortured with just cause of complaining. This Creature, (loath I am to name by other title, and yet grieved to give him his due, and to call him spoiler of my bliss) too diligently attended me, never left me, when any time might be permitted for man to see me in, I embraced his conversation, but it changed to my affliction, and contents destruction seeing oft times my passions, which were too vehement for me to hide, or my weakness cover, he advised, yet still enticed me on. At last a match was offered me, many had been so before, but all refused, my conscience being such, as never to marry any, that I could not love, especially knowing it before, yet was this more earnestly pursued then any other before, the Gentleman himself too much, and unhappily affecting me. My Parents (looked without love's eyes) or rather saw, (while that child was blind) the goodness, and greatness of his estate, the hopefullnesse of the man, his virtues, and noble conditions, much persuaded me unto him, yet could not more move me, than it is possible to stir the most renowned Albion Rocks: and in as much chaste whiteness, remained my love to my Lord, while this Devil who promised his help, aimed at a far fouler end, being gained, (I will not say by bribes) to the friends of a great Heir, whose estate might make one, how unworthy soever before a covetous mind, seem beautiful. This was his fire, and by this he wrought, destilling the offence of Villainy, through the Limbeck of his wickedness, and this was the beginning. My only love being gone a journey with the King, loved infinitely by Deterius my father, and he staying had left his chamber, and servants to his dispose, and command; a stranger came in, (the plot ordained so by this Villain) while my Lord was dressing him, he desired to speak with the Traitor; he went unto him, coming in again with a paper in his hand, & amazedness in his face, which made my dearer self demand the cause, he tenderly loving the wretch, because he had instructed him, from, & in his tender youth. He counterfeited loathness to speak, as if unwelcome news would follow his words, the more he was troubled, & silent, the more perplexed was my dear; wherefore he privately called the messenger to him, of whom he demanded the news; he answered he knew none, but that with much joy, and content, Bellamira was betrothed to her long loving friend, though not till then beloved of her, he then loved, and so may you the better judge of his pain.  
When he heard I had given myself to another, yet thus discreetly he carried it, that he spoke not any thing unto it, though some while after he demanded of his favoured servant, as if but by chance, if he heard any thing of Bellamira, he would not answer but with a sigh, and these words; It is impossible I now find for any woman to be true. Why said my Lord, is Bellamira married? No answered he, but as ill, for she is betrothed. O women, O love, how fickle and false are you both? My dear hearing the death of my love confirmed in this (likely but untrue) manner, said little, only turned himself to a window, where some tears he shed; yet having the noblest spirit in the world, would not suffer himself too long to be governed under sorrow, turned again, and so walked into an orchard where they conferred, and at last he gained his consent to his desired end.  
I ignorantly lived, not daring to make other expressions then by looks or humble, and willing services offered him, which with as much affection were embraced; yet was I grieved I heard not of him, which still, till than I did by every one that saw him, he as willing to send, as I to receive kindness. The earnest suitor, and falsely supposed betrothed man, still did pursue, and so hotly, as at last I resolved to stretch the limits of modesty, and to acquaint my Lord withal by letter, and so ambitiously hoped to gain one from him; but considering many dangers, I fell into the greatest, fearing the delivery of my letter, I sent it to him, who was the only bar of the delivering of it, or them I sent, as at his death I found in a Cabinet, delivered by his own hands unto me with tears, and humble petition for pardon, that so he might die quietly, which as he lamentably protested, he could not do, nor peaceably leave this world, I forgave him, and in that Cabinet found three of my letters, which close me in the misery I now suffer; thereby I saw manifestly I was betrayed, losing the enjoying of what the loss brought my utter ruin: for I assuredly confident in him, sent my letters still to him, trusting him contrary to judgement, never receiving answer of them, but excuses from himself, as since I find were framed by him, sometime saying he could not then write, but in short time he would send one of purpose to me. I remained as lovers enjoying their like quiet. But many weeks having passed, I writ again, setting down, how I was solicited by him he knew of, almost threatened by my parents, yet had they, nor should they gain more than this, that he like all others should be refused for his sake, if it would please him to accept of me, and my truest affection, wholly dedicated to him. This unfortunately I sent, as the others, and so kept, coming the same morning, before he was by his Villainy contracted to the great Heir of the Forest. Twice I was sending it by a trusty servant of my mothers, but Destiny prevailed and I destined to mischief could not withstand my ills.  
Perplexed I was with my fortune, when I saw, or thought I saw my faith rejected: mad at my patience that forced me to bear such injuries, cursed the harm, yet loved the harm-maker had, till one night my father, and many of his friends at supper, the procurer of my misery came in, who was beloved, and respected by my father for his learning, and for his service to his friend, and so was entertained by him, placing him next unto himself, while I with uncertain looks, and doubtful blush cast mine eyes on him, yet stayed them not long there, lest they might be understood my heart guilty of the love my soul bare to his Lord, causing such a mistrust of discovery in my own conscience, as that modesty hindered me from discovering my harm, which his countenance had else been ready to bewray (as since I understood by some that marked him, as they sat at meat). My father asked how his most noble Lord did far.  
Well, my Lord (said he) but grown of late too cunning for us all; for would you think it? he hath finely got a wife. This made me boldly to look up, for what would not such a deadly wound cause in one, if it were but only to look boldly on their end: life lasting in me, but to know certainly my death, being so eager of it, as I myself had demanded it, had not my father soon prevented me, ask who it was. Why, said he, the fly Youth hath got the mighty Heir of the Forest. I hearing it, discerned my haste to be like theirs, that run to the top of the highest Rock, to throw themselves from thence: & so did I; for those words strake me dead, my spirits falling, and failing me, encountered with the depth, and bruise of fortune adverse to me, I fell from the table in a swound. All ran to me, or about me, none (because none thought I loved) being able or willing to guess the reason, except the Serpent, whose poison strake me. I was with care and diligence brought to myself again, which when I had sense to know, I blamed that sense that brought that knowledge to me, condemning fortune, who would not permit one of her own sex, so much favour as to die, having such cause. Then came my speech again, which I only employed to this purpose, to desire some of the servants to lead me to my chamber, beseeching the company not to stir, assuring them that there was no danger, for usually I had had such fits; my father and mother, especially whose loves were most unto me, and dearest to me, would have gone with me, but I prevailed; the mover of my torment looking on me with as much pity, as the Master of a good Dog doth on him, when he is hurt by his own setting on, upon either Bull or Bear. When I came to my Chamber, I pretended a desire to rest, which made me abler to dwell in any unrest. Sir, if ever you have felt love so perfectly, as to deserve your name, imagine to yourself what I felt, seeing scorn, disdain, presented to mine eyes, nay (what of all is cruelest) unkindness.  
Unkindness to a perfect loving heart, is indeed said he of all miseries, the cruelest, and most murdering. Have you (alas Sir said she) felt that grief? That only said he perplexeth me, I cannot say I was disdained, for I was cherished, I was not scorned, but received, I loved, and was beloved, but now I fear she is unkind. Let not fear without assurance said she molest you, lest it make you indeed loose by mistrust, what is yet but mistrusted to be lost. I beseech you (said he) proceed, and let my misfortunes remain in me, by none else thought on. Yet (said she) being forsaken, is a greater misery, for such a loss, is loss of all hope, or joy in life; the other may be helped again with kindness, and this I find; for had I not enjoyed a heavenly happiness, I never had complained.  
But to go on, being come to my chamber, and having liberty by privateness to exercise my sorrow in the absence of all but itself, I thus began to mourn. O love, cried I, was it not enough that thou didst win me to thy power, and that thou didst possess me in those years, when first it was possible for maiden thoughts to entertain thee, to make me choose, guiding mine eyes to the choice of one, where perfections linked themselves to chain my powers, and envy from all such, that thinking I loved thee, maliced my happiness, as if I had enjoyed? Yet cruel you cannot think all that I suffered by passion, hatred of others, envy, pain, torment, and all misery sufficient, but you must turn cross, and find a greater to afflict me. Why did you grant me Paradise of hope, to throw me down to bottoms of despair? Why did you glory to invite my heart, to yield unto the winning power of eyes? eyes which were able to gain more then hearts thrice doubled could repay with love?  
Fie enticing eyes, why won you me? only of set purpose to kill me with your frowns? this was pretended murder, your sparkling conquest seemed to gain, by unresistable darts, souls to your will; and their smiles promised unresistable darts, souls to your will; and their smiles promised to save when won, but trial proves, you win alone to spoil. Was it a victory sufficient to get, and worthless of keeping? It seems so, since you leave me: leave me, smarting affliction, scourge to loyal hearts, yet leave you hold me, being left by him, who only holds my love.  
Thus passed I part of the night, the rest in an exercise mine undoer taught me, putting my thoughts in some kind of measure, which else were measureless; this was Poetry, a thing he was most excellent in. That night, and many more were ended in that manner, till at last, taking a resolution, which was made by necessity, I came abroad again, meeting at my father's chamber one day with my still dear, though forsaken. He wished me much joy; I told him he might best with it, having caused so much sorrow to me: he told me, my chosen love (he hoped) would bring content unto me. Then had you been more kind, and true, said I. Treborius is the man must hold your affection, said he. The Forest Heir (cried I) hath made you change, and me forsaken, living thus unhappily, made free. Free, said he, and betrothed? Pardon me my Lord, said I, I neither am, nor will be till I wed.  
Will you begin, said he, to use that vice you ever till now contemned, dissembling a thing protested against by your virtue? It is that thing I most abhor, answered I: but if I would use it, my faith should hinder it from you. Heaven then bear witness of my wrong, cried he: and pity mine, said I. With this the company came about us, so as for that time we said no more; then did he seek means how to regain my affection, which he feared was lost to him, while alas my labour was how to cover that, which so truly was his, as I doubted myself for being a safe keeper of it from him, determining all chastity in love, not so much as entertaining his outward compliments, farther than civility commanded.  
Treborius followed his suit, my father urged me, and I, cast away by fortune, threw my fortunes at his feet, to bestow them, truly than not worth the accepting: yet love in the man, made him seek me, and with as much joy receive me. The time was appointed, all our friends and kindred invited, and as a principal guest my lost love was entreated to come: who obeyed, but his sad demeanour showed, it was no pleasure to him, to see me given to another: if he were troubled, how was I afflicted? In the morning before I was quite dressed (according to the manner of our Country's liberty) the chief strangers came into my chamber, permitted by custom to see the Bride dressed; among the rest, or before the rest, he came in, yet said nothing, only looks spoke for him. I was to the soul perplexed, and being ready to enter into my miserable estate, I went into a great window, which had a curtain over it. A Lady whom I most respected (and so did all those, whose happiness was to know her worth, being for all noble virtues, and excellent parts to be admired) would not be denied to go with me. Before her I performed a vowed sacrifice, which was of a lock of hair that I had worn constantly many years; this hair was his, though not given to me by himself, but by an ancient servant of his, unknown to his Lord. The vow was, that if ever I should be so unfortunate, as to marry any but himself, that morning before my marriage to burn it to my loss and love.  
This next my heart I ever carried, and with the loss of that, finished my vow that fatal day before the perfectest of women, not without tears, as since that noble Lady hath told me, when with her favour she would give liberty to herself, to speak with me unworthy of her judgement, making me often call myself to mind, yet I think rather to be resolved, of what she could but conjecture, then to renew my torment with memory of my distress. But this finished, the marriage followed: what torture was it to me, standing between my love, and Treborius, when I was to give myself from my love to him? How willingly would I have turned to the other hand: but contrary to my soul I gave myself to him, my heart to my first love. Thus more than equally did I divide myself: within a short time after I went with my husband to his house, wishing never more to see any light or company, which in some sort I enjoyed for one whole year: but then the King going to see his Country in Progress, my husband's house was found fit in his way, so as he lay there, and was by him freely, and bravely entertained, he being as bountiful in his house, as any man: but this brought further trouble, for such a liking the King had to the place, as often in the year he visited it; much his Majesty was pleased to grace me, I think for my friends respect, but howsoever, mine eyes ascended no higher than a subject's love. Many times by the King's command, I was after at the Court, once I remember, being at the entertainment of the King of Slavonia, brother to his Majesty, there was tilting, course of field, and many such brave exercises; but so far short all the Gallants (and the King himself being one) came of my love's perfectness, as they seemed but foils placed, to set forth the lustre of his excellence. The sports broke up, and the King, Queen, and Court accompanied the Slavonian King to the Sea, who was from thence to take a further voyage; with my husband I returned, my heart so filled with love, as nothing but itself could find biding, or entrance there.  
Treborius out of love to me, loved my friends, and those he saw I most respected, which made me so willing to requite his affection, as I studied how to content him, ever saving my first love perfect to the owner; and truly such I found his kindness, as I have been sorry I had no love left for him, yet could I not in the kindest humour spare him any from the other. By the way as we returned, how would the good man praise his person, his fashion, speech, horse-manship, conversation, pleasing mirth, concluding still, he was the only exact piece of mankind, and framed alone without equal, and as if he were made to honour all virtues, and they framed to serve him. I took such joy in these, as still I bore him up in them, seeing in his words the picture of my heart and thoughts lively drawn; he maintained them to content me, while I best satisfied seemed to commend his witty descriptions, as if they, and not the subject pleased me. Thus did I dissemble, and thus only for my love, and with him that loved me, yet this may be pardoned (if pardon may be given for such a fault) since love did warrant me, and I obeyed my Lord. Other times (though for it I blamed myself, because I wronged his kindness) I would commend his ordinary talk, when he praised rude sports, or told the plain jests of his Huntsmen, yet the best their vocation could afford, laugh and be merry with them, but why? because ofttimes they brought discourse of my best love, who delighted in those sports.  
Thus I continued, firmly, and chastely loving, but then pleasure envying my good, called misfortune into company, for my husband died, and not long after, my only son slain in this unfortunate Grove, following those sports his father loved. This was not all my loss, for afterwards succeeded my last, and greatest; for he, whom I so much esteemed proved false; all the pains I suffered left unrewarded, not thought on. What hazards I had run for his love, what dangers passed? and never shunned, to satisfy his mind, his own soul shall demonstrate, my tongue never relate; but this he must give me leave to say, that never man was more unjust, nor causelessly unkind; Into this Cave I then confined myself, and hence I have not stirred, further than you find me, nor will, here purposing to end, and with my dearest son be laid, who only was to me constant in affection; & to him, daily do I perform those rights belonging to the dead, after the manner of our country; In these parts you can find no more than now you see, my miserable spectacle, and this Cave, but at the end of the plain you shall find an other Bridge kept by two strong Knights, as any this Kingdom yields, yet I think, to you, will be but like the others, if they try themselves, which I desire they should not do, but that you will for my sake pass them. So I may do that with honour answered the King, I shall willingly do this, or any other service you shall please to command: but in requital, I must beg one favour of you, which must not be denied. She protested she would obey him in anything.  
Then said he, leave this sad abiding for a while, and your dead love, to go to a living friend; nor will I urge you to go from sadness quite, having such cause of sorrow, but to a sad abiding, yet a joyful meeting. Your father Detereus is not, (as you imagined) lost in his Ambassage, though lost to all content, but lives an Hermit's life on a Rock, before Saint Maura; much he desires to know of your safety, and enjoined me to inquire of you, if ever I happened to this Country. I promised him I would, not being able to persuade him from that place: go you then to him, and carry comfort with you to his age; if you cannot bring him thence, you may abide with him, and thus not leave sorrowing, having still so sad a subject before you, as to behold so worthy a man's low state, but if true judgement rule in either, to over rule passion, I hope to see you both, again yourselves. She was struck with amazement to hear this news; but so perfectly he discoursed of her father's affairs, and so truly described him, as she knew he spoke but truth: whereupon she resolved to go thither, and upon that, sent for her Knights that kept the other Bridge, to attend her, while Amphilanthus again desired to hear more of the sad story; then Sir said she, hear the last.  
When I was a Widow, and suffered so many crosses, my poor beauty decayed, so did his love? which though he oft protested to be fixed on my worth, & love to him, yet my face's alteration gave his eyes distaste, or liberty from former bands, to look else where, and so he looked, as took his heart at last from me, making that a poor servant to his false eyes, to follow still their change. I grieved for it, yet never lessened my affection blaming such cruelty, and cruelty for lodging in him, not himself for being cruel; so as my love grew still, and in a strange manner, to affect where loss was, where unkindness, ungratefulness, scorn, and forsaking dwelled, (odd motives to love) yet loved I the keeper of these wrongs, lamented the sense of them, pined in my misery; and yet Sir, truly can I not hate this man, but love him still so well, as if he could look back on me with love, all former ills should be forgotten, but that cannot be, such an unfortunate strangeness hath been betwixt us, as we never meet, or if we did, what can this wrinkled face, and decayed beauty hope for? yet were I blessed, if he did but thus much, speak kindly to me, pity me, and use me courteously, who have suffered enough to merit this respect: but I think self accusing falsehood makes him shun me. Alas do not so, for I forgive all, and affect thee still, and dye will in this love. You did (said Amphilanthus in your discourse) touch upon a quality rare in women, and yet I have seen some excellent things of their writings, let me be so much bound to you, as to hear some of your Verses. Truly Sir said she, so long it is since I made any, and the subject grown so strange, as I can hardly call them to memory which I made, having desired to forget all things but my love, fearing that the sight, or thought of them, would bring on the joys then felt, the sorrows soon succeeding. This is but an excuse said he; Truly Sir said she, it is truth, yet I think I can say the last I made, which were upon this occasion; one time after he had begun to change, he yet did visit me, and use me sometimes well, and once so kindly, as I grew to hope a little, whereupon I writ these lines lying in an Orchard, under a great Quince tree, the weather being as if it did threaten my tears to follow, the drops then following; they were these.  

AS these drops fall: so Hope drops now on me  
sparingly, cool, yet much more than of late,  
as with Despair I changed had a state  
yet not possessed, govern but modestly.   

Dearest, let these drops heavenly showers prove  
and but the Sea fit to receive thy streams,  
in multitudes compare but with Sun beams,  
and make sweet mixture, 'twixt them, and thy love.   

The Seas rich plenty joined to our delights,  
the sun's kind warmth, unto thy pleasing smiles,  
when wisest hearts thy love-make-eyes beguiles,  
and vassal brings to them the greatest Spirits.   

Rain on me rather than be dry; I gain  
nothing so much as by such harmless tears,  
which take away the pains of loving fears,  
and finely wins an ever lasting reign.   

But if like heat drops you do waste away  
glad, as disburdened of a hot desire;  
let me be rather lost, perish in fire,  
then by those hopeful signs brought to decay.   

Sweet be a lover puer, and permanent,  
cast off gay clothes of change, and such false slights:  
love is not love, but where truth hath her rights,  
else like boughs from the perfect body rend.   
And perfect are you sweet Bellamira, said the King in this Art, pity it is, that you should hide, or darken so rare a gift. His commendations brought the fruit of gaining more, and so they passed some two days, till she was ready to take her journey; the Kings then parting from her, and following their search, being discovered to the Lady by an unlooked for means; for Amphilanthus at his first coming into the Cave, being confident of not being known, pulled off his Helm, while Bellamira was gone to the monument, at her return seeing his face, she fell on her knees, blushing at her error: My Lord said she, the afflictions which make me ignorant of all things but themselves, have caused my forgetfulness unto you, which I most humbly crave pardon for. He admired how she knew him, desiring to be made certain of the cause, and means of her knowledge, (being extremely sorry to be discovered.) Be not displeased great Prince said she, that your servant (my poor self) knows your excellency, since here you shall command, what it shall please you, and be known but as you name yourself; only give me leave to express what joy my afflicted heart did little expect in beholding in this my sad dwelling, the most matchless Prince the earth carries, and may glory in bearing. But Madam said he, how do you I beseech you know me? My Lord said she, I attended on the King's Niece, in a journey she was pleased to make, out of too much pride, and conceit of her beauty, being enough to be liked, but too little to be defended in field. Into Italy (among other places) she went, and then it was my happiness to see you, and the honour of chivalry in you, which the poor Prince my Lady's servant found; for after you had cast him to the ground, she cast him out of her favour, scorning any after but yourself, yet not loving you, because you won the prize from her beauty to your Mistress. The King did very well remember that accident, and so discoursing a little more to that purpose they concluded, with her promise not to disclose him, or to know him to be other than the Lost Man, and that was the reason she so freely disclosed her passions to him. She took her way towards Saint Maura, the two Kings higher into the Country, though no way likely to find the Ladies, yet first for them who could lay those memories apart, travelling through the delicate parts of Greece, till they came to Romania, passing many adventnres under the name of the Lost Man, one being necessary to be remembered.  
On the skirts of Romania they came into a place, Rockey, and hilley nothing but Heath, and some small shrubs to shelter rain, Sun, or any thing from one; the mighty Rocks which showed their swelling sides, appeared like Swans in their nests, when breeding, and angry at passengers for troubling them: white as they, and fringed with Holly trees, the ways stony, and troublesome, so as they walked on foot, and their Squires led their Horses. Defirous to see rarities, Olorandus went among them, Amphilanthus keeping on in a path. The brave Bohemian seeking among them, at the last happened to one, which was wonderful to behold, a Rock of great height, and bigness; the midst of which, was cleft to the bottom, so even, and just, as if cut by hands, yet was it impossible for hands to do it. Nature showing how near she can come to Art, and how far excel it. Beyond this was an other Rock, in which was a little Cave, and in that a man lying, it was so shallow in the body of it, as he might discern him to lie on his left side, his face from the light, in Pilgrim's clothes, his staff and bag by him, and to add to this sad sight, his voice agreed to make him known miserable, breaking into these complaints. Ungrateful wretch, monster of mankind, why live I still to poison the sweet Air with my vild breathing? what wickedness is there, that I abound not in, and have committed? false, treacherous, and ungrateful I have been; die then with shame, wrapped round about thee: die Dolorindus, and never let thy unworthy face be more beheld, nor thy false eyes behold the light; let darkness, (not so black as thy sin) enfold thee, and be as thou art, a creature unfit for Heaven to look upon; Olorandus knew he had been lost strangely, the manner, and cause was unknown, the other Kings keeping his council till they could find means to work for his good; He stole away softly, and called Amphilanthus, who presently came with him, where they heard him continue in his moans, crying out, O Villain that had a thought to wrong thy worthiest friend, to be ungrateful to all-deserving Amphilanthus, nay more, to plot his ruin, and conspire his death. Antissia, thou art the cause of this, and I the more miserable to be brought by a woman to be a Beast. Amphilanthus pardon me, my soul begs it, & let the fault be where it is laid justly, on unjust commands in love. But what excuse can I make? say Antissia bade me kill Amphilanthus, is that enough? O Noah, truth tells me that he saved me from ruin, from starving, from death; shall a woman then make me forget these benefits, and only because I loved her? love should not extend to hurt, or procure murder. I have offended beyond pardon, mercy must be showed if I continue, but mercy cannot I ask, so far having forgone truth, as my offence flies higher than any hope can ascend to. Antissia, I now hate thee more, than once I loved thee, and more justly, for thy love hath made me worthless, and spoilt my name, honour, and content; shame is the reward I have gained for my love to thee, and the heavy weight of ungratefulness lies on my heart. They were both amazed to hear these words, not being able to conjecture whence they came; the voice they knew, and the name, but how this sorrow was, could not imagine. In the end they concluded to speak to him, and Olorandus began: Repentance said he merits pardon for the greatest ill; if you truly repent, doubt not but you shall receive what you seek, and the nearest way to that, is to confess freely your fault, and then pardon will follow. Pardon cried he, I cannot be pardoned, I cannot hope, I cannot be forgiven. You may said he; And for that, I will engage my honour, if you will be ruled said Amphilanthus. With that he rose, and looking on them, knew them, which so much oppressed his weak body, as he fell to the ground in a swound. Amphilanthus took him up, and Ollorandus went to the next Spring for water, wherewith they rubbed his temples, and brought him to himself; but to what end? only to die again, for so was he afflicted, as impossible it was for him to live, as they doubted: then Amphilanthus vowed unto him (at his second coming to himself) that whatsoever he had done, or thought against him, was then forgiven, desiring only to be resolved of the grief's cause. My Lord (said he) how shall I dare to tell you what I have done, when no shame is so great, so infinite, so ill, as my faults I am a Traitor to you, take revenge, or let me give it you. Stay Dolorindus (said he), fall not from one ill to a greater, speak to me, plainly tell me what perplexeth you, and had you sought my life, I do forgive you. You have (brave King, cried he) said, what I grieved to name, it was your life I aimed at, commanded by Antissia to kill you, and then to take her for my wife: love made me undertake this hateful practice, now you have it, use me as I merit, and never pardon so foul an act. Love Antissius, and hate me, for he was likewise solicited by her to murder you: but he refused, and would needs hinder me, whereupon we should have fought, but then were stayed by two, who told us they were Amphilanthus, and Ollorandus. Antissius more in sense than I, knew they had taken your names upon them, and were not yourselves; he undertook the named Ollorandus, I the other, whose name had that power, as he over came me, laying me as low, as my sin hath pulled me. Wounded I was taken up, but saw his death given him by a young Gentleman, whose father he had killed in a quarrel concerning the Princess of Croatia, whom he had under your name abused. With the sight of his death, shame strait possessed me, and self-accusing enfolded me: for then your nobleness came into my mind, your clearness showing my foulness, your worth my blame; my heart I cannot say brake, but clove in sunder: never lived any man to say, he was afflicted, that more truly left affliction. Souls that condemned are, cannot be more tortured, my soul feeling what can be felt of miserable torture. Antissius, with whom I would but a little before have fought withal, I threw myself at his feet, I petitioned Perissus never to think of me, nor name any name might sound like mine, that you especially might not know my falsehood, left your condemning me might prove worse, and a heavier punishment, than all other torments: for your blaming me, and so justly would be more terrible, than condemnation from any other. As he spoke those words he sunk again, and they again rerovered him; but then Amphilanthus chid him, that he would not believe him. Why, said he, can Dolorindus think that any wrong can be done Amphilanthus, which he cannot forgive; and by Dolorindus whom he loves, and for love's sake: be patient dear friend, and grieve not thus, for that is not to be grieved at. Love's commanded you, when you were his subject, 'twere treason to have disobeied, or refused to kill a traitor to his Crown (as I was esteemed). Comfort yourself I am free from anger, or spleen; I will not say I forgive, I say you erred not, nor I remember aught, but our first meeting, and our friendship, let all other (like Fancies) pass, I am thy friend, and will cherish thee, and love thee as I did; yet must I blame antissia's forgetfulness, and causelesfury. When did I offend her so much, to be so irreconciliably displeased? how did I vex her, to be unsatisfied with aught, but my life? or what could my death bring her?  
Dolorindus as much over-waighed with joy, and kindness, as before pressed with sorrow, could with as little power withstand the fury of the kind passion, so as with tears, and dear love, he fell at Amphilanthus his feet, kissing them with such affection, as he was forced to throw himself by him, to make him leave, and in his arms hold him as fast, as his love tied him to him. O Amphilanthus, cried he, why do you thus exceed all possibility for man, how noble soever, to be a shadow to you, much less to equal you? will you gather together all perfections in you to be admired, and envied by men? or indeed be as you are, fit, and only deserving to be eternised for magnanimous, and glorious spirit. Your kindness exceeds my act, said he, and such expressions of love find I in you, as I am glad rather of this accident, whereby I enjoy them, then of the want of this cause, should I have miss the truth and knowledge of your love. Never was more kindness showed in offering and accepting, in confessing and forgiving, then between these two. Ollorandus (when they had for a while continued their discourse, and all former businesses razed like Castles belonging to Traitors) desired to know who they were that had taken their names upon them. Truly, said Dolorindus, I know not, for one killed, the other dying, desired that he might be so much favoured, as never to be spoken of, nor his companion, being something near me in shame: but as his fault was less, the less sensible. Speak no more of this, said Amphilanthus. I have done, said Dolorindus, for little joy can it be to me, if not by that to see your gracious favour. But so he died, saying only they were Gentlemen, and had taken those names for their honour, and his companions gaining the Princess of Croatia, whom after he vildly left, and forsook. Then did Amphilanthus relate his finding that Princess, her discourse to him and his conference with her women; which much pleased Ollorandus, especially when he heard what gain they had by those names, being glad to hear such reverence was done to them. Amphilanthus was contrary, for though he loved best to do well, yet he cared not how little he was told of it, hating flattery, as much as he loved worth, and that was best of any man; nay so nice he was, as he would rather doubt flattery, then let himself think he heard but truth of himself. He left not till he had made Dolorindus leave his habits of a long Gown and Staff, to change them (as come home again) to a sword and armour, his travail on foot to horseback, and contrary to his expectation, or resolution to be once more a warrior. But this he gained, to be licenced to travel unknown with them, which they also were resolved to do, and so from this rude Rockey place, as from despair to comfort, they took towards Constantinople. Into the Town they went privately, and furnished themselves according to their humours: Amphilanthus in Tawny, embroidered with Black and Silver; Ollorandus in Grass-green, and Gold; Dolorindus in Hair colour, or a kind of dead leaf colour, and Gold, they happened there just at a time, which was solemnly kept every year, which was the day of the Coronation of Antissius, and the restoring of their Country's liberty. Here they saw their honours blazed, and remembered fame to flourish: among the strange Knights they put themselves, and as Macedonians, whereof there were some good number; they came to the justs, having made their habits after their fashion.  
The Precedents was present with all the Nobility; and the other brave men that returned from Albania, the King himself having sent them home, when he took his journey in the search: what Amphilanthus, and the other two did in these exercises, may be imagined, by the knowing they were Actors, else his acts as impossible to be expressed, as the stars numbered. Much inquiry was made after him and his companions, but unknown they passed, and took their way from the Court, after they had seen the fashion of it, and well understood, where, and how Antissia lived in greatest distress, for the report of the false Amphilanthus his death came to her ears, which attribute she imagined to be given him for his falsehood to her, whereupon she put on mourning, and all her servants were clad in that Livery, leaving the Court, and be taking herself to a Castle, not far from the sea, where she beheld nothing but Rocks, hills of Sand, as bare as her content: Waves raging like her sorrow, and indeed little but companion-like Spectacles, she thinking herself those solitary places, and looking on Antissia, as she in her sadness looked on them; and thus had she continued from the time of the news coming.  
Amphilanthus, and Ollorandus with Dolorindus passed farther into the country, and took their way by Amphilanthus direction towards Neapolis, where they were to visit the fair Musalina, who by means made by Allimarlus was reconciled to Amphilanthus, between whom an ancient quarrel ceased thus. With all delicacy they were entertained, and feasted, she being so excellent a Lady for spirit, wit, rare discourse, and the most unusual virtues for women, as she merited affection from any man, and some years before had enjoyed his, and such an one indeed she was, as Pamphilia could not but confess, fit to be beloved, and therefore never blamed her, but Amphilanthus for leaving her, not for again loving Musalina. Hither it was appointed, that Antissia and Lucenia should come, and give him satisfaction by repentance and submission; Musalinas' husband being Duke of Tenedos, and where Amphilanthus had spent much time, loving her; but after leaving her, destiny so commanding, and his obeying to those powers sometimes against himself. They came, and he as soon forgave, as they heartily asked pardon, yet did he but conditionally forgive Antissia, being for that to marry Dolorindus, who with her sight forgot his hate conceived before, and with much love embraced the match, Musalina must not be questioned. The marriage was performed at Constantinople. Amphilanthus coming thither then as himself, her old Uncle gave her to Dolorindus with good content, who soon after took their journey to Negropont, she discreetly loving him, but he doting of her.  
Amphilanthus was like the King, received and followed by all men, acknowledging their peace, gain, and liberty to come from him. Then back again to Neapolis he, and Ollorandus went to conduct Musalina, one of his first Loves in his youthful travails, where some time they spent in all sweet and studied for delights, the search being quite forgot, or left to them, whose memories were better of the enchanted Ladies, Pamphilia being left to the times deciding of her deserving, Ollorandus like his friend lived and loved. Rosindy and his companion making what haste they could, arrived at Thesalonica, where his dearest Meriana was, who with as much love, as he had affection, met him: but when he told her of the misfortune, and loss of his Sisters and Cousin, she grew sorry for it, and had been sad, if he had not been there, resolving to go with him to Corinth, where the Kings and Queens had determined to stay, till they got tidings of their children; but it being impossible for Knights and Ladies to travel without adventures, this befell them.  
A Lady of beauty sufficient, but of behaviour insolent, they encountered in a Chariot of blue Velvet, embroidered with Gold: six brown-bay horses drew this Chariot, covered with clothes, and trappings suitable, set forth with feathers for the greater state, and for bravery one each side went eight Footmen in those colours. She rid alone, as being beyond companions, having two Chariots more following with her Women, a troop of knights and Gentlemen attending, answerable in all points to this beginning of pomp, and meetness agreeable to wait on such a Mistress. Bare face she rid, threatening all beholders, and as if contemning the Sun, or being so well assured of his respect to her, as she carelessly slighted his heat, as either not being able, or not daring to harm her. Disdainfully she cast her eyes upon the other more excellent company; her horses not so much for fast going, as with pride stamping, and trampling, raised the dust in passing by, so as Meriana and Rosindy drew the curtain, this proud woman seeing it; What (said she) is the niceness of that poor troop, such as our dust may not come near them? draw back the curtain again, calling to one of her footmen, and let them see their error, with the honour to behold me. Meriana started at the suddenness, Rosindy was angry at that rudeness, that troubled his Love, but seeing it was a footman, bad one of his men knock him, which he did, whereupon the Troops began to bustle, the Knights belonging to the other Company, being so peremptorily commanded by their Lady, as they flew towards Rosindy, and from her, as if her words had stung like Vipers; but Rosindy, quickly getting on his horse, made them know, their haste was but to an ill end, and with as much speed, sent those that escaped, back again to their Lady, who seeing their turning, began to revile them; but they now fearing his blows, more than her tongue, stood round about her Chariot. She infinitely perplexed with it, called to Rosindy, who coming a little nearer to her, gave her ill manners the hearing of these words.  
Pride and neglect being the beginners of this action, me thinks submissive satisfaction should ensue from you that caused it, to me, before whom you presumed to attempt it; wherefore let me see that, and I shall favour you to far, as to leave you, and account you a valiant and civil man.  
Madam (said he), had that fault been mine, which proceeded from the rashness of your servant, set on to (I believe) by your commands, I might have seen more reason to yield to your demand, than now I find; howsoever having the Victory, I am to give no satisfaction, but have it in my power to receive it, or force it from you; yet I am content, so you acknowledge your error to this Queen, that you shall pass, and withal I shall esteem you a discreet Lady.  
Acknowledge my error, as if I can err, said she? Alas poor man, how hath a little gain made thee overvalue thyself, and disesteem her, whom thou art not worthy to look on, if not, as the Ethiopians do the Moon whom they worship. And such an uncertain thing is Pride said Rosindy, which it appears governs so much in you, as will make with many Changes, the Wanes of your fortunes equal with your increasings, but take heed the conclusion happen not in that quarter. She was infinitely offended with him, so as turning her face from him, and swelling with anger, she bid her Chariotman drive on, which Rosindy forbade, and whether she would or no, brought her out of her seat, and to the ground, Meriana beholding her at such alike distance, as her former pride looked on her withal; then did she say (but terribly against her heart) she was sorry she had given them that distaste; other Phrase she would not use. Then did she take her Chariot again, but discharged all her Knights as unworthy to attend her, and with her Women, and Footmen continued her journey to the next town, where she entertained new servants, one of her old ones travelling with Rosindy, telling him this story.  
This Lady you saw, and once my Mistress is Queen of Bulgaria, but Empress of Pride; she is married to a Prince, who only out of affection sought her, being a discreet brave Gentleman, and for his virtues chosen King of Bulgaria: she was daughter to a Duke in that Country, no less arrogant than she, so as it is a successive ill hanging over, and inheriting in that Family. She at first loved the Prince she married very well, or seemed to do so, and she still doth use him kindly, but often have they quarrels, she no way yielding to him, accounting herself far above him in birth, though his honour have gained the precedence; he is infinitely fond of her, nothing being too dear for her, but lately he hath been abroad in Hungary, and other parts that way, going to visit Ollorandus, when he came to the fair Melysinda, in which time she carried herself far better, then in his presence, showing what she can do, rather than what she would do; for we all know she loves the Prince of Iambolly much better, than the King; and introth for my part, I excuse her, since no greater difference can be between men for outward beauty and sweetness, then is 'twixt them; yet on my conscience she is untouched, and just to her Husband, it may be Pride holding her honest, for much she is laid unto. At the Kings going away, she got leave of him to go into Morea, to visit an excellent Lady there, being her Cosen-german, and married to the Prince of Elis, there she hath been, till within a short time, and now is returning with all speed to meet her Lord, and if she can persuade him to go with her, to try the Enchantment of the Rocky Island, where all the beauties of this part of the World (except herself) are said to be enchanted. Where is that Island I pray Sir, said Meriana?  
Madam (said he) in the Gulf of Venice, not far from the mouth of the Gulf of Lepanto. Who are all there, said she? and how are you certain of their being there? He nameth them; and the certainty of their being there (answered he) was brought by some of their servants, who after they had seen them enclosed, came stored with grief to the Sea side again, where they stayed till a ship came by, and in the Cockboat took them aboard, landing them at Corinth, where the king of Morea is, and all his Court, attending the end, which he hopes for as soon as his sons and cousins return from Albania, who he purposeth to entreat, and command to adventure for their delivery. Do you know the manner of it, said the Queen? Truly Madam replied he, only, as I have heard my Mistress speak it, it is a place by their relation of Marble, built like a Theatre, round and curiously wrought, at their coming thither they discerned nothing on the gate, but now there is an inscription which shows it an enchantment, and the end how to be gained, which must be by the man most loving, and most beloved, he shall partly do it, for he shall release them from their charms that holds their senses as it were sleeping, but cannot bring them forth till the fairest creature in disguise come, and she shall finish all: many are gone thither, and some put on disguises of purpose, but that will not serve, surely Fate hath no deceit. My Lord said Meriana, surely you may end the one part? I believe you think so said he, but shall I try it? I cannot consent to that cried she, for so I may be (God knows how long) bard from you, no my dear heart we must not so be parted, Charms shall not try our loves, we are assured, what need we farther venture.  
Thus they rid till they came to a plain where they found one piece of Armour, than an other, so many, at last a shield which was presently known by Polarchos, who took it up and cried out, alas said he here is Parselius his shield, and armour, what is become of him? Rosindy was instantly called up with that voice from the lips of his Meriana, and seeing it, also knew it, than took he his horse, and kissing his dear wife galloped along the plain, following the tract of horses and some blood which he found in the way: to a wood he came, by the side thereof were some horsemen, Polarchos demanded of them if they could give them any notice of a wounded Knight, or of any combat that lately had been fought in the place behind them.  
They said they were not to yield account to any, but if they desired to try themselves, they were Lads would show them sport. Rosindy replied that they were strangers there, and engaged to attend some Ladies, therefore they were not hasty of fight, only having found an armour which they knew, they desired to know what was become of the Master of it. Why he Sir, said one of them is hurt, and his companion likewise, both of them being carried into a Castle within this wood, where they are likely to remain a while, for their wounds are great & held dangerous. May we see them said they, at least hear of the adventure? You may do both if you please Sir, said one of them, but know and remember I told you so, for there is hazard in it.  
I fear nothing said Rosindy to serve my friends; be they of your acquaintance and friends said the Knights? yes indeed answered Rosindy; then said he you shall hear the story first, and after you may the better resolve, so they lighted, and sat under a Tree, the stranger Knight (the rest leaving them) beginning thus. I do never use to tell a story to any, but I first know to whom I discourse, wherefore I pray Sir let me be so much favoured by you, as to have your name, and you shall have the relation: Rosindy began to doubt, therefore meant not to trust too much, wherefore he answered, his name was Caudalus a Bulgarian, the other his companion Larchos. Then proceeded the other, this wood is called the Forest Gulf, that plain you passed the pleasant way, for there do all delight to ride, and yet none but are swallowed up when past that plain, and arrived here within this devouring throat, a Lady dwelling within here, who maintains herself and her pleasures, with the overthrow and death of such miserable Creatures as pass this way, being ambitious of the destruction of all that call themselves, or are called virtuous, but she is my Mistress, and I am one of her unfortunate servants, held in a manner a prisoner, a Guard still on me, yet I am appointed one to guard her, I was of Morea, and the worse do I thrive for that, since she hates all of that Country, for having been refused her desires by the brave Prince thereof, on whom she will now be fully revenged, having got him in her custody, and no hope is there of gaining him out alive, for she will hold him close prisoner in such a place as no force can get him thence till she have her ends, and at last his death; the Castle is impregnable, and she unwinable, and thus his misfortune fell; passing along this way, in search as it seemed of his Sisters and Cousin, he met some of our troops who encountered him, having demanded first who he was, then knowing him, and how acceptable a present he might be to their Lady, set all upon him, and finding themselves too weak, blew a Horn, at which came many more to their succour, and so at last with numbers, and his faintness losing blood he fell, and into their unmerciful hands, his companion was taken before him, and both carried into the Castle; with welcome they were received, because she was glad in her malicious heart she had him, and there hath he remained now some ten days; his Armour they threw about they carded not where, taking care only of his person to bring him alive, which was all they could do, yet I hear since by a waiting woman of hers, that he is yet living, and some (though little) hope is of him.  
Is there no way said the King to come at him, or to purchase his delivery? me thinks you being of his Country, and his father's Subject, should study how to do him service. Truly Sir said he I love him as my Prince, and admire him as his worth meriteth, and could I but tell how to gain his liberty, were it with the loss of mine own life, I would venture it.  
Have you no power answered Rosindy, with that waiting woman you before named? she might assist you. It is true said he, she may, and will, I assure myself, but Sir said he, I am but one, and this Castle is full of strong men, and so dangerous it is to acquaint any with such an enterprise, as death were all we could expect, and shameful death, in such a sort as would be inflicted without gain, but assured harm to him, if it were discovered, it were plotted for his release; beside, so weak the two Princes are, as they cannot perform any thing in their own defence, and if we stay till they be strong, it may be (for my Lady is extreme sudden) they may be dead before our help come. For their assistance said Rosindy were they but able to travel I would ask no more, nor I Sir said the other, were you two Amphilanthus and Steriamus. I am neither of them said he, but if I may without boasting say I have tried myself in their companies, and have come away without any shameful affront; and for my companion he is little inferior to any living. The Knight began to mistrust something, yet being indeed honest, and meaning what he said, desired to see his face, He not once fearing any thing from him, who so freely had discoursed to him, lifted up his Beaver, but instantly let it fall again, whereat the Knight's heart even leaping with joy, Ah my Lord said he, now shall we release the Prince, but you must venture a great hazard for it, you must go to the Castle, offer your service to my Lady, court her, refuse her nothing, which fondness will work infinitely on her, and so much as you may by that means win the sight of them, and let me alone then for the rest. I cannot do this answered he, being a harder matter for me then winning the Castle, for I cannot be unjust to my own dearer self, but dearest friend you may, you are not engaged but to hate all women, what need you care then what you do to hinder their sex. Must I make love to her said Polarchos? Yes Sir said the other. But if when this is done and I have played my part, we should fail, I should hate myself, and vex incessantly at my fortune. Never doubt it Sir replied the other, but be sure you make enough of her, and then prevail, for although she be crafty and devilish, yet so much she loves her pleasure, as she will rather be made a fool in enjoying them, then miss of them, and so passionate she will be, as you may have any thing of her, and but satisfy her mind. Polarchos overtooke the business, and Rosindy went but as his friend; this agreed upon, they went to the Castle, the Knight being Nephew to the great Marshal of Morea, held there as a prisoner to serve her, conducting them, telling the rest that this was one of purpose come to serve their Lady hearing of her rare beauty, and virtues.  
Being arrived at the Castle, they went up into the Hall, every place seeming stronger than other, & so the harder to win. In a withdrawing room above stairs this Venus sat, dressed as an inviter to those pleasures useth to be, her neck all bare as low as her breasts could give her leave for too much immodesty to show, her sleeves lose, and as she stirred her arms they would rise up and discover their nakedness, and surely white, otherwise she showed too much for an ill skin, although never so much delicacy, wanting chastity will make men distract, for how ill soever men be in their discourse, or living, yet they love modesty best, and most prize it in their breasts, though their tongues say other. She had her hair curled, and dressed up with jewels, and Rings, and many pretty devices, as wantonly, and fantastically placed as her eyes, which laboured in twinkling to moistness, giving occasion for belief, that that humour was most ruling in her. Unsteady she was in her fashion, her head set upon so slight a neck, as it turned like a weathercock to any vain conceit that blew her brains about: or like a staulke of Oats, the ear being weighty: her feet never but moving, as not willing to stand, or sit still; her gate wagling and wanton, business she had perpetually in herself, and with herself, the lookingglass being most beholding to her for stay; this woman (thought Polarchos) is fit to be the subject for this enterprise, he saluted her, and most affectionately looked upon her, she strait imagined she saw love in him, and felt as much in herself for she never wanted that, amorously she entertained his his salutation, her servant whispering to her that he was a fit servant to be employed by her, she knew he knew her, and therefore gave credit to him, after she cast her eyes upon Rosindy demanding who he was. They replied his name was Cautulus, & that he was of Bulgaria coming only in company with Larchos; if ever love did soveranize at first sight, here it was, for so passionate was she of the new guest as she even almost hung upon him to beg pity  
He refused no favour she asked, but so temperately carried himself as she sought and he granted; when he had done sufficient to make her sure, and finding himself so dear to her, he took occasion to demand many things of that Country, and of her Castle. She to endear herself to him told him of her power, and at last, all her secrets concerning the Prisoners; he counterfeited an admiration of her wit, and seemed so highly to esteem of it, as if it rather were a miracle to be told then found in a woman, she to make him assured of it, carried him into the Caves, and Prisons, where she showed him many so miserable, as they appeared their own Ghosts, their bodies quite consumed. In a Cave a little lightsomer, but no more pleasant was the worthy Parselius, and his friend Leandrus, both chained together in chains, and in each others arms, complaining and weeping their sorrows to those walls, and dismal rooms. O Parselius said he, how wretched art thou thus to be held, not only in fetters, but from thy sweetest love, what will become of her, when she shall hear that I am lost? What will my friends say of me? how will all accuse me? yet, how can I right myself or they secure me? Brave Rosindy would thou didst but know my estate, I know thou wouldst free me, or if not, thou wouldst yet certainly comfort my wife, thou art to succeed me, likewise be mine heir in loving Dalinea, & cheerishing her dearest soul, my affliction is nothing to me, must not she suffer too? I could bear all & more if thou wert not likewise to endure; pain unsufferable, to know that Dalinea must be afflicted, death were nothing, nor these dying pains, if I could be sure she, dearest she, could but be patient, when I consider her affection to me, the torments and violent passions she breathed in my first absence, do not they make me see her death? Oh my sweet soul, I would rather forgive thee for forgetting me, then for dying for me: yet the latter were the worthier, and none indeed is worthy of thee, for none but I can so firmly love thee, must this body so lovingly embraced, and kindly held within her purest arms, be bound in irons like a thief? must I cherished and daily tended by her, lie here naked on the bare stones, and die like a vaslell? these arms that have conquered, be shamed like a murderer? these eyes that have seen all the world's beauty; nay, Dalinea, & have been kissed by her, must these eyes now gaze on dead walls, & expect sight but to see death instead of all my former happiness? O Leandrus, had I died, and by it kept thee free, my soul would have rejoiced, and Dalinea been better contented; but to die here, and thee with me, she can never absolve me. Dear brother said Leandrus comfort yourself, and if it be but to be the abler to die bravely, what need we lament, our fortunes doth that for us? be patient, and death, if not disliked will seem enough pleasing; make it to us desired, it will then be welcome, and believe it, the more we pity ourselves, the more we shall hate that which we shall go to, and therefore the more to be sought; think but how fine a thing it is to be free from all vexation when we shall neither travel, nor fear misadventures, neither be taken by misfortune, nor shaken with the harms of others, when neither love nor hate afflicteth us, where all things are at one stay, no fall to hurt us, nor rising to corrupt us, when friends shall neither be discontentd, nor contented, but in death Dalinea willbe held from me cried he, else I like all the other well. Could you wish her here with you said Leandrus? No cursed were I then sighed he, but I would feign once more behold her ere I died. To be more torture to her said. Leandrus, content yourself dearest Parselius said he, and be confident, the Heavens ordain all things for the best, then do not repine, you have made yourself already famous sufficient to gain sorrow for your end and revenge; be then brave and resolute, and make bold Death (by your constant suffering) quake to assail you. O my Dalinea dost thou think of me thy poor, but loyal Parselius said he, thus did he wail, and Leandrus discreetly, comfort being in equal misery. Polarchos and his Mistress harkening to them, she glorying in their distress, he in soul lamenting them, but must counterfeit till fit opportunity was offered, which in short time he gained, for so fond he had made her of him as she gave him the keys of the Prison, and what else he demanded; Then did he provide armours for them, and one night, in the dead time of the night, when all save his careful eyes, and Rosidi's were shut, stole down into the vault, and there discoursed with them, letting them see both hope and joy in them. Soon did this work so with them as they recovered strength, and after some time were fit to go with them; the night being come for their escape, the honest Morean (who yet without his Wench would not go) and Rosindy went for them, & carried them into an Orchard thick & close where they were to tarry his coming, which was about some hour before day. She loath to part with him as being the last time of enjoying, her soul foretelling some harm: but being so ill, not able to tell her any good to herself, or to prevent hurt, was only troubled; he as willing to stay for the same reason of being the last, for she was pleasing; but when he rose and put on his mantle and other clothes, he again sat down on the bed, and taking her hand kissed it, she took him in her arms and kissed him, farewell dear Lady said he; my better self cried she farewell. He presently went down (having the keys) a backway into the Garden and Orchard where they stayed with his Armour, then arming himself he took his way with them to their horses which attended them at the further gate. A little sad he was to go, though glad considering the cause; but so long had he dissembled, and so feelingly acted his part, as he was caught indeed, such were her allurements, her sweetnesses, lovingnesses, delicacies, and pleasures, as she was fit for any servant, and yet such her changing she deserved none that had worth in him, & yet had he played himself almost into love with her. Being far enough, the rest made sport with their companion to see his passions, and he truly confessed he could willingly have stayed with her, but if ever said he one more be made such a stale as I have been, love will be undone, for it will turn that way, more delight lodging by half in this sort then in twenty marriages. They were glad he had his content, and they by that their liberty, so they posted till they overtook Meriana, who was much molested with Rosindi's stay, and well contented when she saw him, and happily did esteem of her coming that way which brought such good as the delivery of Parselius, who at her entreaty delivered the misfortune he ran into in this manner, Most excellent Sister after we had divided ourselves to follow in search of the lost Ladies, it was our ill chance to take that way that led us hither (into this country I mean) where first we met a pretty adventure, a lively Shepherdess blaming a lusty Lad for falsehood, she chid him, he answered for himself, and so cunningly, as though he surely were faulty, yet he cleared himself so finely as she grew patient, but then he waxed surly, so as intruth some hours we were pleased with their discourse: especially to see that when they had used their best wits, they concluded with kissing, and friendship.  
After that, we met a Lady extremely amorous, and of her we had a story, whom afterwards we conducted to the town, from thence we fell into the plain where you found my Armour, and where we lost ourselves, for nothing do I remember after I fell, till I saw myself in the cave, where I was visited by the chaste Lady of the Castle finding me so weak as she pitied me she said, for me she knew, and after Leandrus. I had, I confess, once before merited her displeasure, but now surely had died in it, had not your husband succoured me, the manner was this. I in my youth passed this country, and was brought with much kindness to that place where as she dwells, entertained I was like any King, and cherished like a Lover, she invited me to love by looks, and always that an amorous woman can entice withal, but I requited not: she yet more charitable to me then I merited, would persuade herself it was want of experience made me so slack in not understanding her, wherefore at night she came unto my chamber, the door I had made fast on the inside, she pulled hard at it, and was no question angry to be deceived in her hopes. At last I waked, and suddenly asked who was there, but in such a voice, as she conjectured some other had also lain in her chamber, whereupon she went back, and the next day told me of it. I answered, I was sorry for such a loss, but it ever was my fashion to have one of my Squires to lie by me in the room where I slept. Truly my Lord said she, had I imagined that I should not have attempted, but love urged me, and the better may you think of that love which never before was offered, nor till that time had I ever any ill thought. I said I trusted she did not blame herself for that favour she had showed to me her servant, but I had cause to curse the ill custom which caused my loss, she took that well, and so kindly as I might have received recompense for the former miss; but I was honest, and after kept my door fast for two nights more that I lay there, brought thither by a Cousin of hers, with whom I got thence, but since I heard how she ever railed at me, saying, I had dishonoured her with telling the story of her, and thereupon vowed revenge, which now she had taken. Meriana smiled to hear Parselius tell the tale so handsomely, and all but Polarchos liked, who cried out that for his part he liked her forwardness nothing ill; give me such a Lady still said he that needs no business to woe her, but merrily yields love for love, and rather before then after it is asked. This love matter held them all that day with talk, making good sport with Polarchos and his opinion of loving, while the Lady was in all the disorder in the world; for first she wanted her woman, then rising and going into her chamber finding her bed made and unused she grew somewhat troubled, sent another of her servants to call her Morean Knight, his chamber door they found locked, than they thought she might be there, for they had perceived love between them, they called, she vowed to put them both to public shame if she found them together, the fault consisting in not well ordering their affections from sight not in affecting, but the door broke open there was only found on the table a letter to the Lady, and in it nothing but this, live better, and speed better; search then was every where for him, when it grew towards Noon she went herself to the room where Polarchos had lain to tell him of this business (being loath to awake him any sooner) there she found loss, and so in the Cave, and every where miss what she sought, and found what she shunned, which was want: then she tore her hair, called her Knights, sent them all abroad several ways till they got knowledge which way they went, and with so brave a troop; then all was discovered, the Bulgarian known and the other, she was as mad as rage could make her, vowing nothing but death should satisfy her.  
Meriana held on her journey and all happily arrived at Corinth, where they were with as much joy as that sad time could afford entertained; the Queen being so excellent a woman as she won all to love her, and strive to deserve her favour. Dalinea grieved and joyed, and all at once, as her passions present and passed ran about the round of her thoughts. Orilena wished for Philarchos, who with Perissus had taken likewise their way in search, but made some haste to Corinth, knowing it was bootless to travel in those further Countries to seek them, who no question were either carried by Sea to some remote place, or Kingdom far off, or else by shipwreck cast upon some Island near the Gulf. As they came towards Corinth they met a Lady much distressed, complaining of a Knight that had abused her, Philarchos was willing to aid her, and so demanding what the matter was, she thus told it unto him, (demanding, and being satisfied who he was) I am said she Wife to a Knight married against my will unto him by my brother's command, whom I obeyed having no father; he was a man of great esttae, but no way handsome: neither was he deformed but in his disposition which was crooked, with him I lived an unpleasing and discontented life, suffering his jealousy and all other froward humours which took away the little show of love I bore him. I fell then into the way that discontented, (and so unfortunate women often do) for not able longer to abide his fury I parted with him, he being forced in recompense of my portion to allow me a certain stipend during my life, which he at last was brought to with willingness as he said. Some years we passed in this manner, I going to a friends house where I remained some time, and was kindly entreated by him, but his courtesy was at last discovered, and finding to what end it tended, I purposed to leave his house, and did so; yet like a woman did not so much dislike his love making which was the cause I took against him, as I flatteringly commended myself for being able to win a heart, he frequented my company after vowing all respect, and begging liberty to see me which should be without touch to me, or my honour. Under this civil demand I perished, for than did his second Act please better than the first, and I yielded though he asked not, and so I was made an unfortunate creature, for what danger such love could procure I fell into; I need say no more, I'm sure by this you understand me, I was careful of my reputation to the world, though to myself I knew how it was wracked, all possible means to avoid reproach I took, as I thought, safely and cunningly I carried the matter, yet walked I in net, or like the fowl, that when the head is hid thinks all is safe, though his body lie open to sight: So did I blind myself, while my action was brought to light, trusting an unworthy woman, who for covetousness undid me, leaving others unsatisfied, that for mere revenge spread my shame, which came to my husband's ears, and to my brothers, who inquired the business and found it so likely, or it may be true as he left me; yet I writ to him, and so fair a letter for likelihood, and coming from a Sister as might have got credit; but it prevailed not otherwise then to be forsaken of him. Then did my husband take a disgraceful course against me, that Country being very strict in punishment for such offences, I was condemned, and censured, and endured my punishment, but then I thought how this man for my pains suffered for his sake, I should have found affection or continuance of his love. he also left me, and in such case as I have no money or means, but to starve for want, my estate being again seized on by my husband and yielded him by censure.  
I writ to Amphilanthus to assist me, which his nobleness I make no question, in tenderness to Ladies, would have done, but he was called away, and I fear informed of my fault, which now I am doubly ashamed of, and grieved for: Alas Sir, I have made a free though a brief confession to you. I am the woefull'st woman living, of a good house, but ill life, of noble parentage, but mean disposition; yet, O Sir, for mercy sake pity me. Philarchos beheld her, of personage tall and well shaped, fair of complexion, good eyes, sweet favour, and of so modest a behaviour, as if her own tongue had not accused her, she had passed unblamed for any show of ill in her fashion, or lightness in her countenance. He pitied her, and demanded what he might do to help her. She told him that if he would ride with her to her brother's Castle, which was within aleague, she doubted not but he might obtain her peace; yet dare not I adventure within his gates said she, until you have prevailed: towards the Castle they went, being within sight of it, Philarchos spoke to Perissus to go first. Nay, said he, since you have undertaken the matter, I will not be so hasty to take it out of your hands, therefore do what you think best: on he went, and met the Lord of the Castle her brother, with whom he spoke a good space, a civil fine Gentleman he seemed, learned and stored with noble qualities, unmarried; but a Cousin german lived in his house to govern as Mistress: She was not so young nor beautiful, as one might imagine any other cause then to order his household was the motive of her living there; yet she was a brave Lady, more manly in her demeanour, and discourse, than the modestest of her sex would venture to be, and so much that fashion affected her, as she was a little too unlike a well governed Lady. she had been handsomer, (a cruel word) but is true; and yet she might well be seem a fair houses government: the Lord was courteous, and so kind, to his Sister's honour, which likewise was his, as he tendered it above the rate his cousin would have him, who out of care of all women's credits, as she pretended railed bitterly against her, reviling her for immodesty, for dishonouring her house, shaming her blood; more ado she kept, than he who it did more nearly concern, yet at last so fairly Philarchos spoke, and Perissus so well wrought with him, as they got his favour so far, that he was contented to see her; but by no means in some time to have her abide with him: they satisfied themselves with that for the first, and so brought her in to him; the next day they all parted, some one way some another, the two companions together, till they came to the nearest part of Achaia, to Corinth; then Philarchos meant to cross the Gulf, but Perissus advised by no means to venture it, yet he prevailed; and so they got a little Bark which was no sooner under sail, but with great speed made way, till they were encountered by a Ship, which would needs take them as prisoners. They were not made to yield as they thought, never having been bred to any such thing, wherefore they bravely fought, and at the boarding got into their ship, fight with such valour, as they amazed all that saw them, and made their party good a great space; at last they were so hardly laid unto, as they found yielding must be their best defence, but contarily it happened, for another Ship made towards them boarding them likewise, the fight now anew begun, the strangers fierce, and the others a little wearied; yet what most troubled them was that the two first encountered Knights got new heart again, and fought as freshly as at first. Discouraged with that, and vexed with the blows of the last succourers, they would have showed them a trick by suddden falling off from them; but the device was discovered, and they for their deceit punished with no less than death. The two last were known to be Selarinus and Antissius, so the four took their course to Corinth, where they were bravely entertained. Now were all the eight Champions together, none missing but Amphilanthus, and Ollorandus, and Steriamus, who was alone, who will in short time likewise arrive; Rosindy and Selarinus the two dear friends, having been long (as their love made them think) asunder, renewed their kindness, and manner of friendly conversation; into a walk private and sweet they passed, where love possessed Selarinus so far, as he broke into these passions. Alas Rosindy, said he, did ever heaven thus punish lovers? was any soul tortured like mine, or so unjustly condemned to death? what did that chaste dear soul merit, to be taken away and carried from his breast that held it dearest? Why was sweet and dainty Philistella deprived mine eyes, and all my sense of hearing of her, accursed Sea that brought this misfortune, damned Bark that betrayed her, and wicked vanity that enticed them to such harm. Was ever beauty so treacherously handled? Did ever eyes see such mischief? or ears have hearing to so woeful a misfortune? O Philistella, treasure of the truest sweetness; why art thou lost, and I in thee? Why was ever cruel fortune turned on thee, and why alone wert thou made excellent to be fallen into this misery? Dear love, canst thou not yet send thy spirit to me, to tell me where thou art? I fear thou hast long since parted from it, and too highly is it prized where it remains to be permitted me. I mourn for thy loss, I die for thy want, and assure thyself will indeed end, when I shall know that thou art not, which yet, I trust I shall not do, nor live to that heariug Why wail you thus, said Rosindy, since she is but enchanted? But enchanted, why call you that nothing? She is your Sister, and you should think it a hard fortune for her to suffer such a mischance; but to me it is death; but enchanted, and but for ever for any thing we know what old fables blind you, lest by enchantments? when shall the best lover and best beloved be found? till than which will be never, never being able to decide it, she must live enclosed in dull walls. Were not my loving arms fitter to embrace her? Am not I a more proper Keeper for such excellencies than a marble house? and is not Epirus a more convenient place for her to pass her time in, than a stone Theatre? where should she play her part, but with her love; where live, but in his breast? and yet you make nothing of this but an enchantment. When Meriana was injured, it was something, when her head appeared, then there was cause of mourning: but now that Philistella the earth's star is lost, she is but enchanted, This passion said Rosindy, so well fits your love, as I must commend it, and be no way angry with your choler, your constant affection to my sister, moves in me as much love as I desire to have from my best friend, yet I would have you temperate in your sufferings. Why should not the best lover be found? Never was any such thing made (for I dare not name it again for fear of displeasing) but to be ended: was not that at Cyprus concluded by Amphilanthus and my Sister? Yes, said Selarinus, but there be now both your Sisters in this, and Urania and my Sister, who shall fetch them out? never think of it, there lives none now they are there that hath worth enough to venture to have a thought of gaining end to it. A disguised creature, I sure disguised fortune hath caused all this, let me not live if I believe this tale. Will you for more certainty go and see it, said Rosindy? With all my heart, said he, if I were sure to be shut up where I might but still behold Philistella. That you may do if you please, and I will carry Meriana to adventure it. Ah, said he, now doth truth in friendship shine in thee most brave Rosindi, when shall we go? as soon as I can provide said he, them went they back into the court, where Rosindy acquainted the Queen Meriana with his purpose. She, who would not refuse any thing he liked or moved, gave consent, and so appointed habits of purpose, disguising herself into the shape of a Forrest-Nymph; to Sea they went, and by the directions given by the servants, arrived at the rocky Island, the Pilot knowing the place, being able to bring them the safelier to it without danger. To the Palace they went, and round about it, beholding it with all curiosity and care, at last came to the gate again, which as soon as Meriana touched, opened to her, who no question, had ended it for all points but the disguise which was forced. Rosindi and she passed to the Throne and Selarinus with them, who would not be shut out, nor can any be that will venture though alone, he straight ran to Philistella, who met him, and together fold in each others arms, sat down upon one of the ascents right before the other, Rosindi and Meriana in her new habits hard by them. No content can be compared to these happy people, because they esteem themselves so. Polarchos would not attempt alone for fear he should sit likewise alone within, therefore he wished for his sweet Lady he last parted from, or any other would be alike to him, so she were fair and kind, he walked up and down alone in the Island till he saw another ship arrive, than he went towards her to see what company she had in her, he found many, & all determined to try their fortunes; glad he was of that, and they rejoiced to find one could direct them, but among these, who should be one but his old love and late enemy the Princess of Rhodes: she was ashamed and grieved to see him, he was angry & as much displeased to see her, and therefore was leaving the company, almost ready to forswear the adventure, because he should behold her too long if one hour, for his hate. She sought by means of herself and friends there, to purchase some discourse with him, he shunned it, and despised the humblest entreaties she made; he saw her weep, and smiled at the falling of those tears, she quaked for fear of his frowns, he said he shook so long time in his iron Cage for cold: she sighed, and pitifully begged with eyes and heart for pity. He scornfully said there was not a more foolish thing breathing then a loving woman, nor less to be pitied; for, said he, their sorrows are but like exhalations in a hot evening, odd to behold, but neither hurt nor burn like lightning: no more should women's passions touch our hearts to scorch them, or torn them to any pity. She confessed her fault to be unpardonable. He answered, it was strange then her judgement would let her ask impossibilities; he alone, she cried, might absolve her; she alone, he said, deserved no good from him. She offered to throw herself at his feet for pardon. He said he would take her up, but to no commiseration from him. She protested her heart had suffered innumerable storms of passionate sorrow since his departure. He answered, his body and heart both had suffered by her tyranny. She repented, and implored pity. He slighted and denied what ever she petitioned for. Could there be such cruelty imagined against such a Suitor? none but cruel man could do it, and yet was not he to be blamed, for what punishment could be sufficient to be inflicted upon a woman, that not only left loving, but hated to that extremity: none can be enough; and yet surely she now bears the greatest this world can let her know. The other Ladies that were with her, were the Princess of Samos, (the refused love to Philarcos) and the Lady of Stalamina Sister to Nereana, all Island Ladies, and of purpose joined to try their fortunes: the Princess of Rhodes was like a Pilgrim, of Lemnos like a Pastora, and the other like a Shepherdess, they had servants or lovers as you men call them, who by their mistresses favours aspired to hope of winning; but the Rhodian Lady must try alone, Polarchos flatly refusing her, who wished she might for ever be shut up, and from all light, having such unhappiness. They adventured and Polarchos sees them all like the others enclosed. Now he begins to be desirous to see the manner of it, and how they sit within; yet alone he fears to go, lest he must be placed with the so much despised Lady. Days he stayed and none came, than he resolved to try his fortune, and so coming to the gate, finds there a young Lady in whose face he saw love, for he will that his government should be seen, and little cause to doubt the refusing of it to one that kindly would ask it, he taking the boldness of the long knowledge of that place, began to discourse with her of it. She, free in discourse, and as willing to answer as he to demand, they grew so well acquainted as they left the adventuring the adventure for that night, and the next day made themselves believe they loved enough to try for the winning of it, which they did, and very lovingly were together placed in the row below the other two pair; but so, as his forlorn Lady still beheld their kindness to her heart-renting torment. Parselius, having now long enough solaced himself, would needs bring his Dalinea to adventure, and Antissius, who had drowned himself almost in sorrow, having visited each place where he had been happy with seeing Selarina, and kissed the windows with his eyes, where she had wont to grace his love with her looking on it, would needs go with Parselius. Dalinea, she put on the habits of a religious woman and so took her journey. Philarchos and his Orilena likewise went, she in habit of a Country lass; at the Rock they arrived, and as the rest were received and shut up in the enchantment; Antissius taking his Selarina to him, Pamphilia and Urania sitting in the throne, beheld by the rest, as fittest to be admired. Perissus went to Sicily to fetch his Limena, resolving to try, and with as much cause he thought as any. Steriamus who was alone in his travels, happened on a fine and unusual adventure; for he having taken shipping, came down the Gulf, and passing by a Rock, casting up his eyes, he saw, as he imagined, Urania sitting upon the top, in a Pastors' habit; whereupon he willed the Pilot to go to the Rock, which he did, and he landing at the foot of it, scrambled up till he came to the top, where he found an excellent fine woman, her staff and bag lying by her side, and she combing her hair, her thoughts busied so as she tended nothing but themselves, and as she combed her hair, she sung this Song.  
YOu, who ending never saw  
Of pleasures best delighting,  
You that cannot wish a thaw.  
Who feels no frost of spitting,  
Keeping Cupid's hand in awe,  
That sees but by your lighting.  
Be not still too cruel bent  
against a soul distressed,  
Whose heart love long since hath rend,  
And pitiless oppressed:  
But let malice now be spent,  
And former ills redressed.  
Grieve I do for what is past,  
Let favour then be granted,  
thieves by judgement to dye cast,  
Have not of mercy wanted;  
But alone at feasts I fast,  
As Thief of pleasure scanted:  
You accuse me that I stole  
From you your hearts directing,  
All your thoughts at my control,  
Yet passions still rejecting;  
But you place me in the roll  
Of left loves new electing.  
Though I kinder was to it,  
My heart in place bestowing,  
To make room for yours more fit,  
As just exchange truth flowing,  
Till you fond gained the bit,  
And flying, left love owing.  
Which debt resting still unpaid,  
Let this at last be gained,  
When your new loves have you stayed,  
With welcome choice obtained:  
Let change on your breast be laid,  
While I live still unstained.  
By the voice he knew it was not his Urania, neither was her hair, though fair, long and bright like hers, nor so delicately shining as itself once had been, he was sorry and grieved his hopes were fruitless, yet he spoke to her, and she putting her hair aside with her delicate fine soft hand disconering a beauty fit to be beloved and pitied, that it was no more cherished, as by her song it appeared by him on whom she had bestowed it, mildly made this answer.  
Sir, said she, this place so sad and desolate should not, me thinks, invite such a stranger unto it, which is only acquainted with sorrow, and distant from all joy. My arrival, said he was caused by seeing you, a power able to command all passengers to stay, and pay tribute to your deservings: and this you may because I speak for truth, since I was invited to land by a strange belief, that you were a Princess whom I seek, once in Shepherd's attire, once lost before, and now again fallen into that ill fortune, I thought she might again put on such disguised habits, and so excellent a creature she is, as you must needs be so too, or could I not have mistaken. She looked upon him, and seeing his tears run down his cheeks, when he spoke of loss she pitied him and finely made this reply. Alas Sir, such is your sorrow, as I must (were it but only for that) wish I were as you are pleased to say I am; for than I should hope to have something in me to serve you: but so unfortunate a woman I am, and a long time have been, as I can but lament with those I would do service to, nor, except with my tears, assist those I most honour.  
How came this fortune to you, said he, for no doubt but you were borne of better rank than the estate you appear in shows you to be: Love, said she, hath tyrannised over me, as well as played with you. His sports, if but such as I yet feel, cried he, are rather racks and tortures than delights, unless you will call them plays, as Dogs and Horses are taught by stripes and blows, and such pastime I have in love, and so love plays with me: she that time that he discoursed, wound up her hair in strings of tawny, to show her chance; then as if to hide it a little, or rather herself from the Sun, she put a dainty straw hat on her head, appearing like Ceres crowned with her own plenty. He was desirous to know the place, the name of it, and under whose rule it was; but loath he was to trouble the sweet Pastora too much, who understanding his mind, led him all about the Rock, which was some half a mile in compass: in the midst was a pretty fine house, or rather a Tower built round; she had therein three rooms one over another, the top was covered with lead, and there she used to walk and view the Sea, she had two maids that attended her, and a Herd of Goats, which she for her pleasure, or rather to pass her time withal, bestowed looking to; it was for the quantity very pleasant & sweet, flowers naturally growing there among the stones, as Pansies and Violets, and others, what could be there showed him concerning the place, she willingly let him see, and told him it did belong to the Lord of Corsu, an Island not far off, but within sight of it, more it seemed she was unwilling to tell, but this the truth of the story was; she was by birth a great Lady in the beforenamed Island, beloved and wooed by many, but she loved only one, who loved her as much for many years; she was married to a Knight, but her affections were wedded to her own choice. He whom she loved was also married; but, like her, to one he cared not for: Their love (for what love can be kept secret where such bars be for enjoying) was seen and spoken of by many, yet few blamed them, but wished they were free, and married together; there was another Lady in the same Country, with whom she did much keep company, and at her house had the happiness to meet her love; she being acquainted with their affections, for what could she hold from this Lady, who was her chosen friend? careful she was to keep their counsels, desirous to aid them in their desires, and as kind a friend as a true one; but here began the harm to smother like wet hay in fire, smokes, but the flame was longer in breaking forth. This Lady called Siluarina had a cousin whom she did dear love, deserving from her what love could be expressed from one to such a kinsman, who was both that, and a loyal friend to her, nothing so dear to him as her love, nor of what did he take care in comparison of her: but being young, (and young men be wanton) he fell in liking with a servant that belonged to the Lady, where they lay, called Diania, she had others fairer; but this was by him chosen for loveliness, she was of as passionate a disposition, as he apt to receive, which was to the height of love, he gaining as it seemed, what he required as it also was found he did not sparingly demand. after this, he was persuaded by his friends to go see a Lady, a great marriage, and to woo her; he consented to it, and broke with his Cousin about it, she very well liked of it, & encouraged him in it: the spiteful woman seeing that, thought she would have her time to act her part, & therefore having got a false key, one night when the lovers had appointed a meeting, (as many they had, though still chaste) she opened the door, and going into the chamber, being certain by the watch she made that she was gone forth, took the lamp which hung on the wall at the bed's feet, and hung it in a chair hard by the bed's side, of purpose to give her at her return occasion to look on the removing of it, and to take a paper which she had laid at the bottom of it, wherein she had written the most villainous letter for threatenings & revile of her for her sin, as she called it, as it a little troubled Siluarina, though she had a great spirit, but that told her she had a husband, and so the knowledge would be dangerous, she had honour that would she be overthrown: lastly, her love might suffer, which most grieved her; for if all the harm had fallen on her, she had the less cared: to avoid this and keep all safe, she resolved to speak with her the next morning, for the hand she knew; but first her servant coming into the room to see her before he went a journey he was determined to make for some days, she showed him the paper. He was vexed, withal being afflicted that she should be in hazard for him, and in such a kind, as his pains and stirring in it, would be the worse for her reputation. She was more grieved to see him perplexed then with the business, wherefore she did comfort him, and assured him she would find a means to salve all. He took his leave of her, enjoining her to send him word how things passed; She promised that, and willingly would she do it, had it been for no other cause then so to hear from him whom so dear she loved. He gone, she rose, and being ready sent for the Gentlewoman to her, to whom she broke forth into these words. What offence did I ever give you? or what cause of malice have you against me to work such a treacherous practice seeking to ruin me and my honour? She replied that her Cousin was assured to her, and therefore she did it, that you, said she, having such power with him, should not seek to marry him to the Lady mentioned to him, or to any but myself; which if you do, assure yourself I will not spare you either to your husband or any else, but the whole world shall be filled with your shame. Threaten not base woman, said she, I fear not; nor think thou shalt make me so near thyself wicked, as to wrong my Kinsman or blood so much, as to let him fall to such mischief as to be thy husband: I know you wrong him, for he cannot have that little worth to be so fond of so vile a creature, or forget himself so far as to think of marrying you, or were it so, never think tricks can fright me; of any ill known by you that I have committed, I am as clear as air, only suspicion you may urge, and that was brought to light by you, and the cause known to be malice, who will believe you? my life hath gained a settled opinion in the world, not to be stirred by your ill tongue; my husband is so just, as when he shall hear you and me, he will, I know, right me so far, as you shall be punished and whipped for slandering me: What good then can you hope for; if you do talk? which do if you have a mind to it, and believe it you shall be no more spared than you threatened me; What witness can be brought against me? an envious railing woman yourself only: What will that work against me, when differences will be justly made betwixt you, and me, and malice overbalance the report?  
She hearing her so fearless, and knowing those things she spoke to be true, found she was deceived in her plot, and Diania in her invention, encountering another manner of woman than she looked for: she therefore turned her speech, protesting how much she had ever honoured her, that there should be nothing to the value of her life neglected to serve her withal, desiring pardon for what she had said, excusing herself with madness that possessed her for fear her Cousin would forsake her.  
Thus they parted, she careless of her danger in outward show to her in whom the danger lay; yet wished she for all her great spirit, that she were fairly dead, and so her honour safe: it continued thus, her servant returning back again, and meeting her at the same place, Siluarina having in the mean time visited her husband, and her Kinsman the Lady he was to court, at her lover's return, they discoursed of all the passed business: she contented because he was pleased, and he to find her faith and affection best contented, the Gentlewoman afraid, who thought to bring the brave Lady under her power, but her spirit was only to submit to love; happy she accounted herself even to blessedness in her love's requital, but within one year after, whether fully satisfied with her love, or enamoured (which if I might speak what I think was the truer cause) of another in that place led him astray from his first, and fell into the other as violently, if not less discreetly. She sweet Lady first condemned the choice, but when she saw she could not by strong hand hold him, she fell to petitioning his return of love to her; she writ to him, she spoke to him, she did all that a perplexed woman could do, but all prospered alike. To her companion and friend she complained, she wept to her, she comforted her, nor would she believe a long time that it was so, but chid her, as if guilty of false accusing, but when she saw it as plainly as all others did, she then pitied her, but could not help her; when she found no hope nor help, she vowed to die a constant, though unfortunate lover: grief made her lose all rest, that made her distempered and so sick, as none had hope of her life, her husband was tender over her, and took such pains, as he himself fell as sick or worse than she, who recovered, but he died; then did she sorrow for him whom before she scarce cared for, but nobleness made her grateful, and to have that virtue in herself, the want of which at that time in her other self caused her torment. When she had performed those rights belonging to her dead husband, and held herself according to the manner unseen for such a time, she was visited, and by her friend and lover who came together, bringing likewise his new love, & her Rival, who nevertheless she used well though she loved her not in that respect, but as herself she held a kind opinion of her, but her loss made her seem unpleasinger in her eyes, especially to see him, as if in cruelty so cherish her before her face, which he continued in to the height of neglecting, and scorning her who best deserved him before the other, as if to merit the more from her, but herein was his fault, not for loving (that being a passion cannot be resisted) but for hating where he was sought, beloved, and had loved, for if he had not, he could not have used that fashion he did; some will say it was to make himself free from her importunity; he might have sued from that, and have dealt more justly and plainly, told her what he strove by fashion to express publicly, yet when some time he came to visit her privately he used her better, showing high that he would not lose any thing though he did esteem of it as nothing, this more than cruelty, and she suffered with more than patience, a rare but ill example, that a woman who could contemn all passions, must yet be such a slave to one, and one that slavishly used her. What could be lost she parted from, content, quiet, honour, rest, reputation, fortunes to succeed, for no match was offered her that was not resolved of refusal, nor at last any, all agreeing her love was so fixed, as it was but vanity to seek to remove it or gain it from the place, She being in this estate settled, what means she had by friends, and her own suit to the Lord of Corsu, this little Island or Rock was bestowed upon her, whither she came, & there lived in solitariness once, & not long before Steriamus his arrival, her still loved, though not loving Lord by a storm was cast there, she not at first knowing it to be him, took him up half dead, tumbled with the Sea and wrack, she restored him to life and health again, bringing him home to her house, and with her wont affection, as forgetting all unkindness, or rather to make her virtue in constant loving approved, she cherished him, and without show of discontent entertained him, but nice she was to speak or touch of love. He used her with all respect, and much kindness seeing her fashion to him, and having (as he might well do) seen her tears for his harms which she with care repaied; he stayed there till he was well, but thence was fetched by another Lady, who hearing of his being there, and the danger he had escaped, came thither; she was kindly made welcome to her, although that she knew she at that time was his Mistress, and this knowledge she had from her traine-layer, who out of hate I imagine rather than love told it her, but the storm of her torment was passed, & now loved this Lady for loving him, her quarrel being but to her, that had won him immediately from her, so as this Lady was embraced by her, and as a friend received; for so she counts all that loves him, or that he loves, a strange expression this is of a love, yet true it is, for this the Lady doth; she brought them to the Boat, bid them farewell, cheerfully he told her the former strangeness should be no more, she said then should she forget it ever had been, thus without passion, but with true friendship they parted, who could not in times passed have said farewell but in tears, and such end hath likely so hot and passionate beginnings to end in ashes, what began in flames; and therefore this last is the surest love which will hold while the truth of friendship is esteemed. This Steriamus got knowledge of by pieces from her who would not complain, nor tell the story herself for fear of misconstruction of the hearers, lest the relation so rare should have been taken for an Allegory, and not a story wherein her virtue should be painted, and not found: or indeed the true cause was, that although she had with all earnestness, care, and study striven to forget her love, and miserable fortunes, having at last obtained all but hating him which her soul would never consent to, so well she still loves him, as she will not let her tongue accuse him; nay, it is so to be feared she will rather blame herself then him, were it not for making herself by that unworthy, and so that way likewise wrong his judgement, the ear she hath is to preserve his worth, no revenge in her but what her own heart endured, certainly she resolves to love and respect him most, she did with excellent discourse, and respective fashion use him, who told her all the adventures of the lost Ladies which he gained by the servant of Rosindy, who was sent to tell him of it, and after as just as he landed also arrived to his great comfort, persuading her so perfect a lover to go also and try it, but she excused it with her vow to live and die in that place, concluding her days with her former resolution.  
He parted thence, and so left the Lady Pastora on the Rock as hard as her fortune, and as white as her faith. Steriamus holds on his way, and at last is within sight of the Rock whither he must go, being there arrived he came to the house, and at the gate he found Leandrus fearful to attempt, lest he should not gain the honour of concluding, but he heartened him, and so together adventure, Steriamus absolutely thinking it belonged to him, and Urania who had been disguised, and therefore that might be enough to answer those things, that like Oracles are never without antiquity: As soon as they entered Steriamus like the other his Leaders ran to the Chair and took Urania, who with him went to the others, a place being reserved for her; now were all almost in couples as they wished, Rosindy and Meriana, Selarinus, and Philistella, Antissius, and Selarina, the rest as they would, and came coupled, Polarchos and his soon won Lady, Parselius and Dalinea, Philarchos and Orilena, but still Pamphilia sits leaning her cheek on her hand, her eyes lifted upwards as ask help, at her feet lay Leandrus gazing on her, and as much imploring pity from her, as she begged it from another, with whom her heart was, her eyes not in the absence of her heart turning to any other lower than the top of the room, and there stayed by the roof, not with desire to behold any thing but her love, and now his memory; all joyed in others loves, and a fine sight it was to see them in their various habits, yet all to one purpose, imitating the world, which for all the changes and varieties she hath, must have but one conclusion, and one end. Perissus arrives in Sicily without any adventure, and with as constant a love as he brought Limena met him, to whom he related all his fortunes, and the accidents in the late war, there he encountered the two young Princes of Corinthia, to whom they came of purpose to show their thankfulness for the honour done unto them, both in Knighting them, & bringing them to the knowledge of the wrong doer, and to be esteemed & accounted friends to the true and excellent Amphilanthus; He feasted them, & with great kindness entreated their stay & company to the enchantment, which they consented to, & before their going thence (which was not in three months) were fit for the adventure, being both surprised by that secret serpent Love; the elder falling in love with a sister to Limena, borne many years after her, and by a second Wife whom her father took after the death of her mother; she was a most delicate young Lady, and worthy of a brave servant which he proved, both loyal, and for his valour deserving fame. The other with a Lady near of kin to the King who was an heir, and willingly bestowed upon him with consent of all, especially liked by Perissus, who by this means held him always there with him, giving him great preferments and offices about his person, proving a Gallant Gentlemen, and a faithful servant to him and his Crown, fight a hard and cruel combat in defence of the King's honour against a Traitor in that Country, whose head he brought and presented to the King. This he did in the journey towards the Rock passing by the Castle where the ill man lived, who came forth, and challenged the King, but the youth of Corinthia begged the liberty of the combat, and bravely performed it; in the end they came to the Island, and there with the rest were shut up, the places being almost full, for daily some or other came. By this was news of the enchantment come to Amphilanthus, who with Ollorandus were newly returned from their journey going into Hungary to visit Melysinda; they had raised some pretty adventures in their travels, and had a more pleasing time of it, then in any they had made before; being free, and better disposed, and having got again some of their old passions, or memories of them about them, which made Amphilanthus willinger to try the adventure, and release Pamphilia, of whom he had let in a more courteous opinion than he had when he first blamed her, or thought she had done amiss, yet no further it passed. Musalina must needs see this enchantment, with her went Lucenia to see this also, and to be an Actor in it, so like an Amazon Musalina attires herself, though unfit habits for her, who was no hater of mankind; Lucenia like an Egyptian, and towards the place they travel, Lucenia used among them like a country Lady in the progress having on to see, but little respected, meeting with the proud Queen of Bulgaria; but now Leonius must be spoken of, who going directly into Greece, met nothing there for many days but the sorrow for the lost Ladies, he had no disposition to sorrow, therefore meant not as yet to visit the Court, but as others did, he being as much as many engaged in good nature to follow the search, determined upon that, but then he came into a part of Arcadia, not taking the directest, but pleasantest way to the Sea; at the entering into this Paradise on Earth for sweetness, delicacies springing there as plentifully as Primiroses in other poorer places, he liked, and wondered, not sufficiently as he thought, being able to contemplate the fullness, and richness of the bounty of that Province, riding sometimes, sometimes walking, beholding the rareness of it, yet when he had seen all the varieties increase in varying to pleasure, he was yet set upon by a more admirable sight which was the most delightful object for man to like, and this as well to be liked as any, being a fair and dainty woman, appearing a Shepherdess, but such an one as AEnona was in her time framed as if but to be remembered, and set as a foil to the excellency of the perfections in this creature, so much surpassing description as conceit doth commonly excel expression. The young Knight beheld this shining Star with amazedness, while she passed not far off from him, her apparel a gown of grey, cut square, a fine ruff about her neck: a little before it was open, the rest covered with pure white strips, but a more pure whiteness appeared when the skin was seen as white and soft as Swans down on the breast, her hair carelessly thrown up, neither tiyde, nor untyde, but cast into a delightful neglectivenes, some pretty flowers, and knots of ash-colour ribon, being here and there placed between the loose fastenings of her hair; gloves she wore none, showing the innocent virtue she was enriched withal, her legs and feet so delicately shaped, as they would rather seem framed for show then use; yet were they but fine enough to carry the body they were made to serve. She went with a modest, but cheerful pace, and being a little passed looked back again, with which he was (alas) struck, and all his senses ravished, his love only a senseless passion, especially when so suddenly surprising, and at best but a sportful madness possessing, and taking the place his better wits till that instant dwelled in, her bright and fair grey eyes looking as if the Moon in all her glory of brightness could have a companion, together her commanding beauty wrought so in the Prince, as he was a new creature, yet part of the old man, which was boldness got so far into him as he followed her, knowing that a man who meant to follow adventures must not fear any thing: especially a woman, and so sweet an one. They passed the plain, and so entered into a little Grove, where he heard as at her coming exquisite Music, drawing nearer he discerned a Fountain made in the fashion of an Imperial Crown with a Globe on the top, out of which like a full shower of rain the water came so plentifully, and showringly, as it resembled such plenty, so finely was it counterfeited, and the trees grew so, as who had stood in the wood would not suddenly have known whether it had rained or no, so powringly high, and sweetly it fell like an April shower, and so far, as it came upon the boughs of the circling trees, rattling among them to second the music. Underneath was the place where many sat round, the water falling beyond them, as if ordained for a cool Canopy to shelter them from heat, and not to offend with one teare-like drop, lest that might make sadness thought on: there did she with her companions in that life place themselves, the Grove was much of Sicamore trees, the roots of which, and between which were set with Roses, and other sweet Flowers, Violet, Pinck, and many such; without this was a fine circle, paved with several coloured stones, into which the water fell, and made a pretty murmuring brook, the waste of which divided itself into two lesser, running as with pain to part from those excellencies, in tears kissing the banks for parting from them. Myrtle and Laurel was also flourishing, to show them, that although Venus were Lady there, yet Apollo was often called, and for his sake his tree was honoured among those beauties. Many fair Maids were sitting about her, and such as had she been away, might have been commended highly; such possession had this sight gained on the Prince, as he gazed even to blindness, like one too long looking on the Sun: he admired, till he lost sense to admire, yet went his senses but round, for coming to the first place, he had sense again to love in wonder, but out of that he was put, for the heat a little slacked, she rose, and the rest attended her, she leading them, and one more than her wont troop, the Italian Prince prisoner. He durst not follow near, yet did his eyes kiss every step she took, while he emboldened with love, yet a little withheld by fear, went sadly and softly on, a pretty young Shepherd came smiling to him, using these words.  
If Sir (said he) this sight hath any way displeased you, the same may make you amends, for surely you see not such every day; or if a former cause molesteth you, look on these Lasses, and assuredly you will be cured? There can (said he) be little hope of cure from them, where such danger dwells. You should not me thinks (answered the Lad) doubt, nor is it for a man of your profession to fear, especially Beauties; yet indeed I cannot blame you since all eyes that have seen these, have yielded their hearts as slaves to them. Leonius made no answer, the Shepherd proceeded; But Sir be not afraid, for believe me, they are not more fair than courteous. Alas (cried he) how can I who am a Stranger, yet a possessor of a lost liberty, and imprisoned hart, presume to come where such perfections rest? Who dares approach lightning, no more dare I into her presence, nearer than to admire and behold her. I must needs say, replied the Youth, it is the less strange that you are touched, since all our hearts are subjected to the lowest of despair.  
I would I were but touched cried he, than might I scape, but I am wounded unto death, would I had been a Shepherd as you are, and tended flocks, so I had not known the torment of lost joys, or so happy as to have been borne among you, or destined to live for eternal good with you. Why may you not, said the Shepherd; many good Knights have after great honours gained retired, and taken our lives upon them. It is true, answered he, and had I done any thing yet to answer my birth, or now taken order I would do so too. here are (said he) many occasions to exercise your strength in, we have games which when you try, you will say, clear force must be found in the best performancers of them; besides wild beasts that often spoil, and vex our flocks; nay, the last day, that rare creature you (I am sure) most and only admire was in danger of a fierce Bear by misfortune let loose. This stirred up his thoughts, O said he, why was I so unfavoured by fortune, as not to be here, and being here, to deserve by my service, at least one kind look from her, who holds my soul, and it should seem yours: but if so, be not angry that I adventure to confess myself your Rival, you have already a little encouraged me, in telling me, all hearts yield, than I trust I shall not fall into your displeasure for being one of the Company. In all true respect I confess I am (said the Lad) her servant; but such are her perfections, as teach us not to aspire higher, then to behold, and obey her, other thoughts we are not permitted, but banish as treasons; and no more able are we to give birth to so high desires, then to look on the Sun, without having our hearts thrown down condemned, as our eyes cast wateringly for presumptuous gazing, begging pardon for such attempt. Dare you not love her (said he)? can fear appear before bold love?  
My hardiness (said the Lad) ascends to serve her with my life, my hopes, to be accepted as her creature, and this will be far beyond my merit, if I gain so much; and that I fear, as something makes you doubt. I doubt indeed (said he) and fear to give offence, because I love; I likewise love (said he) and love you for your love; for had I not been a lover, I could not so soon have found your disease; I judged you strait by myself, I pitied you as I do myself, who fell in love directly as you did, the first sight strake me, I was wounded with the first dart her kill eyes did show towards me, alas, she meant me as she vows, no harm; but what wretch could I do when I was hurt? I durst not ask aught but pardon: she granted that, and weeks did pass, before I sought her favour, and months ere I did venture for reward; but all this makes you (I perceive) run further in your error, therefore not to hold you any longer in this doubt, it is the Shepherdess that sat on the right hand of the fairest that I seek to gain, and now I hope shall win, for she looks kindly on me, takes my presents, smiles upon my flocks, cherisheth my Dog when he fawns on her, who as if he knew his Master's mind, still weights on her, lies at her feet, when God knows I could be he, and oft do envy his good luck, when she doth struck him on the back, and plays with him; she takes my Songs, and sings them, happy lines that ever gained such bliss, to kiss those sweet lips passing into air, as scorning other place then her breast, when she will expose them unto ears should harbour them; she sometimes likewise will give me some of her making, and commends my voice, makes me sing to her, which I do, and yield her own words to her best knowing judgement. She requires me presently, and sings mine unto me; then I say they are only good, when she doth grace them so; she answers best our songs befits our mouths, and ears, these are not only signs, but I do think, or much do flatter my poor self, they are assurances, and thus Sir now I hope that you are satisfied.  
I am (said he) doublie tide to you for your relation, which doth speak just truth, and for your love which in this shows to me. While they were thus discoursing, they heard a pitiful cry, & as it were the shriks of women, which made them high to the Plain, where they saw the same fierce bear hastily pursue the glory of those parts, ready almost to close her in his jaws, the rest of the women crying, and assisting her only with their lamentable voices, the only help that sex can yield in such a danger, yet now came it well, for the noise brought Leonius to her aid, who only sought to save herself by flight, but cried not like the women. No need there was to desire, or entreat him to assist, for carried by the wings of love, he flew to her succour; she seeing him run to help her, turned her course that way, as she ran, her dainty legs were seen, discovering such excellency in shape, and swiftness, as that had been enough alone to conquer; she passed by him, he standing still to encounter her enemy, yet did his eyes cast amorous wishes after her, his spirit raised in hope to meet the Beast, who gaped, as wanting breath to hold the joy he had in expectation, to devour that sweet portion of excellent daintiness; furious to be deceived, he sought to execute his fury on him, from whom he got a sharp, and sour encounter, Leonius his sword passing into his throat, wherewith he fell, than strake he off his head, for having let a presumptuous thought enter to hurt the delicatest Shepherdess, now Urania had left that habit. This blow being given, the before flying beauty returned, but in a more quiet and soft pace, which let the Italian with more leisure behold her, crying within himself; Oh that she had but as much affection, as I have love, than would she with as sweet swiftness run to me, as from the Bear, which sight did in fear yet content so much, as he could have found in his heart (but for her harm) to have endured the Beast, and have clasped her in his arms as she ran by him, her danger hindered his attempting pleasure, and so she was saved, taking her sight into his heart, in stead of her longed-for self into his breast, passions were as full in him, as Motes in the air, flying up and down like flies in a hot day; buzzing and swarming like Bees, that for all their profitable honey bring stings with them: or like a nest of Wasps, that one time beset one with their fury, and give no profit if shunned or overcome, except their own poor bodies, worthless and gainelesse: those thoughts he gathered together, as like a Fisherman, that in his net catcheth all that comes within it, yet picks he out the choicest, and appoints some to keep, some to sell, some to give, and some to throw in again, as not fit for keeping: so did he cull his several passions, some he chose to present her withal, some to hold in himself, to please her withal, others not to be seen by her, he cast away into the flood of his forgetfulness, whence none should arise to give her distaste; a commendable virtue in Youth, to shun what may by Youth shame to offend; he loved, and therefore was curious not to displease his best beloved, his highest desire being to content her, by whom he must only be contented, he shuns all else, as she did the Bear, which yet he loves, because he brought him means to do her service.  
When he had killed the Beast, he took the Head, Paw, and Heart to present her withal; Speeches he framed to deliver to her with those won relics, Prose and Verse he summoned, doubtful which should please, he stood as if musing what he might do to please her best; he feared one while the hideous face of the Beast would fright her, therefore thought the heart fittest, and enough to show her, as her prey, the Paw he thought fit, because it was lifted up against her, and if that, the Head as necessary which hatched the treason, of these three, and with these three he danced the Hay in discourse, and still ended just as uncertain and apt to begin again, as to conclude; a fair victory made him think a fairer acceptance must be yielded him, a bold attempt to save her, boldness might be waranted in that respect to speak to her, desert then claims reward, how should the claim be answered if not made? he must then adventure, and ask it, refusal cannot be, where knowledge, and instant sight says, it is requisite. Valour must be adored, and love cherished. Tremblingly he stood, as if afraid of that dead which he killed, his hands shook that held the head, his other hand strake off, his eyes uncertainly rolled, that were fixed to his ruin, his legs shakes under him, that against his enemies like pillars, uphold his strength and courage: and this is love that made him seem so weak a piece, and it was love that made him so fierce against her enemy, he looked towards her, and sighed within himself these lamentations. Alas, said he, that that face the heaven of mildness and sweetness, should carry with it such cruel force, as with delicacy to destroy; why should those eyes my souls only comforts look, and not with as much love as mine, since they are fairer, mine more loving, they more beloved? those dearest lips, let them not sever, if not to speak requital to me, let them not tell my bane, yet rather than not suffer me to hear that voice speak any thing, but if possible O speak but love; those feet and legs, the rich, and matchless supporters of this our heaven, bring her not to murder me, lad yourselves with pity and compassion, then come apace, and give life to the most perplexed lover. All this while she was coming, while he attended, as a passionate man doth the breaking of the day, when he is to visit at that time his love. Dawning and leisurely she came, he thought she made small haste, yet came too fast if love did not accompany her, and that love to him like a delicate young Courtier, who is to make his estate by the marriage of a great heir; when he comes before her, is at first timorous, loath to offend, yet dressed up in all richness and fineness: so was he, his Helm he took off, rubbed up his Hair, wiped his face, set on his most manly, yet amorous countenance, knowing women love not childish men, how much soever they commonly like loveliness, and the choicest beauties. Poor man to see what a business he kept with himself were strange, that he who but newly come to know passion, should be in so much variety, and skilful manner of learned knowledge to win, as those who after their natural inclination change, and woo daily, but to such it is pleasure and delight, to this young man torture. He sighed, he looked, he prayed, he wished, he did all, and yet nothing that might help him, for so long he was in these distempers, as either ignorance, neglect, or ill manners were like to be laid to his charge, who indeed was an exact fond lover taken, and spoilt at first sight; the loving Country of Italy could never make him thus passionate, the beauties there were as ones own Country, esteemed nothing so pleasing to one, as the thought of others, till they be tried, Arcadia is the place can only captivate his heart, and there must he taste the pains, makes him wish to be in Italy with freedom. O sweet place, heavenly Paradise (said he) what delights be in thee, but what serpents keep them from enjoying? stories I have heard of waters; and trees kept by Monsters, but what rareness was ever thus kept, as love keeps her, and me from ask pity, while he stood letting his imagination twine out the time, which he might, if acquainted with love, or bred in his cunning School, have used to far more gainful purpose. She past fear of danger, secured by the death of the Bear, her before threatener, turned back, and came to thank him; but what with her sight and words, he stood in as still a Posture, as if the Beast in death had also wounded him, which made that excellent Shepherdess take him by the hand, and kindly demand how he felt himself; but the touch of her dainty skin, with the rare softness, gave a more cruel hurt to his heart, than the hard sword had given (though death) unto the Beast. He could not answer but with sighs, his eyes raining showers of tears, and yet as through a wet cloud gazed on her: She was sorry for his sorrow, and wished her help might pleasure him, it was she alone that could do it, but he durst not hope for it, nor adventure to demand it; then were the rest come unto them, who stirred not, but looked like metamorphosed creatures, their hands fast in one another's, she pitying, and he that had what he could wish, yet fearing it, enjoyed it not, which the Shepherd Youth perceiving, loving Leonius as much, as man could love another with no more acquaintance, stepped to him, Sir, said he, it appears that the sudden joy of this brave victory, with the releasing of this rare beauty before you from such danger, doth too much possess you, or else the same fit which this day I found you in, hath again overcome you. He now who shame instructed to be careful, starting as children do at Bugbears, told him, that it was true, his fit had taken him, and held him worse than it had done before, which had caused that stillness in him, for which he asked pardon of the most fair Shepherdess, and kissing her hand, assured her, that nothing was more comfort to him, than the rescuing of her; nor any thing more grievous, then that he had been so rude, as not to acknowledge the favour she did in coming back to thank him for that, wherein he did but the due of any one to serve, and preserve such beauty, thinking himself most fortunately borne, and brought thither at that time so to do her service. She mildly and modestly blushing told him, the good fortune was hers, which had gained not only safety, but that from the noblest hand and heart; so taking away her hand (which was a deathlike blow to him) courteously bid him farewell, with millions of kind thanks, and sweet words unto him, every one of which were wounds unto his soul, because with them she left him.  
They gone, he alone but for the Shepherd, began his complaints, partly to himself, partly to his new friend in this manner. Is it possible O Arcadia, the most sweet and delicate of all these Provinces, that in thee there should live so dangerous a creature, as at first sight should wound, and kill with the first touch? alas my friend, what peril doth abide in these most dainty dwellings? were these places ordained excellent, and alluring to draw men to their ends? are you made happy with seeing delicacies only to see them, but to taste none other than sharp murders? O my father, how hast thou left thy son in thine own friends dominions to be slain, and by a woman? how will you bravest brother, disdain my blood vanquished by a look? O Arcadia in your sweetness I am martyred, and one of your King's blood thus you kill, are you not then guilty of treason?  
The Shepherd who now perceived this Knight to be a Prince, and by his words an Alliance of that Country, he kneeled down, and thus spoke, My Lord said he, blame not this place for that, for which I doubt not but you shall have cause to love it, accuse not your friends, since if they saw your valour and brave destroying that fierce Beast, they would without question glory in your virtue, nor be displeased with your fortune, or love, since fortune hath brought you to love one the most loveworthy, and I beseech you what cause have you thus to complain, not knowing whether you may be favoured, or disgraced, I see no reason you should be discontented if not, that you would not receive kindness, she so mildly, and sweetly affording it. Love; Love it was, and is cried he, makes me thus wretched, what can I do when my senses in her sight fail me? how can I have comfort when deadly despair makes me not dare to hope? what shall I joy in, when I scarce may venture to look on her, who must deliver me from this bondage? noe I see no remedy when I am not able to ask, or take it. I am lost and only found by despair, and desperate love. Then did his tears follow those words, and groans those tears, till the Shepherd began again.  
My Lord said he yet hear me, there is a way whereby you may let her see your love, and yet not speak it, your tears thus continually shed, your sighs still breathing out your passions, your groans foretelling death, will all truly witness your affliction, and sue for you; pull off these habits unfit for these passions, & put on such as I will provide for you, so well agreeing to your humour as the clothes, and the action shall make her unable to withstand so much pity as must breed love, and that love if you then discreetly govern it, will procure your happiness. Direct me dear friend said he, and let me enjoy her love, and be assured I will make thee see I am not ungrateful. Then my Lord said he, you shall put on the habit I will tomorrow morning bring to yonder Grove, but be sure you be there before the Sun appear, lest they be there before us, and after follow my advice, so shall you I fear not come to your wishes end, but withal you must promise, and perform assistance to me. Leonius could but with kind tears, and straightly embracing him, give him thanks, and promise; thus they resolved, the youth went to the next town to buy things fit for the Prince, while he with sad thoughts, uncertain wishes, and restless passions spent the time till his return.  
The Shepherdess who (poor soul) before knew but her own beauty, now found another's to master her, I would said she the Bear had devoured me, rather than this torment should perplex me. Why did this Stranger succour me? of purpose was he sent to torture me, must I be made a subject to one I know not? and suffer afflictions for one I shall no more behold? fie upon this strange love, which makes me so strangely love as to affect impossibilities, but I see I am but justly punished for disdaining all the Youths of these parts, thinking none worthy of me, now I must love one that knows me not, will no more see me, and surely loves an other. Pride, it is you have undone me, I confess my fault, I sorrow for it, yet Venus help me, Pan our Sheapheard-God assist me, let not one of your servants, nay poor me your servant thus distressed live; I recall my former scorn, I repent my disdains, I accuse myself more than you can blame me; O aid me then. Thus she passed the night in millions of such like complaints, till morning being come she rose, and hastily dressing her, raised her flocks before their usual time, as she was raised by this unusual passion; to the plain she went, there awhile she stayed, yet rested no where, sometimes she walked a pace as if she would leave that pain behind her, but seeing it so closely follow her lay down embracing it, yet blushing would turn her face on the ground, and seem ashamed of her own thoughts. O Chastity said she, why do you wholly possess me? dear Diana take me to thee, but then did Venus as in rage increase her flames, making her forget all but her affections. Then rising, to the next tree she went which was a Willow, and of those branches she pulled, and with them crowned herself, casting off her straw hat, her Sunbeam hair falling down at the full length, which with a little fine, and natural curling wretched to the small of her leg, and the rich thickness spread itself over her shoulders; there awhile she stayed, graving some few words in the Bark of the tree, agreeing to the pains she felt, and condition of that tree, whose softness concurred with the yielding hearts of lovers, but the Fate given it to be forsaken, and made it to be the Garland for such hapless creatures. Well poor Willow said she, thou shalt yet be my companion: and I will honour thee, though happier folks despise thee; then went she into the Grove, but as little stayed she there, flying the company she saw there assembled, seeking new places, as all do that seek ease, and hope for it by travel; so she passed along the side of one of the little Brooks, her eyes still fixed upon it, speaking sometimes, at last she said these words. Poor Brook said she, how like my pains are yours, I seek to fly from the Spring of my sorrows, so fall you from your head: how fast sweet Brook you run in hope of eafe, so fast do my poor hopes fly from my hart: stay, turn your course, and I shall hope to live, not will not be, you run, and I continue in my pains. As she went on sadly bemoaning her solitary thoughts, she heard as pitiful a voice utter these unperfect joined words, Leonia poor Nymph said it, where is thy vow? must Venus make thee change? O love, coward love to steal thus to my heart, couldst thou not have come bravely, and contended with me in the Chase, or taken me in the time when I did revile thee, and scorn thy power, but to set upon me when I was quiet, and safe as I thought, treacherously to lie in wait and betray me when I was unarmed, naked, and without power to resist, and more for my shame when I had sworn to Diana, what punishment will that chaste Goddess lay upon me for this offence? But fool why talk I of these poor things which in comparison of my woe are but blossoms. I love, and must love, what then? I will love, and die in love, then shall that Cruel see written in my heart that murder thus committed, unkind, alas my soul melts as these tears, and yet to thee my pains are no more weighed than bubbles, my hart weeps blood, pity me then, say you do pity and save me, pity said the Shepherds is that I want; what new companion in my woe have I found here? with that she went towards the place from whence as she imagined that sad voice did proceed, when as a little from the bank under the shade of myrtle trees, which made as it were a Cabin of themselves, lay a Forest Nymph, her apparel of colour and fashion like Diana, buskins upon her legs of white, her hair tide up, only some of the shortest, and about the temples curled, crowned with Roses, Hyacinths, she lay with her head toward her, who with a soft pace went on till she came just behind her, then viewing her earnestly, her eyes being so full of love, as all loving creatures found a power in them to draw them to her call, especially those eyes which were so much hers as they could not stir but to her will, commanding them so, as she could with her looking on them with loving force, bring them to her own; and so it now proved, for those eyes which full of tears were seeing themselves in the stream, showing their watery pictures to each other, her earnest viewing the Nymph with a natural humbleness to hers, drew her looks to her, joy then appeared in the Nymph's face, yet strait was that clouded with sorrow; She rose, and with a timorous (though she imagined bashful) countenance and fashion, saluted her.  
I did think fair Nymph, said the loving Shepherdess, that it had been impossible for me to find any so like myself unhappily wounded. Why are you hurt fair Shepherdess, said she? alas I am sorry for you, and wish your remedy, for none knows the torment of despair like to myself, and therefore in charity would have none else afflicted with it, but it is very strange that such beauty should complain. Alas said she, oft times perfection is turned to the contrary, and so is it in me, if in me be that you spoke of: but I pray sweet Nymph, let me take boldness to demand of you, of whence you are and what hath brought you hither. Love said she, for this must be the first, and last of my discourse, all other matters how great soever, being but dependences of this. My name (said she) is Leonia, my profession was what my habits tell me to be, but love hath altered me, no more must I abuse my Mistress who I served, since I have left her and an new one now have gained, a poor change, (yet the fruit of change) when for liberty and pleasure I get beggary and slavery: Then this passion, rare Shepherdess, for nothing but misery follows it. Alas it is too late, said she, you give this counsel out of time, for I am in the prison too fast locked, by any means, but by love to be freed. Are you in love then said Leonia? Oh hapless me, why, said the Shepherdess, doth that grieve you? It grieves me that such sweetness should be vexed. It grieves me more (crid she) that I love in despair. Thus both afflict me, said Leonia, and on these do I plain, and in them die. Let us sit down and tell our woes said she? Mine are all endless said the Nymph, yet I will not refuse to do what you command, for you may help me if you will but pity me. I pity you, said she, and love you, for in you I see (O dear remembrance) many things which report sent my love unto mine eyes; with that the Nymph did blush, the Shepherdess went on: Be not offended sweetest Nymph, said she, for he was excellent whom I did love, and do love, rare for true beauty and valour, and O, too brave for me; none can be so (sighed she) fair Shepherdess, for the fairest, and bravest must sue to you for grace: but I did blush to hear that I should seem so favourably blessed in your all-conquering eyes, as to be thought but to resemble him that happy man whom your great goodness loves. But to go on, I was by my own suit to my parents chösen a Nymph, and accepted into the number and service of Diana's servants, being given to all those sports that Goddess did affect, but especially, to throwing my Dart at marks, and shooting in my bow at beasts, or any thing, so cunning I was in that exercise as I could hit a bird at great distance; oft times I would take my Grayhounds, and course the Dear, or Hair, being so nimble, as I could follow them where ere they went; these, and many other harmless delights I lived in, till one day sacrificing to Diana, unhappily for me, there came a Youth, who having killed a terrible Beast, offered it to the Goddess, as the Princess of the Woods and Deserts, this offering proved strange, making my heart the Victim bleeding, and lying on the Altar, dedicated to his love, thus doubly had he conquered, I fainted, fearing the chaste Goddess, yet I was rescued by Venus, who promised her assistance, but not so well armed by her, as not afraid of Diana, I fled from those parts, and since have I roamed about, directed by mine own despair, for never since have I seen my love; the forgetful Goddess having enough in winning, but scorning too much care hath I fear forgotten me, contented with my yielding, but careless of my proceeding; I seek still, but I know not with what hope, I have wept, and grieved, and so I fear still must, and thus lives, and perpetually laments the poor unblessed Leonia. The Shepherdess catching her in her arms, Ah my companion in my woes (said she), let us still live together fittest for our fortunes, let our tears be shed together, our sighs breathed together, and let us never part, but always keep together. This was what the Nymph desired, being so glad of that embracement, as she could have found in her heart to have forgot her habits, but danger of losing all, if not governed with modesty, till apt time gain fitter opportunity of discovery, she only with an affectionate kiss, and that she would not suffer herself to miss, being such an one, as liked Veralinda (for so the Shepherdess was called) better then any of her fellows kisses, for this seemed more passionately kind, gave liberty to that, and then began her own discourse thus. My name is Veralinda, daughter I am to the King's Shepherd, who dwells upon yonder Hill, his place, estate in goods, and some kind of thing in me, which these people here call beauty, hath made me to be sought by many, but I have still refused all, truly I must say with some neglectivenesse; for which I am punished, and if I flatter not myself above my merit, the pain being more than the offence, for I am made to love in despair, to hope in loss, and affect one I know not, or can aspire to thought of ever seeing him again, Destiny prevailing in this, & I am left a poor example of the Fates tyranny: for how can I hope, that if I meet him, he could fancy me: he a Knight, I a poor Maid; he a Prince it may be, and surely is, for Princely virtues dwell in him, beauty unexpressable, and such as but in you I never saw any like him, and so like are you, as I love you for his sake so much, as love can command love to the Image of their Dear.  
Valiant he is above expression, and mild, and courteous; but what doth grieve my soul most, is, he surely loves. And surely would love you (said the Nymph) if he could be but happy with the knowledge, in the mean space grace me with your favour, which I will strive like him to merit, let me enjoy those sweet embracements you would yield to him and think I am your love, which I will do by you, and in that thought till we be blessed with perfecter enjoy, we shall have some ease.  
She condescended, and so they kissed again, wishing and loving, they remained, passing many such pleasant times, till at last the wonder of such affection 'twixt women was discovered, and it may be, had then been brought to light, had not the Shepherdesses arrived to his grief, and no way to her content, who truly loved the sweet conversation and discourse of this Nymph: to the Fountain they then altogether took their way, the Nymph setting herself so, as she might both see and touch the loved Shepherds, all the rest beholding this stranger with as much admiration, as she did their Mistress, thinking no difference between them in beauty, save that the new guests fairness seemed more masculine, as fitted with her estate, yet full of grave, modest, and seemly bashfulness. Thus they beheld each other, the Shepherds passionately beholding Leonia in memory of her love, and the Nymph amorously gazing on her in her own passions, till the music a little awaked them, making their ears prove traitors to their hearts, for letting in any thing to them but love. Love is a subject so delightful, and alluring, as it not only wins, but commands the very soul to the hearing, or writing of it, so wholly possessing, as it caused this amorous accident, and yet will not permit a resting here, but proceeds to Amphilanthus, and his company, who lived in all pleasure outwardly, yet fed sometimes with a bare hope, as others were, and this oft they felt, and after learned to know; they passing along a pretty time without adventure, it was their chance to meet the same proud Queen of Bulgaria, whom Rosindy had encountered, but upon fairer terms, for she knew Lucenia, and she did (as she was an excellently well fashioned woman) give her respect answerable to her heart. Amphilanthus beheld her, and thought her as fair as she was, yet not a woman (at least as he protested) to work wonders on him; yet she doubted not, nor was afraid, to show, that she thought, he was her servant, if she pleased: but wrong hath been done to that famous and excellent Prince in that kind, many times by a noble free fashion he had, which gave ignorant or bold people liberty to speak of him: but to our purpose.  
After they had discoursed some days together, much entreaty having prevailed, they obtained her company to the Enchantment, the noble Amphilanthus assuring her, that the King would not be offended, when he should be told, with her journey, that she had taken it upon his request; they came down still, till they were near the Gulf of Lepanto, where they meant to ship, and so to go for the Rock: but as they were one hot afternoon sitting in a shade, a lovely sweet creature as those parts yielded, apparelled as that Country fashion was, for the better sort to wear, passed by them.  
Musalina would not let her go so, but walked to her, who with much civility stayed, and attended her commands. She demanded some questions of her, she answered them with sweet and pleasing truth, at last good breeding made her know, that courtesy was not to be contemned by the greatest, wherefore she invited her, and her company to rest them in her house, which she said was hard by; and though not worthy of them, yet better than that place.  
She took her invitation, and went for the rest, who strait came, and accompanied her to her abiding, which was a fair house moated about, but strong and handsome, Gardens and Orchards within the moat delicate and pleasant, a Boat to go over it into dainty Meads, Woods, and Groves, so pleasant this place was, and so kind her entertainment, as quickly they agreed to her civil request, which she seeing the day far passed, made to them, for lying there that night, Music they had of diverse kinds, and such mirth possessed them, that place having ever been blessed with that fortune, as few or none could be melancholy in it, except the Mistress, whom commanding all there, appointed that passion wholly to attend her, who not naturally, but accidentally was the saddest noble Lady in those parts. Dance they did, and all other things that orderly mirth would permit; yet still the Lady walked up and down, as if her soul were absent, and the body guided but by a Deputy, who did not so well govern. Musalina marked it, for the brave Queen marked little but herself, and the glory she took in that, she asked the cause; but with much fine and cunning respect, not so finely insinuating herself into her, but that she found her, yet meant not to be too curious, wherefore she answered her thus.  
Madam, if the cause of my sadness were worthy to be heard, or known by you so perfect a Lady, I would not be the delayer of the happiness to that, and myself in holding it from you; yet some part, as all, is too long to tyre you with all, I will say I loved, and was beloved; I chose, and am forsaken; I love, and I think shall dying say so, and do so: I lived a while nourished with the bewitching food of hope, but that hath now left me to the opposite party, Despair; despair, the spring of all love-lost tears, and the Tomb of constant lovers, whither I haste as fast, as my ill fortunes can carry me.  
By this they were got a pretty way from them, and hard by the Moat side where Musalina would lie down, and hear more of her plaining: then said she; Madam you shall hear some more, by that judge the rest, for my lips shall not speak all, though truth of him; I dare not call him any thing, for his name makes me still love him, and ready to forget all injuries, and that love will not let me give him any cursed title; but I went one day a journey from his house, with a Cousin of his, he not being able to go with me, his eyes then filled with water, mine as full, hearts being equally stored with love; words we had few, his being these; Farewell my Dear (said he) speaking this on my lips, and carry my heart with thee in thy journey. I will (said I) both keep it, and cherish it, do the like for mine that I leave with you: his eyes told me he would; I thanked them with mine, and so parted, not fearing that, which now too strictly holdeth me, but since I never will trust man, that when he will can weep; my soul did at the parting strangely misgive me, that some ill would follow, but I guessed not what, though I confess a little while before, I had somewhat been touched with care, I will not call it jealousy, though 'twas as violent a pain, but how did he seek to clear himself, and satisfy me? I came in once, when they two all alone were sitting on a bed, she looked angrily, as having hindered her, and red with fury, he I think with shame, that so I found him, yet I went away, nor did I challenge him for that, though he did seek to make me think no hurt was meant, or harm unto our loves; this made me more suspect, suspicion bred more grief, the noblier he strove to give me satisfaction, the more I was engaged to believe, and did at last truly repenting, as if I had erred, and as clearly loved as at first, and as fervently.  
Oh what eyes could with freedom look on him? could any heart hold out against the siege of his alluring sweet beguiling love? no 'twas impossible, all were created to be made his prey, and he too pitiful, and so by pity to receive, and then to ruin, and such chance befell me, come now remembrance help to molest me in thine own distress, and please this Lady with my misery, tell her the sweet, and amorous words he gave me, and won me with, when he did meet me in that sad fine Grove, the third time my sad eyes were blessed with seeing him, with what fineness, and yet subtlety did he express sorrow for me, and my passions, yet comfort me because they were for him? how did he conquer me with love, and his respect which I saw so curiously sought for my yielding love, yet still preserved mine honour; this made me so willingly his prisoner, as I took care how to express it.  
What witchcraft lay hidden in those smiles that so enchanted me? and what power had those instruments sweet speech, more sweet and unrefusing conversation over my heart? tell me poor heart, did I take joy in aught else but his love? did I not despise all other things campared with the high rate of his sight? thought I of any happiness if distant from his presence? did I not think the Court a jail, whither we were committed, till his sight gave me liberty, with blessedness in his return, whose absence if but for the space of one days hunting, did shut up all delight in that time from poor me? did I apparel myself but with neglect, if he were not with me? none but himself though a full Court I did behold, (for Madam I have been a Courtier,) and if he missed I saw none there, and thus much hath he sworn to me; such was my love, and is, and being such, far bitterer is the loss.  
More the fair Musalina would have heard, but she was unwilling to say more, and therefore she urged no more, than went they to the others who were pleasantly talking; Amphilanthus welcomed Musalina, taking her by the hand, and so they sat, the Lady beholding them, thus said she, have I sat too, once blessed with such like kindness, now cast into a hellisher distress, Musalina took occasion again to hear her speak, she granted it, and proceeded.  
Madam said she, you neither now have, nor ever had such happiness that mine equalled not, 'tis I confess boldly, but I think truly said; What did a Lover in passion ever vow, and swear, and after break, that he hath not done the like? none ever more amorous, none more unkind.  
Have you not seen him lately said Musalina? yes said she, I see him often, but his scorned hath so long ruled, and I have with such care, and pains sought to put his neglect, and disdain (because it was a fault in him) from me, as now I am in a kind free, I confess not altogether, but indifferently, for I can with less violent grief suffer his loving, and courting others before my face then at first I could, but yet I had rather me thinks still have those favours; the beginning of my misery had truly almost killed me, and the more grievous it was when I perceived he gloried in my pains, I have been about then to call him ungrateful, but my love stayed my tongue, and yet but like an intermitting Pulse, beat doubly on my heart.  
One night especially I was afflicted with it, when I was (with his beloved Mistress, who was a greater Lady, though not a more true Lover than I was, (and himself) invited to a supper; there all he could do, was to express his affection to her, and his scorn to me, I was in an Agony to see it, my blood rise, and all my senses were sensible, but of disorder; I sweat with very vexation, and for all this at our parting, this cruel man smiled, and bid me take heed, I caught no cold. It vexed me to hear that slighting, and before mine enemy, yet my hate turned more on her, whom I was content rather to accuse in mine own heart for bewitching him, than consent to truth, or confess him vugratefull, for I had deserved, and that he begins to profess.  
What if he should sue again to you (said Musalina) would you not receive him? That were unlikely surely Madam, said she, and I have studied so long to be out of love, and gain liberty by forgetting, as I think it would be as hard a thing for me to love, or rather trust (for indeed I dare scarce trust myself with loving him) as it was to hate, yet so near I was once to it, that there was scarce the breadth of the finest spun hair between me and that cursed humour, but good, fond ignorant, kind disposition came cross the way, and so I came no further, then to leave loving in show, but never could attain to hate, or to leave truth in love; this was, and is my state, take heed brave Lady, trust not too much; for believe it, the kindest, lovingest, passionatest, worthiest, loveliest, valiantest, sweetest, and best man, will, and must change, not that he, it may be, doth it purposely, but 'tis their natural infirmity, and cannot be helped. It was laid to our charge in times passed to be false, and changing, but they who excel us in all perfections, would not for their honour's sake, let us surpass them in any one thing, though that, and now are much more perfect, and excellent in that then we, so there is nothing left us, that they excel us not in, although in our greatest fault.  
Amphilanthus heard her, but answered not to it, thinking an ill matter better left then stirred. Lucenia was touched to the quick with this, yet dissembled it, and so they rose, resolving to go thence, the Lady bringing them through the walks, and over the Mote, being the pleasanter way to their Horses and Chariots; but by the way, Musalina again moved her to discourse, ask her, if it were possible for her to hold any correspondency with that Lady her servant loved, and left her for. Yes truly Madam, said she, I have brought myself to it; we do often meet now adays together, and hunt together, and eat, and converse. Doth she know you loved him, said Musalina.  
The whole Country did (said she) and therefore she could not be ignorant; she knew it Madam, and knew a bracelet of hair she saw once about mine arm (against my will) to be his, though would have excused it, by saying, 'twas my husbands, whose was something of that colour, but as much difference between them, as between silk and woollen.  
What satisfaction can she give you for entertaining him? Embracing and cherishing his affection (answered the Lady) for which I can love her. Did she never urge any discourse concerning it?  
Yes (said she), and lately took occasion to speak, I am sure she meant of that, but covered it with the third person, an ordinary course in such businesses, and this she said, that so much she could love a woman friend as if she should be in love with the same man that she loved, and had no other means to obtain, but by her leaving him, she would to do her a pleasure, and ease her torments yield him to her, at least leave him at liberty to take her: I found what she aimed at, and told her it was a new and an excellent manner of expressing friendship but I should think she seemed a very ignorant woman that would trust in that kind, and should show more indiscretion then perfect friendship in trying it, thus she could not catch me; by this they came to their Chariotts, and so they parted. Musalina ask her, if she had a husband, I had Madam, said she, which was none of my least afflictions or molestations, then kissing her, the rest likewise took leave and so went on their journey, the Lady returning to her house, they directing their Voyage towards the Gulf, where they shipped, and sailed towards the Island Rock, the Ladies in their disguises. Musalina an Amazon, the Queen a Persian, but they were hindered a while by an other Ship, the manner was this.  
One standing upon the Hatches, saw and knew Amphilanthus, who was discoursing with the two brave Ladies, and commending the Queen of Bulgaria for her choice of habit, becoming her so well, as it was a great pity, he said, she was not sole Lady of those parts, that dressing so well befitting her; she took it like her own conceit, and so as she loud him better for commending her, then for his own worth, prizing herself above any worldly treasure, which he as finely made sport withal; but this Gentleman caused his ship to lie aboard of the other; kneeling down to the King he presented him with letters, then standing up delivered these words.  
The earth's glory, and Italys blessing, famous Amphilanthus, receive these from your friends, and Allies in Germany, it hath pleased Time to give period to the Emperor's days, since whose decease many have made themselves competitors for the Crown, but Ollorandus your worthy friend, having the greatest stroke in the election, making all the assembly remember your right hath chosen you, and truly Sir not only he, but all, as soon as you were named gave an equal consent, as if borne and made of one temper to serve you, having justly chose you to it. Olorandus called me, who have the honour to be his kinsman, and in my youth his companion, but more honoured me in the Ambassage to bring this news unto you, with all inioyns you by the love between you two, not to refuse this gift, and Crown; he told me where I should find you, and according to his directious I have ordered my course, he fears the former made vow will carry you to the performance of that; if so, he assures you he will hold the Empire safe for you till you come, and therefore himself will not adventure the enchantment, but if love do not overrule, he could wish you to leave all vain attempts, and come to Prague where he will attend you, and so wait on you to your Coronation, if otherwise, you shall be secure, and he your humble servant, and loyal friend; myself Sir, am fortunate to be commanded in this service to you, whom above all men, I most honour, your own true virtue caused that respect in me.  
Then did the King with much kindness use the Prince of Transiluania, who he understood this Ambassador to be, by the letters he brought, he accepted the Crown, but with a little niceness, professing himself not to be capable of such a dignity; but in conclusion, his answers being but compliments, he took the title given him, and gloried in nothing more, then that he was so contentedly, and without one opposite voice chosen, only he desired to be permitted to conclude his first vow, which finished, he would repair into Germany, and to that end dispatched the Prince of Transiluania again, telling him, that love it was true did force him to this attempt, but what love was it, except the desire he had to constant truth in holding vows, and beside, to have those famous Princes his friends, and Allies that were there enclosed, to accompany him in his journey, for his greater honour, and the glory to the Empire. This satisfied the Prince, and so with letters of credence, acceptation, and promise of his presence, he returned a happy man; and so had those parts reason to esteem the like happiness, when the excellent Amphilanthus was to rule over them, who proceeded in his enterprise, and landed on the Rock, passing directly to the Theatre, which opened to them, and as he was the man most loving, and best beloved, so was part of the Charm ended, all at his coming receiving their best senses, like their own clothes about them, they ran to welcome him, and began to be ashamed of their follies for being in disguise: but she, whose mind knew only truth, rose likewise to salute him, and with such loyal love as joy of his sight sprang like spring time in her face, before pale and Winter-like in sorrow. He complementally saluted her, heeding none, but with civility used all, and her little kindlier, though more respectively than the rest; then again they took their places being brought into a worse Charm than the first, because now they perfectly saw and knew, misery to them that were subjects to it, and such did Pamphilia feel, who returning to the seat, she had before sat in, not only as she did alone, but viewed by all to be so. They infinitely wished for the final end, and she for hers; directly before her sat Musalina, and the half fulfiller of the Adventure, a sad spectacle, but she must and did endure it, though how, with such unquietness, affliction, and multitudes of tears as what succeeded? loss of so much beauty, as made many have cause (I mean slight lovers) to see her less amiable, then less loveworthy, and so she was left, and this is the truth of man's affection, yet did he not imagine, or rather would not consider this was caused by his leaving her, she poor Lady beholding nothing but affliction, and making herself the true subject to it, yet did she not, nor would accuse him, who was altogether so faulty as condemned to be, though more than she deserved unkind. Next to Amphilanthus sat the Queen of Bulgaria, and by her, her husband who arrived there just at their landing, glad without expression to see her, her servant likewise of jamboli came thither the next day, and according to the manner sat down on her other side between Amphilanthus and herself, she would not, or might not, it may be, show too much kindness to her beloved in his presence, who though he were as loving a Husband as any, yet his love was mixed with discreet care over her actions, and the more discretion she was bound to use; she was not displeased to have her servant sit by her, and because he should have no reason to remove, she still itched nearer her husband, holding him by the hand, which he took to be done out of perfect or fond love, while her head was prettily tossed first to one side, then to an other, as if she were choosing a lookingglass, between two, which to have, wherein she might see her fair follies best, yet if ever pride were to be commended, it was there to be esteemed, for certainly that held her virtuous, and so by that means one of the greatest sins grew like a virtue, but no nearer being one, than the shadow of the purest Lilley in the water, is one; neither having colour or sweetness of the Lilley, only shape but black, and nothing of itself: no more good is in pride, but as it is sometimes, and here, especially used, for a shadowed virtue. Ollorandus when Amphilanthus resolved to adventure this place, did likewise think to do so too, for such a friend he was, as he employed himself wholly to be his imitator, & then did he best in his own opinion, when he did any thing, or said any thing, like Amphilanthus; but yet he kept an unviolable affection to his Melysinda, whom he went to fetch to the adventure, but as he went, he met the news of the Emperor's death, which hastened him home faster if it could be, or if wings can be given of more speed than those of love with which he flew, yet he had the fortune that travelling Princes have, for this chanced to him.  
A Gentleman he met all in mourning, his face more expressing it then his clothes, though in the exactest fashion for shape, and blackness: arms he had none, but his own arms folded within each other, his hat down in his eyes, his pace slow, his sighs many, his tears had spent themselves so liberally before, as now he had none left to shed, the spring dry, and stopped with heavy sorrow, his speech when urged by Ollorandus to speak, was as if frozen, and only melted, or thawed by good manners to give answer, though but no deeper the thaw pierced then to make a little moistness to freeze the harder on it, for so few was his words, and so long before gained, as it was almost like a hope of great content a lover promiseth himself when he thinks, after a long absence he shall enjoy his love's sight a whole day, when that day comes his fed imagination, in conceit is so soon made to starve again with the speedy passing of that time, as it is worse than if not had, and indeed scarce is it had, because the expectation so much excels the enjoying: so did the King in this, for when he had got him to answer once, he provoked him with such discourse, as he thought should procure a large scope of reply, but he only looked on him, sighed, & cried; I am the perfect scorn of fortune, what need I, or can I say more? The Bohemian would not thus be satisfied, but still urged, the Gentleman stood still bareheaded in respect to him, but more words he got not of him for a great space, at last fearing that too great incivility would be laid to his charge, he thus spoke. Sir said he, what offence have I given you, that you should seek this revenge on me, to make me wound myself with my own miseries relation? Alas, consider when misfortune is befallen on, how doth every one that loves him strive to keep his discourse from his friends ears, if hearing be painful? what is the telling it when the soul every word that is spoken feels torment? insensible tasting the harm, knowing every corner of it, as an Architecture doth in the framed building his imagination casteth: yet seeing their satisfaction can be obtained but by this, I will speak what I am loath any but my own heart should know, out of two reasons being so dear to me; one, because my dearest dear was the Actor; the other, that the fullness of the grief stored up, might choke and kill my heart, and so send me to her; but your importunity hath prevailed, and I have now set open the two gates of my silence to the ruin, the enemy speech will bring to my soul.  
I was borne to honour and dignity; wealth, and what men most esteem, I had plenty of; I was favoured by the King, employed by his Majesty in office and command; but what did I govern, when I was overruled by love? A Lady I affected, she loved me, and spared not to give me all testimonies of it; another sought me, I grew proud of it, and accepted her affection likewise; the former saw it, wept to me, and taxed me for it, I protested against it, and yet was guilty: she at last (by my unpardonable offence) being certain of it, for I neglected her; this second I doted on, bewitched by her charms, she only had power over me, she could only make me do any thing: I left the Court almost for her, never thinking myself at rest, but when I was with her; businesses were tedious to me, sought before by me, for I did love employment till I employed myself so ill, as to be her servant; she, as I thought, as fond of me, I joyed in that, and to satisfy her, left all the world unsatisfied of me, and as many to scorn my weakness, as in former time admired and loved my readiness; my poor true love lived this while disdained, forsaken, and almost contemned, more wretched creature I, who was ordained to do that ill to spoil myself with all. In this time of my blindness another got my place in my master's breast growing so powerful and dangerous, as I was forced to oppose him; for he spared none to work his own ends on: I was unfortunate in that likewise; for than was he so mighty, and beside so ill, as he forgetting all but himself brought many into the King's displeasure. I repined at that, and seeing at last no remedy, took arms with many other, my friends, but too weak we were, and I taken by composition in mine own Castle, yielding on condition all the rest should be spared, that was granted, and I alone carried to the Prison the greatest Traitors are carried unto, being called the King's Prison, there I lay ten days till every thing was ready for my arraignment, than was I brought forth, and after by the great men condemned. I could not say they did unjustly; for a subject ought not upon any terms to wear arms against his rightful King: I was contented with the censure, settled myself to dye, and was grieved for nothing but that I should not kiss my love before my death. The night before my appointed execution, when I was meditating on my end, my Keeper came unto me, and with tears told me the compassion he had of my estate; I desired him to forbear putting me into thoughts that might withdraw me from those more necessary & befitting me at that time. He would not (as having a further purpose) give over, but proceeded till at last I found by him he had some plot for my delivery: then I was more troubled between two doubts, one of the truth of this thing, whether it were for my good, or only a trap to take me in, & so to make my death more terrible & ignoble, when joyed with fear & basestealing a life, or if he meant really, how it might be effected. These contrarieties put me into a great perplexity; yet I still held convenient discourse with him, who finding me uncertain in my answers, and suspicious of myself, broke out in these terms. I see, my Lord, my fortune to be so ill, as you (whom I most desire to serve) mistrust me; alas, if love moved me not, what plot should I have to put myself into so eminent a danger? it is only that hath wrought me to this, and yet I am mistrusted by you. I sought to appease his passion, he then went on: I have, my Lord said he, laid the way, and a youth of my acquaintance stays below with the cords, shall (if you please) deliver you from death and this place, it is more than time we were about it, therefore resolve what you will do, and that speedily.  
ay, hearing this, and looking on a clock was in my chamber, found it past midnight, strait led by a bold belief, gave consent to go up and down at all hours, went forth, telling the watch he was sent for a Gown for me to wear the next day at my death; under colour of this, within a long robe he brought the ropes, which he fastened to the bars of the windows, which were not so thick placed, but one might easily get out; the reason was the height made the fear of getting thence nothing: At the bottom stood the youth he spoke of, and made the lower ends fast; out he went, first to show me the way and try if the cords were fast, than came up again and helped me forth, staying till I was safely on the ground, then untied the cords, and the youth loosed them below, so he drew them up, and in a fire in my chamber burned them, shutting the window, and himself coming down the ordinary way again without suspicion: to any Gate he durst not bring me, for they were all so strongly guarded, as no safety would be there; but, knowing all the passages, brought me to a little Garden then upon the wall, and there was a Postern door low, and little, but big enough; but then another danger was how to go down on the outside, the Castle standing on a main Rock; but the danger we soon passed, for with some scrambling we got down holding by one another; the youth, though weak, yet having a strong heart to save me, helped beyond expectation: this man, my keeper, had a brother dwelled hard by this place, thither he led us, and telling his brother he was sent of earnest business concerning the State, got horses of him, and so we posted, the youth riding behind me, holding me with so much affection as I imagined it had been his care for fear of slipping, but I injured him in that, for his worthy self could never slip.  
We rid thus, till we arrived at a Castle of mine; but that not being of strength sufficient, we left it, and our wearied horses, furnishing ourselves better: the youth rid well, and I was careful, though he still besought me to heed my safety, he weary, as weak, his horse being little less, they fell, wherein he was hurt; but at last he sure wounded and tired, I pitied him, and more, when I saw his tears, which were not for his approaching end, as after I saw, letting some from me to accompany his: he seeing them, my Lord, said he, weep not for me, nor shed those dear tears for one who once might have had a life given by one of them; but those days are passed, and now my ending as fast as may be, the bruise and death this fall brings me, not being yet so cruel to me as the fall of your favour was; nor unwelcome, since chanced to me in your succour, I am to tell now the cause of my service: Love (my Lord) hath brought me to this, and all other miseries, your scorn never having had power sufficient to make me leave loving you which procured this action, censure me then a lover and not immodest, no disguise could ever disguise me, but still I loved you, nor put I any on but for your good, and so forced to alter my habits, what have I taken but habits of the much worthier Sex? the noblier to serve you, not out of any wantonness, which heaven can witness; for had I ecaped this harm and you once safe, you should not have known me but as a poor youth affectionate to your safety, I would again have returned after the time of your imprisonment; I took this resolution, putting myself to wait on one of the guard, and never left prying up and down to find how I might assist you, till happy fortune brought me to this man, whose affection I saw such towards you, as I ventured, and he likewise to attempt what now I joy to see performed; and more, that my end is brought by so loving an occasion: farewell my Lord, and I beseech you mourn not for me, whom you thought so little worthy of your love; cover any fault in this I have committed, with the veil of fervent affection; then shall I be secure, and you noble. Weep not (dear Lord) for me, I must be gone, and in going shall be molested to see you sorrow for me; bury me, I beseech you, not here, but in some of your own commands, that as I am yours, my dust may be also held in your ground; and then, lest you shall grieve for me, I can now give you leave to forget me; then did she faint, for this was my first and truest Love..  
I got her with much pain again to life; she blamed me for it, yet told me, such kindness had preserved us both if timely given: then with many prayers for my safety, wishing all the blessing that heaven granted to any, to be poured on me, she died in mine arms, breathing her last into my breast; for I kissed her when her breath left her.  
I buried her, as she desired, at a Castle of mine, whither we rid that night, and there remained till my peace was made with the King, which he was willing to, and honoured me so much, as I had satisfaction of my enemy; but what was this to my loss, having lost the wonder of her Sex for loyalty? Besides, my second Lady, for whom I had left the fair pattern of virtuous love, did show me my ill by requiting me according to my merit; but not from her, for of her I had deserved well, she never sent to me, never seemed, as I heard by all, sorry for me, but superficially, quickly chose another, and like the worst of her Sex, thought sorrow would hurt her complexion, and so she might live unloved, grew merry, and thought no more of me, though at the first she wept; but why? only to show how sweetly she could look in tears, not shedding more than became her, & were safe from hurting her; though every one, because they were hers, had, if seen, wounded me. When I came abroad again with my pardon and the King's favour, I met her; she, as not guilty, cheerfully and smilingly saluted me: but I that could leave the worthiest for her without a cause, could justly be offended; so as I spoke not to her, nor since have looked on her, truly hating her very sight, and in these habits have I continued, in this place do I live this life, if a life you will call it; yonder is the Castle she lies buried in, with whom I have buried all content, and with whom I will also lie, the Court I have left, and all company, joying in nothing but my misery, and this I never related before, nor have I spoken so many words since I first suffered this unhappiness, nor will any more: therefore Sir now I beseech you permit me to be silent, and to pass to my dying living. The King, who was a perfect lover, could not but lament with him, and sorrow that so they should part; but necessity compelled, and he granted his demand: the sad man going in his wont maver, and the King holding his journey, still thinking and musing of this adventure, till another put him out of it and brought him to a little more mirth: A dainty young wench came led between two handsome young men, one brown and lovely, the other fair and beautiful, many Lads and Lasses attending them, some carrying flowers, others Garlands, some fruit, some wine, every one having something to do, and extreme busy in that business, because it was love.  
When they saw Ollorandus they ran to him and desired him to alight; for he was by the agreement to give judgement and end to this adventure: he wondered why they had chosen him, they said it was to be finished by the next Knight they met, and that was himself; then they set a kind of Chair up, which they carried with them, having joints, and with engines to be placed any where, over his head they hung the flowers and garlands, except one that was held for him to whom the prize was given; the ground they also strewed with flowers. Ollorandus sat still, admiring what they would do with him, smiling within himself to think what Amphilanthus would judge of him, if he should find him thus attended and set up so like a May-game Lord; but patiently he suffered them: When they had done, the Speaker appointed, which was he that held the Garland, began thus.  
Excellent judge may it please you to understand, this business consists of diverse matters, yet all the matter is love; a thing possessing all, a vain passion afflicting most; and yet this Gentleman M. Love hath no abiding, but a mere run away when he hath done mischief, and if followed, where is he found but in hearts? and there such straying harbours he hath, as he is fortified even with strength against the masters of them. This youth who will never be old, hath wounded these two youths with one arrow, for they love this Lass: her he hath wounded; but it seems loving women better than men hath taken more pains with her, and bestowed two of her, for she loves them both; not being able to say whether she affecteth most: it is no strange thing for a woman to love two or many; but the rareness is that one of that nimble loving kind, cannot take both and use them after her own fantasy: to say women can love often is no wrong to them; for who would not please themselves? and what greater pleasure than variety? Is it possible for one to be contented to live his whole life in one room, to hear but one speak, to converse but with one, to feed but on one thought: if this be hard, where is women's fault that delighteth herself with change of Lovers? being but for that whereto we were borne to seek our own happiness, and surely in that are they most happy; for variety is their servant, waiting on them so diligently, and so cherished by them, as they are the excellent Mistresses of that excelling pleasure: To prove this Sir, here is a dainty example in a dainty subject; rare in all parts, because rarest in itself, here is a woman loves so equally, as she cannot choose between these, if beauty want in one, loveliness challengeth her liking; if beauty abound in the one, sweetness speaks for the other, she loves both, and so much as she wishes (if it were not for extreme loss) they were but one, and then she could satisfy herself, and that one; her's yet a greater wonder, these two Rivals are friends, not to say friends as not being enemies, but affectionate friends, and such as it is almost hard for either of them to tell whether he loves her or his friend better, yet both are enamoured of her; This hath continued two years: now it is agreed on that the matter shall be judged by the first Knight, you Sir are the man, and to whom you give her she shall be contented with him, and leave the other. Ollorandus made answer that the matter was nice, and a business he no way desired to meddle in lest he might offend, not being able to judge to please all parties, but he thought that such mutual affections were better held still as they were, lest division might divide the perfect love between those friends; for said he, a wound given in the arm, or body will heal, and grow together if the sides be kept close, but kept open, it will (though heal) yet be in sundry parts; So if she be given to one, and from the other, it will breed a division in love, if not still to be as at first enjoyed, They all than spoke and desired judgement, being resolute to stand to his censure, Then must I said Ollorandus require one thing more for my perfecter ability, you must each of you speak for yourselves, and tell what you can claim to merit her, and what proofs you can allege of her affections to you, and she must likewise tell her opinion, they consented, and the fairer youth began thus. As I was one day after hunting somewhat hit, and weary, having laid myself upon the grass under a larger Oak, this beloved soul came tripping with such daintiness and sweet carelessness, as I was surprised with her fineness; she cast her eyes on me, but so, as if chance, not purpose of favour had procured me that grace, but howsoever, as dear was her look prized by me, and my eyes as gladly met hers, as in old time the Gentiles held, the Sun did kiss the lips of Osiris; she held her course, I rose, and followed her, she turned, and started a little like a fearful dainty Deer, and my dear she proved, I took occasion to offer her my service seeing her alone lest any rudeness might be offered, she accepted it, and so I attended her home, she thanked me, I took those thanks so kindly, as they bound me I told her to wait on her after to deserve the favour, not then having merited so much. She disliked not of it, but welcomed me till she robbed me wholly of my, heart, and then was I forced in good nature to go still to visit that which I had kept close, and untouched till that time in my breast, cherished I think of purpose to make the perfecter, and purer sacrifice of it unto her love. Then grew we much more familiar, till at last I found I was her friend, for she trusted me, and I was not curious to give her means to let her see I had confidence in her; then would she ride, and sometimes as the seasons were, go a hunting, and made me believe she loved that sport for me. I was apt enough to credit any thing that pleased me, and so I turned a very Novice in love, and a blab to my fortunes, for I could not he contented with my happiness, being nothing me thought, if only by myself enjoyed, and that it were not likewise known to some friend of mine, who with me might likewise rejoice. What were the stolen and sweet delights we had, if a third did not also hear of them, and the discourse make the memory as dear as the sweet obtaining? joy for enjoying at the instant is so full as wraps up all sense in content, but absent a little the consideration comes, and presents these blessings so perfectly before our eyes, as then is the enjoying of what with bliss was before gained; to give myself likewise this contentment I discovered all these passages to this my friend, he at first smiled at my follies as he called them, being free from passion. I was tormented to see his dulness, and could have chid myself for bestowing so many passionate expressions, and pleasing discourses on him, at last he desired to see the Tree from whence these loving branches grew. I brought him into a grove, where I entreated him to lie close and not stir upon any occasion, he did so, then came my Mistress, and myself alone together, and properly may I say alone, for we were but one, though like two staulkes, or flowers of one root. We sat down, we kissed, and he beheld us so well contented, as he did wish himself the like, and I think the same fortune, which wish he after gained; when he saw me take her hand and play with it, Oh said he that I might but do so while he may have her lips to do him a pleasure, I was as familiar with her as modestly I might, I entreated to see her leg, she refused not, he being just before us saw it too, then did his love increase, while I ignorantly and foolishly strove to make him see excellencies to rob myself of them, yet he very discreetly covered his passion a pretty while, still commending her, and so cunningly working into me, as I brought him like mine heir to see my possessions; she beholding him lovely, and so winning, as he failed not to win her, she as crafty as a woman ought to be that will deceive, made much of him for my sake, and as my friend did make show of kindness to him, I took it so, and this tied me doubly to her. What I thought would please her I studied and obtained, she commended Songs, I am no Poet, but my friend is excellent, said I, then did I desire him to say some of his own Verses, he did so, she desired to hear more, he still did please her so, and at last made some to her, telling me he made them as from me, and I most innocently gave them to her, and still did make him say them, sounding sure far sweeter in his mouth then any others. Her heart being changed, or changing, but craftily she grew more fond of me, and so as I was me thought then too happy; strangely her love grew to him, and so violent, as he must either yield or be unkind, an odd occasion offered to try friendship, but love above all must have rule or wrong ever, he loved as much as she, she loved as much as I, we both loved her, she loved us both, yet long acquaintance, and conversation having rooted affection 'twixt us two, would not allow so foul a treason in a friend, wherefore he told me of it, and withal confessed how much he loved her, yet said he I will leave what I love, and may obtain, rather than my truth to you. I loved his faith so much, and prized his worth so far beyond my own particular, as I did freely condescend to his enjoying her if she would yield; alas, she had done so in her heart long before, and now with gladness did embrace his love, but still she held me on, and with as much delight accepted me as ever. We had both what we desired, and she was free to both, at last we spoke but in the third person before her of such a woman, she discoursed as we did, & concluded as we did, that one woman might love two men lawfully, and constantlier than one, and that it were much safer for a man to have his friend his Rival then to be alone. From this we came to particulars, and so we were agreed, and then most friendly did continue loving, but lately we desired to have our loves each only to himself, for a little suspicion is fallen between us that she doth not so equally carry her love as heretofore, yet we will not fall out, but have put it to judgement, both resolved to stand to the doom shallbe given us, and the other to leave her for ever to his friend if he can keep her so, he that hath her given to him shall have this Garland with her as the triumph gained, she cannot herself decide the business, her equal affection she says is the cause, but I believe she is still willing to hold both, now Sir you see what my love was, and the beginning, the middle, and almost the end, the other then with a pretty sweetness began. Sir, said he, my friend and Rival hath truly related to you most part of our loves, he was the cause of my affection, and my love-tye continues as firm to him as ever; 'tis true I fell in love after him, and by his bringing me, but 'twas his fault, for he told me his blessing with such feeling as me thought he took pains to teach me to seek the like, and how nearer could I come to the likeness, then to the same, like might fail therefore because my friend should see no error in my choice, or carriage of my love, but to appear as clear unto his eyes of judgement as before when he made me his friend, I chose as he did loved as he did, and with her consent & his, enjoyed as he did, the wonder of this business consisting in this, but herein is no strangeness as I conjecture, for we were so directly one in friendship, as we were but one, and therefore though she had us both, she had but one, so excellent a woman lover she also is, as she can bring her eyes, and heart to look on both as one, and one as both. I was against this I confess in other times, but now think no such love as when we may discourse of it, and in our discourse know how she behaves herself, and so be able to discover which she most affects, and so strive to gain the others part: but she most loving, most discreet, judicially carried her hand evenly, when he kissed one, I had the other, she sat between us still, and ever gave us even and indifferent graces, but now being cloyed I think with this blessing we must divide, and she take one which she cannot do, therefore Sir, you must decide the question, she says she will take either with equal love, we will with equal content take or miss. She than was to say something for herself, who thus did speak. My Lord said she, you hear by these two the story related of my love. I cannot but confess it is true, only I beseech you not to think any lightness was more in these affections then in the indifference of my choice, I loved this fair man I confess first, I had not then seen the other, but when I perceived his loveliness, beauty me thought was more ordinary, and therefore I prized him dearer, but when the fair youth came again, brownnes appeared nothing so pleasing, both together me thought they were both fit to be beloved, and the rather both, because different complexions would hold one still to love one of them; when affection to sweetness and delicateness possessed me I looked on him, when love to fairness, and whiteness claimed place, I turned to the other, thus me thinks I loved equally, and so it was but one love being still to one end, content and to be contented with those had made themselves one in all things, even love to me. It is most true, I am now brought to choose one, for my father will have me marry, I cannot find in my heart to refuse either, or have power to choose whether, I hope this freedom which hath continued with us will not be a cause now to make me less esteemed, my love is the same it was, and therefore Sir, which you will allot me to I must take.  
The first than spoke again, do not (great judge) I beseech you favour me, although I first did tell my tale, and first did love, to wrong my friend, he more deserves her then myself, and him she chose, I did choose her, therefore bestow her Sir on him. No said the other, I loved her for your sake, and love to you made my affection grow to her; therefore Sir, as he first did love, and chose for love's sake only of herself, be not so cruel to bestow her from him, he most, and best deserves her, let him have her. This while she cast her eyes between them as they spoke so amorously, as it seemed she cried within herself, sweet judge, adjudge me both; he sat a while still, at last, he brought forth this judgement.  
Both loving, both beloved, treason it were to part such blessedness, nor am I able to cut so evenly by a thread, as to go just in the middle way between these affections: to give her to either, I can hardly do it, since they beg for either; You fair indifferent creatures, are not it seems to be displeased, nor will I offend either, therefore this shall be my judgement. Take the Garland, and you who hold it now, tie her scarf over her eyes, than both shall come at once to you, and to which you give the Garland he shall be your husband, blind Love made this equality, blind fortune is only fit to decide it. She took the Garland, when the other two both at once kneeled to the judge, and at once spoke these words all one, and so justly delivered, as showed their hearts one, beseeching him, that since the Garland did so well in her hand, she might keep it still, and crown herself as Lady of the oddest passion, they would as before passionately loving, equally leave her, and now fair Maid said they, to avoid your trouble in choice, or after choosing, we will both leave you; seek and take a third, and crown him with a single love if you can.  
Ollorandus liked the oddnes of this best of all, she blushed and fain would have spoken, but they went away, and left her like all-changing women to glory in her own folly, or to cover herself with her own shame, yet she took a changers boldness on her. My Lord, said she, I humbly thank you for your judgement, and your noble care of me, I am no more troubled with their leaving, than I should have joyed in having them; only I am sorry that you must be a witness, that the fault lies on your sex, when you come (if ever) again to censure Lovers, be more pitiful to us, and this is all, I lived before I loved them, and shall (I trust) live, and love again without them: So they parted, Ollorandus having had sport for his pains in sitting so long, and the standers by satisfied with uncertainty, and so all parted: The King towards Prague, he met his Melysinda three day's journey nearer, having knowledge of his coming, by the messenger that brought him the news of the Emperor's death.  
Then they together went to that ancient brave City, thence to a place where all the Princes by a general consent met, and chose Amphilanthus their Emperor, who by being King of the Romans might claim it; not one voice was against him, but all like one crack of Thunder sounded his name.  
Then was the Prince of Transiluania dispatched to him, who met him as is before said, and returned with the answer, whereupon Ollorandus was his Deputy till his arrival, which was not long after: the fine Nymph, and delicate Veralinda lived together this time, passing the heat of the day at the Fountain, and in the shadow, the rest abroad, never weary of any time but night, which they accused of too great cruelty in holding them asunder, which fair Veralinda often would have helped in her wish, but her Father would not permit it. One day as she was sitting alone, expecting her dear companion, the grave Shepherd, her Father, came unto her, and looking steedily on her, wept; she was amazed, and sweetest soul wept too, to see his tears; he then embracing her, my dearer heart (said he) I must leave thee, and this makes my tears.  
Alas Sir (said she) let me never see that day, or hear those bitter words again. It is most true, said he, I am commanded and I must obey, the God that gave me thee, appointeth this, grieve not for this, it will (I hope) be for eternal joy to you. I am warned in my sleep to send you hence unto an Island, where you shall be blessed with happiest success, go then and take this Cabinet with you, but open not the Box until the adventure you shall see be ended, then open it, and remember me. She was amazed but he did comfort her. How shall I go, said she, alone unguided? Will you cast me out? Have I deserved so ill, thus to be thrown away? O Father, keep me with you, or else let me stay but by you, that I may but see your face, and therein shall I be most blessed. Alas sweet, and dear Veralinda, I must not agree to thy demand, but yet believe me, you will not repent, alone you need not go, you shall have servants who you will, beside, the Nymph will go with you, she met me now, and I acquainted her, and she is gone a little hence, to send the Shepherd, her dear friend, to provide horses for you; now lament no more, nor grieve to see my tears which are to part with you, not that they can foretell least harm to you, but loss to me of your loved sight. Veralinda wept again, other fair Shepherdesses came, but none of them she would so far grace as to tell her fortune to, save only to Melantha the same Lass the Shepherd loved. She strait resolved to leave Arcadia and all else, to go with her, so this concluded, they stayed in the Grove till fine Leonia, and the Shepherd came, with whom they went away, and straight to Corinth took their journey, there they Shipped, and passed unto the Rock, where landing, she went to the Theatre, and looking up she read the words, Leonia reading in her eyes, at that instant the Gate opened, but with such Music as amazed them all, as well those at the entering, as the troops within, all they at that time falling into a sweet slumber with the delicacy of the charming Music. Leonia went in with her, and passed along viewing each one, and knowing most, pitying some, and grieving for their Fates, not knowing what should come when Apollo appeared, commanding Veralinda to touch them with a rod he threw her down; she did so when they all awaked, and held each one his lover by the hand, than stood they up, and as amazed gazed on the Shepherdess, and Nimph. Amphilanthus at his waking took Musalinas' hand, but quickly let it go again. Pamphilia rose, and Leandrus from her feet, but touched her not, though gazed on her face, Musalina did the like on Amphilanthus. When this was done, and all the couples stood round as the room was, suddenly the Chairs were vanished, and a Pillar of Gold stood in their stead, on which hung a Book, every one there strove to take that down, but none could gain it; Pamphilia and Urania came, they both resolved to try, but the first place was given by their consents unto Urania, who took it down, wherewith the enchantment partly ended as the Music and charm, but the house remaining and the Pillar of Gold, as memory of the bravest enchantment that enclosed the number of the worthiest the world did ever know. The Book Amphilanthus took and tried to open, but though Urania had got it, she must have Veralindas' help to open it, which being lent her she got, the house then vanished, & they found in the Book the whole story of Urania, and how that after she was stolen by the Duke as before was confessed by himself, and then from him by robbers.  
This wise man who had made this enchantment preserved her, took her from those robbers, left the purse and mantle with her to be the means for those that took her up to cherish her, & then being Lord of this Island, framed this enchantment, whither he knew she should come and give part of the conclusion to it, & so appear fit to deserve his care, which she might thank him for; the next story was of Veralinda, which was this. The King of Frigia had many children by his first wife, then married he again, and by his second only had one daughter, whose nativity being cast, it was found she should rule a great people, and wear a Crown; this made doubt that she should govern over that Kingdom, that bred jealousy, & jealousy hate, so as her brothers when she sucked, laid a plot to destroy her, & bribed a servant of theirs to kill the Infant. He undertaken it, but was prevented likewise by the same divine power Urania was protected by, for he that should have murdered her, only took her from her Nurse, whom he had enticed forth into a wood to walk, there he left her bound & muffled that she could not speak, and so fled with the Babe unto the Sea shipping himself, and with the reward he had for the supposed act, he desiring to have it before hand, that he need not tarry after the execution, he got into Morea, and so into Arcadia, warned in a dream to do so; for the King's Shepherd he inquired, and to him gave the child, which he (having no child) willingly took, all things agreeing so well, as plainly showed the divine providence ordained it. He bred her up until that time that he was also in his sleep appointed to send her thence to the Island, the Lord of this Island a learned man knew all this, and made the delicate adventure for her discovery, and the trial of love. When this was discovered, all they that before envied, and almost hated her, who appearing mean, had the power they wanted, came and saluted her; the Nymph knowing her to be a Princess likewise came, and with a pretty blush discovered himself, showing that he was ashamed of his habit, and yet that habit became that blush. Amphilanthus was glad to hear that his brother had showed his valour upon so cruel a Beast, and in the defences of so excellent a creature, but could have chid him else for disguising himself, had not Love, and as he saw Destiny appointed it so; but Leonius in his man's habits, again came with more fear to Veralinda then before, to whom he spoke in this manner.  
Fairest Princess, I hope your estate will not make you forget the estate you lived in love, I am the Knight you loved as a Knight, I am the man, who for fear you loved me not, to move your love made myself a woman, and the same man that loves if you cherish, else dies if you forsake. I am (my Lord) said she, the woman that loves you as much, or more, if possible, than I did, having so many more bonds to tie me unto it; my life I owe you, I will pay it you, by spending it in being yours, and now I know myself to be a Princess, the freelier will I say this, being the fitter for you; then opened she the Cabinet wherein she found a writing in the Shepherd's hand, made between him and the other who should have killed her, therein had she conditioned, that he should bring her up most carefully, call her Veralinda, not to discover this secret to her, but when she was to leave the place, not to suffer her to marry any but a Prince. These conditions he kept, and so gave her the Cabinet, the Nymph he knew made to confess himself to him, out of care of her, and then he consented to the journey, thus was she preserved and in her true love had a fair dwelling.  
Pamphilia was glad of her being her neighbour by Pamphilia, and glader her Cousin should have such a fortune, for now they knew her to be heir, for her brothers having envy more abounding then good nature, fell out, first with their mother in law, then with one another, lastly with their Father, took arms against him, imprisoned him, then in two battles one against another, some taking part with the Father, they were all killed, the old man outliving them, and shame him, grieving that he was their Father, though their faults were nothing a kin to him, for he was virtuous.  
The Lord of the Island, a grave old man, came to the royal company, to every one he gave his blessing at their parting, and to Pamphilia, he promised to assist her when she should have most need, so they parted, she thinking she had already need enough of him, but most of another's aid. All returned to Corinth where triumphs were made for their coming, Amphilanthus presently after taking his journey towards Italy, and so to Germany, accompanied with all the men Princes, the Ladies appointed to stay there with the King of Morea till their return, when as all the lovers should be made happy with their long desired loves in marriage, for the Parents and friends of all were agreed, only Pamphilia was unpromised, for she was her own, but as she had unfortunately given herself. They being all departed, the Queen of Naples, & her Cousin the Pamphilian Queen walked abroad, she sad, her noble friend comforting her, not being able on such a sudden to mistrust the cause of her grief which she only attributed to parting, and so wholly touched on that string she was loath to satisfy her, because her spirit disdained to say she was lost, but most because she could not say so, but the saying blemished his worth; this made her more careful than any other respect. Much the excellent Queen admired at her sadness, and uncertain answers, oft she was about to urge her, but again she let it pass, purposing by circumstance rather than plain dealing to work it out of her, or by some other to gain the knowledge, which at last by the Queen of Bulgaria who but newly was come amongst them, and only had hard of Pamphilia, but never seen her till the conclusion of the Charms, speaking of many things came out with Amphilanthus his especial respect to Musalina. This judicial Queen had enough then, and too much, having a wound, for she loved Pamphilia, who, poor Lady went up and down like the shadow of herself; into saddest walks which were there she often went, and with her own thoughts discoursed, What have I done, said she, that makes me thus unfortunate? Dearer than myself to me deal yet but thus kindly, or if it be too much for me, all kindness being bereft me, do justly, and therein like yourself, and let me know my fault. Alas, is it I, by you once made blessed, was not, or am not fit to enjoy it? if so, slake, but not deprive me (wretched me) quite of your favour, and in so cursed a sort as gives folks leave to say, I am abandoned, and shunned. I have been more esteemed. Cruel remembrance will you also add to my misery: fly me, or if you stay, serve then to vex me while I accuse only you; then she cast some Verses Sonnet-ways in her thoughts, which were these.  

Cruel Remembrance alas now be still,  
Put me not on the Rack to torture me:  
I do confess my greatest misery  
lives in your plenty, my last harm your skill.   

Poison, and Venom only once do kill,  
While you perpetually new mischiefs fee,  
To vex my soul with endless memory,  
Leaviug no thought that may increase my ill.   

Else have you need to tell me I was blest,  
Rich in the treasure of content, and love,  
When I like him, or her had sweetest rest  
But passed like days, you stay and vexings prove.   

Changed from all favours you add unto despair  
Who under these weights groan, most wretched are.   
Most wretched indeed, cried she, and such an one am I; cruelest (yet worthy still for all your scorn) What have I deserved to be thus tormented, and forsaken? Tell me, and use me crueler if that may be, so you then make an end, and again receive me into favour: my soul vows I am ignorant of any offence willingly committed: did my slight going to to the Sea offend you? Alas, I went but with others, and drawn against my will, my heart still remaining clear: no, it was not that, but thither I was carried to be absent for wicked change to work in that time in your heart, and so to ruin me. Urania then came to her when she seemed to cease her complaints, but she found her sorrows, and strove to advise her. She still put it off, and would not (unto her) confess, but dissembled; Urania would many times give occasion, as than she did, to discover her melancholy. I would (said Pamphilia) we were gone from hence I hate this Corinth, and long to see Arcadia again. Soon said Urania, you will be there as I hear; but will your sadness end then? No, said she, I should hate myself as ill as I do this place, if I should do so, change cannot nor must not aspire to work such effect in me. Change (said Urania) deserves no honour; but discretion may make you discern when you should be constant, and when discreet, and thus you do not change but continue, judicial as always you have been. Were you so discreet, said Pamphilia? when time was, as I remember, you were forced to be washed before you could manifest your judgement in leaving: but (sweet Urania) do not you prove an enemy to me, though mine own eyes and heart have turned to my destruction, be still a noble friend, and make proof of it by pitying, not by striving to make me more unhappy, which I shall be, if I let in that worthless humour change, which I can never do till I can change myself, and have new creation and another soul; for this is true and loyal.  
Urania did grant her request in her heart before she asked it; for she did, and had pitied her ever since she saw her misfortune grow upon her, but fear lest it would too deeply root in her, made her (though against her own mind) advice, for that thing her excellent self ever hated, love made this in her to strive to prefer a servant she would not entertain; but several bodies must have several cures, yet this is no cure; for Pamphilia will not change.  
As they were thus discoursing, came Musalina and the self-loving queen. Urania was glad, because she hoped company would assist her desire in her Cousins good; but she was deceived, for Pamphilia was in company, and alone much one, she could be in greatest assemblies as private with her own thoughts, as if in her Cabinet, and there have as much discourse with her imagination and cruel memory, as if in the presence. Musalina with great respect and show of love, did put herself often into her company; she, after her sad fashion, did entertain her, few words served her turn, and yet because she would not be thought too covetous, she gave them store of sighs to counterpoise the want of speech. The queen of Bulgaria one day would needs tell Musalina, Pamphilia of so much an admired Lady, was the dullest she ever saw. Musalina desired her for her own sake to speak that but to her, for (said she) the world will doubt much of that judgement, that taxeth her for dulness; so she again urged discourse to the sad Lady, she answered short but smartly enough: at last Musalina asked her what was become of the Rhodian Lady? returned, said she, with sorrow and sufficient shame, if there can be sufficient for such a fault. Then did Musalina desire to know the story, which so daintily and sharply Pamyhilia related to her, as in it she made her see, she understood love in all fortunes perfectly; this discourse might have made the Queen see her error, but she never went so far as to weigh the excellency of the discourse, but heeded only the tale fitter for her capacity. Then came Meriana, who but newly acquainted with Pamphilia, yet had given so full a love to her, as if growing many years, and with her best lovers pitied her: with her Pamphilia often discoursed, and with a younger and half Sister of hers, who was a Lady of that sweetness and delicacy, as she was indeed the most delicatest of that time for admirable beauty, having a mind answerable for excellency to that body, which was without compare for exquisite perfection. They two were the only Ladies (except Urania) that she would keep company withal; for these were so discreet, and free from the vanities of other women, as were only fit to accompany so much worth in sadness. Musalina would come in for one; but Pamphilia would seek them if absent. One night after supper, Meriana and Pamphilia went from the company by themselves into the Garden, the Moon shined, and the evening was sweet and pleasing, both were (if pleasure could be to either one of them, troubled with absence, the other with loss) pleased with that time, and walk, Meriana entreated Pamphilia to favour her so much as to say some verses to her; for, said she, I hear dear Sister, you are excellent in Poetry: I have written something, said Pamphilia; but so sad they are, as onely fit me to hear, and keep: Not so dear Pamphilia, said she; for, believe it your Sister hath no joyful heart, what face soever I show, therefore saddest verses will please me best: you shall have such said she, but I seldom make any but Sonnets, and they are not so sweet in rehearsing as others that come more roundly off; but if you will hear some, I that can deny you nothing, will say one to you which I made not long since, and so is the freshest in my mind.  

Unquiet grief, search further in my heart,  
If place be found which thou hast not possessed;  
Or so much space can build hopes smallest rest:  
Take it, 'tis thine, mine is the lodge of smart.   

Despair, despair hath used the skilfulst art,  
To ruin hope, and murder easeful rest:  
O me, despair, my Vine of hope hath pressed,  
ravished the grapes, the leaves left for my part.   

Yet Ruler grief, nor thou Despair deny,  
This last request proclaims 'twas not suspect  
Graffed this bud of sorrow in my breast:  
But knowledge daily doth my loss descry.  
Cold love's now matched with care, change with respect,  
When true flames lived, these false fires were suppressed.   
Meriana liked them extremely well commending them above measure, and earnestly desiring the Copy, the other promised her it and many more; so they walked on a while, when the delicate Ladies Perselina and Philistella came unto them, and telling them it grew late, they went in for that night, the two Sisters together, and Pamphilia with her Sister to her lodging, where likewise they parted, Philistella to rest, but the distempered Pamphilia to her nightly complaints, to tears, sobs and groans, and this was her quiet: Seldom would these brave Ladies let her be alone in the day time, and Veralinda would be much with her, all indeed seeking her contentment, but she must not have it; the Queen of Naples as earnestly as any, or above any wishing it. Dance and all Court sports were daily in action among them, while she sat with much ado beholding them, but herself none of the number, she that before was excelling in her apparel more delicate than any, and none coming near her for daintiness in that kind, now wore only black, and in wearing that as careless, as before extreme curious, her hair that was before, but with greatest care dressed, she only kept clean, and neglectively wore it, no jewels came about her; so as she was a mourner in stead of the most sumptuous habits she was wont to honour the Court withal: with her trusty servant the Duke of Pergamus she did only converse, for the men kind, and would sometimes let him see her weep, who did heartily pity her and best might; for he had seen her blessed, and known the time she was as much happy as now distressed. When she did sigh and grieve, he would also mourn; never (would he say) could I have imagined to see this change, had beauty won him, worth invited him, beyond either in you, more tolerable had this been; but pray thee torment me not, cried she, with this; she is (I confess) as worthy as any, and deserves as much as woman can do to be beloved, and so much, as were I a man, I should love her: no fault is in the choice, but in his unkindness to me, unkindness, which is the only murderer of my bliss; had he done any thing but so unkindly leave me, I had been satisfied; had he by degrees given me my death, more easily I had gained it; or, had he plainly told me his determination to love no longer, it had more justly come; but suddenly and undeservedly to cast me off; in stead of love, to give me frowns; for smiles, scorns; for respect, contempt; and all unlooked for, or, unmistrusted; it wounds my very soul. I innocently like my love went towards him, smiled with the same true joy I always felt in his sight; he held his countenance grave, and saluted me like a Queen, but not as a friend or lover: this was strange, as I at first thought, it struck me to the heart, yet would I not see it, but spoke as I was used, telling him I hoped that poor Pamphilia should be honoured with his presence once again. He soberly, I am loath to say, curstly, replied, it was too late, my soul shook with those words, and too soon did they show my misery. Who did, or could ever think to see him thus cruelly what did he seem to delight in more than me, or in comparison of me? did he take comfort in any thing else? this is the crueler to me now he is changed, & like given to the heart, strikes sure for curing; yet is this, though most true, vanity in me to remember I have done. Thus she would complain, but only to him who knew the continuance of her love, and had seen her once to be covered; but like flames, the more pressed to rise the higher, and now blown elsewhere by a wavering wind. The Ladies had every day letters from the travelling Court, Pamphilia had some from her brothers and Cousin Leonius, but else she heard no news. Amphilanthus had forgot to write; but she at last gained one letter from him, by one from her which was respective, and yet sad; his answer was short, but complemental; this, said she, was not wont to be his style, but I must be content: nothing did she see or hear, but still of his glory and his love. This was once, said she, belonging unto me, but I was not worthy of them, sure else he had not altered. Meriana likewise to make her discourse, & pass away the time, would often tell her stories she had known of his affection. Alas, would she say, would some good body would tell her he was once, and but lately as kindly mine; for it grieves me more to hear her speak of it (since each word wounds my soul) then if all should only talk of it, because I know she loves me, & unwillingly will hurt me: she is deceived and betrayed in this course, she would not be a means to cut my life-strings with this cruelty; some noble body tell her how he loved me, how I still love him, and then she will no more molest me, nor abase our loves. Sweet Meriana, those days now are passed of my best delights, be not you an increaser of my woe, but cursed remembrance, for no new act of his in this change presents itself, but gives a deaths blow to our ancient loves. I could almost be brought to tell it her myself, and would, were it not to discover his forgetfulness and cruelty; but rather than my lips shall give the least way to discover any fault in him, I will conceal all though they break my heart; and if I only could be saved by accusing him, I sooner would be secret and so dye: no, my love will not let me use thee ill; then be it as it is, I'll live forsaken and forlorn, yet silently I will endure this wrong, nor once blame him to any others ear, for dear (alas) he is to me, dear to my eyes, dear to my thoughts, and dearest to my heart; since he will ravish that poor part of all the joy and sweet content it ever had, converting it to bitter lasting pain. Cruelly she thus remained perplexed, and clothed in the woefull'st robe of grief: what a miserable spectacle was this, to see her, once the comfort of the Court, the star that guided all the sweet delights, now the poor testimony of another creature, grief having so decayed her, as she seemed scarce so like herself as an ill picture to the life, her chamber & her thoughts were only bound to her, or rather she to them, and thus did she remain the sad example of forsaken love. The other Ladies loving in mirth and happiness, wanton with it like Kids in the Sun, for blessing shined on them, and that, this afflicted Lady did (she said) once know. The Emperor and all his Kings and Princes held their way for Italy; at last arriving at Rome, where the Pope sent the whole Clergy, and Nobility to meet him without the Town, and with great pomp and joy conducted him to the chief Church to give thanks, & then unto the Castle. Triumphs began that night, and the next day continued, and many days, to express the content of the Emperor's arrival; but by his command, all dangerous sports of the field were forbidden, because he would have no blood mixed with his entering. Just they did, but their spears had burrs at the points for fear of piercing: after Supper they had Barriers, and all imitation of that brave war they had lately bravely been in, and the Concluders of it.  
To Naples he went to see his own Country and People, where he was affectionately and sumptuously entertained, surpassing all other places in magnificence, as in affection to their own Prince: thence he went to most parts of Italy that were in his way, or not much out of it, till he came to the nearest part of Germany, and so passed without any adventure, carrying the keys as one may say, of all those places to open his passage which way he pleased, never so pleasant a journey, all hearts contented, leaving discontent as an unprofitable thing at home; Buda, Prague, Vienna, all places he saw that were of worth, & travelled over the most part of Germany to see the strengths, & sometime for pleasure visited others. At Frankford he was crowned with the greatest applause & content that ever Emperor was, & with the best reason, for he was the most worthy, and famous that ever reigned over them; but to all this joy, a little sorrow, would needs come in, for Leandrus after the Coronation, whether with heat, or over-exercising himself at these triumphs, striving to excel all in show of love, fell sick of a Pleurisy, a disease little known then, which not being seen time enough, or then taken, he died thereof, before his death writing a letter to Pamphilia, and enclosing an infinite rich Ring within it, which he besought her, although he believed, she cared not for it; yet to keep in memory of him, who most affectionately and loyally loved her; so as though her love should not suffer in his death, but as he loved her, yet she might, when she looked on that, say, the Master of this loved me. These he gave in charge to Leonius to send her, which he did, coming to her one morning, after she had endured a sad and unquiet night; for she having got away from the company, shut her door, pretending to sleep; but poor Lady little rest did she enjoy, carrying the enemy within herself, that held her eyes unclosed: her heart oppressed, and be friended her in nothing, except furnishing her with tears, and new cause still to shed them. O Pamphilia (cried she) was thy creation for thy ruin? was thy birth given thee, to have a life wholly in affliction? were all contrarieties to pleasure joined together for thee to possess, and virtues given thee to be undone by? else why was this rare excellent quality of constancy allotted thee? was judgement given me, to make the worthiest choice, wholly to discern; I chose well, but to be rewarded with that lean benefit, and loss to be my gain. Did I reject the firm, and spotless love of that excellent Prince Steriamus, the humble suits of all the greatest subjects, and neighbour Princes, slighted the earnestness of the noble Prince Leandrus, refused all, and made myself a Vassell in affection to him, that weighs neither me, nor these expressions of love? I have done all this, and I yet have not done enough; for, O how worthy is he? though unkind to me, you might yet most cruel man have showed more gratefulness, and I had been contented, no colour you have to excuse that with all, for you knew my love, you seemed to cherish it, all eyes saw it too, for my face showed it, I strove for nothing more than means to declare it, mine eyes did look but for means, to show how they and I were won by you, my lips have parted from themselves to let my tongue make true confession of that you then seemed with expressefull joy, and content to entertain. Where is that love now gone? where is that content you embraced, departed, and with that instant forgotten? the Heavens will yet for me witness my unchanged heart, and unstained affection: the air hath been, and is so filled with my complaints and protestations, as I wonder it doth not like Ordinance rattle in your ears: the Sun hath blushed for you, the Moon been pale, and wan, nay hid her face from my tears which I have shed for your inconstancy. All things heavenly and earthly pity me, except yourself, from whom only good by pity may arise. Why did I open my heart alone to your love, shutting it to all other motions to be thus carelessly thrown off? but I am well enough requited, since had I fortunatly held these passions in me, the fierceness of them might by this have rid me of these during torments, & have left this poor body a loyal sacrifice to love, & the love of the most ungrateful. Ungrateful, why do I call him so? pardon me dearest, though despising dear, I wrong you more in this title, which is the worst that can be given to man, than you have injured me though with unmerrited deceit; it was a certain and too great confidence, joined with assurance, of what I most desired, that betrayed me, and my joys with it, else I might sooner have seen, if not masked with innocent belief, and abused with trust, or am I punished for aspiring to the joy, souls on earth can best, and chiefliest covet, as blest with enjoying, in having your fixed love. Oh confidence, I fear 'tis you that I must curse, you are the honest, though unfortunate chanced-ill that have untied my hope. Was it good nature made him so refrain my sight and presence, nay, unless by force my words, and that because you cannot love still, nor will say so in charity, you will avoid all, if so be yet more merciful, and multiply your pity with this free increase, kill me at once for all, torture me not with sorrows, I will truly and religiously confess, I am not worthy of you; but it is not my fault, I wish I were so fit, as you might ever love, and such an one as all the world might think fit for you, than I know you would be just: nor wish I this for any benefit, but for your love; for else in the comparison of other gain unto myself, or any other than your loved self, I rather would wish to be a Blackamoor, or any thing more dreadful, then allure affection to me, if not from you; thus would I be to merit your loved favour, the other to show myself purer, than either purest White or Black: but faith will not prevail, I am forsaken and despised, why die I not? it is not fit, no, 'tis not fit, I still must live, and feel more cause of woe, or better to say, to see my cause of woe.  
Cruel forsaker, look but once on me, or rather on my love, there you shall find if unremovable affection, and zealous truth can seem deserts, I will, and do deserve you in them better than any, and more than any, if not not, myself again shall do; my ceaseless plaints may some way claim reward, my nights spent wholly in salt floods of tears, eyes turned to swelling Rivers, may lament that they and I should thus regardless pass: some other motives, which yourself best knows, might tie you in a bond more kind and grateful: but these I urge not, be your own best self, and as once you were, then will you still be free from cruelty, if not accused by justice self, and then too large a punishment will second the offence. Offence, alas I cannot call it one, for I am yours, and may not you dispose of yours, as best doth like yourself? Yet is there means to help, if you please to assist, if not condemned, I will remain, till I may have my end, which most I wish, and speedily I trust to gain, then if your once most valued, virtuous gratefulness be sent, 'twill be too late, only this good I may receive, or my cold ashes for me, that when my death shall come unto your ears, your matchless heart may be content to let a sad thought hold you for a while, and if so, too too much for me, who still do wish your blessedness.  
In this manner unlucky Princess, she passed that night, till day appeared; Ay me sad night, said she, have you now left me too? shall light afresh perplex me? my wail fitter were to bide in you, afflictions sounded best in you, dark, black and terrible, as you were; is my state, uncomfortable, and affrighred hours, suited better with my woes, my fortune like your face, my hopes blacker than your saddest Mantle, whose dulness changeth them into despair, yet liked I you far better, than this flattering approaching day: you truly showed myself unto myself, you were mine eyes to make me see myself, and how far distant I remained from comfort in my want. Then turned she in her bed, and put her sad afflicted face into the pillow to hide day from her, which she needed not, her eyes labouring so fast to deliver themselves of her tears, as their showers were sufficient clouds, to dim all sight with them.  
As she thus lay, her Maid that waited next unto her, came in, but not daring (though so bold as to come into the chamber, being more than without extraordinary business she durst do) to speak to her, a little opened the curtain, and laid a letter by her, she started at it, and asked from whom it came: from the Prince Leonius, said she. With that she instantly went out again. Pamphilia opened it, and finding another within, her heart rise a little in deluding hope; but by the little day that was (her bed standing to the window) she saw quickly what it was. And is it come to this (said she) most true Leandrus? I could (methinks) for thy sake blame myself, for being cruel to thee; yet mayst thou rather thank me, who would not dissemble with thee, not having any love for thee, that I would not deceive thee. This token of thy earnest faith and love I'll keep for thee, and wear it for thee, nor ever part with it, until I die, and then bequeath it to that Person I shall most affect, and make my choicest friend, these tears I shed for thee, and pay them as the offerings to thy death. O love, O cruelty; see how you govern me.  
Then came the King and Queen, and all the brave Ladies, some to comfort, some to advise, some and many to gaze; most verily believing, her sadness before had been for absence, now expressed for his death, but that death-sorrowing-cause was before happened, that molested her, yet she took this upon her, though in respect of his faith to her, she was sorry to set a colour of deceit upon any thing that concerned him, but this business never concerned herself, and yet her noble gratefulness chid her for it. She wept, they comforted, they counselled, she lay silent, and grieved beyond their help; her parents most lovingly and kindly advised, she showed both humility in the suffering, and humble thankfulness for their cares; yet did modestly, and respectively let them see, 'twas loneliness she desired, which they granted her.  
No sooner were they out of the door, but they were called again by a shrike her woman gave, for she with violence of passion held in before them, having no vent, would burst, overcame her: they strove to recover her; Father, Mother, Friend, Sisters, Urania, all did their best, at last they brought her out of her swound, when she sighed, groaned, and cried, O cruel; then again fainted, and thus did she thrice; but at last coming to herself, she was saying more; but her senses coming apace to her, she found it unfit, and too many Counsellors by; wherefore she again desired to be alone, and that was all she required of them, which for her satisfaction was allowed her, and being alone she thus began, or rather continued her complaints which could have no new beginning never having end.  
What have I done but sorrow? nay, what shall I ever else do? salves I can have none to ease me, nor so much as give me show of it. O Urania, how mayst thou in thy heart chide the murderer of thy affectionate, but miserable Cousin? Parselius how wilt thou deny acquaintance, and friendship with so wavering a creature? did not he say, and write he loved me? did not his still winning eyes assure me, and his sweet charming speech confirm me in this belief? I am not then deceived; deceived, O yes, but not in judgement, but by falsehood. O falsehood, what pity is it that thou shouldest invest thyself in so sweet, and delicate attire? once I remember I told him of his change when he lelft Antissia, he denied it not, but excused it with having chosen better, and so to choose was no fault, but it seems the best is not found, unhappy I, must behold these days, and be left, who most unchangeably love him. Then came Urania again unto her, whose hand Pamphilia took, and wring it, wept, and sighed, having scarce breath left her to breathe her sighs with; Urania seeing her passion, and the assurance of her end if thus she continued, whom as herself she loved, like such a friend, and a discreet, Counsellor joined in commission with her friendship, she thus spoke.  
My dearest Cousin said she, let neither my presence (having put myself contrary to your seeming desires of lonelynes into your company) nor my speech wholly proceeding from affection be displeasing to you: Stop these tears which else will find no stay but in your end, give not occasion for love to see so much his victory, and to triumph over your brave, and matchless spirit, or for Man to glory, that our weakness meeting their falsehood can submit so low as to their tyranny.  
Where is that judgement, and discreet governed spirit, for which this and all other places that have been happy with the knowledge of your name, hath made you famous? will you now fall under the low groans of the meanest esteemed passion? Where is that resolution, which full of brave knowledge, despised the greatest Princes when they wore love's livery; must this sink, while his tossing follies swim? shall your excellent virtues be drowned in the Sea of weakness? call your powers together, you that have been admired for a Masculine spirit, will you descend below the poorest Feminine in love? If he be dead you loved, love his memory discreetly: how would he grieve, if he could into that joyful place where he is, see you torment yourself; nay, sorrow infinitely to see such inability in her, whom he had chosen to rule himself and his? if your people knew this, how can they hope of your government, that can no better govern one poor passion? how can you command others, that cannot master yourself; or make laws, that cannot counsel, or soveraignise over a poor thought? yet it may be you are not in some kind faulty altogether in this, since it may be a living love perplexeth you, if so, it is worse, for will you lie here wasting your days and hopeful time in this tormenting fashion, keeping that secret, which told, it may be would help you? let passion since possessing you, breathe itself forth; and though you will not demand help; yet if the blessing of your affection were known to him, who it may be, lives ignorant of the happiness, all content without question would be offered you: speak then, and as to yourself if you will not trust me, and I will but by chance overhear you, I am sure you cannot affect impossibilities. If he be false, will you vex yourself, when you may rather be glad you discover it before too far misfortune assailed you, as longer engagement would produce? if cruel, were it not better he matched elsewhere, then that you had fallen into that unhappiness? if unconstant (which is a thing familiar with men) take a good heart, and hate that humour by your own worthy constancy, and seek to preserve your excellent beauty, and let not so uncertain a quality hurt you: beauty is beside a virtue counted among men of that excellent worth, as it will draw their hearts as Adamants do Iron: yet in this the comparison is not so proper, their hearts too tender to resist an easier invitement, but I say beauty will sooner compass one's desires in love, than any other virtue, since that is the attractive power, though worth is often made the gloss of their change, which they are in many places forced to take such pains to find, & found is scarce enough to be called so, not being more than just will serve turn to be termed worth, not worth the travel of seeking, yet if some, better than no shadow for their fault. Preserve your health, then that must continue your beauty, let not the world blame you with just cause, you have grieved enough for men everlastingly to curse themselves, that one of their kind should give occasion of sorrow to the most deserving woman; all is yet well, you may with care, recover what is something touched, and in time see his repentance which you may pity, or be more wise, and respect in stead of loving him, who how worthy in all else, deserves not one of these tears, if false to you, let him go and rejoice, you see his imperfections before you were tied to them, yet be sure you mistake him not, or unmeritingly condemn him, for then the falsehood will be laid to your charge, and his clearness will make you more blame worthy. This I advice as myself would be advised if in such extremity, and this I say to you my dearest Cousin, and would say, though I knew it were mine own brother had caused this mischief. Your brother (said Pamphilia) if faulty, might yet challenge more care from you, and testimony of love, who ought as a sister rather to hide, or cover his imperfections.  
So I would to any, but to you (said Urania) who suffer I perceive so extremely for him. Pardon me, said she, I accuse him not, far is it from my heart to blame him, which causelessly I should do. You therefore conclude too briefly on my words, but for me my only friend and dearest Cousin, this world hath no help left for me in store, but a speedy end, which all that love me, with me should soon wish it to me; yet I must say some thing in love's defence, whom you so much condemn that I have read in all stories, and at all times, that the wisest, bravest, and most excellent men have been lovers, and are subject to this passion. I grant you that (said Urania) but have you not withal found by just observation, that it was a blemish to their other excelling virtues? Why sweet Urania (said she) what hath love done to you, to make you thus bitter against him? do you not happily enjoy what you desire? are you ambitious to any thing within his authority, which he brings not to your wishes end, yet you revile and despise him, who but played with you in hurts, and cloys you with his favours, while I tormented with his fury, prove not ungrateful. I am not ungrateful, said Urania, but fortunate, I am not his slave. I love Love, as he should be loved, & so dear Lady do you, and then you will plainly see, he is not such a Deity, as your Idolatry makes him, but a good child well use flattered, an insolent thing coming over our hearts, as children over the poor birds they catch before they can fly, thinking they master them, when indeed it is their want of wings makes their bondage; and so dear Cousin it is our want of courage and judgement makes us his slaves: take heart to your noble, and knowing self, and let him be as he is now a proud, than puling Babe. Alas my friend said she, how sorry am I your excellent counsel is bestowed on one so little deserving it, as not being able to right it by following it, which I am not able to do, but some answer I must make to you, I am so wholly his as it is past mistaking, the wound being given me deeply by his unkindness which martyrs me, not that I am forsaken do I lament, but my true loyal forlorn heart within me, bewails the misfortune it undergoes, by being displaced from that most loved, being which was in his breast, once cherished, or flattered there; now to return to this miserable prison my body, which is nothing but despair.  
Thus you see it is truth, and such truth as only shall have end by my miserable day's conclusion. To leave him for being false, would show my love was not for his sake, but mine own, that because he loved me, I therefore loved him, but when he leaves I can do so to. O no dear Cousin I loved him for himself, and would have loved him had he not loved me, and will love though he despise me; this is true love, and if not this the contrary, should I rejoice for miss of any ill might from trusting, or being true to his amiss, in such bond had my blessing been, and my curse the failing of them, or had they happened. Pamphilia must be of a new composition before she can let such thoughts fall into her constant breast, which is a Sanctuary of zealous affection, and so well hath love instructed me, as I can never leave my master nor his precepts, but still maintain a virtuous constancy. 'tis pity said Urania, that ever that fruitless thing Constancy was taught you as a virtue, since for virtue's sake you will love it, as having true possession of your soul, but understand, this virtue hath limits to hold it in, being a virtue, but thus that it is a vice in them that break it, but those with whom it is broken, are by the breach free to leave or choose again where more staidness may be found; besides 'tis a dangerous thing to hold that opinion, which in time will prove flat heresy. Rise now dear Cousin, and if not to receive, yet to give comfort to the King and Queen who are afflicted excessively with your sorrow; dissemble not with me, for you may see by my discourse I know the root of your distemper, yet this satisfaction I will give your mind, that so secret I will be in my knowledge, as I will not speak of it to yourself if not to serve you with all, yet I will ever accuse, and blame unworthy inconstancy. To fulfil your desire, and obey your counsel as much as I can, I will rise, answered Pamphilia, but only to content my Parents, and please you, else little joy or pleasure can I take in this world, but when you have me with you, you must permit me to complain unto myself, I will never trouble any ears but those of mine own soul with my sorrows, otherwise should I deal unkindly with mine own heart, come abroad and do what you will said Urania, nor will I hinder, or seek to alter you from grief so it be moderated with judgement, expressing in some sorrowing your matchless goodness, and noble disposition. Thus did the divine Urania again by her excellent wit conquer, having brought Perissus from a desolate and sad life, to a fortunate, and now Pamphilia to let the Court be happy with seeing her though in sadness, yet a joy to all hearts. The Emperor being at Prage, Leonius desired leave to return to Corinth, and thence to carry his beautiful, and beloved Veralinda to her father, not doubting but to gain his consent for their hoped-for marriage, and so to bring her bake into Morea against the other marriages, where his might make up one of the blessed number. His request was granted, and so he took his leave, desiring to travel alone, trusting to do something sit for his birth and blood, to make his meeting more welcome to his friends. He parted as he desired, only one Squire attending him, he passed the rest of Germany without adventure, those parts so wrapped in joy, and content, as an adventure durst not appear, for fear of beating; but in Bulgaria he had one sufficient to answer, for all the rest of his quiet passage.  
Riding through a great Forest, for many days he met no man, or creature, but heard wild beasts roar, and make hideous noises; his Squire and he passed on, he thinking of his Love, the other how to avoid the danger of that place if suddenly surprised by those fierce inhabitants. As thus they traveled, a Gentlewoman came riding very fast towards them, her countenance showed distress, her apparel good, and comely, but her face sad, and perplexed, showing frightfulness so perfectly, as she was (one might say truly) disturbed, or a very exact dissembler. When she came ne'er Leonius, she cast her eyes upon him, O cried she, that courtesy were lodging equal to beauty in this Knight; he hearing her, Fair Gentlewoman, said he, what reason have I given you to doubt my desire to serve you, should not answer any outward person? Truly Sir, said she, my own misfortune makes me doubt, which hath been such hitherunto, as never any could so justly say, lived forlorn of happiness, and this makes me suspicious of any, but misery. Alas said he, how can it be, that you should be made fair, to fall into so foul mischance? I am (said she) the most afflicted living, and will let you see it, although you assist me not, for you shall hear my story, and if that may move, I may be blessed; but first, I beseech you tell me your name. I am called (said he) Leonius, Son to the King of Naples, and brother said she, I hope to the famous Emperor. Yes indeed (said he) it is my happiness to have that honour. You are most happy in that, said she, and now have I a little share, me thinks, of content, that I have mine eyes blessed with the sight of his brother, who wants no hearts, but tongues sufficient to set out his praise, having all that are created already to the full that blessing can enjoy.  
My fortune Sir (said she) is this, I had a Father, and he many children, but in the number had, as Merchauts have among their wares, some good, some bad, mixed as the mothers were of disposition, which being many had several heirs: for four wives he had, my mother the last, by whom he had myself, and one brother, who lines and is all (if any) comfort I have; this youth and I bred together increased affection and love most between us, so as we loved more than any other two: the elder scorning us, what for our young years, and so want of discretion fit to accompany them, or for being but half in blood, had but half affection showed towards us. I know not the truth, but sure I am, I feel the hurt and want. At last my father died, leaving us to the eldest son, who used us well and kindly, but he died soon after, leaving the second to succeed him; which he did for the estate, but not for goodness, he being as unkind and cursed, as the other was affable and loving; he kept us, 'tis true, but how? only from starving; for plenty we were scanted both of means and content, while forwardness and ill natures was in abundance. Then did this brother marry, and wed more ill humours, for she was richer in ill nature, than he that was like a sack of wool, stuffed with wickedness. A third, and then second Brother lived, whose ill out-sprung (though an after plant) the elder; he went so far as he left no ill unpractised, not so much as that he ventured not once to attempt the stain of my chastity, and his shame in me. This indeed made my hate uncurable, and like a fire happened, where Oil, pitch, rosin, flax, and all such cumbustable matters are together, can be quenched with nothing till the ruin shows the triumph: so my wrong can be healed by nothing but the deadliest revenge. This I was not able to obtain myself, but I was forced to demand help, and acquaint my dear brother withal, who twice met him in the field, but both brought home hurt alike, and like resembling death, none knowing the quarrel but myself, or had all been assured of it, none like me could have grieved; now perceiving that thus no end would be of the injury, we alone but for ourselves traveled from that place to a Castle not far hence, the desertnes of it, and this place only furnished with wild beasts, making it abandoned of them, and most that love pleasure. We were suffered to be quiet here, whether out of love to themselves, or hate to us, hoping to hear daily of our ruin; but contrary to their wish we have continued here three years unhurt, yet not unharmd, because I have been the cause of hurt too many brave Gentleman like yourself who have honoured me, and truth with adventuring cheering yet have perished, my brothers being infinite strong, and lucky in their adventures. This I confess hath so much perplexed me, as I have almost resolved never to entreat any more to favour me rather than that they should dye to revenge me so worthless a creature; yet Sir you are of so brave a Stock, and brother to so happy a King, as I may me thinks hope on you, yet as you are bound most for these, besides the hopes your own person may give, I will not urge you lest I should be so luckless as to procure least harm to you, for Sir there is no pity, nor good to be expected from them if you fall into their hands, wherefore I will sooner, & more willingly cousent to remain thus wronged, dishonoured, & overthrown, then seek to be aided by your harm; Leonius the more cunningly, and finely she insinuated by entreating, and denying, won more on him, so as he told her if it pleased her to put that confidence in him, he would lay that life at her feet, and the feet of justice which she seemed so much to respect, and that he would encounter her brother to right her honour touched by him. She humbly thanked him, and so led him towards a Castle standing in the midst of the wood, where he was received with much respect by him who was her Lord, and brother to her as she said; into the Castle they went, the gate shut again, and a Mote being about the Castle, a Bridge was drawn up, Leonius liked it not extremely well, yet she telling him 'twas for their safety, he passed on satisfied with her answer; the Lord with all respect, & kindness in a friends part acted, welcomed him: at supper delicate, and fine fare was set before him, no truth in affection, nor exact counterfeiting could better be acted; sad Leonius was, whether foretelling his danger, or the hideous noises and roaring of the Beasts, made as melancholy a passion on his mind, as their voices were to the ears of the hearers. After supper he walked up and down, seeming just the picture of his brave brother, who seldom was other than a noble retired spirit to itself, demanded. To his chamber he then was carried by the Lord and Lady, there found he a brave room furnished with stuff, and Plate fit for a Prince his lodging, he weary, and willing to see the time when he might again be blessed with Veralindas' sight, he went to bed, folding his arms, wishing his Mistress instead of her imagined self, had been between them; he sighed, and turned as if from vain hopes, and put himself within the clothes to cover his folly, as impossible wishes ever are. Long he had not rested, when from that he was called, as a little being too much for him, many men came in, the first carrying Candles, the rest a Banquet; he sat up in his bed admiring the manner, when the Lady came to him, & drank to him, willing him to be merry, and (said she) rejoice, for now you are fallen into the hands, with that making a sign, & his eyes being fixed on her, besides a little heavy, so quickly discerned not the treason, as otherwise he had; cords were thrown over his arms, and he made prisoner. Villainous treason, cried he, of any, and most detestable of any other, what is the cause, what is the meaning of this? I am indeed fall'n, but how? by treachery and falsehood in a fair Counterfetter, but foulest in the being false. She laughed to see him tide, and told him, she never saw chains better become a Knight's arms, than his, especially they ought to sit best on the Emperor's brother next himself, whom she wished in his place, though he were on that condition free. He said no more, but was tormented inwardly as much, as so noble a spirit could be, but he with all careful and desirous to free himself, if he could catch opportunity. They careless desired him to rise and go with them, heedless of his watch, which they repented; for he rising, found the chains so loose, as he slipped out of them, and getting his sword which lay ever with him drawn, such a business he made among them, as many were hurt, and some killed, the Lady he kicked over, & with all contempt told her, that he would die like a Prince, hating her abominable treachery, & scorning more her falsehood, than plot. Some of the servants ran to their Lord, to let him know the accident, and to know what should be done; he in his Gown and only his shirt under it, his sword in his hand following the servants, who when they came to the chamber, let him (as being their Master) have the place to enter, they indeed not daring to venture again into the room. He went in, finding Leonius then upon one of his men, and him he best loved, ready to strike off his head; Hold your hand, said he, brave Prince, and end your quarrel on me more meriting the blow. All of you, said he, equally merit punishment for disloialty, but you indeed most, being the greatest, and therefore most unfit to be ill, but ill being most punish-worthy, still holding his sword over the man. What may I do (said the Lord) to satisfy you? To give me liberty (said Leonius) although it be my due, being brought hither to serve your faithless Sister: I will not be so poor to ask; yet if I must make my choice, I will be content with this, let us two as we are in our shirts fight for liberty or imprisonment, if you overcome, I will remain willingly your gain, if I vanquish, let me have liberty to depart, and on these conditions I will save the life of this creature. I am content, said the Lord. With that he threw his Gown off.  
Nay stay (said the favoured man, my safety shall not prove harm any more to him that gives me life, call your son, and your other servants, conjure him and them to perform this condition; well was this liked, and so performed. Then did Leonius, and the Castle Lord might so daintily and valiantly, as never was any combat like it, naked men bravely performing, what discourses or Romancies strive with excellentest witty descriptions, to express in Knights armed, curious in their arming, and careful. Here is no defence but valour, and good fortune; armour, but delicate shirts, and more delicate skins; shields, but noble breasts of steel sufficient, being strong in worth: yet the noblest must overcome, so did Leonius, who having killed the Lord, having himself received some wounds, but none very dangerous, stood still looking on the young Lord, who with tears beheld his father dead, and casting his eyes like a noble Gentleman on Leonius, Sir (said he) you have now the conquest, and shall have the conditions kept with you, which were made by my father. In weeping he called for a Chirurgeon, who dressed his wounds, seeking first for help for his father, but there was no hope; he nobly delivered the Arms again belonging to Leonius, to him: when he had received them, and saw all things justly performed, which was by the mankind promised, he desired one thing more of the Gentleman, whose harm brought his good, which was, to know the truth of the business. My Lord (said he) the truth is this, there is nothing true which she related unto you but feigned, as diverse others have been to work her end: She is not sister, nor any thing that good is to my dead Lord, but a creature kept by him, this my young Lord being son by his virtuous and worthy wife, whose heart was broken by his immoderate affection to this woman; she hated all worth, and now surely was cloyed with him, striving by all means to put him into dangerous adventures, not caring what she did, so she had her pleasure. No week hath passed, that she hath not had one, or two of such like businesses, feigning falsehoods, and discourses as she found their Persons she met withal, especially hating the Emperor for his, and your father's sake, who gave offence to her, by having in his youth a while liked her mother, and for necessity of the place surely more than affection having enjoyed, after left her. This (as leaving is a hateful thing to women upon what terms soever) and she doubting her end would grow unto it, vowed all hurt to your illustrious family, and to that end she laid this trap for you. Leonius took his leave of the young Lord, who brought him out of the Castle to see him safe, permitting his Chirurgeon to go with him, turning the vild creature out of his gates alone, and unprovided of any thing but her wickedness, wherewith she was plentifully furnished, and all that with herself enjoyed by the wild beasts. Noble was this act, for a brave enemy gains equal fame by nobly using his enemy as by cherishing his friend. Leonius took his journey, and way still, as he pretended to his Mistress; he passed Bulgaria, hating it for this mischief, and without any save neat adventure, which was this, gained right against Corinth. A passionate man walked up and down the Sands, being upon the Strand of the Gulf of Lepanto, sometimes viewing Heaven, craving aid from thence, than the earth blaming her cruelty; alas, cried he pitiles Heaven that could view, and permit such extremity, to suffer so chastely loyal a Love to end in so sad a sort. Who could (but you) have beheld her dying, and not succour her? With that the Prince went to him, desiring to hear the whole discourse, who having urged, the passionate Man spoke thus. I am not tied (said he) to make the relation; but I must know one thing before I speak, which is, whether you be a lover or not, if you be, I shall the more willingly speak, because you will understand me, else I shall be loath to bestow much passionate breath so much in vain, to one that will no more esteem of it, then of an old tale. The Prince gave him full satisfaction of his being a lover, when the Man said thus. This unfortunate piece of mankind you see here, is called Cilandrus. I am of Corinth born, and bred a Merchant; a Knight in that City had a daughter called Lendrina, of admirable beauty, and such as by the just admiring it brought many, and most to be her servants, all gazing on her, as on a Meteor, she knew her perfections, otherwise she had not deserved them; but being too exact in knowledge was proud of their rareness, and so far as she thought them not fit to be bestowed on any, none being worthy of them. Men of all sorts sued unto her, she had answers of all kinds answerable to their estates to bestow on them; but the Prince he saw her, and liked her, she thought he must not for her own honour being an assured credit, as she esteemed it, or be sought by him, who she falsely imagined might command all, entertained him, but how? not fond, nor so kindly, but as she used him respectively, yet she made him sue, and labour for his ends. She would meet him at places appointed, but as if she were without him to have gone to them, & by chance met him. Out of the Town she would go to a house of her fathers, thither would he go to visit her, and to see how the air (the pretended cause of her going) agreed with her. She accepted of his visits, and took them as graces to her, and would favour him so far, as to come to the Town with him, so as he attended her to her house, for she loved the noise of love, as well as love itself, thinking it a brave thing to hear it said, the Prince visits Lendrina, the Prince seeks, and sues to her, the Prince is in love with Lendrina. This folly puffed her up, so as she in time grew like a Rose overblown, losing her more in youth exquisite beauty, yet her mind was as full of ambition, and pride. I yet reverenced her, for surely she was honest, folly and vanity rather working, then want of virtue, though stoored with those vices. A Nobleman also of that Town fell enamoured of her, although he would not have had it, said so, because a brave, but unfortunate Lady loved him to that height of expression, and length of time, as gratefulness boldly challenged love, but that she scarce had being forced to be contented with a few good words seldom visits, and cold promises, she poor Lady loving so fervently, as if nothing else did move. That made Lendrina proud to have his love from her, but when her beauty began to fade, the Prince his affection grew like a cool evening after a hot day, yet still showing love; this discovered, how did she rumble up her wits, and not only hers, but also the best brains of her friends, or helps in her affection's business? What posting was there up an down? what consultations, plots for meetings, but with whom? with the other Lord, and he (brave Gentleman abused by their crafts) made believe her affection was such to him, as for him she would leave the Prince, and in comparison of her love to him, hated all else. He began to believe it, and some reason he had, because she made her high mind stoop to come to places where she might encounter him; his true lover heard of it, and so far it wrought in her kind heart, as she fell sick almost to death: but something he did comfort her, although so faint his words were, and weak his protestations, as but that she willing to cozen herself with good opinion of him, she might have thought them dissemble, which for the good I bear her, and deserved honour she meriteth, God grant she find not so, and this should all Lover's wish, for when she dies, love will never find so certain an habitation, and that want he will shortly have, for the noble Lady cannot long sustain with this enduring, and this grieves me, for I honour, and love her most of any woman, except her for whom these my sorrows are; deep, and remediless are the wounds unkindness brings in love, grievous the cruelty ungratitude brings forth, but these are as usual now among us, as fair seasons in Summer: He came one day into a room where she remained, and wore a colour which she had procured him once for her sake (hating it) to leave, and never more to wear, she looked on it as he doth on the Axe, whose head is to be taken off with it: her heart smarted, and she was perplexed, yet durst she not find fault, but sadly told him, she had not seen him wear that colour in many years before. No quoth he, nor now but a little, it is in great request (said she) at this time; is it, said he? Why, who doth love it? She feared to tell him whom she doubted, and was well assured affected it, but put it off, and laid it on another. Alas, poor and pure love, what governors hast thou, and fond commanders, that thou canst not be just unto thyself for fear of overseers? and yet what overseers fear you? but those that oversee their true respect, and makes you blind to truth? I saw her another time (for being a lover like her, I loved solitariness) alone laid by a River side the most pleasant place that my eyes ever saw, and fittest for passion to gain liberty in, having all such delicacies in sight, and variety, as these her speeches will let you understand to be sweet, but silent hearers of her pains. O Heavens, Earth Plains, Mountains, Hills, Forests, Rivers, Springs, Caves, Fields, Herbs, Vines, Woods, Groves, Flowers, Mass, Rocks, Trees, witness my faith and love, and say for me that you grew not, spring not, run not, flow not, sensibly increase, nourish, graze, prosper, and enrich but these, and they oft told have been in me, and my estate; I have been happy like your best rich year, I have despaired, and do like dearth I have flowed, and swom in pleasure, I am dried in sorrow and despair, I have been all, and now am nothing but a poor sad thing to say I was; force me not dear remembrance to these harms, if you help not I shall waste enough, and do. These took I to myself, and paralleled my fortunes with her woes: but what availd? she cried, and grieved remedilessly, so do I too. My thinks, said Leonius, you rather, or as willingly set forth her sorrows, as your own, the strangeness of her worthiness in truth makes me to speak so much of hers, mine being but as shadows to them, though true substances of miseries, and the more perfect in being like hers, who is the perfectest lover, she I say (said he) who never yet saw storm to stir her thoughts, though Shipwrackt in his scorn; no wind blew her to change, nor change had gliding near her, much less stay, but to my pains, Sir this it is. The Lady beloved and sought, had a Gentlewoman attending on her, who had, and hath full rule of me, she fair and delicate, knew she might be, or aught to be beloved, looked like a Princess secure in her estate, where all hearts were hers, so she smiled on me, as on a subject, I took it more kindly, and so wrapped my self willingly into the Snare; for when I came to her, and out of hope emboldened craved her favour, she told me she was not Merchandise, nor to be gained that way, but her love was free, and freely should be given. I quaked at that instant like a child before the rod; but after I took courage, and again pursued, but yet prevailed not, for her affections were placed on a Gentleman Steward of the house, a fine man, and such an one as meriteth the title, delicate in his apparel, Courtly in his discourse, and as a young man passionate in show, and curious in his behaviour like a Courtier, these prevailed with her, his perfumes ascended above my deserts, his neatness beyond my estate, and his fairness exceeded my merits, but I envy not his fortune, nor did I hate any thing but my misfortune, nor have I reason, for he enjoyed her not so much as to marriage, which would he had though I had ever lost, and gained but only sight of her, dearer to me then millions of injoying of Kingdoms were they offered me, while I must still want her, who being too too rich a prize for man, or Earth, is called away, and only Heaven fit for her, she doth enjoy that place, Hell's tormenting furies lying still in me, she's dead, dear love and perfect beauty ending with her. But by your favour said Leonius, I should less lament her loss since she was an others, than had she been mine own in part, what is an others treasure to me? but more, what is the grief to see that which myself most loveth and coveteth, to be possessed by an other? the possession would so much afflict me, as the second loss would never trouble me. You assuredly Sir (said he) are no lover, if one, but a faint one, and such an affecter as gain is your love, nor can loss trouble you, for you being a self lover, love but for your own ends, if they be denied the love removes to an other place, as we of our profession, if our Trade fail in one Country, we transport, and transplant to an other; but love can have on such liberty, removes are not suffered there, one place contains the scope of one man's love, and my hart is the staple of fruitless Constancy. Thus he lamented, telling Leonius that that place pleased him best, because he could from thence view Corinth, or part of that where his affection lived in life, and death. The Prince then took his leave of him, and taking Shipping arrived on the other side, and shortly at the Court, which was held at Corinth; great content was showed generally in all men's eyes, and their hearts did answer it, the Ladies were glad because they all loved him as a brave young Prince, and received from him the assurance of their servant's welfare, but long he stayed not, carrying Veralinda his dearest self to her father into Frigia; this gave fit opportunity to Pamphilia to desire leave also to visit her Country, which with much importunity was granted her, but first she resolved to go into Arcadia to find Siluiana, drink the water with her, and then visit Pamphilia. These delicate, and matchless Ladies took their way leaving the Court like the Sky when the Stars only shine, and the night's fairest light appeareth not: in this voyage they shall be left, being time for Bellamiras journey to be spoken off. After she had provided herself of all necessaries fit for her, she traveled towars Saint Maura, arriving there within short time being neither hindered by wind not adventure; her Father she found, and her finding him gave such joy to the aged Lord, as he thought all those passed years renewed again in youth in him. Quickly she got him thence leaving that place only possessed with the richness of well wishes, both of his and all that know it, especially those who had received the excellent benefit of forgetfulness in it. At their return into Dalmatia, the King hearing of his arrival sent unto him, entreating his presence, which he obeyed, his Daughter going with him, and both receiving all honour from his Majesty; he looking on her, as one would do on a fair field after the Corn is reaped, so was the harvest of his affection to her passed. There she met a Gentleman in good place then under the King, who had formerly served and been Gentleman of the horse to her yet loved love; this Gentleman out of old acquaintance and beloved familiarity, broke somewhat boldly with her concerning her affection, the continuance of it, and lastly whether she would be so kind as to accept of his love again if he offered it, assuring her that he was in far better estate for his affections returning to her, than she seemed to credit. Much she marvelled at this discourse, and his new boldness, who had never before adventured to speak of it in all his time of happiness; fear she might have done but that she weighed his honesty, never in any thing touched, being always held, and found a sincere man, and just; yet so finely she carried herself as she found by him he had commission to say what he did, yet not to let it be known, she would not be too busy, but answered them as she thought fittest, concluding upon much urging, that no earthly blessing could be such to her as his love, and the return of it. He only smiled, and bid her take heed she was not the loss of it. She was so wary, and her former beloved, and loving Lord so passionate, as quickly they were as once they were, no injuries passed remembered, no recounting of passed unkindnesses, but as if only absence had held them asunder, so meeting made their loves as at the beginning, happiness above itself, and this she felt, going soon after to her own house, whither her father went, and her love, with many others, no joy nor content like theirs. Her Father was called again to serve the King, and made Marshal of Dalmatia; thus Dettareus is again a Knight, and Bellamira once more contented, which she shall continue, but Dettareus must be yet punished for his former fault and offence. Pamphilia being in Arcadia went to seek her friend and companion as she called her in her sorrows, but as she passed along those pleasant plains, remembering that she had seen them in her flourishing time of fortune, and when she was richer in blessings than they in plenty, fuller of happiness than they of sweetness, more joyful, and hopeful than they delightful or green, O Plains cried she, how doth constancy protect, and guard you in delicacy? how do miseries change, and wither me? dear Arcadia I love you yet because my constancy suits with yours, pity me then that pines in that virtue, and if ever I see you decaying I will wail with you.  
A lass, here have I breathed my blessings among you, now must I reveal my losses, yet continue as you were, and I shall think misfortune only reserved for me as best, or fittest to deserve mischief; yet dear, I love thee still, though fain would blame (as justly) thy unkindness, but love forbids me, & I must for truth's sake in love suffer all without condemning; cruel yet I may call thee, and thou hast no cause to blame me for that, for thine own soul tells thee I speak truth, mend then or kindly with more violence end me. The grove she then arrived at, where sitting down hard by, where first she met Siluiana, here said she once lived a poor true forsaken lover to, her I come to find, and with her conclude my days, then beholding those places, and her thoughts more perfectly setting themselves before her eyes, which as the stream she made her glass, she with many sorrowful sighs, and deep groans uttered this Sonnet.  

LOsse my molester at last patient be,  
And satisfied with thy cursed self, or move  
Thy mournful force thus oft on perjured love,  
To waste a life which lives by mischiefs fee.   

Who will behold true misery, veiw me,  
And find what wit hath feigned, I fully prove;  
A heaven-like blessing changed thrown from above,  
Into Despair, whose worst ill I do see.   

Had I not happy been, I had not known  
So great a loss, a King deposed, feels most  
The torment of a Throne-like-want, when lost,  
And up must look to what late was his own.   

Lucifer down cast, his loss doth grieve,  
My Paradise of joy gone, do I live?   
Yes I do live, cried she, but to what end? only to mourn, lament, and moan a state all pity wants, since musing in that place from whence it claimed is by due. Would I could not accuse thee, yet my love is such, as I would rather blame myself then thee, dear, this I must not do, for then my merit so small could not ask reward, I still am just, and purely love thee. O werr thou but unstained for thine own worths sake, my soul doth wish it thee, though thou were cruel still. Among the trees and bushes than she walked, plucking of flowers which adorned their roots, and then as a little higher thoughts did rise, she saw inscriptions in the bark, and under them left some of hers, to witness her distress, where she found the letters intwined of Alatina, and her love, she under them set hers, and her dear love: thus spent she some hours till a pleasant tune, and joyful voices called her a little from her sadness; going to the edge of the Grove, she perceived a great troop of Shepherds of all ages, the young men with flowers on their heads, the old with Iuy, than came a dainty creature she might think to be Siluiana, but loathe she was to imagine, she, or any worthy woman would change, nor indeed was willing to think her the same, but some other delicate Lass, but at last she was forced to confess it was Alarina, and so she thought Siluianas' vow was still unviolated. This woman came crowned with Roses, led between two fine Shepherd youths, after her followed all the Shepherdesses apparelld neatly, & finely after their custom. She admired them, and gazed like men on a miracle, yet resolved not to stir, nor discover herself, commanding only one of her trusty servants, to watch what the conclusion would be, who brought her word that they were all entered the Temple, and that it was for the solemnising of Alarina's wedding. Alas said she, can there not live two canstant women all at one time? yet Pamphilia be thou still just, and though but thyself, and so alone to suffer glory in such martyrdom. Home she then went, thinking Alarina no companion for her, when she was in her Chamber looking out of her window upon the Gardens she had used to breathe her passions of joy, as often as of pain in, alas cried she, why do all my old friends as it were turn the hand of my wretched Dial, to make me see my unfortunate hours by? I will said she, leave these enemy-turnd-friends, and go into my own Country, where at least I may find new, and unknown places, though perhaps no more easeful, yet before I go, I will see Alarina, and so what change that change hath wrought in her. Then gave she order to the officers to provide for her journey to Pamphilia, and commanded the same servant of hers, to find out Alarina, and desire her to attend her in the Garden walks. This was performed, & the sweet Shepherdess attended the Queen, who taxing her for her lightness in change, thus answered her. Brave Queen said she, I confess this most true that you have said, if only truth in steadfastness lived here, but if you will vouchsafe me the hearing, you shall see I am not faulty, though the appearance to your judging eyes may judge me so; had I broke my vow, and my vow to truth in leaving Diana, and loving a new love, I had unpardonably erred, but Madam I am free from touch of fault in this, and only Fortune is guilty of all, I was beloved, and loved again devoutly, I was forsaken, and for it grieved unmeasurably; I changed my state in despair, 'tis true, here was I faulty to change at all, but you imagine my fault is this alteration, no Madam, this is no changing, but a happy return to my first blessed estate, for had I taken a new love, I could not have been pardoned any more than for refusing my old one when he offered his affection again: thus am I free, and once more fortunate, for now I have my love tied by his own, and marriage vows, never such content as requital of love brings forth, but yet returning love exceeds it, and so you will say when you shall find this happiness, of which I make no question. Would your promises would prove true said Pamphilia, though I then were taxed as I did you with change, but I expect it not, yet sweet Alarina, how did he prevail against your resolution? By strong force of love said she, for Madam, let us flatter ourselves never so much with thought of power, to resist, and set determinations to refuse while we are alone, or absent from the sight of him, whose charms bewitcheth us, his sight again gives life to our first passions, and turns the strength of our imaginations to powerful servants of his will; as the strength of ones body in a hot disease works against itself: thus experience, the truth of knowledge teacheth us. I once thought what a fool am I to seek, where I am rejected, to sue where I am scorned, and petition where I am disdained; shall I sink to this baseness? shall I forget my own merits, and beg of an ungrateful creature, who triumphs in my wrongs? no, I will let him see, scorn can have children as truly borne as love, & those are bred in me. I will make him see my sensible disliks, and his false eyes by my despising them, shall find his error in my truth, and resoluteness. These brave conceits I liked, and meant to practise: but when I saw him, O me, I was like a thief caught in the act, I hung down my head, ashamed of mine own thoughts; I hated myself, and pleaded guilty, ready standing to be condemned, as I was in his opinion: we are fine creatures alone in our own imaginations; but otherwise poor miserable captives to love. Flatter not yourself dear Princess, for believe it, the greater your mind is, and the braver your spirit, the more, and stronger are your passions, the violence of which though diversely cast, and determined, will turn still to the government of love; and the truer your subects are to you, the firmer will your loyalty be to him. I grant all this, said Pamphilia, but these things concern not me further than the gladness I have for your good; since I protest truly that no scorn, nor any cruel course whatsoever he can use, or hath used, though to the extremity of ill, could, or shall alter my heart from being his, or from fullness of content with all true and affectionate acceptance of his love, if he would bless me again with it. But I cannot hope, my despair outweighs all such thoughts, and makes me drier in loss than blasts do trees, though they kill them. Alarina strove to comfort her, assuring her that she could not have more cause to sorrow & lament then she had had, nor be further from hope or colour of it then she once was; yet said she, now I have passed all those sad misadventures, and am arrived at the happy harbour of enjoying. Long may you so be blessed, said Pamphilia, and soon may like blessings befall you, said Alarina: from this they grew to discourse of Poetry, the Shepherdess saying merry songs of her making, since the turn of fortune, the Queen's continued in the same strains they were of lamentation.  
Some days were thus passed, till her journey called her thence, when taking leave of Alarina, the Queen went towards the Shipping all the next Port, and soon after arrived in Pamphilia, where no sooner the news of her arrival was spread; but the people from all parts came to see her, and joy in her presence, while she joyed in nothing, nor communed with any but her own sad self, which she called her loss, and passions for it: the saddest places were the most pleasing to her, the solitariest Caves or Rocks her chief abiding places, yet she lost not herself; for her government continued just and brave, like that Lady she was, wherein she showed her heart was not to be stirred, though her private fortunes shook round about her. Leonius this while with his fair Veralinda travelled towards Phrygia; where being arrived, they sent unto the King as strangers, to beseech liberty to see him, and to present some things that they knew would be most acceptable to him. He was an excellent wise Prince, and as any, courteous: wherefore he soon consented, and they apparelled her after the manner of Italy as his Country, and she according to the Greek fashion for Shepherdesses as having had her breeding there, and from those habits would not be altered, till she was received as a Princess. They entered the Hall where the King was, being a brave old man, holding as majestic a countenance as his state required: Leonius beheld him curiously, them made this speech unto him, holding his eyes fixed on him, & the Lady of his soul by the hand. Great K. of Phrigia, whose renown hath spread itself unto all ears, give your servant leave to say this unto you. I am stranger borne far hence, son unto the King of Naples, and brother to Amphilanthus, Emperor of the Romans, of whom after I had received Knighthood, I gained leave to go abroad to try my fortune. Into Morea I went to visit the King thereof, who for my honour, I have the grace to be his near Cousin, but in Arcadia, it was my happiness (as I hope) to meet this Shepherdess whose true and loyal servant I vowed to be, for her sake I changed my habits, and from a Knight became a Nymph, with her I concealed, lived, she nor any other mistrusting me, for other than my outward show gave them cause to think me to be. Still my affection increased, and the daily conversation made this beautiful creature affect my company, at last she was by the King's Shepherd, (whom she had till then taken for her father) sent thence, myself discovered to him only went with her into an Island in the Gulf of Venice wherein were enchanted the greatest, bravest, valiantest men, and the excellentest Ladies of the whole world, by this divine creature they were released, & the charms finished. At the conclusion of them, a book of gold upon a Pillar of the same appeared, which being taken down & read, therein was found the whole story of this rare Shepherdess, which brought her to the knowledge that she is your daughter, & I am hither come as hers, & your humblest servant to conduct her to your presence. The King rose and with moderate joy kissed them both, joyful of the news; yet having had so much misfortune, could not but doubt the truth of what was so much desired. She then on her knees delivered the Book unto him, wherein he found what Leonius had related to be true: the Prince delivered likewise unto him letters from his brother the Emperor, to desire the marriage. The grave old King heartily rejoiced at this blessing, but bore it, as he had done his afflictions, with equal temper; then took he Leonius by the one hand, and his daughter by the other, calling his Lords round about him, to whom he delivered these glad news, withal, the Emperor's desire, concludiug, that his consent was gained, and therefore demanded their allowance to the marriage. They consented, and ratified it with full joy and contentment; then joined he their hands in that assembly, contracting them, and promising himself to accompany them back to Morea, where they should be married as Amphilanthus had entreated, for the honour of the other great Kings and Princesses. Robes of state were soon brought to Veralinda, in which she appeared like Venus when she won the Apple from the other two Goddesses. Triumphs were presently made, and she proclaimed heir apparent to the Crown. Thus was Leonius and Veralinda made happy with that they most on earth required. A brave Fleet of Ships were strait prepared for their Voyage; feasts continuing till that time in all the Kingdom, joy now like the Summer flourishing bravely among them. Amphilanthus having been long enough in Germany, & so lawful an occasion offered him for his return into Morea, established Ollorandus, whom he made his Deputy with the Princess to govern in his absence, which he promised should be but short, and his return speedy, his way he took of purpose through Dalmatia, to see the King and the Lady had been offered him for wife, being after many adventures arrived, there he was entertained like himself, which is expression enough for the rarest entertainments. Dancing there was among the Ladies, one appearing as much excelling, as she deserved admiration for her beauty and that quality. All the Kings and Princes beheld her with one favourable opinion; but Amphilanthus did inquire who she was, and how bestowed in marriage. He was informed that she was Daughter to the Master of the horse, married to a great man, but wedded in affection to a young nobleman in the Court, who also had a brother that liked her, they both loved her, she used them both so indifferently, as they could not in two years tell whether she loved: The elder doubted the younger, he feared his brother, both were afraid to offend her, and so remained unsatisfied: till at last whether more boldness, or truer, and clearer affection grew in the elder, having been beloved, and likewise loving one another, though desiring this Lady out of a covetous humour of enjoying all that worthy was in love, he found it was himself she affected: he embraced it, she then liberally declared herself, and so they were both happy. The younger from the first doubting could not be more then formerly, since now he saw but what he feared, and by this might the better avoid a further danger, which he did choosing an other leaving this couple most contented in themselves, though discontented with many others; for his other Mistress grew spiteful, his wife froward, and suspicious, her husband jealous and troublesome; yet what were all these? only means to make them love the better, & their loves to be the more pleasing, like stolen fruit, which is always sweetest. In this estate they then were, but the question may be asked, how these secrets were known? it may be easily answered, and not unjustly said, that surely it came from the happy lover, who with fullness of joy and content could not be so near miserableness, as to keep such a treasure hid to kimselfe, and thus do many times such discoveries come. The Emperor commended them all, and especially the Lady, whose part he was apt to take: the news of his being there brought Dettareus to kiss his hands, and to see his fellow-Hermite Parselius, with the other two his good companions; but one of them he missed, for Dolorindus was gone to Antissia again. He had not been long there; when one day the royal assembly being in the Hall, and ready to see dancing, there came in a grave old man of good fashion and birth, as he after proved, his beard and hair white, his face something with sorrow and age wrincled, resembling a fair tree in frost: he kneeled unto the King beseeching justice; he promised it, and bound it with an oath, being urged unto it by this Gentleman; then rising, Sir (said he) he that hath done me injury, and the man I seek revenge of, is Dettareus, who I know will not, nor can forget the wrong he did me, which although I will not particularly name, not loving to take up the ashes of the dead, or stain a long quiet grave with guilt or infamy: I will only touch thus far as to remember him of the breach of hospitality, and the noblest band of friendship, in trust; this is that I call revenge for, and these I must be satisfied in. The King called Dettareus forth, who covered with shameful sorrow, appeared like the son had robbed his father of his greatest treasure holding his eyes on the ground, as justly condemned: The King was sorry to see him so dejected, but his word was engaged; wherefore he demanded of him what he would answer to this. He replied, that is life was not sufficient to satisfy so foul a fault as he confessed himself guilty in; yet he was to answer none for that business, since the wronged was dead. Dead indeed cried the other to all content, and yet saw his honour dye before him, otherwise Dettareus I am the man injured by you, not killed, as you imagined, but recovered again by skilful Surgeons from all your blows, but one which cannot be cured, but by the balm of your heart blood or mine: I therefore desire that you will in the presence of these brave Princes (than before whom none can have a noblier end) fight with me, and honour me with death, which I assure you shall be as welcome to me as your overthrow; we are neither so young as to undertake a rash business, our age hath made us perfect and free from that, nor are we so old, that death should claim our sudden yielding; let then the life and strength we have be spent before this royal company, and let justice at last have sway. Dettareus casting his eyes up, beholding him, knew him and wept; yet would not deny what the other demanded; so they went forth and armed themselves: the King and all the Court did greatly pity them, and especially. Dettareus, who appeared already dead to their eyes, killed by his own foretelling ill. Instead of dancing they went into the lists where the strangest Combat was fought that ever in Dalmatia was seen; yet did they seem but like brave old arms of trees, whose fruit was yet fair and good: so was their strength, and the manner of their fight so exact and perfect, as young men had more cause to admire and learn then scorn their skill or courage: but Dettareus though in sight and fight continued a good space with the better; yet a conscience he had gnawed within him, and made his outward powers like an inward taken poison, shake and faint, so as the other got the victory and life of Dettarreus. This had been hard and much to be lamented, if justice came not in to tell us 'twas her act, and right, which made the Court satisfied, yet did they lament and mourn for his loss, the Emperor, and the other Princes his old friends going with his body to the grave. The other with as much content as could be for such an accident, where honour was gained from the death of an once loved friend, returned with liberty from the Court; but soon after in Apulia, from whence he strayed, after the certain tidings of Dettareus living was discovered, and never stayed any where till he learned where he remained, hearing his religious life he would not molest him, nor call him out of charity from his Beads to the sword, but like him lived in that manner in S. Maura on a mountain till he was advertised by the people who dwelled at the foot thereof, and whence he fetched his food, of his going thence with his daughter, and of his taking arms again. Then did he again prove his imitator, and like him use steel, and so followed his tract, tracing him as men do hares in the snow, till he found him at the Court, the end of which journey is related, and his own end soon followed, having got enough as he thought, in having honour restored, and satisfaction to his mind. From Dalmatia Amphilanthus and his friends took their way towards Morea, where being happily arrived, they found the King and his beautiful Court at Corinth, from whence they took their journey to Mattinea, sending to Pamphilia to meet them; but she humbly excused it to her father, and for the rest, they must bear with her absence. What joy Meriana, whose heart was only her husbands, felt for his coming, such another, if such there be can only express? Urania, as a mere lover, Philistella, Selarina, Musalina and Lucenia, was also come from the enchantment to accompany Musalina home (who was the best knowing & practised servant in passions court) did make testimony of their affections, though severally, yet all amorously & contentedly to their servants, longing only now for the day of happiness which soon followed: Leonius & his new father with the beautiful Veralinda coming soon to them. All now but Musalina & Lucenia married women must have matches by lawful vows; but an unfortunate match held her from a more blessed one, and so she must live. Amphilanthus thought Morea was also the Empire of Germany, such a Court he found, and so brave company, as nothing was missing that might yield, or nurse content; but except Musalina, the Ladies had little conversation with him, sometimes his Sister who was as much, and willingly entertained by Steriamus, yet would he, and all of them, speak often of Pamphilia, most wishing her there, while she only spent her days in sorrows, which was the Court she gloried in, her delights, were sad thoughts, her companions, tears, and groans, and these lived, and yet still decayed the unblessed Pamphilia. Haste was made of the marriages, which were performed with all joy, and content, such trymuphs being there, as never had before been seen in Morea. Perselina carrying away the honour for the delicatest, sweetest, and bravest Lady of her time; the others, though excellent above relation, yet had their times before her, she being but a blossom sprung late, but as rare, and exquisite as ever any had been.  
The Queen of Bulgaria grew a little better, as company works on all creatures, and makes the wildest endure men's sight, as Staggs will be tamed, and Lions abide handling: yet her own nature remained with her, and that was an honour to her, for in nothing, nor for any thing one ought to leave their old familiar acquaintance, till they leave them, and yet not then neither, for worthiness is only ones own, and as nearly toucheth one, as the bone doth the marrow that lies within it: so this assures her virtue. She used all civilly, but Amphilanthus respectively, and the Prince her servant, who excceeded all the other of his rank in dancing, kindly, and generally all friendly.  
But now comes the time for their depart, the Queen of Naples stayed to be conducted home by her Son, who first with the Romanian Ladies, Lucenia having her old mind to Amphilanthus, went to Negropont to see Antisia, Steriamus, and his most dear Urania went towards Albania, Selarinus and his most beloved Philistella to Epirus, Antissius and Selarina to Constantinople, Rosindy and his chastely loving, and truly beloved Meriava, with Perselina to Macedon, Parselius with Dalinea to their new Kingdom of Achaia, which (by Leandrus his death, and after his Fathers, who with his loss ended his days) was fall'n to them: Philarchos and Orilena to Mytelin, Perissus and Limena stayed with the Queen of Naples by her entreaty, till she went to her Country. Polarchos was made Chamberlain of the House to the Emperor, and so attended him, the King of Bulgaria and his great Queen also took for Bulgaria, the rest, every one as their occasions called them, so as Morea remained bare like a room after a great feast, the guests being gone, looking as unfurnished, the brave rich furniture gone out of it: and thus was poor Morea. The Queens of Naples and Cicely kept always together, and never failed walking in the sweet woods, once enriched with Pamphilia, and her love; there they passed the time together, telling stories of themselves, and others, mixed many times with pretty fine fictions, both being excellently witty, and the Queen of Naples rare in Poetry, which Limena loved though she were none of the writing number herself. But one day they would needs have Perissus with them into the Forest to hunt after their manner which was but in a Chariot, while sometimes with crossing they met the Dear. In this day's sport it happened to them that they lighted on the same Grove, and place, where Pamphilia had first found Siluiana, the place invited them to stay in it, the stay procured dainty imaginations, they as delicate expressions, which made, and gave birth to these Verses framed by the most incomparable Queen, or Lady of her time, a Nightingale most sweetly singing, upon which she grounded her subject.  
O That I might but now as senseless be  
Of my felt pains, as is that pleasant Tree,  
Of the sweet music, thou dear Bird dost make,  
Who I imagine doth my woes partake.  
Yet contrary we do our passions move,  
Since in sweet notes thou dost thy sorrows prove.  
I but in sighs, and tears, can show I grieve,  
And those best spent, if worth do them believe.  
Yet thy sweet pleasures makes me ever find  
That happiness to me, as Love is blind,  
And these thy wrongs in sweetness to attire,  
Throws down my hopes to make my woes aspire.  
Besides, of me th'advantage thou hast got,  
Thy grief thou utterest, mine I utter not.  
Yet thus at last we may agree in one,  
I mourn for what still is, thou, what is gone.  
Perissus protested that he never had heard any like them, and in so saying, he did right to them, and her who knew when she did well, and would be unwilling to lose the due unto herself, which he gave her, swearing he never heard any thing finelier worded, nor wittilier written on the sudden. Limena would only desire to have them, for she yielded in that, as in all other things to her Lord's judgement. Up and down they walked, the Grove being so delightful as gave content to all, and all sorts of Lovers. Going along the Spring they found many knots, & names engraven upon the trees, which they understood not perfectly, because when they had deciphered some of them, they then found they were names feigned and so knew them not. But Perissus remembered one of the cyphers, yet because it was Pamphilia's he would not know it. As they passed they saw a handsome, and well clothed woman, neither walking, running, or staying, but as if she had made a motion of them all, and employed them to her vanity; she one while cried, another chafed, smiled, scratched her head, stamped, railed, and all at Love; blind foolish thing, said she, be thou for ever hated and abandoned, have I not better deserved of thee then thus to be handled? Must I be a miserable Testimony of thy cruelty, when I merited thy best favours? I hate thee froward Child, and will never leave reviling thee, till thou dost requite me, if never shame light on thee, and thy Baby government. Have I been a quiet patient of all thy follies: Suffered myself to fall under thy Tyranny to serve thy wilfulness, and obey thy vain employments? Are these tolerable, or am I not fit to be rewarded? Peevish Boy, either speedily requite and pacify me, or be sure to be set forth in thy colours; no Bird bears so various, or several calourd a Plume as thou dost in changeableness, which shall not be neglected but set forth to the life; then Sir it may, you will say I am bitter, but the world shall see that you are unjust. Wayward Babe, I admire thou hast a face to do all this withal; 'twas well feigned at first, that thou hadst no eyes, which indeed is the true face, for thou canst neither see truth, nor be seen truly by it. Unworthy creature, an invention framed, a thought lighter than thought, a Bubble made by breath in a Shell, blown by a straw, fired with a frown, revived by a smile, and ruined by an neglect, a stately and constant building that breath can destroy, that look can establish, or the least of dislike sack.  
In this fury she would have persisted, but this Troop had been, and were Lovers, wherefore they went to her, who seemed like a moving, or stirring waterwork: she turned to them, and from them again, she cried, and groaned, then scornfully seemed to defy passion, and with a faint forged countenance would have appeared sociable. No greater diversity is there in women's dispositions, (who are richer in that vanity than men) than she had in herself, so as good women might hope all the superfluous vanity of that sex had been collected, and settled by uncertainty in her. The Queen of Naples entreated Perissus to speak to her, he did so, she answr'ed just like her demeanour, at last the Queens drew nearer to her, and demanding some questions of her, she answered them thus. I am said she a Gentlewoman, though ungently used by Love, my name not worthy of Knowledge, my estate overthrown by mifortune, my friends not to be named as being unfit to consanguinate with misery, and indeed, such a wretched forlorn soul as I am, only the shadow of that, kind men most contemn, but for their own sakes, and necescities sometimes respect. I have most of my time been among those of highest rank, but meanest requital, else I had not thus suffered; I am a cast-downe-wretch, not worthy of life, or your presence, let me then on these reason's petition departure, you shall be noble in granting, and I happy in being permitted my own course.  
Limena well liked this odd manner in her, and would not licence her to be freed from them, but desired to hear more; for, said she, I have been as you are afflicted, and never felt more felicity then in discoursing my woes, beside, I see you are apt to discover your passions to these places, why not then as well to us, who are, and ever will be sensible of passion? She looked upon her, and with a noise between sighing, and long breathing scorning directly to sigh, she answered her, that she should have what she sought. Then said the Queen, I desire to know your loss, your despiser, and yet dislike. It is this said she, I loved a Gentleman, who was brother to the Duchess I served, he loved me, and swore it, (perfidious man) I believed him, and granted what he asked; he made of me as we do of the best fortunes, and was contented with nothing so much as with my Love, nor did I joy, or indeed glory, in any thing but his affection: this undid me, and I a poor yielded creature, and spoiled by him, remained the poor Trophy of his victory, and my loss. I sought yet long time, after I writ to him both in Verse and prose, but alike to his understanding, and alike taken and received. He remembered my kindnesses and thanked me, but yet rewarded them no further, like a King that takes a Present and likes it, but thinks it was his Subjects due to present it, and so means not to reward the bringer, scarce the giver: no more did he, for I was both giver, and bringer, and yet as one cast off, and forlorn. I urged Faith, and constancy, he confessed it with fair words, but alas, his rewards were miserable and dry. I then after a long and most laborious suit and toil to win, or rather keep but part what I once had had, recovered not so much as damages, but all lay still on me. I than writ some Verses to him, which I have in memory, having made them upon the subject of many unhappy Women, but bringing them all to my sad estate, the Verses are long and tedious, therefore if you please, I will let them pass, and continue my discourse. Nay I pray (said the Queen) let us have them, and the story too, we have time enough for both, and no time being able to be better spent, we can afford the evening into the bargain, rather than miss such a relation. Then Madam, said she, when I saw no merit, no love, no remembrance, nor any thing could work against a new choice which he had made, I framed these lines as my last piece, resolving if they prevailed not to let all go, and fall to the resolution, or indeed, more properly, distraction I am now in, the Lines be these.  
Dear, though unconstant, these I send to you  
As witnesses, that still my Love is true.  
Receive these Lines as Images of Death,  
That bear the Infants of my latest breath,  
And to my triumph, though I die in woe,  
With welcome glory, since you will it so,  
Especially, my ending is the less,  
When I Examples see of my distress.  
As Dido, one whose misery was had  
By Love, for which she in Death's robes was clad;  
Yet lost she less than I, for I possessed  
And love enjoyed, she liked, what was professed  
Most cruel, and the death-lik'st kind of ill,  
To lose the blessing of contentments will.  
Fair Ariadne never took more care,  
Then I did how you might in safety fare,  
Her third my life was to draw you from harm,  
My study wholly how I might all charm  
That dangerous were, while pleasures you optained,  
And I the hazard with the labour gained:  
Yet she this his life saved, he her honour lost,  
That false Prince Theseus flying, left her crossed  
With his abandoning her truth, and love  
Leaning her desolate, alone to prove  
His Love, or ended, or but given for need,  
Caused her with misery to gain that meed.  
I Ariadne am alike oppressed,  
Alike deserving, and alike distressed:  
Ungrateful Demophon, to Phillis fair  
A Thracian Lady, caussed by like despair,  
Or greater far, for after fervent love,  
In which blessed time he freely still did prove:  
What is desired, or loved, he left this Queen  
And bliss, for a less Kingdom which had been  
Before his fathers, and by reason right,  
For Theseus was his Sire that King of spite.  
Thus did he both inherit state, and ill,  
While Phillis self, her lovely self did kill,  
Making a Tree her Throne, a Cord the end  
Of her affections, which his shame did send.  
I strangled am, with your unkindness choked  
While cruelty is with occasions cloaked.  
Medea Witch, with her enchanting skill  
Did purchase what was craved by her will,  
Yet was by jason left at last, which shows  
Love only free from all bewitching blows.  
But his own witchcraft, which is worst of ills,  
Never absenting till all joy it spills.  
Charms it may be, withheld you now from me,  
Break through them, leave that Circe's so oft free,  
The siren song, Calypso's sweet delights  
And look on faith, which light is of true lights.  
Turn back the eyes of your changed heart, and see  
How much you sought, how fondly once sought me,  
What travel did you take to win my love?  
How did you sue that I as kind would prove?  
This is forgot as yesterday liked sport,  
Love winning lasting long, once won proves short.  
I like Penelope have all this time  
Of your absenting, let no thought to climb  
In me of change, though courted, and pursued  
By love, persuasions, and even fashons rude  
Almost to force extending, yet still she  
Continued constant, and as I am free.  
Ten years a cause was for Ulysses stay  
While Troy besieged was, but then away  
Was homeward bend by all, save him who stayed,  
And ten years more on foreign beauties prayed.  
Against his will, he oft his will enjoyed.  
And with variety at last was cloyed.  
Change wearied him, when weary he returned,  
And from his wand'ring then to staidness turned.  
Come you now back, I thus invite you home,  
And love you, as if you did never roam:  
I have forgot it as if never done,  
And do but think me a new to be won.  
I shall appear, it may be, as I did,  
And all passed faults shall in my breast be hid,  
Try me again, and you shall truly find,  
Where fairness wanteth, clearness of a mind;  
Fairer, and richer than the mass of all  
Their persons, which from me have made you fall,  
If joined together, and from thence to frame  
A mind of beauteous faith, fit for the name  
Of worthy Constancy enriched with truth,  
Which gave me to you, and so held my youth  
In young desires, still growing to your love,  
Nourish them now, and let me your love prove.  
Leave the new powerful charms of strangers tongues,  
Which always truth with their fair falsehood wrongs.  
Come back to me, who never knew the plot  
To cross your mind, or to thy will an not:  
Come, I say, come again, and with Ulysses  
Enjoy the blessings of your best blisses;  
Happy the comfort of a chaste love's bed,  
Blessed the pillow that upholds the head  
Of loyal loving, shame's the others due,  
Leave those for me who cannot be but true.  
Come, and give life, or in your stay send death  
To her that lives in you, else draws no breath.  
What bands had you to tie you thus much, said the Queen of Naples? bands of faith in me, and vows from him of zealous truth said she, privately made to me, and for greater satisfaction given before witnesses for marriage, which made me (foolish, & confident) trust, & yield, & now wander, lament, and pine. The Queens pitied her, and promised their helps to assist her. She thanked them, but answered, none but love had injured her, and none else could, or should help her: so she as strangely went on, and from them as wildly she had come to them, they returning home, she walking & breathing in distembers. At last resolving to go to Pamphilia, offer her service to the Queen, who ever from her iufancy loved and trusted her, & was hindered from her company, & attendance; by reason, or rather this folly in affection which had power to make her dissist from all resolutions how fit or worthy, to please that, the most vain, and troublesome of any. Now she could discern her error, but how? as if she looked into a glass, and behind her saw her misery, which to her face abused her: so her passed time had wronged her, never to be righted or cleared, if not by death, forgetfulness, or charity. The Queen Pamphilia received her with all kindness, & with her she lived as in her former days in much respect, and used with all courtesy, the better being joined, and more acceptable, because nearest agreeing with her passions, and miseries, as she called them, and indeed were, for none can be compared to forsaken love.  
Nerena was left in miserable state, imprisoned in a Tower, locked up in conceit of madness, and made a poor, imagined distracted creature where she was absolute Princess; little justice was in this, yet she as a woman must suffer, although in time be released, as she at last was, and now is the hour come for her safety. Her Sister, as you heard, went to try the Enchantment, in her absence, desire of change, and so hope of liberty (as most times is gained in absence of the Prince) grew among the people, but most lay in the breast of a noble man, whose conscience, one may well say, slept quietly from troubling his business till now he had awaked it, protesting that the wrong done to Nerena concerned them all, and lay alike, to his imagination, in their hearts as in his, which moved him to urge restitution, and submission, with establishing her in her former government, their latter Princess being but to succeed her Sister, and the injury done to her who ought to reign, beside, what follies did live in her, more, and not as amply abounding as in the elder, & their rightful Lady; beside, as a woman, why should she not be permitted both her vanity, & the nature of her Sex, their fidelity to their late Master was lost, their loyalty to Succession forgot, the oath to truth broken, & they guilty to all foul. Treasons, having deposed their Princess, and established another, whose merit were not far beyond their own Mistresses, nor whose stayed worth aught to claim too strict an obedience, where right challenged the contrary. He was a great man well-beloved, infinitely followed, feared, & therefore cheerished, he swayed much, and so far proceeded, as he with the rest of the Counsel, fetched Nerena forth, solemnly again established her had pardons for all things past, & all was made up with a kind & gracious conclusion, she by her poor living, and neglect being now invested in so stayed an habitation of gravity, as she was fit for the honour they recalled her to; her sister she provided for, but she returned no more, but with a young Prince she grew so enamoured of, although a married man, stole away & ended, so as her friends did desire all good people should forget her, or that she never had been; thus may you see that none can run so far that shall not have some time to return, nor any how much soever condemned but may live to be fit of commiseration, and respect; this was verified in her, & she deserved their due restoring her proving an excellent Governess, and brave Lady, being able to overrule her old passions, & by them to judge how to favour, licence, & curb others, & this experience, though late, is most profitable to Princes. Amphilanthus with the brave, & once hating, now loving Ladies, coming to Negropont, were by Dolorindus & Antissia infinitely welcomed and feasted, yet Antissia was not wellplesed, for although she had directly lost the love she most prized, yet somuch she loved him still, as she was sorry he should do amiss, which she did confess he did in leaving Pamphilia for Musalina. Alas, said she, most excellent Lady did not I foretell your harm; yet I protest I am truly sorry for this, and wish I had said false, so you had still been blessed, it was not my fortune to be happy in what I most sought, yet wish I you had enjoyed what your worth and constancy had merited; no envy I bear to you, nor ever did, but to my destiny which would not favour me. Of purpose she would urge discourse of her, which the Emperor took well enough, and was contented so far with it, as to think of her, and at last resolved to see her; but one day walking alone in a delicate walk of Birches, set by art upon the top of a hill, both sides being sowed with wheat. Harvest not yet being come, though the corn ripe for it, he beheld the even & perfect growing of them. Can we (said he) possibly be as even in our own breasts to truth as these things which are sowed, or set by our hands? No, and for our shame our own works, must witness against us; for, I confess, I have done amiss, and against her, deserved best of me for love, and constancy, and yet none have I paid with so much neglect, I am faulty, but I will mend, and she I hope will pardon. Sweet Corn (said he) when the wind stirs, how do your heads bend humbly that way you are blown? how evenly, equally, and patiently hath she borne my neglects? I will give satisfaction, and she shall be requited. As he walked thus, he heard a Lad pipe meerily, on a Pipe he had made of one of the stalks of Oats, not far off growing; he stayed to hear him, and when he thought he had done, went toward him, desiring to hear some thing; which, though low in respect of his understanding, yet would now be pleasing to his passions, as he drew nearer to him, he heard him use these words. Love, since thou art thus grateful, be thou ever blessed, I now am sorry I did call thee ill, I do repent that I did think thou hadst been wayward or ungrateful: all is passed, and I do pardon crave. I'll sing unto thy praise, as I did cry against thee; I'll make songs, in thy honour, as I did in reviling thee; I'll swear thou art alone worthy, and fit to be honoured, as I lately vowed thou wert the only Serpent, and hateful humour to be cheerished: If humble submission can merit favour, I will gain it of thee; if not punish me and spare not, for I must, and do confess I am guilty, and deserve more ill than thy nobleness will inflict on any, give me my freedom from thy favours, and I will ever be thy vassal for it. Then took he up his sling & walked a little farther, that being his weapon to defend himself, and to molest the Birds or other enemies to his charge in that delicate Corne. Amphilanthus thus followed a far off, as hope doth despairing Lovers: when he saw him sit down again, and take up his Pipe, than again proceed in his commendations of Love, and then sing. The Emperor liked that humour well, wishing he might have the like cause to praise that passion; upon which he was pleased to make most excellent Verses, and then returned to the Court. Musalina and Lucenia whose humble submission had gained pardon and love in some kind had them, as they had most he had written, but still his mind ran on his journey, not doubting of his welcome, yet knowing his fault wished the first encounter passed. Musalina took her leave to return into Romania, much sorrow was for parting, but those things are so usual, as the relation were like telling a tale so often till all ears were tired with it. Musalina in her journey had as many several thoughts as love could bring forth; sometimes suspicion came, than anger, and revenge followed, yet these were salved again with hope, and trust; She was grown likewise a Poet as being a necessary thing, and as unseparable from a witty lover as love from youth: When she arrived at home, the poor trees felt the cruelty which she said was inflicted on her; sad rhymes came often into her thoughts, some of her own, others of Amphilanthus his making on parting, and of diverse others, contenting herself, or rather forcing content to be showed, when no remedy was, her love being gone, and which was worse in a kind never to return, which gave form to these lines following a great drought being in that Country, and every one wishing for rain.  
Why do you so much wish for rain, when I,  
Whose eyes still showering are, stand you so nigh?  
Think you that my poor eyes now cannot lend  
You store enough? alas, but rightly bend  
Your looks on me, and you shall see a store  
Able to moisten Earth, and ten earths more:  
Sighs to make Heaven as soft as tender wool,  
And grief sufficient to make up the full  
Of all despairs, then wish not, since in me  
Contained are tears, grief, and misery.  
Many times she would go to the solitary woods, and grieve there freely crying out her woes; but all returned alike to her for gain or reward; for how can help be now expected? only absence will assist, and that at last in this distressed Lady prevailed, wherein she was happy, though many sad days and nights passed before the cure could be wrought, Time being for this disease the best Physician. Amphilanthus took his way towards Pamphilia, taking with him only twelve Knights, whom he chose, and his and their Squires; them he enjoined not to disclose him, nor call him any other than the Just in hope: Pamphilia, not hoping for any redress, was one day in certain walks with her ancient friend, and servant the Lady, who the Queenes met in such disorder for love, and was the same Lady that was so pleasant with Steriamus when he was passionate for Pamphilia, she was called Dorilina, than who there was not a discreeter, though a true lover. As they walked, discoursing of their loves and torments for it, Dorolina besought the Queen to honour her with the repeating of some of her verses. She answered, she was grown weary of rhyme, and all things but that which wearied her life; and yet for cruelties sake would not take it. She would not be answered so, but urged her again, hoping to take her this way something from her conrinuall passions, which not uttered did wear her spirits and waste them, as rich embroideries will spoil one another, if laid without papers between them, fretting each other, as her thoughts and imaginations did her rich and incomprable mind: but as yet Dorolina could not prevail for the part of Poetry; yet she gained so much, as Pamphilia sat down and told her this tale, feigning it to be written in a French Story.  
There was, said she, in France for many years, many Kings, that Country being divided into several Kingdoms; several Nations there were likewise which spoke different languages, some of these had Kings, the others only Princes; but in success of time, all came happily under the rule and government of one King, care only had then by marriages to make a perpetual union, which only length of time could do: among these marriages there was one, from which grew both good, and ill, a brave young Lord of the I'll of France, second son to a famous Nobleman, and one who had great employment under the King, being counted the bravest man of the Kingdom, was by the means of a brother in Law of his, married to a great Heir in little Britain, of rich possessions. This Lady was wooed & sought by many, one she affected and so much loved, as she was contented to think him worthy to be her husband, and so for worth, he was. Miserably hard her father kept her, and close; yet so much liberty she gained, as she had almost tied herself never but by death to be released; yet her fortunes were not meant thus to be disposed of; for her father dying, and she thinking she was a little, or much neglected by her first servant, who came not according to appointment to attend her, she changed her mind, and gave herself to valiant & lovely Bersindor the Frenchman, leaving the other, as he had her at home to learn better breeding. Into France she came, where she was by Bersindors' father and mother cherished with all affection, and love; her husband kind, and as respective as she merited, many fair and sweet children they had to their comforts and their friends, and so bred they were, as all companies coveted their presence, being like sweet delights to sad eyes. The eldest daughter was called Lindamira, she was so much favoured by the Queen of France, as by no means she must be absent from the Court, which indeed was the fittest place for her, being a Lady of great spirit, excellent qualities, and beautiful enough to make many in love with her; but she loved only one, and that one she had loved many years before any mistrusted it, or himself knew it. He was likewise favoured by the Queen Mother, whose husband dead, had leisure to bestow her eyes upon the loveliest object, and this Lord was well enough contented, spending his time after his own desire. Lindamira served the Queen faithfully, and so affectionately, as she had no love but them two of either Sex; yet was she careful to give no dislike to her mistress, whom she would not injure, or indeed at that time herself, for she was married, he not thinking that it was himself she loved, though he knew she was somewhere bound in those fetters. A careful eye he carried over her, not that it appeared he loved her much more than as her deserts, which her noble and free carriage deserved; yet he was desirous to find her love. Once he thought it was the husband of a Lady, she had made her chosen friend; but after he found the contrary, to his own comfort; for the Queen, how well assured soever she was, or rather might have been of her fidelity; yet love she knew had commanded her, who borne a Princess, and matched to a King, yet could not resist his power, might with greater ease soveraignize over a subject: but in Love's Court all are fellow-subiects; and thus her Majesty was deceived in her greatness, which could not, as she thought, be subject: and therefore, though others must be Vassals when they are all companions and serve alike. This suspicion was first put into her mind by a malicious Lady, who envied sweet Lindamira; but so was it believed and followed by the Queen, as all her favour was withdrawn as suddenly and directly, as if never had: Lindamira remaining like one in a gay Masque, the night passed, they are in their old clothes again, and no appearance of what was; she yet was grieved to the heart because she truly loved her mistress, as her disgrace went further than only discontent for the loss, or the note the world might take of it, which must like their reports be wiped away, or washed like linen, which would be as white again as ever. But these pierced her heart, and she was inly afflicted, at all times she nevertheless attended, never failing her duty, yet desirous to know the cause of this her misfortune: She employed many to move the Queen, only to know why she was offended, that if she were guilty she might ask forgivensse, and make humble submission, but this would not serve, she poor Lady ignorant of the cause, desired the Lord for whom she suffered to do the like for her; he did, but returned as the others did to her, telling her the Queen's answer was, that she should not know the cause, therefore willed her to be satisfied with that, & with knowledge that she was, and had just cause to be offended. Lindamira then asked leave to retire, she had permission, and withal her Majesty, when she gave her her hand to kiss (which favour she was contented to allow her) she told her she should do well to stay till she was sent for. She humbly, & with tears in her eyes answered she would obey, and so she departed going home, and soon after with a husband like her last fortune, went to live with him, whither soon came all her friends to visit her, and by him were nobly entertained. The Lord, whom she so much loved, and was accused for, likewise came with that Lady her dear friend: among many discourses they fell upon this of her disgrace; Lindamira saying, that the thing itself did not now so much afflict her, as the ignorance of it: None (said he) that dares tell you the cause, knows it, and some that do, dare not. What should fear them said she? if mistrust of my secrecy, I will give them cause to take away that suspicion of weakness in me, other reason I cannot guess: if I should go further, said he, you might imagine me one could tell. I am verily persuaded of that, said she. But I fear your displeasure, said he. Why (said Lindamira) concerning none but poor me, how can any thing trouble you? It may be, said he, it toucheth others, and so much as you will hate them for suffering for them. I have no reason for that, said she, though it may be I shall be angry with myself for giving cause. Then (said he) with your pardon, I will tell you that, I am enjoined not to let you of any know, to secrecy I will not bind you, for the business itself hath power to do that, wherewith the friend Lady rose, and he proceeding told her all that had passed, but now (said he) I fear you will hate me for this. Pardon me my Lord, answered she, I am only sorry that you should suffer for me, so unworthy of your favour, but for being offended, I protest I love her displeasure, since she hath honoured me with this worthy opinion, rather than I loved her greatest grace, & more noble is my fall, than my time of favour was, he did not it seemed lose that opportunity, nor was she nice to let him know her long love, expressions of it, and embracing affections wanted of neither side; what happiness this was to sweet Lindamira that constant woman, if such an other there be who loved five years undiscovered, & then on such an unlooked for occasion revealed so great a secret, may judge, this showed a strange happiness to befall them, that a jealous woman whose doubt of loss brought her losing & Lindamira's gain: thus you may see the effects of that base humour: but alas, what succeeded all this? your fortune, dear Dorilena, and mine, for after she had lost the Queen's favour, endured an unquiet life, & miserable crosses from her husband possessed with like, or more furious madness in jealousy, her honour not touched, but cast down, and laid open to all men's tongues and ears, to be used as they pleased. Lastly, after fourteen years unchanged affection, she cast her off contemptuously and scornfully, she complained, which complaint, because I liked it, or rather found her estate so near agree with mine, I put into Sonnets, this course I might call ungratefulness in him, and give all ill names to it; but I will with the story conclude my rage against him; for thus the Book leaves her, the complaint is this divided into seven Sonnets.  

Lindamira's Complaint.  

1.  
Dear eyes farewell, my Sun once, now my end,  
While your kind willing grace I felt, all joy  
In soul I knew withdrawn, you now destroy.  
The house that being gave to love's best friend.   

You now alas to other objects bend  
That warmth of bliss which best delights enjoy,  
Striving to win an oft won idle toy,  
By falsehood nursed, such creatures seldom mend.   

Try your new loves, affect the choice of store,  
And be assured they likewise will choose more,  
Which I yet grieve; for though the loss I bear.   

I would have none with you to challenge right;  
But bear you must for making choice so light:  
Yet still your beams I'll love, shine you elsewhere.   

2.  
O Deadly rancour to a constant heart,  
frowns, and neglect, my only favours be:  
Sometimes a cold respect is granted me;  
But hot flames to those eyes joy in my smart.   

Once yet for justice sake weigh my hard part,  
In gratefulness I should kind usage see;  
For being tied alone to you, else free,  
Till by your wrongs now joined with heart-broke smart.   

A glorious triumph you no doubt shall have,  
To crown your victory on murders grave,  
While falsehood bears the arms my life hath won.   

I only for twice seven years' love shall gain  
Change, worse than absence, or death's cruelest pain:  
The last yet got, you have your labour done.   

3.  
A Surgeon I would ask, but 'tis too late,  
To stay the bleeding wound of my hurt heart:  
The root is touched, and the last drops depart  
As weeping for succeeding others fate.   

Alas that my killed heart should wail my state,  
Or leisure have to think on aught but smart,  
Nor doth it, but with pity bear a part,  
With her` embraced yours like a loving mate.   

But now unmarried by a new disdain  
Cold death must take the body from her love  
And thou poor heart must end for my unworth.   

Conscience is lost, and outward fairness gains  
The place where worth did, or else seemed to move,  
Thus world like change new trial still brings forth.   

4.  
O Memory, could I but lose thee now,  
At least learn to forget as I did move  
My best, and only thoughts to wait on love,  
And be as Registers of my made vow.   

Could I but let my mind to reason bow,  
Or see plain wrongs, neglects, and slight prove  
In that dear Sphere, which as the Heavens above  
I prized, and homage to it did allow.   

Canst thou not turn as well a Traitor too  
Since Heaven-like powers teach thee what to do?  
Canst not thou quite forget thy pleasures past;   

Those blessed hours, the only time of bliss,  
When we feared nothing but we time might miss  
Long enough to enjoy what's now off cast.   

5.  
Leave me vain Hope, too long thou hast possessed  
My mind, made subject to thy flattering skill,  
While April mornings did my pleasures fill,  
But cloudy days soon changed me from that rest;   

And weeping afternoons to me addressed,  
My utter ruin framed by Fortune's will,  
When knowledge said Hope did but breed, and kill,  
Producing only shadows at the best.   

Yet Hope 'tis true, thy faults did fair appear  
And therefore loath to think thou counseldst me  
Or wilfully thy errors would not see  
But catch at Sun moats which I held most dear   

Till now alas with true felt loss I know,  
Thyself a Bubble each fair face can blow.   

6  
THough you forsake me, yet alas permit  
I may have sorrow, for my poisoned cross;  
Think not, though dead, to joy I cannot hit  
Upon a torture, for my soule-pierced loss.   

Or if by chance I smile, I hopes engross,  
Nor for I die not, I do bliss admit,  
Most grief will oft give leave for show to toss  
Upon the waves, where shipwrecked comfort split.   

Think then your will, and left, leave me yet more  
Vex not my loathed life, to ruin bend;  
Be satisfied with glut of your bad change:   

Lay me vnthought on, in the love-kill'd store,  
My grief's my own, or since for you 'tis sent,  
Let me have that part from you while you range.   

7  
SOme do, perhapts, both wrong my love, and care,  
Taxing me with mistrust, and jealousy,  
From both which sins in love like freedom, free  
I live, these slanders but new raised are.   

What though from grief, my soul I do not spare,  
When I perceive neglect's slight face on me?  
While unto some the loving smiles I see,  
I am not jealous, they so well do far.   

But doubt myself lest Nesse worthy am,  
Or that it was but flashes, no true flame,  
Dazzled my eyes, and so my humour fed.   

If this be jealousy, then do I yield,  
And do confess I thus go armed to field,  
For by such jealousy my love is led:    
Dorelina admired these Sonnets, and the story, which she thought was some thing more exactly related then a fixion, yet her discretion taught her to be no Inquisitor, so home again they went, the Queen giving order the next day to hunt a Stag, but she was hindered from that by unlooked for news, which was, that the young and proud King of Celicia, being her neighbour, her Wooer, and refused by her, would not as it seemed endure the scorn, or go without her, wherefore he with an invincible Army, was come near the confines of her Country, by force to win, what he could not by love, or fair means gain. But how much was he deceived in this? for force must not prevail against such a spirit, if not to bring death for hate, but no affection or submission, threats can work with her no more, then to command men to give resistance. Into a strong Fort by the Seaside she put herself, one Army attending her, another sent to encounter him, led by Melysander. Her Counsel admired her magnamity, she was no more troubled, then if no such thing were, nor could any thing but unkindness, nor from any but him much molest her. She dispatched a Messenger to her father for aid, another to Mitelin, and all her friends that were within compass of helping suddenly; for sudden was the matter, thoughts of love for all this had their place, as wishes that Amphilanthus would come, but as much was that wish to see him as for help, though she was confident to have had victory by his presence.  
The end of the third Book.   

THE COUNTESS OF Montgomery's URANIA. THE FOURTH BOOK.  
ONE of the Messengers lighted upon his ship as he came from Negropont, relating the news; haste was then made to the succour, but still he must be unknown. At his landing he met some people sad, and their countenances telling some misfortune; he was loath to ask, till one of his company desirous to know, and perceiving the Emperor wished the knowledge, yet would not ask, demanded the business; answer was made, that the first Army was overcome, the Duke Melisander taken prisoner, and the King marched with all speed towards the other Army, and Pamphilia: Alas Sir (said he) if you saw how our poor Country is already spoiled, defaced, and ruined, where the Army passeth, it would grieve your hearts, and most, that the woefullest end of war is likely to happen; for the other Army are all young men, who though bold and valiant, yet raw and unexperienced; 'tis to be doubted, the Queen will fall by this ill fortune into the King's hands, wanting all foreign aid: for could her Brothers, or Cousins know of it, and but some of them here, we should not fear. Why is the war, said Amphilanthus? Because our Queen will not marry the King. What is her reason, said the Emperor? Want of love in her, replied he; and as it is believed by most, and is the general opinion, her affections being placed on some other, but who it is, we are ignorant of, yet would he were here; for surely she cannot love but worthily, and so like her most worthy self. Amphilanthus was glad of this, and so got him to guide them to the Army, where they were well received, as all shall be on such a necessity in time of war, if they come to help and succour.  
The King of Celicia puffed up with pride for this Victory, came on with speed and joy, till he came within sight of the Army: Amphilanthus perceiving that, and having discovered himself only to the Counsel and Commanders, sent forth a Drum to desire a parley: it was granted, then went forth one of purpose chosen by the Emperor to deliver this message, that since the King had already obtained the Victory over one Army, to the great hurt of that Country, he desired to have as his own, out of that respect, and no other it was fit as they held it to offer him this (not challenge) but humble entreaty to encounter in person one single man of the Qu. side, who should be in birth, honour, & all other dignities, fit to wait upon him, and bravely before the wall to fight with him, who if he overcame, he should have the Queen delivered to him; if not, he and his army should depart as they came, having had enough in the bloods of so many brave men, and true subjects, all which might have been his, if this offer had been time enough made, the rest now spared if accepted. The king, whose own pride could not wish a more respective challenge, answered, that he desired to know the man should meet him. The messenger answered, that his name was conseald from most, and was known by no other, than the Just in Hope. The king replied, that he must know more, or he might, and would be excused from venturing his royal person against one nameless man: the messenger then kist a little paper, & delivered it, wherein he found a plainer challenge, but as nobly courteous, and thereto the Emperors own most honoured and feared name. The king took it well, and was glad he should (as he told the messenger) combat with him in the sight of his Lady, both for the honour he should gain in overcoming Amphilanthus, and that he was assured he was the only obstacle in his way; for these two reasons he would fight with him with hope of conquest; the hour should be left to him, if he pleased, or as being his due to choose. In the morning following, about nine of the clock, the messenger returned with much comfort to Amphilanthus, who now had another, and the best part of the business to do, which was, whether she would consent, that her giving or freeing should be left to his fortune in the combat, how to compass this, he doubted the accomplishing, and feared infinitely how she would take the bold offer, which had been made without her knowledge; at last he did resolve, that he would adventure, and so with the Counsel entered the Castle where she was; but thus he ordered it, that they should move it to her, & have her resolution, as if yet it had not been determined. Amphilanthus this while should stand where he might hear all, & when he pleased, to show himself. Thus it happened, they came to the Queen, where she was in the Gallery under a Cloth of Estate, sitting as sadly, as her fortunes told her it was fit for her; yet of all fortunes, his loss was the greatest. When she saw them, she smiled, and asked how matters went: they told her the worst, because she should agree to their desire. If that happen, said she, I shall be sorry to leave you in danger, to whose loves and respects I am so much bound, nor is there need of that, since peace may be made for you, but none for me, on such conditions as he offers; for never will I be unjust unto my former vow, nor to myself, and such as will go with me, shallbe used no worse than myself. They humbly thanked her, but protested, that no other fortunes should satisfy them, than her service & attendance; yet was there a way, they said, how she might save herself, free her realm & them from ruin. She replied, such a course she would with all willingness undertake; then they told her their opinion, naming the Champion only by his framed name: if (said she) my brothers were here, or either of the kings of Albania, I might put my fortunes in any of their hands: but alas what speak I of that, I merit such a happiness. Could no other please you, said they? with that she sighed, Yes God knows, said she, blushing, & turning herself from them. They went on; how if Amphilanthus, said they, were here? If he, said she, were here, there were no question, but life, estate, & all might be put into his hands: but this I protest truly and sincerely, that I had rather perish, then be the cause of the loss, or danger of the loss of one drop of his blood, or of my brothers, so much I love, and respect them. With that Amphilanthus stepped out, and presenting himself to her, told her that while he had blood, and life they should serve her. She was amazed, surprised, with joy and fear, blushed, and looked pale, passion working so in her as she could not tell how to look, how to speak, or express the blessed comfort possessed her. Heaven-like joy to her it was to see him, Deathlike smart so to see him to his danger, her heart bled to think that he might bleed in her quarrel, and yet his quarrel caused in love, had withered hers with sorrow, till now refreshed with this balm, like a body furnished by the perfectness of a sound Liver with blood, and so life; He was troubled with her countenance, lest it had been out of offence taken against him, when God knows it was but the violence of her passion, which when happy or crossed, could never suffer her to utter itself. She could imagine what to say, and resolve of it, but never could when time was offered to perform it, timorousness ruling in her towards him, when over all others she could soveraignize: diverse the sorts, diverse the passages, and gevernments of love. He took her by the hand, she affectionately beheld him, at last telling him that she would rather petition him to let any end befall her, (but yielding to Asdrusius) rather than he should venture his life for her delivery.  
He said there was not in the world, next herself that he respected more, or in any degree of comparison with her liberty, and pleasure, therefore she might assure herself, that her honour, and safety should command his life, which could never be so well employed as in serving her. They then together sat under the cloth of State, she beholding him with as greedy eyes, as one at the last doth the Haven in a terrible storm, driving from that whither they desired to go, and well could she in her mind have consented to have died in that blessedness. He as lovingly beheld her, and thought he saw her former beauty lately decayed renewing as his favour was to, and in her again. Thus they were till supper, which being passed she conducted him to a delicate chamber, where he lodged all night, resting well till time was for his going to the field; the excellent Lady lay all that dark time like one wrapped into the third Heaven, her soul only working, she knew not how to bear her joy accusing prosperity, for being more unsupportable than affliction, a Fever of contentment held her in a fit without intermission, and thus she remained till day, or her care of him, or thoughts, or joy, or altogether called her up, and so she apparelled herself to be ready to bless her eyes with his sight before he went forth, for no suit, persuasion, or any petition of hers could dissuade him from the combat, telling her at last that he must doubt by her importunity, and fear she seemed to have of him, that her opinion of his worth or valour was diminished. She was then forced to be patient, and all her refuge was to her tears and prayers for his delivery, and safety, he is determined to vanquish, the other opinionated to have the victory, the honour, and the Queen, both are now ready to try it out, Pamphilia attending her Knight to his horse, her soul waiting on him with all her strength of spirit, and good to assist him, so as thus he that needed no help, had two spirits joined together in and against one, and one of them maliciously bend against him and perfect love, bound to his ruin; Urania, Philistella, Steriamus and Selarinus, on their way in Epirus met a dainty troop of Ladies, and Knights in a Meadow, the Knights to pass away time till they met the Kings, and Queens which was the cause of their journey, had found out a pretty pastime to please their Mistresses withal; unarmed, only with the Lance they were to take a ring of gold which was hung to a staff, and which side (having divided themselves into the number of twelve, and twelve) did oftenest take the ring, was to win a jewel which the Ladies was to give, and then the whole side that had won the prize must run six courses a piece, and which Knight oftenest took it, was to have the jewel free to himself, the Ladies to draw lots who should pay for it, and she that lost it was to accept the winning Knight for her Servant.  
It was agreed on by all, as contented, till the lots being to be drawn, and the chance lighted, the Lady who was to lose or win, grew into an infinite rage, cursing Destiny, reviling the blind Lady Fortune, crying out against unjust lucks and railing at all men, and mankind: in that chafing at herself as furiously as at any other thing; Urania was desirous to know the cause of this her dislike and fury. May it please your Majesty said she, I should hold it, an undeserved favour received from you, to be let alone to my passions, and not forced to relate that which must be most displeasing to mine own ears, and as harsh as my luck hath been cruel, yet if there be no remedy, I will not disobey you, although I desire that my story may be rehearsed but to yourself, and our Queen your sister. This was agreed on while the Kings went to see horses ridden, and to ride themselves, the Lady then told her discontents thus.  
This Knight whom I have now by Fortune given me, I have many years since given myself, I mean my best, and truest affections unto; he did so amorously, and with such just, and even love receive me, as I cannot tell whither of us loved most though I knew I lovest as much, and fervently as any woman; expressions I could make of his dearness to me, and mine to him, were it not for fear of seeming too vain, and boasting of my happiness, therefore I will with your permission ouerpasse them, and follow the high way to my misfortune. He loved a far greater Lady than myself, when I aspired to win him, I prevailed, & she grew infinitely despised, but I was blessed, and with little pity at last compassion beheld her, though with much respect, joying to think I had compassed my desires, & crossed my Rival, after this had continued some time, & I thought I saw myself chief, how was I joyed, and how triumphed I in my victory? but then as a brave Hawk having seized the prey after a delicate flight is taken off from it, as if she gained but for another: so did I but get him from another, and to another must leave him; yet held I chief a while, and thought I had got a preferment in being the Lady, his respects were showed unto, the rest but as I had been second, and to receive favours by stealth, which are surest, and heartilest given from the soul, as I too well know, which grieved me to see any other have; but I was to be patient, and obedient, love taught me observance, this was an affliction, but nothing to that which followed, for than he fell in love again with one, to whom either his affection so subjected him, or her peremptory power abased him, as he quite left me, and looked upon me, if by chance I came in his way like a judge on a Thief, or offender, sternly and curstly: I melted with sorrow, I pined and starved with unkindness; but all this prevailed not, I then gave Hope quite over, and embraced Despair, and with much ado got quiet in unquietness. Into the Country I retyrd, leaving the brave City, resolving never to see Court or company more: but one time a near Kinsman of his, and one most inward with him came to my house where I dwelled, I bid him welcome after my old manner, but he found sadness in me suitable to my state, he disliked it not, yet after supper sought to persuade me from such melancholy, and retiredness, which (he said) was not only hurtful to me, but to my honour, the world speaking, and guessing strangely about it. What is that to me, said I? Is it not as fit the world should see my sorrow for my loss, as my content for enjoying? I never was sparing to manifest the one, I will not be ashamed, or afraid to suffer for the other with as much confidence as sorrow (which truly felt) will licence me. He said refraining the Town and my Parents would be too mean a part for me, therefore it were much better and nobler to show it, if I desired that, then to sit at home, as if I would cover it, for thus my bravery in bearing appeared not.  
I finding him press me so far, began to draw so near to hope, as to think it might be he was set on; then my thought I saw he had commission, and heard directly the words of my love delivered by him as a Bird taught, repeating his lesson; yet I dissembled a while, till so long we had discoursed, as I was forced to discover my conceit, which thus I did. If (said I) these speeches have proceeded only from your well-wishes to me, I must be sorry for them, since they tie me in a stricter band, than I willingly would be obliged in my merits, or power, being so small, as I shall always be forced to remain indebted for it, and so much, as I shall not hope to be able to pay the due; but if they come from another, favour me so much to let me understand whence they are, that I may make my resolutions according. He that had not been nice to declare what concerned me, especially if good, plainly told me, that he could not be just in this to us both; yet because he would begin, as he wished the succeeding might be happy; therefore Madam (said he) I was commanded by my friend, and Cousin to persuade you to come up, and he will if you please, to accept of his service deserve by love to be yours again. May I believe this, cried I? as you will believe any thing spoken by your truest friend and servant. I gave credit to him, and with him as only to visit my Parents, and taking the opportunity of having his company went to the City; as soon as I came to my father's house, I saw a well known servant of the Knights I loved, I felt instantly my blood even spring in my breast, as warming me with hope, and almost joy, soon after he came, and supped there, carrying so fine, and courteous a fashion to me as might have won a new heart, but mine was his before, and if ever I was sorry it was bestowed, it was at that time when my thought he deserved the noblest, and best heart to be given him for that gentle return of love, which as my only content and hoped for blessing I most willingly embraced; then did I forget not only all my sorrows before, and my pain, but was an new creature made of joy. All perceived the alteration, and joyed with me, some seeing the cause, others that knew not the first chance admired me, and grew merry at my pleasures, but long had not they this cause of mirth, nor I the happiness, for after a confident and settled belief of his constancy, not then ever to remove, he grew a little slack again, & by degrees, as one that dies with bleeding, looseth the outward sense of sight, & so by little & little grows to death: so did his favours to my death of parting with them. I finding this, grew to my late estate again and sorrowed, at last fell sick, in which sickness he came unto me, I then spoke some thing to him, not so freely I confess, as I thought to have done, but so much as he I saw understood me sufficiently, but so coldly he answered me, his fashion being so different from love, as if he had but heard a tale, not the truth, nor so much as looking on me like the complainer, or suitor. At last he said, that I should have no cause to doubt him. I made myself (for all mine own eyes & judgement strove against me) believe he meant justly, which indeed I cannot say he then did, but after proved it true, for he took away all doubt, and gave me certain knowledge, but of what? alas my perpetual misery; for such a stranger he grew, as he seemed either ashamed to know me, or disdained the knowledge of me. One day I found him with his love, I coming to visit her, Lord what a poor salutation he gave me, yet at last as I was going away he spoke to me, taking occasion of doing something near the place, where I stood. I answered him, but thought I to myself, am I, or must I ever be the Vicar of the Empire to his love, never enjoying but in a second place, unless the first be gone, and then in the interim reign, but by a new creation fall to my old place again? These and some other open disgraces truly changed my heart, or wrought so much in me, as I grew to love less, than not to love, and now am come to be more careless of him, and fain almost would shun him, yet I cannot directly do that, though I hate the fortune I am fallen into, and this is the cause I am vexed with having this Lot. Urania and Philistella pitied her, especially when she cried; Alas, said she, why was love so cruel, or rather to cloth love in such cruelty, as to give hope of purpose to ruin? as if one would give a delicate banquet, and poison the Guests when he had done; else might he have left me despair for charity's sake, and not lulled me with hope to martyr me again. The Queens persuaded much with her, and so at last she was pacified so far, as to give him the jewel, and accept the name of his Mistress, as other fair Ladies do the like name; further, their friendships increased not so long as this story lasted.  
Philistella was left here with her dear Selarinus, she being crowned with all solemnity, as he had been before. Steriamus and his Urania journeyed on to their Kingdom, where likewise she was crowned, and lived the rest of their days in all happiness and joy: the like did Selarinus and Philistella.  
Antissius and Selarina in their voyage by Sea, meta fine Adventure in a sweet and dainty Island, where they stayed, the Queeve not well brooking the Sea, in which time they walked up into the land, coming into a delicate Palace, built curiously of white stone, a brave River, or arm of the Sea running a little on the other side of it, Gardens were round about it, or walks, which made it appear the Palace of delight and much perfecter had it been but the Lord of it was called by life's concluder to obedience, dying, and leaving two sons, and one most fair Daughter, with his noble Lady, whose virtues were such as shinned in her for the honour of all other women, and examples to Maids to live Virgins, and wives, and widows as she had done, and did. She met the King and Queen at the first Gate, being informed who they were, & with all reverend respect welcomed them, attending them into the Gardens, showing them the pleasures of them, and giving them such fruits as that time yielded, then waited on them into the house, which they admired for curiosity, sitting down to rest them in a brave Gallery, which delighted them infinitely, by reason of the sweet prospect, which though not so far as others, yet was it as pleasing being able to judge of what they beheld, which was one way delicate meadows, and that great River, beyond it fields, and hills, down the River an ancient, and famous City, well built, and of many miles compass; up the River pasture grounds and fine enclosures, thus were all sorts of delights round about, and in sight of this place, but the richest, and finest sight was the grave Widow, the sweet youths, and the excellent young Lady, whose perfections were such as no description can come near, or any thing but admiration tell, whose fullness will not permit expression. Her stature was of the bravest, and best chosen height, her skin (although her hair was brown) white as milk, soft as down, and fine as silk: her eyes black, as if mourning for the murders they would commit, yet so spriteful, as gave comfort, and blessed content to him should be honoured with their favours, and hope of life to the dying, if they repented their ambition. She was sixteen years of age, but of such beauty as if each minute had bin employed to fetch excellencies to her; a grave and brave fashion she had, which to strangers seemed pride, but to them that knew her true nobleness abounded in her, which they published, else she had been undeservingly condemned. With the King there was a brave Lord, but somewhat in years exceeding her, he yet had a young and new desire to obtain her, his worth would not seek her, but as her worth warranted him, a stranger's name he feared would be distasteful, yet he was so near a home borne man in affection, as that might speak for him; he was an experienced man, and therefore knew time the most precious of any thing, wherefore he applied himself unto her.  
Her fashion was discreet like herself, respective according to his own hart, which was not the meanest, but such an one as might have dwelled for nobleness in a king, but being in him, made him a king for bounty. A Cousin-german she had, who travelling with this Lord, was so imped into the quills of his love, as he was himself, and so wooed for him; she was confident of her Cousin's love, and trusted his judgement, & so received the Romanian, as on trust from him; he was in great favour with the King, who spoke for him, and of purpose stayed in that Island (belonging unto his Crown) till his servant had gained his desire, the weather so temperate and pleasing, as his Majesty resolved to stay there, and lodge in tents for pleasure, and the more commodiously to let his Favourite court his Mistress, although the Lady most earnestly besought his gracing her house with lodging in it; but the delightful Island carried him about to view it, and so left him to woe, and win if he could. In his Progres he met many fine adventures, the Island being large, and plentiful of all delicacies, but the king fell to sports, the Queen affected only pretty delights, & none so violent as hunting; the house where they than kept court was a large and ancient house belonging to an Nobleman, built square of stone, standing rather upon a flat than a Hill, for the highest of the ascents was scarce sensible. There ran behind the Garden, and Orchard wall, a sweet Brook, on each side whereof fine and enamelled Meadows lay, showing their finesses to each eye, in this place Selarina took delight, and here walked, but she was withdrawn a little from the Brook, and plain, to a little hill, which had some few trees to grace itself withal, and help others from the scorching heat; a voice to this place invited her, whither being arrived, she found two men in Shepherd's weeds, their countenances spoke for them, that they were not borne to that estate, yet their complexions showed that they had not been curious to preserve themselves from the Sun, but followed their fortunes, or choice, as men ought to do any profession they take: they were not so young as it might be said, they had want only taken that life, the ripnes of their years took away that suspicion, for they were towards forty, so as judgement to content themselves, or discontent one might see had brought them to it; they were together when the Queen first saw them, but they seeing her soon parted, one as if flying company, the other remaining to yield account of his going. Selarina drew near to the Shepherd, who with low reverence welcomed her. She demanded many things of him, he gave her true, and witty satisfaction, at last she desired to know the cause of the Shepherds shunning her, he answered that he did the like, when he discerned any company, being urged unto it by a violent melancholy, which would not permit him time for recreation, if any but himself came near him. She asked the reason. He replied that secret was his friends, and therefore besought pardon, if mine own said he, I should be happy in having such royal ears to give hearing to my story; she still urged, & so much, as he was forced to obey. Then Madam said he, since your Majesty will have it, I must yield, one's Princess having power to search all Subject's hearts. This man my companion, and myself, were sons to two of the best men in this Island, he was called Sirelius, myself Procatus, we were bred together at School first, after we went to the Court of your Lord's Grandfather, where we lived, and in good reputation, he meriting all men's good opinions by his own nobleness, and excellent parts, myself I think for his sake was respected, expecting something in me, who was friend to so much worthiness. At last he fell in love with a young Lady, the only daughter of her father, & mother, a great marriage she was likely to be, but the true riches he sought, was her love, answerable to his affections. She was very young, having so few years as her Parents were loath she should hear of a husband, yet at last his deserts, and store of friends brought the marriage about, and some honours were given to the father in requital of his consent. The Lady grew on, and the time of marriage came, which was solemnised by the King's command at the Court, where great triumphs were, Masques and banquets, and such Court delights, never man with greater joy received a wife, nor any woman expressed more comfort in a match; but where such violence is, seldom is their love lasting, for within less than two years after the marriage, whether his fondness ran to Icalousy, or her youth, and love to change gave occasion I dare not judge, but discontents grew, & disliks of all sides spread themselves, the father took part with the Son in law, the Mother with the Daughter; to that extremity this flew, as no fire flamed or sparkled higher. Most men's eyes were upon them, to see whither this would come, and for whom all this storm was raised; it was discovered, that this stir was about a young Lord, who deserved alas not the least suspicion for any goodness, that for himself could invite love from any above a common creature, such an one he might purchase, or she, because he was a Lord take upon trust to find more than promised, his pride was such, as he would lose rather than beg, his ignorance such, as none that had understanding of worth would or could accept, his uncertainty such, as he was always making love, and his fortune such, as he was still refused, and his insolency requited with scorn; yet of this fine Gentleman my noble friend was mistrustful, his wife I must confess carrying a little too much respect to the other, and yet on my conscience it was more out of her spirit, that disdained to be curbed, then extraordinary liking of him, and that often is seen, and proves the way to make truth of mistrust. He forbade him his house, and her his company, she refused to obey, if by chance she might meet him. Her Cabinets he broke open, threatened her servants to make them confess; letters he found, but only such as between friends might pass in compliment, yet they appeared to jealousy to be amorous. He was so distempered, as he used her ill; her father a fantastical thing, vain as Courtiers, rash as madmen, & ignorant as women, would needs (out of folly, ill nature, and way wardness, which he called care of his honour, and his friends quiet) kill his daughter, and so cut off the blame, or spot, this her offence might lay upon his noble blood, as he termed it, which by any other men must with much curiosity have been sought for, and as rarely found, as Pearls in ordinary Oysters: but what time chose he to execute his fury in, but before her husband? whose love though cracked, was not quite broken, nor so much crushed, but that he held his hand, which with a Dagger was giving her a cruel & untimely end, yet a little scratch he gave her just on her hart, which otherwise had lain open to the disgrace of an unmerciful & unworthy father. She cried out, the husband held his wife, who poor Lady was ready to fall under the weight of unkindness and danger. It was a strange sight to behold a father incensed for a husband's sake against an only child, & that husband to be the shield of her defence, from whom, if at all the wrong was to rise. This at last with much ado was appeased, & a seeming content sprung out of these blusters among them, the Lord left to his pride, wherewith he puffed himself up, & was filled with it like a dropsy, or a bladder blown with wind: the quarrel was taken up too between them, & easily might it be, for my friend could not by any means provoke him to fight, choosing rather to give satisfaction by oath, & promise never of seeing her more, & to be tie to any conditions, then drawing his sword. Matters thus pacified, God blessed them with a son and daughter, after which she died, leaving them as witnesses of her love, and to speak for remembrance of her after her death. A widower he continued long, his children bred with much care and affection with the Grandfather; travail he did both out of his own love to it, and employment from the State, but all this could not root out the aptness of his disposition to love, so as he fell enamoured of a beautiful young Lady, daughter to a great Duke in Romania, whose perfections and years called at eyes to admire her, and his to be her Vassals. With much suit and means he Courted her, employing all his friends to his assistance of gaining her, she was not allowed the greatest liberty, but affected it as much as any, she saw how brave his former wife had lived, and in what liberal fashion she might also with him continue, these were sweet motives to a great mind, and a low estate of means, where honour called for plenty to supply what she was endued with. Her father was against it vehemently, and shut her up; but these courses prevail no more with a lover, then to increase love's force in fetters, as any Creature for keeping close, grows the more furious when liberty comes: and so did her love grow to that heat, as whereas mild persuasions might at first have been acceptable, now nothing but marriage will content her, which so much gained in my friend's breast, as he vowed she should have what his fortune would allow her, and himself a loyal and affectionate servant and husband to her. This was agreed on, and they married with such joy as none can express but lovers, who meet with equal affections, and so lived sometime; but now three years being passed, the heat reasonably cooled, other passions have crept in like Moths into good stuff: and discontents have risen, so as he hath left her attended on like herself, means to the height of his estate, and all things according to her own mind, himself only retiring to lament his misfortune, living to out live her love as he fears, although I am confident of the contrary, & took his life likewise on me to divert him if I could from this course, which I trust I shall do, and have prevailed thus far as he hath promised to wear this Summer out only in his sorrows, and then to return, but company he will not yet admit of, so as I fear when he come abroad again, he that before was the most absolute fine Courtier will be a new learner in that Art, but let it be as it will, so he come forth of these woods, and plains, put on Court apparel instead of this Sheephards' coat, a scarf for this Scrip, and a sword for this hook, and I trust we shall be gallant once more, for my part I am tired with rural mirth, and passionate ditties, I had rather hear a horse neigh, than all the Sheephardesses in this Island sing; quarrels have also risen in our absence as I hear, all which will breed ill blood if we stay out, wherefore I pray for return. The Queen smiled at this Story, thinking how fit it was to be compared to the grave Suitor they had left at the Widow's house, and how likely such a conclusion was to happen, which some says did afterwards fall out of their great discontents, but again concluded with love, and more love than ever had been before, at least in outward show, so as these stories may be called one. Selerina left the Shepherd entreating him to use his best means to comfort his friend, and to carry him back to his wife, which she desired as a woman, and he premised to perform. To the Court she returned, meeting the King as he came from hunting, to whom she related this discourse, Antissius knew them both, and resolved to call them to the Court as soon as he returned, for he had ever loved them, and then had employment for them. The Progress ended he returned again to his first welcome, where he did find his amorous servant a fortunate man, wanting nothing but his Majesty's presence for the whole consummation of his blessing, which was concluded by his marriage before the Kings going thence, he assisting at the wedding, and thus was he happy in having what he most coveted. To Constantinople the King and Queen soon after went, where Selarina was with all joy, and ceremony by her dearest loving Antissius crowned Queen, living as happily as ever Queen did. Antissia, and Lucenia came, only to visit her, the other stayed, and attended her daily in the Court, being chief of the Chamber. Parselius with his Dalinea, being got into their own Country of Achaia, once more remembered the sweet, and pleasant time they at first enjoyed, when Parselius grew a lover, and she as passionate a receiver of his affection; they called to mind many more passages, as his sadness, and parting, yet neither of them they stuck long upon; the cause, one not desiring the remembrance since for that occasion, the other for fear of offending let it pass, nothing appeared before them but content, he striving for nothing more than to please her, nor she ambitious of any thing more than his affection: both thus equally bend to love, and satisfaction, happiness must needs be the end. If she had a mind to go abroad, he could never know cause to stay him from accompanying her; if he liked any sport, or pleasure abroad that she chose to please herself withal, his desire was her will, and her will desire to serve him. Thus was love observed, and served by these, who one day going into a great Desert, after their manner in that Country to take delight, carrying Tents where places so desolate would not afford conveniency or civil lodging, in a fair plain the Pavilions were placed, hard by a wood, a delicate brook running before them, over which was only a ford but no bridge; there the Queen fished, while the King hunted. As she was at her sport, an ancient fine woman appeared on the other side smiling, and calling her by signs unto her, the Queen was at first careless of her, but she still following right against her, calling as she went with her Angle fit for the stream, she at last marked her, and was so enticed as she resolved to go with her, sending strait for her Horse, and so with some few in her train, one of her servants taking the old woman behind him, rod into the wood, and a great while in the Desart-like wilderness, till coming within a place thick, and scratching, full of bushes and thorns, catching as longing to hold her, and so into a little round place, green as fresh grass could make it, and as circular as those places feigned to be made by the Fairy company to dance in, she leapt from behind her guide, and coming to the Queen besought her to do so likewise; she obeyed as led by Fortune; then alone, save with the old woman, she went into the thick, from thence into such another little round, in the midst whereof was a Stone, white as white could be, a Ring of silver on the top whereby it seemed to be lifted up; the Queen looked on it, and admired it, when the old woman bade her lift it, she seeing the bigness thought it impossible, yet as come by her desire she would not disobey her will, wherefore lifting at it, she easily took it up, and then appeared a rich, sumptuous, and brave Staire of stone, carved and gilded with gold. Those Stairs she was to descend, which she did, entering then into a delicate fine Gallery, as curious and costly all on Pillars of Gold; out of this into a Garden, such as the perfectest was described to be, thence into a Terrace, the rails, pillars, and all of the same continued richness, out of that into a large, and spacious Hall, the inside for engraving, and curiosity like, or surpassing the others, the very Benches, and Thresholds being pure Gold, the walls enriched, & adorned with precious Stones. In the midst of this, or rather at the upper end, was an Altar, or the proportion of one, six Candlesticks with wax lights in them upon it but not burning; a Book in the midst lay open which she took up, and reading in it, instantly a delicate sound of Music was heard, and then appeared an ancient gravefull old man speaking these words.  
Great and rightful Queen of Achaia, blessed be your days, and happy may your issue be; know from me, that you were here foretold us many years since, to witness which: this book shall give you understanding, (takeing that on the Altar, in his hand) but till your own, and by yourself chosen Lord come, I must not discover the secrets unto you. As thus they were in discourse, a strange noise of several sorts of Trumpets, and other wind Instruments were heard, whereat entered the king Parselius, who hunting was brought by a like train into that place. He beheld her, and she him, but as two Statues, set with their eyes one upon the other without power to speak: so stood they, admiration filling them as they were but wonder. The old man thus said, since my Lord the King is now likewise present, I may lawfully go forward, and fulfil the charge left unto me, which hath lain in my hands these many years. Your Grandfather brave Queen, had a Brother named Distantes, he was a brave, and valiant Gentleman, as this Kingdom ever knew, but his misfortune was to fall in love with a Lady, wife to another man, whose deserts especially for love and truth to him, (worthiness above all to be prized) merited what? so much love as was in him, (and that was as much as ever man carried, or suffered for woman) could demand, and she had such requital from him: he had loved her before her marriage, she had likewise dearly loved him, and gave so lively proofs of it, as he was made possessor of what was most desired by him, and the other only made a colour for their loves, losing what was by marriage his due, but the others by the right of love, so as he was the right Husband, the other the servant that had but by stealth, Distantes possessing freely.  
This proceeded, & she was with child, the good man rejoiced at it, she was heartily glad, and the Prince thought himself blessed, who at the same time also had his wife with child, who died in childbed, leaving a fair and delicate daughter as years after manifested; his Mistress had a son who were brought up together, the Prince desiring her as a friend to bring up his daughter, having by that a fair occasion to visit her whom he loved more than any other, or himself which is easily to be beloved, since himself, he, nor any lover will spare in comparison of love to the beloved. These children continually nourished, fed, and conversing together, did breed, feed, and discourse affections by this means, growing like trees insensible yet to perfection, and flourishing: such roots they had planted, as could not without perishing both branches be decayed, yet time made them fearful, by reason that she was so much greater, & above him; in her it made her love the stronger, thinking it an honour to her, to advance by her favour a man fit in worth, though below her in dignity, the other being above all degrees. One day she was in the Garden by a delicate Fountain, combing her hair, and braiding it into seveall breads, tying at each end a delicate rich pearl, he came near her enough to behold her, but not so near (for his own happiness) to hinder her, or make delays from so delicate work, with which she knotted, and tied up his heart in as many bonds as her fingers made plaits, and wound them at last all round to crown her victory, and his bondage.  
When she had done, he went to her, she with smiles and pleasant discourse welcomed him, with such sweet and familiar affection, as had him boldly sit by her, take her hand, kiss it, and so discourse of love: so far he proceeded, and so willingly she embraced his desires, as she yielded as far as chaste love did warrant, promise of marriage passing between them. This continued till the Prince having provided a fit marriage, for her, came and propounded it unto her, little imagining what had passed between his children: glad he was to see their loves, which nature told him was necessary; but not (alas) the least misdoubting the mischief committed, till she seemed so nice, and unwilling to be persuaded, as he grew offended, yet feared not such a misadventure: then did he set his Mistress, her husband, and the youth their son to work with her; they all promised their helps, except the young man, who modestly excused it as well as he could, confessing his want of power with her, and unwillingness to offend her. This did not dislike the Prince, who went away hoping for all that, to win her in time, which he was resolved not by force to purchase; but if by persuasions not else to compass.  
The love increased between the two young ones, as warmth in the Spring: but the misery at last grew to their loss; yet gain in this kind by sad discourse making them know the ill they had run into, and the sin they had committed, which by this chance happened unto them. The Lady, Mother to the youth, and Governess to the Princess, began to discern they loved, then doubted where, then guessed, and so grieved, and more was perplexed, not being able to find a way out of this maze of trouble, nor an end to wind the skein upon any bottom, but destruction and ruin: she could not find a friend to trust with it, to reveal her suspicion to her beloved, not being sure of the ill, she thought it not fit, since a just tax might be laid upon her judgement, and an uncurable wound given to him to think of the offence, and deep, though deserved punishment on him and her, whose sins had bred flowers to poison themselves with all, and brought forth joys to be their overthrows.  
In these perplexities she remained till a night or two before the Prince was to come again, in the evening, or rather so late as might be called night; she went into the Garden to breathe her complaints in the sweet and silent airs but what hour can be so late or early, that (if profitable) Lovers will not find convenient?  
She had not walked done Alley, but in a close delicate covered walk, she heard a whispering which made her stand still, and not unmannerly, but only for knowledge sake listen who they were, when against her will, (as often that happens) she heard these words. My dear, said one of them, what strange mistrust is this, that lately is fallen into my mother's breast, to make her so curiously watch, and as it were strive to deprive us of our loved meetings? Can she be unkind to her own son? or thinks she that I am not worthy of thee? Can she which cherished me with such hearty love, enny, or seek undeservedly to bar my chiefest blessing? the earth holds not that treasure I prise like thee, the Heavens but in themselves can give me such content as thy presence fills me withal: joy is not but in thy sight, nor am I aught if not with thee, bar me thy conversation and imprison me; let me be banished thee, and murder me; let me not enjoy thee, and let me perish in perpetual accursedness. What shall I say? I cannot say I am worthy of thee; then should I flatter myself, and wrong thee. I cannot think I merit speech for me; yet since thou gracest me, why should any else envy or grudge my fortune? As thou art matchless, so are thy favours; and I am blessed, enriched, and ennobled with them: why then should purblind chance or fond policy hinder me? tricks of state, as being tricks, are to be condemned; I am true, thou excellent; I loyal, thou affectionate: what Crocodile treason should howl to bewray, and destroy our contents; weep not dear eyes, with that he kissed the tears, and like Nectar drank them, corrosives to see her shed them, but cordials as shed for him, and he permitted to take them. O my dear life, cried he, tear not my soul with thy sorrow, let me not see thee mourn unless I may with that dye: he still kissed her, I know not whether more molested with her pain, or joyed with that liberty of kissing, she at last kissing his eyes which likewise accompanied hers in showers. My joy, said she, why make you these questions? may there be any accident that can hinder our loves? our wills and desires, 'tis true there may, but be confident no further than absenting can gain; for never shall I be in heart and soul but yours: the least thing that belongs to you is dear to me, how infinitely dear than is yourself; mine eyes are not so dear, my heart so well beloved (but that you cherish it) as is your sight and dearest self to me. I think not of a fortune which is not with you and for you, I dream not but of you, I joy not but in you, nor am I ought else but yourself metamorphosed wholly into you, and your love.  
Then sat they down by a delicate Fountain at the side of that walk, there they wailed again, there testified their woes in sighs, and tears: at last (cried she) but if my Father take me hence, will not you forget me? shall not absence work in you? Yes (said he) in admiration of thee, to think how chaste, how excellent thou art, how happy I was in thy loved sight, and so by that, see more and more cause always to lament: other effects when absence brings to me, let ruin follow, or come jointly with it; if room be found for foul forgetfulness, let me of Heaven be vuremembred; thy beauty printed in my heart, shall still before my soul call thoughts of love: mistrust not me sweet life unless thou mean to martyr me, I can love none, I ne'er loved any, or ere will live to think so shameful & detestable a thought, as change in love procures: no, I was borne just, I am just, and will dye just. She wrung his hand, and these am I, cried she, they then embraced, with which the Mother came unto them, who seemed like a great shower in harvest, grievous to their covetous desires of being by themselves: the Moon shined so as all things appeared as clear as in the day. They were in innocence ashamed to be heard and found alone, yet love made them only desire that, affection in a Mother made tears to fall for fear, and love for him; respect unto the other, as child of him she most loved, made her weep also for her; both brought passions, as for both she suffered, she could not speak, her breath was stopped, and she was choked with kindness, she fell upon their necks as they together kneeled unto her, their eyes did say they fain would speak, and they begged for them, hers promised will to grant, and sorrow to deny; all three were in an ecstasy, not knowing what to do, speech failed, senses lost their use, and they were like the Images, that in resemblance of the substances implored good, but dumb as they were, gained little, and thus did they remain till he spoke. Madam (said he) the bringer of me forth, the kind nourisher of me in youth, and till this time; undo not your first work, nor make me wish I never had been borne, which I must do if I be hindered from enjoying this sweet Lady, Mistress of my life. You have tenderly bred me with affection, and can be as tender over me still, then let my sufferings in love be as the dangers you sought to prevent, and so protect me still; I did amiss in beginniug without your knowledge, but she loves me (Madam) that speaks for me, and therein am I richer than in Kingdoms, if else where; she wishes what I seek, and desires what I wish; you have charity to strangers, let not your son be a greater stranger to you; his life lies on it, and so yours; if you do hold me but as dear as you did lately protest I was: you have power and means to effect this. What can you desire of my Lord that he will not consent to? what entreat of her father that he will refuse? we both petition, both beseech your aid, you may assist and save us, else let us faint and perish in dismay. The Lady then grew more passionate at his speeches, then before the plain suit, & confession being delivered by his own tongue, desirous she was to help, and succour him; but assured she was it lay not in her power; nor had she use of speech, only tears freely served her, so as if one would dream of the ancient changes, one might think she had been instantly ready to be transformed into a Fountain; her silence gave the young Lady opportunity, who thus discoursed her passions. Mother, said she, to my perfecter self, disdain, no nor refuse the petition of my heart thus made, while that is prostrate to you, hear and grant my suit, use the power of love that no question you have employed by your own sufferings judge mine, and for them both command redress; Love dares not deny you, who can, and have in my hearing given proofs of his respects due unto you, let him now show what is your dure; and allow it you, but employ it to our profits; seeing thus before you, the two purest Lovers his power ever touched, or brought under his obedience; behold our pains as yours, for so they are since jointly his, and pity mine as hers, bred by your hand, like a Lamb, till seized by the wolf of Love, which (though fierce) yet kind and sweet are those claws that hold me fast to him; he hath told you your power, I can but beseech your favour, and beg it for love, & your own love's sake; think how miserable the death of Lovers will be, & how unfortunate when caused by a mother, & a friend to love? A friend to love, cried the old woman, and a mother? 'Tis true I am both, & they haue brought my misery. O my children how miserable am I in this? I might (did not my own guiltiness condemn me) think myself, & call myself your mother, but my shame makes my sorrow, and your loss must proceed from my infamy; grieved I am in soul to tell the truth, for you must and cannot choose but hate me, when I shall say, what yet my heart, loath to let me speak? my eyes will waste themselves in streams before I can utter it, and my soul rend when I must say, you cannot be blessed in love, your woeful and sinful mother being the cause, and root of all this mischief. I blush in soul guiltiness, I mourn in the knowledge of my sin, I am more faulty than ever woman was, and a mere stain to my sex: you cannot, my dearest heart, enjoy this Lady, nor you (sweet Lady) have your love: I am the Monster that keeps the gates against you, and the Serpent that deserves death from you for double injury. Then kneeled she down; pardon me, cried she, you perfectest and best, though most unfortunate Lovers, I am the wretch that hath undone you and my self; your love's unlawful, I am the shameful cause thereof; your loves cannot embrace, I am the Divorcer; your wishes, if granted, would be wickedness, and I am the ground brought forth this poison; wonder not, but shun me as the Pestilence. I am not to be nearer suffered than the Plague; for such I am to you, to you (dear two) the life of my poor life: the reason of all this was love, and your love by this sinful love is crossed; you are, poor souls, deceived and cozened; turn your affections now to chaste and just desires, for you are (ah that I must say so) Brother and Sister, children to one man. They, miserable souls, could not look upon each other, the ground was their highest object, swell and almost burst they did with grief, their senses shut up as in an Apoplexy: at last, all rose from the earth, into which they rather would have gone, the old woman to her chamber, where falling into passions her weakness could not sustain: but she with heart afflicted, oppressed with shame and unsufferable woe, died, being found in the morning in her bed a pitiful corpse of an afflicted mind. The youth and his Sister wept, and sat that night together wring their hands, as their hearts and souls smarted for this harm: In the morning, for fear of spies, they parted their misery, being to show themselves as careful as before, their honours and the Parents lying on it, though their woeful fortunes might have given liberty, which was their greatest Prison, liberty they before did covet, now had, is only hated. Sobs and groans were the words they said farewell withal, their eyes so filled with clouds of tears, as if yet pity were had, not to let them see their extremest misery, but through a scarf of love shed water. The noise of the Lady's death was soon spread abroad the house, coming to the young Lords ears, who with much sorrow, which he dissembled not (his supposed father being absent) took order for her burial, himself soon after went thence privately, like Caunus from Biblis; yet the comparison holds not clearly, because these Lovers were chaste and pure after the secret was disclosed. Wand'ring about, he happened on this Desert, and into a little round place in proportion, like this you came from, where you descended the stairs: She followed him, or fortune whither she would guide her, who was so kind as to bring her to this place where they continued some short space, life not allowing too much sorrow, to such unfortunate though worthy creatures, but would, to assist them, lose itself, parting with them, leaving their bodies clear relics of spotless truth, and crossed affections malice. They saw each other, and bewailed their chance, but to favour each other, came no nearer then through those bushes to behold their woeful selves, as in Moonshine glimmering, and as cold: At last, as they had justly at once begun their loves, they justly at one instant died a little before meeting, pity not letting the one outlive the other; or love covetous, would receive both parts at once again into possession loath to spare any part of such perfection. The bodies by divine providence kept safe, the woeful Prince, Father to them, by destiny brought to them, having searched, and all his servants for them. Under a great Cyprus Tree which grew where the stone is now, they lay intwined in each others arms, dying with as chaste, and in as chaste embracements as they had lived; her groans of death called him, who had as little life, yet some thing more strength, finding her end coming, he kissed her hand, and dying lips, than tore some of those branches down, honouring again poor Caparissus, wearing his Funeral memory, making two Coronets, one for her, another for himself, and so Crowned, but most with loyal spotless love, they ended, leaving no stain but misfortune to touch them withal, & much honour to be rendered to their loves.  
The Prince finding them thus, fell down on them, and as it were breathing his last likewise into them, but he was to out live them, and to grace their Funerals: he therefore rose commanding that stately Tree to be cut down, whose pride had been such, as not to let any tree grow within the compass of his arms; of the body he made a Coffin, into which with precious balms he laid the bodies as one; then did he get the rarest workman, and by his directions make this place, the coming to it he would have this way, as most unusual, and strange as their lives, the place else on the other side would have suffered another, and finer coming to it, though painful, the ascent being so high, for indeed, it was a place as cut out of the main Rock, and wrought into the heart of it, all of one side having light in abundance, but he had, as it were, made his way in the midst thereof, as if to pierce the Centre, as that part in their hearts had been sealed.  
When this stately and sumptuous building was finished, he went into Chios, where dwelled an ancient and rare Magician, this man he made his instrument to fulfil his intent, who did so well perform it, as he accomplished what Art could frame; myself, my Wife, the old woman that conducted your Majesty and my Son that brought you hither, were here established by them; this book he gave me to deliver to you when you came, and the time appointed when a woman should reign here, loving as well, as much deserving, but more happily enjoying to her comfort, which is yourself. I was commanded to tell this story to none else, nor deliver this Book, wherein this is more exactly expressed, and yet all this in the presence of the King your chosen mate  
These I have observed, and now have but two things more to do, which are these, to show you the Tomb; then opened he that place which seemed like an Altar, wherein lay the two Lovers adorned as they died, with the same Garlands whose honour was to continue green still, as hopeful of their memory. The candles he then lighted, telling them that he and his were ordained to do that office, while any of them remained alive. The King and Queen lamented the Lovers, pitying their miserable estates, and unfortunate adventures, giving large allowance to the place to maintain lights for ever over them, and the keeping of the place to them and their heirs. All charms were now finished, and yet the memory of the charm of such a love never could be but extant.  
Thus Parselius and his Queen were made happy with the rarest accident of love, and the richest Tomb Love in the world had, they returned with all content, honouring above all other places the Tomb of Love, returning soon after to their settled Court. Rosindy, Meriana and Perselina having left the Court, and returning with their best and convenientest speed, passing through a part of Achaia, which was pleasant, but slightly inhabited.  
Perselina by reason of the heat, entreated them to stay a while in those places; they agreed to her demand: Rosindy and Meriana like two new married people for fondness and affectionate kindness, walking in the woods which were but of small height, though thick, being like Copsies all of Birch, save here and there an Oak would show himself in pride, and peremptorily tell them he commanded; in this place the King took great delight, so as they sat down where fearnes grew, as if of purpose to be their cushions, and then with sweet and loving discourse they let the time steal away, delight increasing while that little addition of age grew on them unfelt or thought on.  
The delicate young Lady went by herself, her thoughts far higher than that solitariness, could have raised them, had she not carried a more aspiring and brave mind continually about her then ordinary women, or the most extraordinary had, her fortunes were so far short of her spirit, as she suffered that to descend, to wish an increase, and sufficiency of estate though she bought it with her marriage, and so grow subject to an Hnsband, which, though loath she was to do, yet rather than want means, she would venture her limits of absolute freedom; yet such her conceit of her own judgement was, in which she erred not much, as she thought she should do well enough with such a Husband as she would choose for free living; many had been named, but one only she liked, who had but one bar to hinder his desires, which was that he was a stranger, and no Macedonian; besides, of that Nation which in former times had been enemies, though neighbours; and this was the chief obstacle, her Father a man of infinite spirit, and having had her by the widow Queen of Macedon, after whose birth she soon died, he thought none worthy of her, especially, an Achayan, but acquaintance with Rosindy, and service to Parselius had brought him so near, as she resolved in herself, if he remained constant, what ever came of it to be his wife.  
In this resolution she walked up and down the Copse, plotting as many several ways to compass her desires as plentiful love could furnish her withal, at last an highway being through the Copse, and she heard by that way, heard some coming down towards her, and one to sing this Song.  
FRom a long way, and Pilgrimage for Love,  
I am returned wearied with Travels pain,  
Not finding ease, or those vexations move:  
First, to my soul they are, where to remain  
They vow to settle; then alas, can I  
Think of a rest, but travel till I die.  
When she had finished her song, Perselina standing among the bushes by the way side saluted her, who was a delicate, but distressed creature, in habits of a Pilgrim, but carrying a countenance that said for her, she was noble, her train half a dozen servants of all kinds, two Gentlewomen, and four men, all on foot with staffs in their hands, bare footed and carrying their own provision in bags at their backs, she only had hers carried for her. When she saw the Princess (who in apparel Greene, and among the bushes appeared like Diana when in greatest perfection) she stayed, and with a modest salutation, according to her estate, answered the honour she had received, by her saluting her. The Princess desired her to rest herself a while with her. Madam said she, than should I hope for that which yet I have been denied, rest never knew I any, one stop or other crossing me in it. I would not said she, have you stand upon the word, but agree to my desire and meaning, which is, that you should stay with me, and so a little desist from travel. She humbly gave thanks, but said, her habits admitted but journeys. Eat and drink said she, you must, let me but have that time, and lawfully may I demand it, since your song tells me your Pilgrimage is finished. Madam said she, in a kind it is indeed, but not perfectly, for till I find myself in mine own home, I shall not think it done. Are you far from that: No indeed, answered the Stranger, within a league, and this my ground. Perselina again urged, and civility made her consent, so as thus she proceeded.  
Madam, said she, to whose commands can be no refusal, say what you will have your servant, myself, perform for satisfaction to your will, I must and will observe you; come in said she into this thick, and there let us confer. She obeyed, and willed her servants to attend for her in that place, she attending Perselina. Both in the thickest part as close as their sufferings were to themselves, they sat down, the Princess desiring to know the cause of her travels She with as much desire of keeping that secret, which must be known, answered thus: Alas Madam, cried she, what torture do you put me, a poor vassal to your authority, and love, to rehearse that, which every word strickes to my heart like daggers; hath my first sight given you such, dislike as you purpose to molest me? Of my little conversation such distaste, as you resolve to afflict me? Otherwise, why should you lay this weighty Cross upon me? Not to bring any of these, fair Pilgrim, (said the Princess) but to know exactly what I already mistrust; led to it by your excellent speech, and manner; then said she, like a woman I will be pleased with your commendations, and as fond of them, follow your requests, I will yet by your favour reserve some things to myself, and they are these, my name and Parentage, only I beseech you let me call myself as I appear.  
Poor Pelarina your creature lived in this Country when it was in that happiness, and innocency, as those days were, when Satire, Nymphs, and Shepherds lived free with one another, fearless of harms; Wolves, Foxes, Sheep, and Lambs, fed, lived, and were as one Flock, nearer in familiarity than Goats are with the tamest now. Plenty grew for men to reap, and they reaped but what grew for them. In this time I found myself made, me thought, unto love, and I did love, accursed be this Grove for it; for here, O here, I lost my liberty, here I walked, and discoursed with myself how happy I was, and all these parts that lived in that liberty where none felt straightness from the best man to the lowest flower, not so much as that the Cowslip looked one whitt yellower in suspicion; that the Rose, Violet, or Lily, were sweeter, delicater, or beautifuller than themselves: all were good companions, and strove but for society without suspicion, the true and perfect golden age was then, when riches consisted in truth, since skipped to the hard cold Iron where rusty disquiets eat, and spoil, devouring like Vipers their own kind, and now doth love imitate that ill.  
New come from hunting, in a Castle not far hence, I first saw my first, & last love; he was tall and slender, not so curiously shaped, as extreme lovely, and amiable, his hair brown he wore in good length, his apparel handsome, not to curious, nor so neat, that discovered not, he rather affected ease, then fond Courtly vanities; he was neither forward to discourse, nor sparing, when he was acquainted to honour the company where he was with his wit, which was incomparable, and so pleasing a way he had in conversation as made all hearts and ears his own; what perfection was in all that sex he had united in him, and yet to this excellency as necessary to make him perfect man, he had the most usual humous of change, and falsehood; woe is me that I must say so, but it is truth, and that can neither blush nor look pale.  
He came thither with a Lady he seemed much to respect, and so much, as I was angry, and envied her, before I knew I loved him, but that gave me cause to think it, and that thought to believe, and belief served to condemn me, to the chains. I was young, and some said handsome, but that was not it I hoped upon, desert I meant should be my means, and on that ground would I lay my foundations, which proud so good, as I gained his love; and truly may I say so, for he did affectionately love me, and cherish me as his eyes, which never were so well pleased, as when looking on me, where he said, and joyed for it, that he saw as pretty expressions of love, as women could discover. Visitations he caused to be between his brother's wife and myself, and why but to the end of our meetings? Were I not forced to tell this, the more to show his disloyalty I would not mention it; both to avoid doubt of vanity, and austentation, and my own torment to say this was, and should I leave it out, how should you know what you desire, which is truth, and my story? This conversation wrought a love, and untied affection between us two; so as we were, and are called the true loving women friends, a rare matter (as men say) to be found amongst us.  
journeys to our several kindred and friends we made together, when feasts were made, we three were invited as not to be separated, and so much his love and mine was noted, as none would at any time in Coaches, or at the Table divide us, love being a thing so beloved, as every one loves it for itself, in what place soever it be found to be settled: so much I saw it marked, as had not my entire affection been so violently reigning, I might myself have been nice to have it so public; but what did I heed save his love, the embracing of it in equal flames as given to me, and so we gave the world cause to admire us, rather than after their fashion, to accuse, or scorn us. If he were missing from Court, or any place where he had occasion to be, to me they would come for him, and then was I best able indeed to yield account of him; but what shall I say? All things grow, and live to change, not myself, but am changed from youth to years, from beauty to decay, from blessing to all misery: what I or the World held strange but yesterday, this day makes us know, and taste; Plains are where Woods were, Sand only, and barrenness in the fruitfullest places. Asia is barren that flowed in much plenty, Cities wasted, ruin'd, and lie desolate that were the Earth's glory, and for mine own particular, I am undone that once was highest in Fortune's Paradise.  
What shifts would he make to hold us together, or if a day absent to meet again? How unkindly would he take the least look of mine, if sad, lest it had been to him? And how kind was he to me, never quarrelling, if not, that I was not as he thought fond enough, or some time less fond of him then I was, which I never knew, nor could, unless I would, or were able to leave loving my own soul, for little less dearer was he to me, or yet is. One night he came unlooked for to our house, but not vnthought on by me, nor undesired by him: How did he joy in his countenance to see me, and I rejoice to have his sight? I was struck with so much content as I was speechless, he blushed with kind affection, I with agreeing love, all Supper our eyes fed on one another's looks, writing our minds in them as with Diamonds in Glass, and no more permanet did his prove. After Supper he would needs (only to have me with him nearer than he thought he could in the room) go walk into a Garden to hear the Nightingale, I obeyed with as much willingness as he desired, and so calling the Lady, my friend, with us, we passed away the time till night called us to rest, but a little rest took we, for our Chambers being near, we sat and discoursed all night in a little Gallery between the Lodgings; the morning coming we parted, but like the first part of it with dewy tears, though but for some hours as we thought, yet it proved longer in a kind, for many weeks passed, before we could enjoy so much happiness as that night we had, yet were our eyes blessed with each others sight, and our hands made happy with being linked within each others sweet, and softest prison, loving so much the bands, as they would almost in kindness hurt, with hard, but kindest holdings. O me, how blessed was I then, and now how hapless? Hunt we did together, and Hawk with such pleasure as drew envy on us both, but what did we except our own contentments value? He delighted in my company, I would have died but he should have had it, nothing thought I on but to please him, my study only bend that way, nor took he liking to any thing more than how to delight me; thus agreed, what happiness did we live in? Favourites in their Prince's eyes are not so great, nor happy as we were. This continued (alas, why use I that word continue, having experience of the contrary?) but this blessing was for four years' space; then, I know not what Devil, but the great one himself, Change, put in a spell, and wicked power against me, bringing Beauty and Youth in excellency before his eyes, to make me excellingly unfortunate; he was caught with those fair allurements, and I tied to mischief by that taking.  
Woe is me, I lost all my comfort, all my joy by that; but at last a greater ill took me, for another got him from us both, who had long sought it, but while he held fast to me, she could not gain him, beauty was the untying of my bliss, and wit her loss, yet I had the fairer share in losing that, a fair creature was my undoer, like the fortune of Paris, she a terrible harm to have her joy, and hopes bereft her by a wit, which gaining discovered her want. But I pitied her, though she had robbéd me, as if I should have compassion of a Thief that another causeth to be executed, who he had before stolen from me, and was forgiven: so I forgave her, and was sorry for her, who long outlived not her loss.  
Was she a married woman, said Perselina, when she died? She was answered Pelarina. Did she much love, said the beautiful Princess? Like Women that love the ordinary way of love said the other, whose affection, greatness, gifts, or such ends entice, not the virtue of love itself; after her death he used me a little better than before, as if again casting his eyes on me, for love, or use. Why, said Perselina, could you have patience to endure him after he had used you so vildly, as to change? Patience Madam said she, yes, and a greater wonder, in me affection continued strong towards him, and doth, though his Mistress called it dulness, when I told her, good natures would have given it the title of patience, but I excused her for it; to witness my patience, I have been with her in companies abroad, nay at her own house, and seen all what I had once enjoyed given to her, my eyes looked not on as if bleared, my hand untouched as if poisonous, hers kissed, babies looked in her eyes, smiles flowing to her, frowns plentifully showing themselves on me. I have hunted with them, I have gone (as one day I must needs remember above the rest) a Fouling with them, where so much favour I received from him who was once mine, as she being a little parted from us to shoot at a Fowl, he went as fast from me as he could without running, while his scorn ran to me. another Gentleman was there, and none else, he was of his Family and kindred, and as true lover of me, as I was of his cousins, but him I as much shunned, and rather than go softly with him. I went apace after my flyer, the way of necessity leading me to follow my disdainer. When they met, with what love did he take her hand and kiss it? I following unmarkt, but weary, and dabbled like a hunted Hare in Winter, tired with my disgrace, and weary of my wrongs, sweating with passionate pain, and dirted in despair, yet loved I still. A bracelet he wore of her hair braided and tied about his left arm, a piece of it one day hung out, I saw it, and grief with it, and yet a little joy took me when I discerned he knew it should not be seen by me, and that he had so much shame, or pity as he turned from me, blushed, and put it up out of sight, I would fain have said, your new favours too much discover themselves, but I feared, or rather was loath to displease him; at first, he was a little, or much more strange, but after he grew sociable, and I continued humble, finding fault with nothing, but embracing all small courtesies, or the looks like them as welcome, and so used them; yet so much it was marked, and I discerned my loss publicly noted, as I grew sensible of it, and so a small deal wiser, for needs I would be free.  
I tried all means possible, but what force can pervaile against an impregnable strength, or steely heart of Faith, and love? Yet I used all instrumental means that could be thought on, I looked off as oft as my heart could let me, I looked then when I could not choose, with resolution to dislike, saying in myself, have I suffered this for you that scorn me? I would fain have found fault with his shape, his fashion, or any thing, blaming myself for doting on snch an one, but these would not serve, for the more I looked, I saw more cause of Love, gazing though to death; willingly I absented myself, and in absence, had got so much heart, as warranted me to see him again, and have my desire of carelessness; I ventured, assured as I thought, but cozened I was merely; for though I came in like a Giant swollen with pride of my own power, and assurance of my conquest, the true Knight Love came armed against me in arms of fire, and truth, I yielded, and could but like a poor miserable Poet confess myself in Rhyme, thus finding my error, with the bliss (I confess) of seeing him who I found I could not but love for all other resolutions.  
Did I boast of liberty?  
'Twas an insolency vain:  
I do only look on thee,  
and I captive am again.  
And so indeed I was, for I never knew love stronger in me, as then of necessity it ought to be, contending with judgement; multitudes I could rehearse of his favours, and disgraces to me, of his mistresses fears, and smiles, but to what end? All can but show I was blessed, and am unfortunate, my face and life say that for me, only this appertains to the Story.  
I at last was again made believe he loved me, and I was (ever in that a wavering religious) glad of it, proud of it, joyed with it, and utterly ruined by it. He was in show as he was wont to be, I saw it, gladded at heart for it, others told me of it, I was like a Bird nice, and blushed, yet received it willingly; ad so, as I had cause, after finding his neglect again, to grow with shame, and tears to repent my credulity, and to manifest it with my true penitence. I therefore took this Pilgrimage upon me, which now I have in a kind ended: I have seen Hiersalem, confessed my sins, asked forgiveness, and remission, which I hope my desire of pardon, though not my merits, hath purchased me, and thus I am returned?  
But are you free from love, said Perselina? In troth no Madam, said the other, I love him still, but I hope it is now but charitably, yet I am afraid to try myself left I should find my spirit like myself, frail. The Princess smiled at her pretty innocent confession, thinking that she had learned so truly to confess as she could do no other, yet in that she was deceived, for unless she would, she could be silent. But was your journey and vow wholly made upon this, wherein you were faulty but in virtue, or belief to it? mixed Madam, said she, I profess, and mixture made it, I did so far believe, as I granted what I may lawfully repent, and necessarily also, but Love my ruler commanded, and I obeyed. I could in myself say, why should I yield, I must deny; but when I saw him, my soul flew to him, he but asked, and I yielded, yet this I repent not, but a vanity I had about me, which because once liked by him, and admired by our Sex, or those, of them that I durst make my follies seen unto, a fond humour of writing, I had set down some things in an idle Book I had written, which when he saw, he thought touched, or came too near, or I imagine so, because in some places he had turned down leaves, and only at such as he might if he would dislike, and were those I thought he would take notice of, yet he neither did by word nor writing, not honouring me so much, who was his slave, as to find fault, or to seem pleased. I was me thought left to conjecture, and the further I went in such conjecture I run into fear and sorrow that I had offended, yet I can clear myself if I might come to answer, but I cannot, not could, so as finding myself thus miserable, I took my pilgrimage willingly.  
What could you say to offend? In troth Madam, said she, I discovered how near I was to be an ordinary lover after loss, which is to grow neighbour if not inhabiter with hate; and some two Poetical and neat expressions I made of it, yet I came off, though hurt as it seems in the action; but let him make the case his own, and I doubt he will rather cut the cord then untie the knots: but I have done, I forgive all, and wish he will also do so with me; I pray for him, and truly without feigning I love him for all this, firmly, and shall do; let him use his worst in scorn, which he hath prettily practised: I think he can neither show, nor, assure myself, study that cruelty which can make me hate him; nay, in earnest leave loving, though it may be I have erred in saying so, boasting rather then having such strength; for which, great love and you dearest beloved, pardon me, I ask it with a repentant and cleansed heart, and (if it please you) remember what cause you gave; if not, nobly forgive. Perselina found in herself she should never come to that excellency of constancy; wherefore she admired, though scarce commended her richness, in that plenty, and fullness, & being called by Rosindy, left the constant Lady to her virtuous vows, and religious truth, who lived the rest as she had begun her days in fervent zeal and affection.  
The King and Queen with the delicate Princess arriving soon after in Macedon, where they ruled both with power and love, loved with fear, because they feared they could not love enough; the young Princess soon after took her mind and former resolution, marrying herself with her chosen love: some business there was before it could be effected; but the effect came happily to their own resolutions conclusion, & peace, the Nurse of love was among them. Philarchos with Orilena going for Mytelin, met a Ship riding, or rather floating, for unguided she was, unruled, and unmanned, tumbling up and down, like the Boats boys make of paper, and play withal upon little brooks: only a Dog, to show some live creature was in her, came on the hatches, and walked with much gravity, like an officer or kind of watchful servant, he barked not, nor fawningly sought aid, by leaping, whining, shaking his head, or wagging his tail, or other such doglike expressions, but looked soberly, & entertainingly, like a steward on the strangers: the Prince came and laid the Ship aboard; when Philarchos saw none but this guardian, he leaped into her, and some of his Knights with him, the Dog looked on them, and as one might say, discreetly went before them, (as their guide) into a Cabin where a Lady lay on the ground weeping and wring her hands, all in mourning, and more sorrowful yet in her illustrious expression than the mourning could show mournful, and therefore she more than their habits mourned. She only looked up, and cast her eyes down again, and her face against the ground, crying, Alas, have I not been miserable enough? must I in this assured quiet be molested? can I not have a restful dying time allowed me? shall not the Sea nor a castaway Bark have power to let me dye in peace? then yet endure more, and know thou must (poor woman) die, as live in perturbation. Philarchos went to her, took her by the arm, and gently lifted her up a little, using these words: none here purposeth to molest you, we are, and will be rather your servants then disquieters, by chance we came to succour you, and now by resolution will, if you please to accept of it. Sir (said she) your noble disposition appears in this, and God (I hope) will reward you for it, I am so lamentable a soul, and so unable to think of ability (though gratefulness rules me) as I am only able to pray for you, and that I will not fail to do; but Sir, you must leave me, for I am appointed to dye, and by him that hath power to do it, if he had but only commanded me, without leaving me to this assurance. There is no necessity (saith Philarchos) in obeying you in this, who though condemned (as it seems) by a power over you, governs not us, nor can, though soveraiguize over you, subject us to his law: therefore I will not obey him nor you in this; fortune brought me fortunately to the finding you, she shall likewise bring you to life, for we will save you, you are our prey, we will not in compliment let you destroy yourself, it seems you are dead to those condemned you, you may yet lawfully live to us that redeem you, howsoever, be confident we will conduct you hence and place you somewhere where you shall be safe from a certain ruin. That will more ruin me (cried she) when I shall be barred from obeying him whom I must ever observe. What obligation binds you, said he: Sovereignty of Love, said she, and loyal subjection to his will. Ties, said Philarchos, fit to be durable, and affection endure, but else a bargain is not to be made only of one side, you are free when he breaks: to dye, said she, never to live disobedient to him who is my Lord.  
The Prince knew such things as love and loyalty were or had been, yet he was willing to divert her from those courses because running to peril, and therefore he replied, these were the expressions of purest zeal in love: but love was never ordained to be such a monster as to destroy, if hurt by change, trial judicially should help, not harm directly pursue. She sighed and lamented. He comforted and disputed, at last took her up, partly by will, partly by force from the ground, and carried her to his dearest Orilena, who kindly, like a brave noble Lady, welcomed her: her Dog would not part from her, but still attended her, lying when she sat or lay on the ground at her feet; when she stirred, he followed (servant-like) her motions.  
When she was out of her Prison, which should have been after her death, and burial, like one come forth of a fainting fit; she looked about and stared like a Hawk that had been hooded when she comes first to sight again: a decent and yet Princely salutation she gave to Orilena, which was repaid her with the like, and much courtesy. Philarchos commanded to put off from the other Bark. Two of his Knights that were brothers begged her, and went away in her upon an adventure with his consent, while they sailing towards Mytelin, gained so much of the sad true Lady, as she broke silence so long as to deliver this discourse. My native Land (though unnatural, because such cruelty was in the Country) is the sweet Island of Nycaria, my parentage of the best blood, next the chief Lord and his children, and of his house I am, though not of the same name. I fell in love with a young Nobleman, much esteemed, and as any, honoured for his bravery and courage; no spirit in the Island excelling his, if equalling, no wit comparable to his; nor no Nobleman endued with more virtues, as learning, horsemanship, and what else can be required in such an one, whose noble descent answered or demanded these excellencies.  
He loved me like wise as passionately, and fond, which at last was and is my overthrow. I lived with my father most commonly, but oftentimes I went to the Court, more (I confess) to see him and joy in his presence, then to see any vanity there; yet I both saw those sports the Court affects, and are necessary follies for that place, as Masques and Dance, and was an Actor likewise myself amongst them, though never affecting them further than to content him I loved, who I saw well pleased with all: many banquets I was the cause of when we met, and to my Fathers he ordinarily did come, a strict friendship between them: never was he, if absent quiet, if still one or other of my servants were not with him, nor was I without some of his perpetually with me; not that I thought or could let so wronging a concipt come into me that he mistrusted me; but out of sincere affection to have ever some of his followers with me, to give occasion when I durst not else to speak of him: none need be kept to make me think of him; for my thoughts never strayed from him, or stayed one minutes space.  
At my Fathers, (which was as fine pleasant and sweet a seat as any in that Country, there ran a delicate wanton River, twining itself into every dainty meadow's arms; not deep but fit for Diana's Nymphs to have used: in imitation of whom, myself and Sisters often went into it. this River came favourably to grace the place, close under the Orchard wall: A back way we had through the Gardeus, out of which we went, and there bathed ourselves: an old Gentleman, a servant to my Lord, watched us, and so neatly carried his business, as we never doubted him: but not being able to continue truer to himself then to us, he told me of it, describing so truly all our fashions (being eight of us) manner, words, and actions, as I knew he spoke truth, and (said he) had it not been for one thing, I could have wished my master in my place. I asked him what that was? He said because one of us kept her smock on them, he would, he was sure most have wished to see, I knew her whom he meant; for none but myself did so, and privately I said in my heart I did believe him, and wished it too, so it had been by the like chance.  
This old man whose thoughts were young, and toung-nimble in such a kind, loving the remembrance of what he was then past, at his Lords next coming told him of it: He strait wished his fortune. So did I, said he, wish it for you, and told my Lady (for so he called me.) What, said she, answered my Lord? Nothing, replied he, but smiled, and walked on. He came immediately to me, telling me what he had heard, and urging me to know what I thought when I smiled. I truly confessed, and he as truly lovingly took it, loving joyful thankfulness shining in his eyes. Twenty of these passages we had, and as many several Ladies, and of as several complexions and dispositions almost fell in love with him, in that time he loved me: thousands of curses I had among them; but as long as I prospered in his love I cared for none of them, but sped (me thought) the better, rather wishing so still to be prayed for, so I enjoyed the righter way. Such pretty testimonies he gave me, as I must have been (unless I had been unreasonable) forced to be assured of his love, showing almost contempt to all others.  
I was so, and with all faith embraced and cherished it; so modest he was beside, as I loved that in him, and saw it there a greater virtue than it is ordinarily esteemed. Proofs I had of it, for being alone, he never was uncivil, nor did offer what I as willingly consented not unto; yet at last my father finding (as easily he might of any, having been a great Lover) that I was entirely his; he coniecturd, that I could deny nothing, therefore would rather seem to trust him, or else it was to bind him to him, if any such bonds can serve, or prevail where true love is. As one day when he was to go a journey leaving him with me, farewell daughter, said he, and the like to you my Lord, and I pray you be honest. He blushed, what did I then? conjecture noble Lord and Lady, truly I was heartily ashamed; and yet soon got courage again, when I remembered we were not guilty: but the word honest made me think of the contrary, that thought moved my blood into my cheeks, and stirred occasion in him to discourse with me of it; so as I fear that did more harm, which should have prevented, if but in thought then before was thought on; for believe it, it is a dangerous matter to be forbidden a sweet in love, as I have heard it credibly said, and know it in some kind exercised; but we did fulfil his desire, and he found us as he left us, chaste, but affectionately loving, which all forbiddings could never have hindered or lessened, my father himself even envying us, for his love, (though to many) had never brought him so true an one as I was.  
This lasted as long as it was possible for a man to be just, and longer than (except few) any have been; and yet I think truly he had slipped sometimes, but I knew it not, or had no cause, out of want, to me to find fault: But this fault came on his side, how easy was it for him then to take exceptions, who before would be readier to answer for me, or my friends, than ourselves; yet he did not absolutely in two years give over his former fashion, though (alas) his love was dried, and like Roses by me kept for the colour they had, and sweetness, the remembrance still held, but withered, and not themselves to be known by sight.  
At last such a quarrel he had against himself (as if for ever loving me) as he grew discontented in my company; snapped me up, if I adventured to speak; frowned, if he caught mine eyes on him, and withal plotted disgrace, carried himself to me, that his brother and his own friends said it was too much. I bore it, and truly for all that left not loving nor grieving for it; yet at last I got so far, as my sorrow expressed itself, not so openly in show, though as near in acquaintance; for it was an household guest with me.  
But so it happened at last, that this Lady he had taken, and cast me off for, loved another, which was to him discovered; he liked it not, yet made no show of it, because he had said, when ever he mistrusted his love he should hate her, and that might he, for here he was assured, or might be: but other reasons held them together, yet it gave him leave to look on me a little again, and to me those looks were like the sweet evenings wherein the Lark delights herself so much, as she flies into it, never satisfied with the delicacy, till at the height she is forced to retire, bidding that farewell: So did I, for I was forced to part again from that; but in that half day of bliss he took occasion to speak of old matters.  
I was as willing to that as he, and so we discoursed temperately, in the end, he said, for that cause, said he, (speaking of a frivolous and unwaighty business God knows) I lost you all, You had left us, said I, before that time, with that he sat a little nearer to me, and (it seemed) would have proceeded, which I wished, for I made no question then of satisfying him if ever we came to speak: but one of the wicked Ministers of my overthrow, as destined to spoil me, had such a spell, as in absence she had a spirit able to ruin me, sent for him, he went, but promised to come again. I attended, as resolved never to give cause of dislike; but he was stayed, and I in a mighty fret returned to my lodging. Another time he took occasion being invited, (which then he must have been, if he were desired at my fathers, which before had been his ordinary table) to a dinner my father made to many of his friends, and he esteemed by him so, he was solemnly invited. He came, and at dinner sitting by me, fell into discourse of love, and of women's inconstancy, as if I had been guilty: I, knowing my innocence, spoke like that, and so understood him not in show.  
Then he fell to other kinds, yet on the same theme, and at last he came to say, how poor Paris was used for choosing well; for (said he) juno because a Queen would be beloved. Pallas, a boisterous woman would fight, if not chosen, poor Venus only loved, and for Lovessake wan the Apple, thus was he punished for love. I think not for that so much (replied I, by your Lordship's favour) that he was distress, but for being false before to Enona. He said no more, and by that I saw he understood me; yet after again he had another jerk at it, but in another sort speaking of love, and returning to their former loves. There may be hope then, said I. Introth little, said he: for if ever, I shall come tattered and torn, not worth looking on. Yet then said I, if to me you come, I will welcome, and clothe you. He looked pleased with me for yet, it opportunity gained by the other, lost by me, held him as ships tossing in a Haven, but winde-bound. Well, I grew desperate and indeed heeded nothing that befell me; in the conclusion I spoke something, or something was said for me, which brought me under the compass of the law, as far as life came to. I was condemned, but he though an Officer, sat not on my judgement: some thought out of pity, yet I took it not so, for his presence (in such a cause, wherein I protest I was altogether wronged) might have aided me, at least his sight would have comforted me in the condemnation, so much I loved him; but he was absent, and my misfortune so present, as I was adjudged to death; yet the Prince of Nicaria being merciful, would not take my life according to the Country Law, but after another fashion would have it as he meant; for he censured me to this, from whence you have relieved me.  
When I was to be put into this Tomb, as was meant me, the chief Lords and Officers came to see me (according to the Prince his order) committed to the Sea, into the Ship they put me with meat for three days, no man nor creature with me but my Dog, which would not forsake me, and they allowed with me, not for love, but hope of harm to me; for my Victuals they imagined he would have share of, and at last devour me, being one of the fiercest in all the Country. But in this they deceived themselves, for since we came aboard, which is now eight days, he hath satisfied himself with very little, and never troubled me. A Fisherman came by, and would have had the Dog, he enticed him, but his faith to me (more than I ever found in man) his distressed Mistress, held him with me; he threw him then a large piece of meat, which though stale, was good enough for a Dog, he took that, and fed a little on it, but as if weighing his estate, left part for other times; the man also gave me something, pitying my case, but not daring to help me, left me.  
Among the Officers that came to my living execution, my Lord was one, though he stayed not to see it performed, but came among us hastily, stepped to me, whispered, and bade me farewell, and be like yourself (said he) resolute, die confidently, and cheerfully, this will comfort you, and honour your end. I heard him, but could not answer him, only I looked upon him, and with tears told him, his censure was harder, than the Prince his, for I loved him, the cause of all my misery: but he scarce looking on me, as hastily went away again, leaving me to the favour of the Winds his constant Rulers, to the Seas fury, and Fortune's hazard, yet all kinder than he, have joined for my good: and I am saved by you brave Princesses, yet would I beseech you again to let me obey his commands, which because his, I would do.  
They refused that, yet so near they came to fulfilling it, as they left her on a Rock in a little Island with an old religious father, there she remained, and spent the rest of her days in prayer, her Dog still guarding her, which at her death brought her (who outlived the old man) to have a Christian burial by his howling and crying, calling passengers in, and buried her, but could not win the Dog from the grave, but there he died.  
Philarchos and his dear held on their way for Mytelin, where with joy, and feasts they were welcomed, and lived ever, till their ends happily, but Philarchos thought his end the crueler, because fair Orilena was taken from him, desiring to die together. The King of Bulgaria with his brave Queen, as sumptuously as their own minds required, and their minds were no lower than such Princesses should be, but as much higher as ambition, and all the dependences of that folly could carry them, and that was high enough to make them above judgement proud; such Coaches, Liveries, furnitures for horses were never seen before, yet they but poor as her Majesty esteemed them, who surely would have been contented to be starved, so all she had touched had been Gold and Diamonds. In this magnificence they took leave of the King and Queens in Morea, and so took their journey towards Bulgaria, they only riding in one Coach, two other went spare, one for each, the train so richly provided for, as ordinary Kings and Queens, would have been well contented with that furniture, but yet these were scarce good enough for their servants.  
Out of Morea they went without adventure, and so passed, till in Livadia this fine accident befell them. A young Gentleman attended on by six Pages, apparelled in coats of Grass-green Velvet, laid with gold Lace, and twelve footmen in the same colours, all with Plumes of green and yellow in their Hats, the young Gentleman in a suit of those colours embroidered with Gold, the trappings for his Horse, and all furniture answerable, came towards the most glistering troop of Bulgaria, then being instructed accordingly, he presently alighted, and on foot presented himself to the Queen, humbly making a reverence to her liking, the like he did to the King, than he delivered these words.  
Great, and most happy King enjoying such a treasure, as having the world's riches composed in this unestimable jewel, the Earth's admired Star, and man's wonder, your Queen, I am sent unto you both; but if I fail in performance of my message, blame your own glorious aspects, that take from me the true ability of speech and boldness, a Messenger should be armed with all; but who can without trembling speak to the Gods, or touch the Sun, if he descend within reach? no more can I speak to you, whose Majesties strike me dumb, or make me (to say better) falter like an unperfect Schoolboy saying his lesson. They heartened him with joy, flattering pride nourishing their proud hearts, when he proceeded. Pardon and grace (said he) from you so heaven-like creatures gives life with speech to me again. I am sent from the Prince of Livadia my Master, who hearing of your coming this way, doth desire the blessing I his Vassal have already enjoyed, humbly beseeching you to honour him with your royal presence in his father's Court, an old Prince, but good, where he is within two days to have a Triumph, by means of many strangers, and happy he is to have such an occasion at this time to be the fitter to give entertainment to such persons, he earnestly desires not to be refused, and I pray I may not be sent, but with the soules-like-comfort of bliss, which is your grant. The King was the finest speaker in Court language of the World, and so complemented, as the youth had enough to do to return half his good language to his Lord; for the Queen, she soon had granted to show her beauty, and scarce could hold within the bounds of expressing what she felt of joy, knowing she must be admired, but at last said, she would obey her Lord, and accompany him to wait on his Prince; thanks she returned none, for she esteemed this honour but due to her, and knew it should be offered her. Forwards they pass, 〈◊〉 within the sight of the Court, where the Prince, and many Noblemen attending him, met them in arming suits, and conducted them to the Court: but yet there wanted, though all this honour was done, that whereto her Pilgrimage was made, her Saint was not among them, and yet unproperly that is said, for she respected him but for adoring her; it was but early in the day, being scarce four in the afternoon, wherefore the Prince asked her, if she pleased to go first into a rich Pavilion, raised from the ground at one end of the Lists, and see them practise, for that was their hour. She was very willing, yet stayed till her husband with curious words and phrases had consented; so they went in, from whence at the other end they discerned the old Prince and Princess, with the grave Lords with them; then did the Prince arm himself, and the Prince of Iambolly, as not thinking of the good fortune to see her, but as if by chance led thither, came into that place to arm. She would needs go forth, and leave the room to him, but so she did it, as all eyes might see, good manners, not will to leave him, made her offer it. He as courteous would rather (he said) arm in the field, then be so rude. She blushed, and smiled & simpered, & all to avoid expression, expressed what he desired, and she granted. Her husband was gone with the Prince, and so saw not this encounter. Well, he at last got another room, right over against that, and armed, came down into the lists his Beaver open; but to see how he stood gazing on her, and she in what perplexity she was, to the window she would come, and a while stand still, look on him, he stare on her, then retire; red with content, and yet finding fault with the heat as that the cause of her distemper. Many Ladies were there likewise to see the sport, who lost not that better pastime in marking her, yet took no notice of it, lest offence might follow, but shrewd wits there were, that after made pretty mirth at it. To the place again she would come, and look though over them, and see in spite of seeing, and as if whether she would or no take content. The Prince came also, and stood there beholding as the rest did, while some others ran; at last came a great man of that Country, and desired one of the Ladies there to bestow a favour on him. She did so; Now you are engaged (said the Prince) to run well, else your favour will be shamed, and you for not better maintaining it. I will do gallantly, replied he. The jambollian than cast his eyes cravingly towards her, she only licked her lips, that when they returned to sight, they might look like cherries after rain, red, and plump, and tottered her head, which made a feather shake she had on it. He with that it seemed understood her, and lifting up his Bases a little of one side, as if to take out his Handkerchief, showed her his points were of same the colour. Then she smiled, and he most joyfully put down his Beaver, and prepared to run, casting up his eyes first to her, from whom he hoped to have gained strength; but she was so weak in bearing passion, as again she had retired, and so often she did it, and so tumble herself up and down, wallowing in pleasure, and unsufferable content, as she was in such a heat, as that angered her, because she thought she looked not well, having too much colour; then did that heat her with chafing, so as between those two fires of love and pride, she burned so much, as all the Ladies warmed themselves at her fire, and rubbed up the remembrance of their old passions, so as it might have been dangerous, and the heat so great, and spreading, as might have fired many hearts not to be quenched again. Fairly he ran, and fairly and friendly she beheld him, which made him never weary, nor would he have given over, but that the Prince went in, and night grew on. Then came he up to her, and kissed her hand, which she told him by her love bestowing eyes, she willingly yielded him. Stay she did as long as was fit, and after most in that place, wishing I think to have been his Armorour to unarm him, else she might have gone with the rest: at last away she went, and was by Lords, appointed by the Prince, conducted to her lodgings, where she was visited by him, and her servant.  
The next day the justs in earnest was to be, against which, how gloriously was she attired? Lyvadia never saw such a star for brightness. In that place she would needs again sit, and there she was placed, where she might best see, and be seen, the windows being so framed, as the Knight's heads on horseback were as high as they, so as conveniently they might behold and speak, as if together, a brave advantage for Lovers. But how did the neat King of Bulgaria take this? truly discreetly, as he was a most discreet Gentleman, setting aside a little vanity of self love, which it may be so well concurred with his Lady's disposition, as that tempered him, being as it were of one nature to suffer, and agree with her. Fault it was certain he found none with her publicly, how they privately did, let them speak that know; fondness appeared to open show, why should any inquire further? But be it so, such a passion well acted again, and by such delicate creatures, for the excellency of it would get liking, even of her Husband sure, who loved curiosities so well, as he must like that, though curiously he might discern he was touched in it. But what then? he might joy in it thus, it was his own, as she was.  
Many great Ladies, and indeed the greatest of that Kingdom sat with her in the same place, but not so much as looked upon by her, nor why should they expect it? she was a stranger, a Queen; more, a beautiful Queen, and most, a most proud Queen, she therefore claimed it as their parts to observe, and mark her, who had business enough in herself upon such a day, in such a place, and such a presence, to heed, and study herself. How if any part of her hair had been out of order, her gown rumpled with turning to them, her ruffs and delicate inventions disordered with stirring? had not the least of these been a terrible disaster? Yes, and to her a heart grief; who would wish so sweet a soul as she to be sad or troubled? especially since trouble as such a conceit of any displacing, or disordering her fineness might move in her, would stir her blood, and make her complexion not so exact, rather sure should all civility be laid aside, and the contrary excused, than beauty should suffer; and this, if the cause, who will that loves their faces, that regards their habits, and their servant's love, blame her, who neglects for these all others. This I take the Queen's case to be, and thus I think I excuse her, especially being known to love nothing but herself, her Glass, and for recreation, or glory (as some accounts it) to have a servant, the Prince of Iambolly, whose greatness and fineness made all well, especially to lover's eyes. The old Prince invited her and the King to a feast, where royally they were feasted, and she as magnificently carried, and showed herself, her servant joyed in it, and then looked on her, as poor people do on pranked up Images: she sometimes casting a look on him, but not too many, lest such favours might make him surfeit, and so be harmful to him, an excellent care in a careless Mistress.  
The King of Bulgaria, and the Prince of Iambolly were very great and familiar, in so much as they would whisper, and embrace one another, the jambollian assuredly more, because those arms had intwined hers, then for any affection to him, wishing sure he might as freely have done the like with his wife, who how kind soever she might be to him in private, had he offered to touch her publicly, that touch had burnt his fingers, so commandingly, and peremptorily did she order, and rule his love, as adoration showed to be all his ambition and gain, her graces being but still to hold, and draw him on in hope, rather than to consent, and satisfy him, for he once satisfied, she was sure to be left, men desiring but their ends, and with them conclude that love flying to another, as from one work done to begin in another place.  
Stayed creatures, and lucky they that put confidence in them, and of any this Prince was one that least troubled himself with constancy, all women were pleasing to him, after a tall woman, a little one was most pleasing, after fair, brown, white, black, all came to his staidness welcomly, and variety he had sufficient, for many refused not, nor was he nice to demand of more, so as he had plenty, and was plentiful in love to them; yet here he stayed a pretty while, because it was thought hard to win her, or impossible to gain her love, for her so excellent beauty and greatness, but most, because as yet he had not surely compassed his desires. At dancing, because he would not give offence, he seldom took her out, but his eyes still attended on her, and when he danced, she more heeded that dance then any; she was good herself in that exercise, and gained great commendations in Lyvadia. The time being come for the breaking up of the company, the King and Queen took their leaves of the old Prince, and so did all the other Princes, many being there assembled, as a place much honoured, and he a Prince admired over the World, for judgement, learning and goodness; beside at that time many came near him from the Enchantment. The Prince of Iambolly would needs attend the King of Bulgaria (being his neighbour) home to his Court, but his dainty wife was the Attraction; his company was embraced and also the Prince of Thiques, who was to return to his own Country, a fine young Gentleman, and who had in courtesy conducted the Lady of Rhodes after her cruel fortune in the refusal of Polarchos, and being entreated by the soveraignizing Queen to make relation of her end, having heard part before by Pamphilia; he did it in this sort. Love, or rather the ill flower of Love, which you most incomperable Queen can know, neither being so much in power above the highest reach of his passions, which are rather your Subjects then molesters, so overruled in that miserable Lady, as after Polarchos was with all his curstness gone, she took her way also, but whither she much cared not, nor looked she for any company to attend her, those that came with her, dispersed some one way, some another, leaving her, as her fortune had done, in all despairs, for who ever alone endures one mischief? I took pity on her, and although my way was contrary, and I then almost at home, yet rather than she should be distressed in such a kind of want, I offered myself, and she, though not very willing to company, accepted of my service; most I think, because she would have some body to discourse withal, and well had she happened on me, for she could say nothing against men, that I had not as much, or more to speak against women. She could not say Polarchos had been cursed, or unkind, but I could have said my Mistress had been false, and so most cruel: if Polarchos left her upon cause, mine forsook me causelessly. She could not complain, but I was near railing, so as with all the wranglings, and dislikes of both Sexes we travelled, yet the better I ever had of her, (though in loss) for she was forced to confess here's was the fault, and with that so often done penitently, at last agreed with me, that Man was the constanter of the two uncertainties.  
When we had passed the Gulf of Lepanto, and the neck of land between Morea, and Achaia, that we were got again to Sea, into the Archepelago, in one of those little Islands we were forced to stay, for she grew so weak, what with travel, want of food, (for she would take no sustenance,) and her perpetual sorrow which wrought incessantly in her, so as she could no longer without rest sustain, nor so, but to her eternal rest, for there she died desiring me to bury her there, and then to let Polarchos know her end for his unkindness, to whom she gave her Country for due she said to him, beseeching him to accept of it, as the gift of his repentant Love, making so loving an end, as Cupid was surely forced upon that to pardon all things past, and place her in one of his highest ranks of his Court. Just as she died came thither an other Lady discontented likewise, but in a marvellous strange sort; my ears were now open to all complaints, and maintainers, wherefore I gave her the hearing, who discoursed in this manner.  
I was borne said she, in Pantaleria, bred in the service of Urania, now Queen of Albania, the most excellent, and famous of women, I was with her enchanted in Cyprus, and in her service, being Daughter to her supposed Father; I fell in love with one Allimarlus of Romania, a man fit for a greater woman's love, but my fortune it was to win it, and surely if I flatter not myself too grossly, I deserved it; but indeed I did commit some faults, but what were they? only out of Love, and fear of loss from whence they proceeded, such errors were rather to be commended then condemned, but where love fails, a little matter is made great, and nothing pleaseth when distaste is taken. I cannot truly for all this, tax him of much inconstancy, yet so far he was faulty in it, as I know he had a Lady in chase, whether his love to her, or gratefulness in him to her had been the cause of it, I cannot guess; I was tormented in soul withal, I cried to him about it; He mildly, and coldly enough told me my suspicions made my disquiets, and bade me be satisfied for he loved me still, and thus I could gain no more of him, nor durst I urge, for intruth besides love I was in awe of him, fearing his very frown, though on others; no Lover ever longed more for the sight of his love than I did still to see him if absent but one day, yet when I saw him I was in pain, and knew not scarce what I did, I was so desirous to please, as I was amazed, and distempered not being able resolutly to call for any thing, to eat any thing, to speak any sense, blush, and then look pale, and be in such a case, as many days after scarce recovered me. Lord, how have I accused myself for it? but what remedy? passion overruled my judgement, and when I should have been best, and looked best, the very extremity of my love, made me worse than ordenarily I was; then that troubled me, and trouble made me worse, so as I was oft times in a strait, whither I were best be a means to see him often, or let his visitations, and meetings be by chance. But when I considered he might take that amiss, and so I should run into just dislike, for our parts (as women Lovers) are to observe, so as I continued like one ready still to go to execution, condemned, but reprieved; more than I studied how I might gain his love sure to me, of purpose I went, and made myself so dear with the Lady, who had sure testimony of his liberal affections, as I was made of her Counsel, and used in carrying the business so, as her honour might be saved, (for she was in that kind in danger,) I took such a course, as she was delivered of that care: this I did, conveied away by diligence all suspicion, I know not what name this service merited me, but all things were as they should be, and so secretly as no mistrust at all was of her.  
The Lady in troth I could not but so much love, as I was sorry, as she likewise was at any time to part with me: in the face of parting, me thought I saw my Allimarlus his leaving me, whom he loved, and after I accused for slighting her, as much as I did before for being restrained in this manner to me, for desert should ever merit reward in what place soever, but men care no longer than their desires be answered, said she, otherwise I had been better rewarded; I have had cause to give trial of my faith, and he hath found it, yet am but more and more wretched.  
When I felt myself with such neglect coupled, (as after I did) I told him of it, he sat upon my bed side, but awhile gave me not a word, at last he spoke some few, as drawn by necessity from him, and bid me be careful of myself, and not bring more harm. I told him I would be so, were it but for that command's sake, which must be (as his) above all things else most dear to me.  
This moved him no farther, not so much as to look on me, but sat still as if he repented I had ever received such lies from him, although his betrothed Wife. Some men would kiss their wives when they heard such patient replies, and almost all joy in it: but he temperately heard me, as not much concerning him. I was afflicted at it, and did stomach it as much as my love would permit me, but what availed it? I carried it with infinite pain secret from knowledge, suffering what Beasts never do, yet Christian like, I ever strove to turn myself from violent hurt, but being so great with rage as no longer able to conceal it, I retired to some land of an Uncles of his giuen him for his attendance; there I remained, but being near the Town, I was so often visited, as it was troublesome to me, and dangerous for my grief's discovery (for he would have it concealed) I was sometimes forced to keep my chamber, he desirous not to have it known I was any way his wife, I obeyed, and made many excuses while he joyed in my pain, thinking it a brave, and dainty thing to be such a sole Lord, and free from encumbrance, for I durst not meddle, nor find fault with any his actions. He came also, and would be as ready to jest, as any to clear himself, for he thought the contrary discovered; I was forced to be contented, yet with a full resolution to speak with him about it, & to know why his grave looks, and countenance was used to me. I went to him one night, but rightly was I served for such boldness, and presumption, for back I came with so much scorn, neglect, and contempt, as I was almost mad withal, yet I strove to make no show of it, nor I think did, although I truly confess I was much disquieted withal, and so nettled, as I slept not all the night after. Could he not said she have kissed me, bade me welcome, and kindly have used me, but thus? thus to let me return? never more shall he be visited by me, nor did I come then to invite him want only, or to crave Lover's reward, but chastely to discourse of things I could not at other times speak of; yet chastely or other, all was one, I was coldly sent home, to warm myself in choler for disdain, nothing so much fretting me as that I stayed so long, and waited on his cruelty, as to practise obedience; Not to offer but when I should, nor to come uncalled I was taught, and these things I think I shall put in use now; I have been here these two Months with some trusty friends, landed here for fresh victuals as I pretended, though neither confined by his command, but sent the ship then away; he likewise hath been with his Master the King Antissius, but by this time he will be upon return, and I will not fail attendance as soon as I can; in Romania, again relieved by his power, and will. Then did she as one distracted, fall from one passion into another, leaving complaining, and chafing, and from crying fell to singing, and twenty of of those passions had she, having profited but little in her Mistress' service for loving exactly well, so as little pity needed to grow for her, unless that one should not long enough enjoy such follies to pass away time withal, yet in her case she moved more compassion, because greatly distressed. Songs said the Queen, do often times discover sadness. Not such said he, for I have been acquainted with passions as well as any, and know of those kinds of passages. Was she not married to Allimarlus said the Queen? Introth said the Prince I cannot directly tell, she spoke not of it much, but by her words I found she was assured, yet how did she come then to be trusted by his Mistress? It may be said the Queen, that was before they were married, or know to be assured, or such a respect there was to be used to her, as she might serve her for all she was his wife. I know not said he, but that went very far. No way (though endless replied she) but will be adventured, by a firm lover, as I have learned lately by discourse with some, and of some, though I confess I should never be such an one, but scorn and contemn, such humility. None can expect from you such a harm said he, where benefit is sufficient, if you grace him with accepting his service, in which his life should be spent, rather than you in the least feel smart. She liked his flattery, & he knew it, but very seldom used it, because he was virtuous; then she urged extremely to know his discourse; he seemed not able to refuse at last, and therefore told it thus. When I was a very young man, I was likewise very foolish in being passionate; Love was such a Lord over me, as I did as he pleased, looked as he did guide me, sighed when he compelled me, wept when he let me fall into despairs, sonnetted when he inspired me with it, wore colours for sakes, if he privately told me, I ought so to do, for fond women loved vain expressions. I could sit a day but to see her pass by me, and think that time happily bestowed if she than cast a look on me, if she passed carelessly by, or worse, accompanied with others she showed more favour to, then to me, I returned molested, and presently put my thoughts into sad Verse, presented them to her, and if thanks came, I was blessed, and most fortunate. Thus I lived, spoilt good paper with vild Rhymes, lost my time, and wits almost, till I was happily disinchanted by this means. The Lady whom I loved being told by me of her neglect, counterfeited that she looked strangely upon me, out of no other end then policy, and afterwards privately sent for me many times, where I enjoyed what I desired, and with that reward Novice like returned so contented, as if I had gained a kingdom, and gave her by that means liberty more freely to abuse me in my confidence, which she did. Another Lady that was daily with he, and a kind of servant of hers (for she I loved was great enough, had she been as good) loved me exceedingly well, and (whether out of that only, or a little malice mixed with it, I know not) discovered to me, that I was wronged: You (said she) keep a business, and make all men see your passions, bring yourself in danger, if her husband hear of it, sigh, and keep a coil, while others gain your due, blinding yourself with blind Love against all reason, thinking you are blessed, when you are abused; as yesterday I saw what an happy man you took yourself to be, because while Music was, she leaned on you: alas, she did that to colour and deceive you, for all that while her eyes were fixed so amorously on another, as would have, I fear, made you mad to have seen it, and truly it distempered me, because I wish you well: she talked, it is true, to a third, who was as well cozened as yourself, for he thought she favoured you with leaning, to have the freer liberty unsuspected to speak to him, and so smiled at you, while he that indeed had the affection laughed at you both. Leave your fond love, but not loving her, if you find she requite you, but be not a stale for others gain; open your eyes, and see her beauty fit to be admired, her person loved; but if her mind be not answerably white, be not caught like Birds in a green net: I have truly seen you so much injured, as I cannot hold from telling you, take it as you please, but one day you will say, I was your friend. When she had said this, she went again to wait, and I remained pensive, doubting what to do, till I was sent for by one of my Lady's Chamber to her; there how did she cherish me, and make of me? my picture she must needs have, because continually she could not have me, Verses I must needs make to a tune she then had heard, & loved, for no writer pleased her but myself, so pretty, so fine, so passionate my lines were, and so truly from my hart, that she most truly loved them.  
Then she wrung my hand, hung upon me, I embraced her with the other arm, she even yielding herself into my breast; Alas, thought I, is it possible this woman should dissemble, her eyes overflowed with love, labouring to show suffering, for what I should believe. I was amazed, & so perplexed, as she swore I loved her not, began to lament herself, wept, and cried; O unconstant men, faulty above expression; then fainted she, and seemed to swoon. I bestirred myself then, being in a room I durst not call for help, lest her husband should come in, who was suspicious enough: I kissed her, and with my breath fetched her again. She again fainted, I again revived her. At last, Ah my heart, said she, canst thou be cruel? I vowed I was not; with oaths and protestations I satisfied her, coming away after some hours a fine deluded Foole. The other Lady I went to find, to whom I meant to speak my mind, and chide her for such tricks to abuse her Mistress, with full intent so to revile her, as to be free ever afterwards from her advising. As I went along the privy Garden, I saw a man come muffled in his Cloak, stealing as it were along the wall. I knew the fashion (said he) would not be seen, and the place none came into but her Favourites, therefore to her he must go, none having keys but by her permission; there was in that Garden a large Mulberry tree, under which I closely clapped myself, with my back to it, but face so, as I might see which way he took; he slunk along still, till he came to a door which opened to a stair led up to her chamber; there he stood a while, at last a window opened above, than he hemmed, presently came down her excellent unchaste self, opened the door, and took him in, locking it fast again. I seeing this had the Spleen, and swelled, yet held on my determination to seek the Lady, though the discourse must now be altered. Quietly for any noise (except that in my heart, where there were storms, and all manner of disquiets) I went out of the Garden, Alas, said I, could not she be satisfied for a little time, but must make me see my misery? this is double vexation. I passed on, and to my chamber I went first, there I fell to complaints, and grievously took on, but all availed not; I called myself unfortunate, her ungrateful; I accursed, she unnatural; I bewitched, she the Sorceress: I cried out against my birth, mine eyes, mine own life, my judgement, my belief, wished I had been borne an Heritick to love; all these, and what of these? they made me but still a greater Fool, and less to be pitied. Then I rose in a chafe, vowed to love her no more, to tell her so, to let her know her offence & breach in love. This I liked, and instantly would put it in practice, and if I found him there to kill him in her presence. These were brave resolutions to dream on, and as well contented me, as if executed, like him that dreams he hath his Mistress in his arms, and wakes with such pleasure, as he is merry all the day after: so these alike pleased me, as I was joyed at heart, and thought all effected, while the time it should have been effected in, slipped away; which when I found, as by the evening I guessed, I went up again into the Lodgings, where I met the just Lady my friend, she had discerned the trick, being wise, and as careful as a Lover will be, she came to me, I took her by the hand, which was more than I had ever (till then) done, fearing such a thing might have offended my Mistress, who I knew something given to that suspicion, makes men see women's love by, else if careless, what should be thought they esteemed. My Lord said she, you have been wondrously made on this Afternoon; What think you, was not I extreme faulty to put any such thing into your head, considering how true she is to you, and how kind? Can you ever look on me that have thus deceived you? Take pity on me, sighed I, I am alas abused, and injured, let not your true tongue be sullied by yourself, you are and were most just in telling me, what I could not else believe; then did we discourse a little longer of it, at last forth came the great wicked woman, with as bold a countenance as ill could set upon one, smiled on me, saluted all the rest, and came to me, laying her hand on mine, and after her manner talking to us, I seemed neither fond, nor neglective of her favours. This is well acted, said she, than called she for Music, which came, and indeed was exceeding rare, songs there were of all kinds, and in several languages, an hour this continued, or more, than she retired again to supper, saying, she would come afterwards abroad again. We every one took our own ways, I to my chamber, purposing soon after to depart for my own country again, my Youth in travel having led me to such folly, which nothing but woeful experience could bring me to know, or shun; yet me thought I was bound to let her know her ill before my going, lest she with continual practice ran too far in it, and so might at last be dangerous unto her. As I resolved on this, and was going to her, I met her Lord in a mighty fury, his sword in his hand, and bloody; I started at it, my Lord (said I) what is the business? can my sword or life serve you in any thing? No, said he, I have done already, only sir if you please call my Guard to me. I went forth and called the Guard, who strait went as he directed, bringing forth the dead bodies of my Rival, and the Lady; in truth I was sorry for her, because she had been friendly and kind to strangers, and whose blood I would have revenged, but mine told me, her husband had but righted himself. Then came her women, crying and tearing their hair, them he took and sent to prison, only I got liberty for my friend; and when all this stir was over, I took my leave, and left the Country, and loving also, for the good man telling me how he was wronged, made me see her damnable falsehood, so as he was but the chief of many abused by her, we all his followers, and alike used; for in the very abusing him, he seized on them, & killed them both. This (great Queen) is a story scarce fit for your Excellency to hear; but this is the truth which you desired, and thus you have it; now if men be faulty, you see women can be so likewise; if we err, your sex will not let us pass unrequited. The Queen said little to it, but on they went in their journey, much kindesse, affection, and respect used, and increasing among them; at last in Bulgaria they arrived, where at the first entry they were entertained with multituds of people to welcome them, the King liked it well, so did the Queen for the part of humility, but she could not endure their rudeness in pressing, which she said made her hot, and the smell of the folks troubled her, whose daintiness could not brook any savour but perfumes; with little patience therefore she suffered this hearty welcome.  
To their great city they came, there they were again met with the chief, and people, but she was now used to it, and so a little the easilier boar it. Then the King feasted the Prince of Iambolly, and triumphs were made, which lasted sixteen days, in which time the servant and proud Mistress had many pretty fine passages. A hunting they went, he attending her, who sometimes would be fierce upon it, another while rid softly, as if only to make him learn to ride fast, or slow, as her pleasure was, but still to be her attendant, it was his principal lesson to observe. At her coming back to see her ride between her husband and her servant, what a sight it was? but what a glory to her? only her imaginations which were above any height of pride could tell; but he must go now to his own command, a pitiful thing, yet necessary, he could not dissemble, but showed with a sad or dull countenance he was sorry; she with Majesty and greatness, but no mirth, gave testimony she rejoiced not, if in this time he had no strict assurance of her love, none will pity his parting: howsoever, she carried herself like a brave and commanding Queen over her own and his passions. The King brought him some part of his way, then parting lovingly, and some thought most willingly on the King's side. The Prince, with the Prince of Thiques going together, who after, never, or seldom parted: the King returned, and with his wife lived as such a couple could do.  
Leonius and his beautiful Veralinda returning towards Frigia, first going to Argos by the King's directions, wherein they met a delicate Adventure, as they were within some few leagues of the Sea, a Lady on horseback, attended on with many other Ladies, and as many Knights, but by her side road one, who seemed to be the chief, and yet his countenance sad, and melancholy said for him, that he commanded not himself, how ever he did the rest, his Hat off, freely left to view a delicate curled head of hair, brown, but bright in delicacy, a fair forehead; amorous, though then sad eyes, which yet in sadness soveraignized: his mouth not needing to speak, but only seen alured unto it what hearts it pleased, to take and refuse; enough he had of each sort, his lips being so lovely, and lovingly joined, as one may believe, would not willingly part from their mutual kissing. The Lady was great, and therefore fair, full of spirit, and enticing, pleasing and richly she was attired, and bravely served, an excellent hors-woman, and hunts-woman she was, though these be no properer commendations, as some have said, then to say, a man is a fine Sempster, or Needle-man, yet qualities that were, and are commended at this day, allowed of, and admired.  
When they came nearer to them, they sent to know, if they might be so bold to present themselves unto them, whom by inquiry they had obtained knowledge of. The new loving couple admitted them, Veralinda kissing the Lady, and Leonius embracing the Knight. Veralinda then soon after asked the Lady, what those many Dogs and Bows were for, which she perceived amongst them. She answered, they were her Hounds, and that she was going to hunt, when her better fortunes brought her to her presence; the Bows were either if a Stag came fairly to her, to shoot at him, or to save the Dogs from death at a bay, by giving his death to him. Veralinda had never seen hunting, and therefore was desirous to enjoy that sport. Leonius was as well pleased, because he was best pleased when giving her content; the old King traveled on, the young folks promising soon after to overtake him. The Lady then brought these dainty Princes to a large Wood, about the sides they placed themselves, the Dogs and Hunt's men were put into it to beat, and bring forth the Dear, which in short time the Hounds came forth with a mighty Stag, the Huntsmen following, encouraging their Dogs with Voice and Horn, that Veralinda thought, this Consort was the delightful'st that ever her ears had heard; and such life it put into her, as she spared neither horse nor way, but followed with great affection the sport through Woods, over Plains; through Thicks, Brakes, over Hills, no place stayed her. The Lady kept with her, and commending her even unto a fury for riding: at last by a Pond side, where the Stag had taken soil, he gave a bay to the Dogs, than came in the sweet sad Gentleman, and with so temperate a bravery, shot the Beast, as even his hurt rejoiced him, turning his face to him fully beholding him, and as his last piece offered himself a sacrifice unto him, falling by degrees as a great house will do, but yet runs to the place it came from: so to the earth fell he, Veralinda was then called to take the say, she was ignorant of those ceremonies, yet apt to learn, and willing to instruction, she did as she was directed. Then the Hounds must be rewarded, and the Huntsmen give him a peal of Horn's melody, in stead of Bell's harmony, for his funeral.  
All which ended, the Lady besought the Prince and Princess to honour her so much, as to go with her to her house, which, not far off, was fit to lodge in, night being grown upon them. They consented, and road thither, where they found an ancient house handsome, great, and where it seemed good hospitality was kept, but little curiosity observed, for all rooms appeared, as still visited with company, and gave by the favours testimony of quantity of victuals, which well ordered, had been noble, now a little troublesome; but it pleased reasonably well this company, who free, and having rid hard, had gained good appetites, it appearing to them like a Garden full of fruit, when the hot weather troubleth them, they sat down, the Lady most kindly, freely and busily bestirring herself, entertaining them the fine Gentleman civilly discoursing with them; Leonius at last growing so far in with him, as he got him to tell this story.  
I am great Prince (said he) called Curardinus, borne of a good Family in this Country, beloved and served; but as all things must see conclusions, so did Fate appoint our greatness to conclude thus. My father lived after his father's death many years, will esteemed of by the King of these Countries, employed in office by him, and held among the best in rank of his favour, but matching himself (after the death of his first wife) with a young Lady of a great and noble family, but too great as the King imagined, or was persuaded by his enemies, suspicion grew into his heart, or rather showed itself (for few Kings are without that servant to attend them) against my father, who to avoid all cause giving left the Court, and retired himself to his own home, where he lived pleasantly, and was for an addition of his happiness blessed with children, a blessing to a father, what ever the being borne, prove after to the children. I was his first, and after some years before I came to perfectablenesse to govern his estate, at least according to the laws of this place; he died, leaving me heir to his fortunes, honours, and dislikes of the King: I than desired leave to travail, that was refused me, and all things as offices, commands and places soever my father held of the Crown, given away to others. This was a disgrace, and truly a vexation unto me, and most, that he would not permit me the favour granted to every subject, but obedience taught me patience, and I was contented by necessity.  
In this forced pleasure, I went up & down among my friends where I was desired, and so lived a solitary and private travelling life, where removing imitated travel; and each odd accident an Adventure. By my mother's side I had, and have many noble, and brave friends as any man can have, the men equally, or above any valiant, and wise, the woman in that height of excellency for beauty and wit; among them I have much lived, who have found the like favour, so as we are not only near it in blood, but allied in thwart fortune, kept back by all means from any advancement, or honour, unless the employment were such as might give a blow, if not a certain ruin to any of us, (a comfortable estate when Subjects live in such dislike with their Prince:) yet did he use us openly well; let us come to wait upon him, we shall be welcomed, and smiled upon sometimes, but ask any thing, and be surely denied, & after, not for a good space looked on: this hath cast us much down, and grieved us more than hurt us. Are you a single man said Leonius? No Sir, replied the dainty melancholy, I am married, and have been long, the more my misfortune in some kind, because I have with that marriage lost one, loved me more than I could aspire to hope of requital, and love's me still; I was not altogether to blame indeed, for I knew not her affection so great to me, she not adventuring to speak it, I not thinking myself so happy, daring to imagine it, but after some time she told me of it. How did I then curse all my fortunes, and yet at last chid myself for it? since said I, I was borne to be wretched, and all other crosses have been but as forerunners of my misery; this the only Master piece of affliction, we met, & wept many times together, and yet those tears produced pleasure, because so shed, and then we could be merry, and never but in the highest grief contented, because together, for therein our last happiness consisted. But her father married her (whose judgement told her, obedience was requisite) to a rich, but worthless fellow; this was an other vexation to her, and doubly by that means it wrought in me, to see her grieved, and such a Clown to possess what I most loved, and held dear, he no more esteeming her, nor indeed understanding her worth than a Beast, or one of his Goats. Miserable Lady, but most miserable I, that saw, and could but grieve for it; besides this, he grew yet more brutish, and used her ill, growing so entirely jealous, as none went away unsuspected, her worth, beauty, and nobleness, invited all eyes, and hearts to her service, but so chaste, and just she was, as but with courteous requital any prevailed; but her worthless Mate thought so ill of himself, as that made him think well enough of any to wrong her withal, jealousy's root being self knowledge of unworthiness.  
Thus most sweet Creature she lived, discontents brought her to many harms, bringing diseases, and (the worst) sickness of mind, finding still additions to her first disquiet, and miserable loss, as her affection was pleased to call the missing of me, which surely she could never have know, had I but guessed her thoughts. A good space I held in with him, but at last fell like the rest, and most dangerously; in that time I met her, my heart's joy, and soul's delight; at her fathers, she was sad, but most loving to me, I sad to see her so, but most glad to see her love, holding her (I remember) by the hand, if said I thou wert unmarried, wouldst thou not marry again? No I protest said she, but live wholly to be directed by you, which I had ever done, had I known how to live with honour, and fit to be your servant. Yet should you be free, you would not do so much. Yes I vow said I, and bound it with a kiss upon her fairest hand; dearest remembrance, how dost thou yet please me, to bring before me these passed, yet sweet delights? to make trial of her faith, and word keeping, she was by heavenly assistance untied from her bond, and freed from her clog, the rude and brutish Thing, her Husband, being taken from her, no hand, but the hand of the best, and highest parting her; as from above seeing, and commiserating her estate; all that were unmarried in the whole Country, came and sought her, she refused all; Widowers, Bachelors, all were alike to be denied; old, young, middleaged run one race of being refused. Her father much disliked it, her friends, and kindred, and such persuaded, but endlessly her resolution, was like the Earth fixed, and her constancy like the Sun certain, and richly fair: some also came to me, (seeing the grace I had with her) to get me to prefer them; alas how far they went astray? yet I answered all of them alike, that she had resolved to marry (if ever) one of her own affections choosing, so what with my slight answers, and her direct refusals, she, and I were left quiet, and so in truth we were, for her Husband left her happily, both by his loss, and a fair estate he gave her at his end, to make amends partly for the ill she had endured.  
To her I often went, and stayed as long as I could, and never found her displeased but for my parting, what blessing can any on Earth wish to equal such a bliss? and this I enjoyed, and might still have done, but; With that he sighed, and looked so deadly pale, as if that But had been the Axe to take away his life. Leonius desired him to proceed. He turned his face (they before both leaning against a Table) to the Board, and hung down his head over it, groaning as if his breath had been in contention with his body to go, or to be stayed; at last Leonius likewise leaning downe, and earnestly persuading with him, he lifted up his eyes on him, (eyes that would conquer in what looks so ever they pleased to attire themselves,) and putting his hands together, Oh my Lord said he, be contented with this you have. As they were thus in intreatyes, and excusings, Veralinda came, and the Lady, so as they were now brought to a conclusion, and for that night parted, the Lady with much Ceremony (as excellent she was at it) bringing the Princes to their Chamber, then all parted to their rests, but the sweetest sadness, who remained all night as his expressions of his fortunes showed he had been troubled. When day came he rose, and went down into a Garden, there he walked, and let the hour slip away vnthought on as his steps, Leonius longing for the end, sought him out, and finding him, would needs have him go on.  
Then Sir said he, I must begin again with But such was my misery, as I fell into a great, and strict acquaintance with this Lady, which she did dislike, though not me, as since I understand, but then did believe, by reason of some slight carriages she showed me, but causelessly I did mistrust her, and openly leave her. She that had none of the lowest, but rather highest spirit of the World, yet humbled itself to seek me, ungrateful I, accepted it not; a journey I was then to go, in which she writ to me affectionately, and kindly as ever, which I took well, and writ to her a letter that she liked, upon which she made a perfect answer, and as amorousan one as she had ever written, and they were excellent as any in that kind could be: but this came not to my hands till ten Months after, and then by the merest accident in the world. When I read it, I saw her love, and the cross fortune still that attended it, I was sorry I had abused such nobleness, and resolved if she would receive me to offer myself again. In this resolution I went where she was with a friend, and kinswoman of hers, I met her abroad walking, and striving to make myself acceptable, looked with my old looks upon her, she with the same I had been blessed with, received me; then I told her I had received a Letter from her, but it boar a long date, she said she was sorry I had not had the means by that, sooner to have known her mind, I smiled as glad of her love, she even rejoiced at it, but yet such habit I had got of strangeness as I could hardly get myself out of it. But to assist me in this business, a Fever took me, what kindness did she then express? leaving all businesses, her own house, and all, suffering where she was (though most welcome) many inconveniences, and all for me, tending me herself, and being so loving a Nurse to me, as I recovered within short time; since we have been good friends, and she so perfectly good, as she let all passed faults on my side dye, and unremembered pass; taking the new return in the place of it, and satisfaction in that for the other, without questioning of it.  
Thus it continued, and doth, but I have been lately with her, and left her not so well as I desire she should be, but such accidents have befallen us both, as I am forced not to show how much I love her, nor she how willing to embrace it; sergeant awhile we must, though I cannot in my countenance but show what my heart feels. Discover said the Prince likewise that, and you will be better eased. I will sooner dye said he, leaving myself a pure offering to her trust, then betray her, she hath commanded and I will obey, and in that merit some favour justly from her, shortly I hope to hear what most I covet from her, and if I be happy, most brave Prince you shall know it, for I will attend you at your own Court, and if the contrary happen, I hope yet you will permit my sadness a receit, the one shall be an honour, the other a charity.  
The Prince would not urge any more, having so noble, and free a promise from him unasked, but told him he trusted he should find those sad looks turned into as much joy, which heartily he wished, and the time came when he should be freed from sorrow, and himself made happy with the story'es end, which he much, and infinitely desired the knowledge of. The two Ladies came into the Garden also, to recreate themselves a little be-before dinner, the delicate Princess having liberty, granted to the Lady her demand, in her story of her passed Adventures, the Lady being to requite her, told her thus. I am said she that unhappy Lisia, who was by birth, and greatness of estate, sought before I had knowledge, and given before discretion was appearing in me, to a great Lord; I thought it (as most women do) a gay matter to be great, a Duchess me thought was a rare thing, and a brave business: but all that while I marked not the Duke, who was, and is, as dull a piece of flesh, as this, or any Country need know; beside he hath had such unsufferable passions, and passages with me, as truly if I had not given myself to hunting, and such delights abroad, to take away the trouble I had at home, I must have suffered like a Martyr under his churlishness, but I relolued to alter him likewise if I could, and so I wrought myself to work with him, as I got the hand with much a do over his Sycofants, all of them I turned away, having liberty to use my will, for I had gained him by persuasions, oaths, and iustifications sufficient for his capacity to right myself against those had injured me, and so to continue a kind wife, as he would be an husband to me: these conditions gave me such liberty, as twenty four servants in one day I put away, and placed such of mine own, or friends as I best liked, and knew, would and must be just to me, their friends being engaged for them. Then I reclaimed him from ill company, I mean inferior to him, which he naturally had best loved; and as if a new moulded him, so as in troth he deserved (and doth) respect from me, and that he shall have; the Court I confess I loved well, I brought him (though not to like it himself) to let me be there when I would, and privately he would come unto me; the Princess I served, a Lady fair and loving, but something variable and changing, as her favour was to me; for I being of her chamber, in great favour and grace, fell into the most bitter dislike, and disgrace, that ever any did.  
Causes she alleged, but an easy thing it is to frame such; yet the worst thing she did to me, and which I took indeed to the heart, was, she mistrusted I loved a brother of hers, who she neither much cared for, nor esteemed my honour; she made a young brave Lady likewise acquainted with all, whom she did command to attend on her, and in the last part of the evening, or rather in the night they came into the Garden, where if I had been gone to his chamber, as she imagined, I must needs to my own lodging pass through in my return. All the doors they locked double, and bolted the others that had not such locks on them, walking up and down to catch me, who surely they imagined a very kind woman, to go so far to a servant, whose part it had rather been to come to me; but they watched, and the truth is, I was in another garden on the other side, but not with him, yet being that way, suspicion said, I was guilty, so upon likelihoods I was condemned. To the door I came, and thinking to find the place as I left it, I boldly put my key to unlock it, but it would not do, mine was but single, my enemies double. I at first found it not, but seeing I could not open it, I tried again, and then plainly discerned, some had been there after me, yet I did not dream of the Princess. Presently (my tampering having given them the alarm) I might hear them whisper, the Lady spoke a little louder, as of purpose that I should speak to her. I did just as she desired, and fell into the trap as they wished, for I cried, Who is there? 'tis I, said she. I pray open the door, said I. I will do you more service than that, said she: where with she opened it, the Princess of this plot and place standing close by her. I started when I saw her. How doth my Brother, said she? I told her, her Highness was deceived in me. I am not, answered she, but I have been; for I took you to have been good and virtuous, the contrary this action shows you to be. I protest (cried I) I am innocent of ill, and free from this wrong you accuse me of. The way, time, & your attire condemns you (said she), why should you undressed in night habits, at this late hour, and alone walk abroad, & just this way towards his lodgings, none else lying in those parts, were it not to him? the world beside had such a conceit, and you knowing it, your part had been to avoid all cause, or shadow of cause to mistrust you, rather than to run into the open mouth of danger, and plain discovery. I saw her so violent, I besought her yet in mercy and pity of women's honour, which could be no fame to her to ruin, whatsoever she conceited of me, yet to spare me to the world.  
She smiled scornfully, and said, she was not of the trade of my counsell-keepers, who knew of my going to him in man's apparel before that time, and so flung away. I was in truth troubled exstreamely with it, and spoke to the Lady to be my friend in it. She protested freely, and bravely she would do me any service in that, or any other thing, and that it was first unknown to her what the pretence was, lonely duty taught her to obey, after utterly against her will to proceed in it. But what mends had I? the Princess told it to every one, and which madded me most to this brave Gentleman you saw with me, who at that time, and by her means wholly, had not so good an opinion of me, as now he hath, nor had I so much respect to him, yet I loved him ever, she I think did so too, and in no better a kind, than she thought I did her brother. But I am charitable, and I think no ill was done, for I am sure he is noble and good. Upon this I left the Court, and with me, or presently after me fearing tricks (for who how virtuous soever can prevent so odd, and devilish a plot as this was) all, or the greatest part of the Ladies went from thence, even she, who then was so dear unto her in little more grace, than myself, leaving her attended on with her chamber, and those enough to be used ill. She than grew melancholy, and at last sought company, some she got together, but of what sort? those that were of the age before, who having young minds rumbled up their old carcases, and rubbed over their wrinkling faces like old wainscot new varnished: and little sweeter was some of their beauties. But these served to fill up places, and adorn a chamber of state, like ill Pictures, yet bravely guilt and set forth make as good a show, though but glassed, as the cunningest. piece of work, if not to judging eyes: an noise they also made of mirth, banqueting and inviting company, but all would not serve, the glaringst sign, or greatest bush, draws not in the best company: no more did they make the Court much the fairer. Dance they did, and all ridiculous things that ancient, but young made women could invent to do. I came again, having liberty to behold them, but never any more to serve in ordinary. Lord how I admired the alteration, and the place, being changed from what it was, as much as from a Court to a Playhouse: She used me indifferently well, and I took it so, envying none but the Lady whom I was a little in awe of, but not for that I did grudge at her, but repined to see her blest, as I imagined, since I have gained what I feared she had, or if she had, I have gained it from her; yet always brave Princess be confident I am chaste, and untouched of ill action, how ever they have laid my reputation low, but I forgive them now, nor judge amiss of my liberal discourse, your freedom having invited me to it My Lord (good man) was glad of my disgrace, because it brought me home as he thought, yet I so tampred with him, as he thought at last it was not in earnest, but a plot between us; so to the Court I went when I pleased, or told him I would go, though sometime another way I went, yet lately I have lived most at home, and still resolve to do, though with little content in him; and because you shall see I have not too much cause to be fond of him, when you come into the house, seem earnest to see him (for that he loves) and then shall your highness on my word behold a man fit only to make a good husband of, & so far to be beloved, as not contemned.  
They went in, the Princess having her lesson, desiring earnestly to see the Master of the Horse before her going. He came, but such a creature 'twas, his pace so uncertain going towards her, but looking back, as if ask his men if he did well, or no; a wide smile he had, which if a little noise had been added to it, might have been a plain laugh. When he was close by her, he took her hand, and put it to his mouth, but his teeth instead of lips met it; she gave him many thanks for her entertainment, he took her thanks it seemed well, but replied only with his former grin. at last with a great business and champing, as if on the Bit, he brought out as many words, as he asked her, how she liked Hunting. She answered, very well, and best of any sport; he was so joyed with that, as he laughed right out, and with gladness driveld, that none could blame the Lady, if she liked not much to kiss that Ganimead. As thus they were, some beholding him, the Princess admiring his foolish ignorance, and ill-favordnesse, some others marking the power she had over herself, to hold from so little scorn, as to smile at him, a great noise was heard below in the Hall, and an Esquire of the old Frigian King came in, crying out for help, his Lord was taken prisoner, and carried towards the Sea. Leonius called to arm, Veralinda for her horses, the delicate disquieted would attend them, till they saw freedom on all parts flourishing again; the Lady of the house took her leave of them there, and so they passed, Leonius posting after the King, the Princess accompanied with her Knights, and the Noble Discontent held on towards the sea to gain her ships: but being to pass a thickest wood, it was their fortunes first to light upon the Adventure, for in the thick of that place they heard voices, and Veralinda led by perfect knowledge, or natural affection, knew her father's tongue, when upon the telling her fine sad companion, he with some five or six of her Knights rushed in, they found the King bound, a great ring of armed men about him, and some six or seven women (for Gentlewomen I cannot call those, used such cruelty) with great rods whipping him, having stripped his upper part; he complaining, and pitifully crying, the strips being sore, and painful to his royal body. This timely rescue flew in among them, who were much amazed at the surprise, yet being many, & bolder on their number, than any other cause they had to hope of their victory, encountered our dainty distressed so rudely, as he was put to his best in arms; but then so bravely did he behave himself, as he had with his own hands disarmed and overcome three, but his five assistants were overthrown, he then himself fought against the rest, not without great hazard, but such were the blows, and fury among them, as they called help, assisted with the King's cries, who all this while the fight lasted, was tormented excessively with those Furies, as meaning to take their full revenge, or as much as they could. Leonius was brought in to the place, but what fury came he possessed with all? those women altogether could not imitate, much less equal (yet women enraged they say are Devils. Happy this arrival was to the valiant as exquisite Solitary, both being joined, the rest fainted, and so the victory came on their side. Then Leonius and his to be admired companion went to the King, taking away his Baiters and Chains, clothing him again, and dressing the stripes he had received, which had wept blood for unkindness, both pulling off their Helmets to take air the sad Knight showing so delicate a hand, as if his blows had not been witnesses of his strength, one would have feared, so Ladylike, a beautiful, and dainty shaped hand could not have suffered such stress; but the wonder was taken away then, when conclusion was made, that the noblest hart commanded the fairest, and fiercest hand; he had such a hart, and so valiant and happy a hand to execute his commands with al. Veralinda came in also, and with tears manifested the sorrow she had for her father's mishap, covering his stripes with sovereign ointments she never went without: then they examined the cause of this outrage. One of them (the chief it seemed among them) telling her story thus. I am (said she) of this Country, and have a Castle hard by, whither this ungrateful King should have gone, had not your accursed succour, and my too rash beginning of his justly merited punishment hindered me; he knows my name and quarrel; yet some part I will tell you to avoid thought of unreasonableness in me. I loved this king (not I do protest for his being a king, but mearely out of affection) my love growing to him, at my being in his Court at a great triumph there, whither the Princes of this country went, & I waited on. He cast his eyes unluckily on me also, and gave me such invitations to his love, as I could not but accept and yield; opportunity yet served not, I being to wait so near my Lady, and she who liked the king as well, but not so truly as I did, watching me, fearing that, she desired to have herself. Thus unfortunately I was again to part, and so without any more than amorous looks, & such manifesting as outward show could give, we were divided; when I came back, how did I curse my fortune? for my love was run beyond the tye of chastity, and I was a mere lover; I accused myself, for thus thought I, I might have enjoyed him, by this means I could (if I had not been a natural fool) have compassed my desires, none could have prevented this plot, had I not been a rank coward; the night was left me, why did I lose so many, and gain nothing but restless times, tossing and tumbling in my own fancies? and so many did I then get together, as made a man of vanity, calling infinites of conceits together. In all these unquiets, a match was offered me, I was mad, and knew nothing but mine own passions; in that distemper I gave consent, and was married, but still my affection was tied, and wedded to this king, this king of ungratefulness and cruelty. A wife I lived, and yet a maid, my husband sometimes chafing, sometimes telling me, he thought I kept that jewel for another: many suspicions this bred in him, and furnished as many crosses for me, at last at the end of three years, this unconstant, and unworthy king came hither, he was feasted and welcomed by the Prince and Princess, who saw not me with straight looks; doubting me still; but I refrained not the Court for all that, my hart telling me a dram of joy in his sight was more cordial, than vials full of her disgraces could be hurtful to me. He liked my sight as well, and then being resolved to lose no opportunity, but rather make and find means, we met, and I did freely let him have knowledge of my constancy. He was (it seemed) ravished with joy, and beyond all others, love fond of me, never being at rest, but when with me. A Gentleman there was in his company who had liked me well, and as far as he durst had sought me, for he was bashful, and I must confess I was proud, besides loving another. To this man the king (not being able to hide or conceal his happiness) tells al. When he had it (guessing as I believe it was, and am confident he knew it to be me) he came to me, and after discourse of him, and how good, and firm a Lover he was, besides his earnest, and passionate pursuing, he broke out into how happy and fortunate a man he was in his choice, telling me my whole story, and all that had passed; with all (said he) when he told it me, O (cried I) that I might but know such a Love to me, though presently I had died; and surely so I should, for I were not able to enjoy such a full blessing. Did he tell you this story (said I) sure there is no such thing? Yes certainly, answered he; & he is so wrapped in the heaven of it, as he cannot contain himself: but who it is, I know not; for he only termed her a wench he loved, & who so dear loved him, as for his sake she had lived a Maiden-wife, & would have ever, had she not enjoyed him. I was angry at it, yet then so much I loved him, as though resolved to let him know, how ill I took his discovering my secrets to any, though in a third person; yet when I saw himi forgave it, and pitied him for loving me so much, I not being able, as I imagined, and undervalved my poor self, to deserve such an affection, nor truly should I have altered my mind for any thing, had he not cruelly, vildly, & scornfully used me; that changed me indeed, and hath turned my hart so much against him, as ever since I have fully assured of his disdain, vowed revenge, and plotted for it, though I had gone into his country to execute it, which I was prevented of by notice of his coming hither, where I waylaid him at his coming, but I grew tender again, and let him pass; yet when he was past, I repented, and as love increaseth love, so the hate I had, conceived, & grew increasing in me with every touch of memory of those passages, & now without all purpose of kindness I took him, & with all cruelty meant to have continued tormenting him, privately keeping as I purposed his Majesty for my recreation to see him tortured, who so uncharitably cast me off, defamed, & forsook me; the last, being to us indeed the sharpst blow but telling, with that she flew at him again to scratch him, other hurt she could not do him, To tell, cried she, & forsake me to? They held her, & with much ado after by the king's permission, but earnestly conjuring Veralinda to pardon her, she had her liberty, and so returned to her Castle. The King like all men, at sometimes, or other for such injuries whipped, though inwardly with as bitter strips held on his journey for Frigia, where he most safely arrived, and with all content and happiness he with his daughter, and son in law passed their days together. The valiant, and discreet Gentleman returned to the Lady again, with whom he spent most of his precious time attending what he desired, which was accomplished to his mind, and left to him to make his own use of, so as he might be pleased if he pleased. Amphilanthus being in the morning up, & ready to go to his longed for business, to add by that, new, & more honour, as kingdoms to his crown, the Qu. Pamphilia with her counsel, & Noble men came unto him, whom she found attended on by his Princes, who were all, or most known to her, the rest made her servants by his respect unto her; there she saw provision for the fight, while she had as cruel a combat within her, & more terrible, because her fear proceeding from her love made more dangers than blows could be strooken between them. She saw not one piece of his armour that was not cut through in tenderness of her heart, and that bleeding for it. The Prince of Transiluania was looking on his shield, which she casting her eyes upon. O said she that that were as true, & firm in mettle, as my hart is in truth, then would it ne'er be pierced. Polarchos was curiously overlooking the armour, to see it secure; every piece she blessed with her soul's wishes, and every pin had a prayer for the strength of it so much goodness wishing it well, danger must needs be far off.  
The Emperor marking her, had inwardly new power, and might given him by her constancy, and strong affection, forth they went, excellent, and rich Barges being ready to convey them over the Lake, being on the other side: they parted, the Queen back again to her Castle, where she might (if dearness in love would permit her) see the combat, which was not doubted, but assured she could not suffer her eyes though loving them best when they saw him, at this time given them liberty to do; but certainly her soul's eyes in prayer beheld him more profitable surely at this time, for he had no child to play withal.  
The Emperor took his horse, the State and Counsel of Pamphilia waiting on him, as he mounted on horseback, whether by chance, or of purpose the horse trampled, and turned up, and down so, as his face towards the Lake, and Castle, he sent kind looks after her, which that while (her eyes waiting on him) with comfort brought unto her, and made hers melt, because they parted so; he road into the field unarmed, his twelve Princes carrying his arms. Polarchos being his Chamberlain, came next his Person, and the Prince of Transiluania carried his Crown, the Duke of Branswike, Bavaria, Lorraine, Savoy, Sax, Milan, the Prince of Venice, and the rest carried the Armour, lance, and led the spare horse.  
Into the head of the Army he road, which stood in battle, he saluted them, they expressed their joy to see him in all Soldierlike fashion, before them he stood ready to arm, when they discerned from the other side the King, with as much magnificence as was possible for him to show; when they were thus in the head of each Army, he sent to entreat some speech of the Emperor, he courteous, and yet bold as any, granted it, and so they came towards each other, taking one a piece with them, the Emperor, Polarchos; the King, the Master of his Horse. They beheld each other like Lions, stirring no way, but their eyes followed as part of their Arms, and then the most curious part. The King of Celicia first put up his hand to his hat, but that motion was enough to make the noble Amphilanthus ready as soon as he, to give, and take salutation. The King said it was not unknown unto him, he was sure why he came, and in that sort, but the desire, and reason of this meeting was, that he might see his Person before the fight, who was held the bravest Prince living, and his Rival, but with greater happiness because beloved by her. If this be true replied the Emperor, your cause is the more unjust, since you would force so excellent a Queen to take you contrary to her own affection as you confess, and mine must needs be more irreconciliable, since here you pronounce a quarrel never to be taken up, seeking to take my Mistress from me, therefore if this be your end of meeting, let us part to meet on surer terms.  
The King gave consent, having now said, he seen the man so much admired, I am satisfied till I have conquered him. With that they turned, and armed themselves, the Drums, and Trumpets making such harmony, as were enough to lift the hearts of Cowards up to spirit, this little needing to the Emperor, whose heart and body was all worth, and valour: the King was likewise soon armed, and the Armies by order commanded to unarm, being left only as Court beholders, no show of war, except in the fashion of their clothes, and bands. The King of Celicia was in Oring colour, the Emperor in crimson, Spite on the one side, Revenge on the other. The encounter was fair, and terrible, both their horses at the breaking shrinking under them, but the Celician after faltered, and reeled, so as he leaped from him. Amphilanthus lighted, and so they met on foot, when no Art, or valour procured by just disdain, and rage was wanting. The King had with a blow cloven the Emperor's shield, so as unuseful he threw it from him, in requital, making such a breach in his armour on the right side, as there sparng out so much blood, as might wash away the others loss. Both fearelesly, and furiously fight, for themselves, not fearing, only tending the cause that brought them thither.  
At last Amphilanthus found an advantage by the Kings lifting up of his right arm, to give him a deadly blow, which though he failed of, the Emperor miss not the opportunity, but ran his Sword into him cross-ways through his body; the King stood still with the blow, the Emperor beheld him, sorry he had killed him, as his sword gored he perceived he had, then suddenly, and reelingly he ran with his last fury upon him. Amphilanthus could have avoided him, but he only strake down the thrust, and caught him in his arms, casting himself down with him, in the falling, yield said Asdrusius; thou art deceived poor man said Amphilanthus, with that Asdrusius lifted his arm up, as to have one blow more, but death then ceased on him, so as embraced with an enemy's courtesy he died. Amphilanthus rising, and putting the body from him, the Princes of both sides came in, and the victory easily judged, the body was delivered to the Celicians, with liberty to depart, Melisander being delivered, the Emperor with all honour conducted towards the Queen, who with more than joy, or gladness, met him where she parted from him with delicate music, and triumphant glory, bringing him into the Castle, and so to the galleries, where he was unarmed, and his wounds most gently, tenderly, and affectionately looked on by herself; they were some in number, none either dangerous, or troublesome to his liberty of walking abroad.  
When they were dressed, the Council standing all before them, and his Princes with her Nobility, they two sat down under a cloth of estate, love expressing itself, not only lively but perfectly in their eyes: he took her hand, kissed it, beheld her earnestly, as amorously ready to make expression of what was expected and hoped for, she as yielding sat ready to grant, while he still holding her hand in his, and as passionately gazing in her affectionately requiring eyes, and such were his excellent expressions, and her loving entertaining those passions, as command needed not to his followers, who by outward sight, (knowledge by long acquaintance growing in the degree with experience) knew their master's mind, and so left him to express what his eyes promised, leaving the place as free as their souls desired to be, which would be granted only by rest, and what rest on earth like the quiet enjoying themselves, which but with themselves they could do, her servants by her respect to the Emperor learned obedience, and so to their own happiest wishes left them.  
They all gone, Amphilanthus Master of the greatest part of the Western World, and once as he assured himself, Monarch of her heart before she knew Asia, or much more, or scarce so much as herself, much less her power over him, would like a confident man, and commanding lover, never showing as if an account were to be had from him for former faults, use the time, and take the opportunity offered him so as his eyes fixed as they were, and she observing his, he most lovingly, or rather passionately caught, (like a man drowning, catching at the next thing to him to save himself) the Queen in his arms, and as no offender, (except in boldness) embraced her. She would have violently, refused any other, nay his neglect in an other person had forced the cursedest punishment, but here she only blushed, and received his love, as at first without expostulation: discourse they also familarly did, & the wont phrases of kindness in sweet familiarness were as free, as if never laid aside.  
Thus that day passed, night being come, and all retyrd to rest, the Queen most happy and blessed being again enriched with his love, or the show it had before, although the true fire was clearer, and warmer; this now sufficed, and was instead of the truth filled up to the like heat by the unexpectednes of it. Being in her bed, what Pamphilia said she? Is it possible that thou hast lived to see Amphilanthus kind again? Can he smile on these wrinkles, and be loving in my decay? When he told me I was altered for the worse, and slightly regarded me, I feared, but when he quite forsook me, wretch what did I, yet is he returning? Truly I must confess this to be as strange as his other change, which I could not but like a blind man be led to believe, it was sung in my ears, and blazed in mine eyes, ere I could take off the Scarf of credulity, and unblinde my hopes to see plainly my despair, and just cause thereof, when I have sat sighing, nay weeping for his disdain, wishing he might but see my tears, which from strangers have gained compassion: He hath come in, then how have I cheered up my heart, or rather my love to him done it for me? Wiped my eyes, and from him hid my sorrows, to whom for my redress they should have been discovered; policy it was not that bred this in me, but pure love, and unfortunate subjection, yet I love myself for it, and will still strive to continue it, and more now, since I see that pleads for me, and pity, or favour shines again to me. It is impossible to be Loan, but reward that now he goes about to give me, that yet shall be welcome, and what else soever comes from him, except frowns, nay they two if he allot them me, so heartily I am his. The next morning they went to hunt, and after noon in the evening, walked forth along a River's side till they came to a little rising; at the bottom the water continued the wanton course it had begun, upon the top of this rising there was a Rock, and on the top of that a young shepherd playing upon a rebeck, the Air playing with his curled locks, and he singing this Song.  

Love farewell I now discover  
Thee a Tyrant o'er a lover,  
All thy promised sweets prove crosses,  
Thy rewards are only losses.   

A pretty thing I did deem thee,  
Innocent, and mild esteem thee,  
But I find thee as cursed matter  
As a swelling high wrought water.   

Cupid's name a pleasant folly  
Hath beguiled hearts most holly,  
Even to sacrifice in homage,  
Life and soul unto their damage.   

Mine an offering once I proffered,  
Happily refused when offered,  
I'll keep now but to revile thee,  
From the craft which did beguile me.   
The wiser man, said Amphilanthus. The liker to your mind, said Pamphilia, if he love varities: he looked upon her, but seeing she smiled, when she spoke it, he did so likewise, and so she went to the shepherd, who was coming down from the Rock, and seeing them, was amazed, yet with a good civil country manner saluted them, which they graciously requited. The Queen then demanded, of what place he was; he replied, he was servant to the Queen's Shepherd. Do you know the Queen (said she). No indeed, replied he. What hear you of her, said Amphilanthus? Much joy for her safety, and that she is a brave and a good woman, said he. Nothing else, said she? Yes, answered he, I have heard more, but we must not speak all lest we hear of it again to our cost. I dare assure thee (said she) the Queen shall never hear of any thing thou sayest to us any more, than now she doth, nor be any more offended with thee. But if I come in question, where's your assurance, I may be assuredly hanged, and you never the wiser. Trust me (said she) I have such power with her Majesty, as thou shalt be secure. Why then (said he) I'll tell you; but first let me see your face. Wherefore, said the Queen? I'll tell you if you be a maid, said he. With that she pulled off a Mask she wore: the Shepherd looked wishly on her, and cried out. O heavens what a sweet face is there, and what pity it is you should be so long a Maid?  
The Lovers both blushed, and smiled, than the Shepherd proceeded. I can guess by the face indifferently well at the disposition, and I learn this experience by marking my sheep, and seldom now do I fail in choosing the sweetest natured and mildest to breed on, I can see by the countenance whether they will be tractable, or not, and so I cull the best from the other. But this is nothing of the Queen, said she. Why, she is (said he) a Lady loved, and well thought on by all that ever I heard speak of her, courteous, affable, no pride dwells in her, to the meanest she will speak; yet the greatest fear her, which is her judgement and goodness that breeds that respect to her; she is upright and just, in her government mild, and loving to her subjects, she loves all good exercises as well abroad, as at home; she hath indeed they say, a brave and manlike spirit, and wondrous wise she is; yet for all these good parts, she could not keep out of Cupid's claws, but was mightily in love, and is still as it is muttered about with a gallant man, a brave fight man, for whose sake she refused all others, and lately the King of Celicia her next neighbour; but for all her wisdom, there I believe she was ill advised to refuse him, for he came with such an Army against her, to have her by force, as had like to have marred all; I am sure they frighted us (no sword men) and our sheep likewise, yet at last hither came that brave man her love, though some say he had before forsaken her, whereupon she grew melancholy, & came seldom abroad, she might by that have seen how foolish a thing love was, and have left it, and looked to her own business, but now they say, she is lively again, and jolly, and well she may, for he did gallantly to release her, yet he dwells so far off, and having as it is said, a pretty humour of changing, we do not wish him to her, lest we should lose her.  
What do you call him, said the Emperor? Amphilanthus, answered the Shepherd, Emperor of the West, a mighty man assuredly he is, and hath but that fault as ever I heard, and yet for mine own part I would the Queen were of our mind (whereat they both laughed); for I protest (said he) I think variety the sweetest pleasure under Heaven, and constancy the foolishest unprofitable whining virtue.  
Thou art an honest fellow, said Amphilanthus, I warrant thee. Pray God you prove so (said he) else I may be in a wise case. Fear nothing, said the Queen, I will protect thee from any harm, but now you have spoken thus freely of the Queen, tell us as particularly of your loves, for it appears you have been a lover.  
In a kind (said he) and you shall hear what I have done since my infancy, for since ten, I have looked after Wenches, and loved them since fourteen, and now am I six and twenty. The first unruly flames that bred in me, were at fourteen, towards a pretty Maid of my mothers, much about that age, who, what with my importunity, pretty presents of fruits and flowers, acquaint words, the love she bore her Mistress, whom she might fear would be angry, if she crossed me to make me sick, or it may be wanton, and young, found as much aptness in her self as in me, or what other cause or power it was, I know not, she would not refuse long, nor was I long in accepting, but kindly and amorously we lived a whole year, and I pray was not that a long time to be in love with one woman? I think by that I merited never to be by other denied.  
Then came a fine Brownetta, an neighbour's daughter of ours crossed my sight, and so my former love, she daily came to milk in the next grounds to us: I than thought on nothing but how to win her; the other followed me, and perpetually watched me, that I durst not go near her: but love is never without invention, I would steal out in the night, and make bracks and holes in the Hedges that parted our grounds, and then when my Sheep being droven, as of purpose I would drive them that way, would for change (loving it as well as their Master) get into her Father's fields, I must go fetch them forth again, and so I saw her, and spoke to her, telling her she should advise her father to keep his fences better, this was my introduction, and at last won her by discourse and conversation as wrangling at first wrangled ourselves one. But when I had enjoyed her, I thought the other like stale bread: she told me of it, I truly confessed I was weary of her; she said we were well met to part on equal terms, and so she quickly after chose another, and another, for already I have seen her have three besides myself, and I commend her for it.  
Some months, which were the Spring and Summer, and as long as fair weather lasted, I loved this second; but when cold came on, my blood grew i'll, and so my hart grew faint, only to be recovered with the next Spring, which it was, and sprang unto another love, who was as fair as Diana herself at the full, but for my contentment not so cold nor chaste. She was a Neatresse, and in truth an neat one; her I gained by courtesy, fetching, and driving her cattle to her, and for her, the sweet and secret Woods could only accuse us, none else mistrusted, and so sweetly and kindly did we pass our times; but she after a while being but as the former were, and no variety in her, I began to think how I might purchase some creature more like my disposition which I gained; for walking in the Woods, I found a dainty Forest Nymph hunting, I forsook her, left home, father, and all betaking me to the Woods: she was long before she could be won to like, longer to love; but at last for my joy, she liked, loved, and yielded, then was I a blessed man, for in this delicate Creature I was fully happy, she to well encountered my humour with her fashion, and diverse, and several expressions of love she gave, which as still being new, she was an new woman to me, and so I continued with the variety on her side, and I so contented with all, as I loved her five year without change, yet not wholly so constant, but I think I slipped aside in that time. Sometimes it may be she thought so, and would be sad; but when I came, and saw her so, how did I think that did become her, and idleness, or mirth misbeseeme others; then I grew sad to imitate her, learned her fashions, walked cross armed, sighed, cast up mine eyes, spoke little, looked much on her, else on nothing to say, I looked on any thing but as unmarked.  
This passion pleased me as different from the other, then so well I pleased her in this kind, as she the next time would be merry. I liked that beyond the other, for than me thought I saw life, spirit, and mettle in her; I then embraced that with joy and delight, finding that she did all these to make me hers, by still contenting me; I was contented to be hers, as much as it was possible for me to be any's, and this brought me into such reputation, as I had the good looks, nay, thoughts of many fair maids (without pride I speak it, though I confess I love to tell it), among the rest there was another Nymph, who hearing of me, or seeing how my Mistress made of me, thought it a fine thing to love, but a finer to be loved, yet did she not consider how to choose without offence to others, and gain to herself, for her ill fortune was to choose me, who though so naturally kind to women, as I would hardly let one of that sweet sex sigh, much less weep for me, but that I would requite her; yet she had not that winning power to make me differ, nor indeed did she take me right, for she mistook both in the time and place, happening to be at the Nymph's house, whither I often resorted with other Foresters, she welcomming me as a friend, that had done her service in a hunting which she had, the house was little, and therefore the rooms were near together, my Mistress lodged this other, her rival companion, in a room within herself, mistrusting nothing, but bolting the door between them, sure for her coming to her, secretly went to bed, and when all was quiet according to our agreement, she came to me; as we were together embracing, and lovingly discoursing, we heard a noise something nearer us, as in the next room; love at first made us heedless, till coming near, and continuing with increase of lumbring, and as if wood falling or slipping from those rows, or the order it was laid up, as in ranks, in we startled, and I feared, because of my Mistress; but she knowing the place, which was not above five foot broad, and always filled with cleft wood for the chambers, stepped out and shut a door, which was to go in, or to come out of that place.  
When she had made it safe for opening on the other side, she softly returned to me, and then with much delight we stayed a while together, till day being ready to break, she parted from me to be in her own bed, when her maids came to seek her, which soon after they did, and she being ready, called me, and sent for Orileda, for so the other was called, but she having (as she told me afterwards, to make me know her love, the violence whereof had made a more unchaste thought in her, than ever before she had) broken her shin with climbing over the wood, cursing it yet more for the hindrance, than the harm, barring her from letting me see what power I had to make her, other then ever her modesty till then would permit. She was unable to follow Diana's sports, as well in person, as her chaste courses in thought.  
I seemed to pity my own ill fortune in missing of her, and to lament her hurt, which more hurt me, for after she perplexed me with haunting of me, Lord what a life led I? she troubled me, my Mistress grew a little suspicious of me, that grieved me, both striven for me; but such difference there was between them, as I had been blind and accursed, if I had left one fortother. But than came the Queen into those Woods to delight herself, being at her first coming into this Country, in her Train she had many brave and fine women, among the rest, one pretty little Lass, who for her pretinesse, me thought, commanded largely over hearts, I am sure she made mine faint and fail, when it had been strong; then did I think a Forest life the toylesomst, and wearisomest in the world: I plotted how to be released of it, and why? only to be where I might see her I most loved.  
Long I studied, at last I fell upon a resolution, which was, to put myself into the Court, to serve some Officer or Courtier, the Queen affecting hunting, I was soon accepted, and taken by the chief Huntsman to be one of her Majesty's servants, being excellent in blowing a Horn, and in the chase, and so loving infinitely, and hoping as much, for I never loved without that especial comfort about me, to spoil me, and to cross my old companion Hope, the Queen went to try Enchantments, I never having seen her but one horseback, and still masked: I know not how her Majesty carried herself, or what she did, but as reports are by all, to her most meriting honour that might be, though likewise to her loss, for she returned after some years, the most discontented woman in the world, and hath continued so, till now within few days, when (God be thanked) she hath recovered her spirits, which long may they be (I beseech Heaven co) ntinued to her, & all happiness attend her, yet I was angry with her going for she carried 〈◊〉 love with her, yet far she could not carry it, it was either so heavy as it 〈◊〉, or so light, as the first contrary wind brought it me again, and then I forswore hunting, court, and all, betaking me to be a Shepherd, and here I live under the Queen's Shepherd quiet, love for my pleasure, never to pain, have a Lass now that will have me love, or serve her, whether I will or no, her violence making me truer, or rather more observant than any others worth could do; and thus I live (I must say truly) fond, ignorantly, and condemned by all men; yet it pleaseth me, because I avoid by this means, importunities, and businesses. I am here served and observed, nothing to vex me, if not what I like well enough, which is her overmuch fondness: her fairness troubles me not, for she is no Helena, her virtue denies me little, for I command that, and her, her humble and busy love mixe with fine discourse likes me well enough, or I suffer myself to think so; yet O me the Nymph was a dainty Lass.  
Ah (said Pamphilia), it seems you have some relics of that love. In truth (said he) I have, and my conscience moves me that way many times, knowing she undid herself for me, and yet firmly loves me still, and unchangeably ever did.  
Return then (said Amphilanthus) and be now again more happy than ever enjoying so long loved, and loving a Creature, the first passions were but flashes, these pure and true fire.  
I feel them so (said he), and I will do so, and yet in so doing justly, and continue my old affection to variety too, for now she will be new again to me.  
The Lovers smiled upon each other, and taking the fine Shepherd's offer, which was to drink of his poor drink, they each drank of his bottle, and returned, pleased much with his discourse, but most with his resolution to return to his old Love..  
The next Morning she went to Fish, and so after dinner to Hawk, and every day had new delights, till they had past invention, and then like the Shepherd returned to what they had had: so one morning to hunt they went, when after one hours chase the hounds running merrily, the stag coming near them, the Emperor with the rest had his spirits moved with the pleasure, and not sparing his horse followed with such speed into a great and desert wood, as he had in the thickness lost the Stag, hounds, all the company, and himself; the queen having a guide, and coasting came in to the death, for the Hounds sore brought the Dear out of the wood, but at the fall of him the Emperor was missed, the Queen missing in that miss all joy and content, her heart being so much his, as still partook of his fortunes, and that faithfully told her he would not quickly be heard of again, she grew sad, and instead of honouring her Dogs, or Dear with their last rights, took her horse again and went herself to seek him, sending all her train several ways in the same quest, taking only with her two Ladies that had held out the chase with her, and ten Knights. She continued the search till night, then came she to a house in the midst of the wood, where she resolved to rest her that night, and the next day betimes pursue her search. When she came into the house she found servants ready, and willing to entertain her, but their Mistress was not as then come from hunting; the Queen weary and sad, sat down on a bed, or rather neglectively threw herself upon one, her lady in the mean space taulking with the servants concerning their Mistress, till she returned in a garment of black Damask, which reached to her knees, and another below that, that came to the small of her leg, of Satin, buskins she had of the finest leather laced and tied with pretty knots of ribbin, but all black, and so had she gone ever since her love left her. On her head she wore a hat, but her hair under it, tied and braded so finely, as she might throw off her hat at pleasure, and remain finer than before. She seemed to have been excellent) and yet she appeared lovely, though her face said she was not in the youth fullest time of her years, yet her Summer was not quite done; she had strength, and spirit in place of delicacy and sins, and wholesome healthfulness for dainty beauty, altogether she was far from being contemptible, though not meriting to be admired, if not for constancy and patient suffering which she had brought herself unto, and to so perfect a kind of them, as she no way wanted her former happiness  
An excellent Creature she was without question in her kind, and as such are oft times abused with excelling change; She understanding the Queen was in her house, was much joyed withal, but not so ravished with it, as it made her any whit forget her duty, as others have done, rashly overcome with joy, to grow unmannerly withal, but stayed attending the good fortune when she might see, and welcome her Majesty which should be done when she called, that tim came soon after, for the Q. having tumbled awhile, and cast her thoughts into millions of various conceits, she with weariness fell asleep, and so continued an hour, which space the sweet Nymph stayed for her.  
As soon as the Ladies had told the Queen of her being without, she was admitted in to her, who with as much humility, as the Queen with kindness saluted her, using her best language (as she had as good as any of her sort,) to express her gladness in seeing, & having her Majesty in her house. Pamphilia hearing her speak, and beholding her manner and fashion, besides the furniture of the room being of delicate and rich silk, both hangings and bed, which till then she regarded not, did believe she was of noble kind, and so used her, taking her gently from the ground, and telling her she was not to kneel to her guest.  
To my Sovereign Lady (said she) I am bound, and your worth claims this, and more respect from all strangers, than kissed she the Queen's hands, and rose, beholding the Queen with admiration of her beauty and sadness; her eyes having been employed to other use then sleeping, as by the red circles did appear. Delicate discourse passed between them a good space, till the Queen found she might be bolder with her, than she yet had, and so began to ask her some questions, the first, why she wore Black, being a Huntress? She replied, she had lost her Dear, and mourned for it. Then must I wear Black also (said she) for I am parted unfortunately from my dearest Deer, for which my heart already is in mourning. The sweet Nymph with a low reverence & a sigh, seemed to lament for her; the Queen then proceeded, as longing to know the end, which the other perceiving, to give her all content, yielded unto it, and proceeded thus.  
Since I see the desire you have to know all my story, may it please your Majesty to understand, I am called Mirasilua, a Forest Nymph by my manner of life, but not professed to Diana, though a servant to her delights; unmarried I live, but wedded to a vow I made to one, whose breach of his, like-made-one to me cannot yet unmarry me; he was called Sildurino, as fair, but as false as any, his life was wholly in the Country, and after that manner though he was nobly descended, but his Grandfather falling into an unfortunate action overthrew their house, his father and his children, ever after living privately, and but plentifully, yet is there no reason to use them with the less respect, or to contemue them, or think basely of them, who suffer for others offences, not their own; yet such was the greatness of their spirits, as of four sons the Grandfather left none, but his father did marry who was betrothed before his fall, and she nobly would after continue her love to her Spouse, living happily together, and as contented as if they had all the possessions, and honours they were borne unto, which was as much as most, or any in this Kingdom.  
The other three brothers lived with them, but so vexed, & stomacking their poverties, yet having virtuous hearts would not consent to think of ill courses, they perplexedly lived, and at last died, their hearts broken with their own swellings, and rend with their own furious passions, their overthrow came in this manner. The King who unquietly reigned next before your most worthy Uncle, was a mighty Tyrant, and had purchased the Kingdom by treachery, and bloodshedding of many, lastly of the right King, his children and kinsmen, to the last he could find that durst say he had one drop of Royal blood in him, and many suffered for this, having so much royal virtue as to strive to overthrow such a beast. When he had done this, and none left to withstand him, he yet thought himself not secure, unless he ruin'd those that knew his villainy, lest they bloodded in ill would practise on him: all those he likewise made away, nay those dear friends of his that had set the Crown upon his head, truly, and worthily requited them for so Devilish an act: with the same they fed the poor King his predesessor, who had no fault but that he was too good, too honest, too just, & two religious, showed faults in Princes in these days. When the king had thus gained his mind, and freed himself from the danger of being betrayed, who had been treacherous to so many, and none left that he could fear, or say that man knows my ill, so as now he might surely walk if not for his own conscience; yet what good got he by this? he had not only rid himself of those he might mistrust or dislike, to see if any remorse were in him, but of friends, so as he stood alone, and like a Tree in the midst of a plain his branches cut off, every wind hath power on him; So stood he apt to be shaken with every storm which was seen, and considered by many, and at last resolved upon that he should reel or fall. A plot was laid, and most of the remaining Nobility, and especially all the ancient Lords by descent, though many were young men among them agreed together; but the King as he was wicked, so he was very wise, or politic, quickly discerned there was something more than was for his good, wherefore like an old Fox when he means to get a dwelling which he will not take pains to make himself, lays baits, and wiles to gain his neighbour's house, and deceives the poor Badger; so did this Devil, laying such gins for them, as he caught them when they lest thought of it, thrusting into their counsels, and companies, instruments of his, who were content to swear and forswear any thing, nay their own souls to win his favour, such a Tyrant is ambition over man to get the grace of Kings, who being king it is enough, and no matter what Kings they are. These men did not only join with the rest in what they advised, but added of their own inventions, leading them on by trains into the snare.  
When time was ripe for the action, and the discovery, the King called an assembly of all his Lords, and as it were to rectify some things that were amiss, and to give satisfaction to his people, if any thing troubled them, beside to propound war against Celicia, their ancient and new grown enemy. These friends (for too honest the main part were to be called conspirators) came with the rest, and so obeyed the orders and commands of the King who helped some things, but their chief grievances were not brought in, at last these poor betrayed Lords were, when earnestest for their Country, crossed and cut short by the King, which moved them so much, as rather than suffer dishonour they flew out; many of the Commons took part with them, but such is the bacenes of common people, as they left them as soon as they heard one Proclamation against them; they were soon taken, some killed that would withstand, but Sildurino his Grandfather was taken, and not denying the determination held among them, was executed, his sons not being of the confederacy were degraded, their houses razed, and their name utterly forgotten by command of never being mentioned more than by their Christian names, their goods confiscated, & lands forfeited to the King, themselves confined to one house the poorest their father had, where they were bound to live without titles, or means, but from starving, and if they broke the command, death ensued. Many other noble families fell also, my Grandfather likewise suffered for this business, but so great a fall it was, not to us, since there was none left but myself to inherit his estate, and I so unblessed a woman as merit no other than a most unfortunate being.  
We two as borne to ill, and misfortune, fell as unluckily to love each other, love I think I may say we did, I am sure he liked, at least much dissembled, and I dare swear I loved, yet as a conclusion must come to all things, so did there one fall, and a desperate one for me, for he left me, alas unkindly left me, who entirely loved him, and mourn in heart and soul still for him, and my loss. Alas (said I to myself) what made him leave me? he told me, I was grown an old Wench, he hath chosen an elder whom he adores, and worships like a Saint, and well may he do so, for she seems rather an Image than a fleshly body, or rather a relic of what had been to be reverenced, than a substance to be beloved.  
But if I speak much in this kind, your Majesty may think, envy speaks in me, though this is but truth, and most true, that she hath the advantage of winning, and keeping a love above all other women, for so powerful she is in the gaining, sparing neither estate, honour, nor travel to accomplish her desires; then so diligent, and careful in the preserving her gain, as it is impossible to get one back again that she hath gotten. She will not neglect occasions, services, duties, that servants were fitter to do; nay, so busy she will be in her house to have any thing she imagines will please, as she appears to strangers, rather an Hostess, than a Mistress: but such a Mistress she hath ever been, for he is but one of a great sum of servants which she hath passed her time with all, but now decayed and grown old as I and others are, she holds only him, (at least as he thinks, though God forgive me if I believe it not, or that he is alone) and him by Enchantment surely; for she is now at this present the most contrary woman to his former choices that can be invented, nay, to his opinions, as his own hand can witness; but he hath forgotten them as me, and we must suffer to satisfy his variety and love to it. But how if he return to your love, will he be received or slighted, said the Queen? me thinks these weeds promise pardon, since none would mourn for that they care not for. The care of him and for him made me first wear them, answered Myrasilua, but now I mourn for mine own misfortune, and I assure myself may still for any hope of his alteration; no alas Madam, he is left, and I undone may see it. I confess he did many times about the the time of his change, speak in a kind, as if it had been my fault and neglect, that made the alterations, but my soul and his know the contrary: I saw him going, I sought to prevent it, but when I found such private meetings, such plots to cousin himself by deceiving me, and my trust in him, I could not sue for impossibilities, nor seek where I was refused and wronged. Some said (as I remember one that followed, or haunted him I think) that surely 'twas my laziness, and her activeness that won him; Ah (said I) if he were to be won, I could not lose him, now I know I cannot keep him, nor could I almost keep my wits for the affliction of it, since I find he was, and is but a man that I so much reverenced, no God but in my Idolatry; a Devil to my rest and quiet content, of which I have not tasted since his leaving me, but so well, or much acquainted with these, as I think joy, or they would be distasteful to me. Be not of that opinion (said Pamphilia), but think how to embrace him with the former affection, and love as you were wont; love him and forget what is past, remember it not so much as to question it, wrap up the former crosses and misfortunes all in a sheet of forgiveness, and drown them in the Sea of your patience, and renewed love, smile on him and his repentance as on his love, and first suit, welcome his return as his first profession, and embrace his second love in the arms of your truest and dearest thoughts, as you did his vows, and loving protestations; be resolute to forget, and in forgiving, receive him a new man yet the same lover he was when perfectest. If his perfections were not blotted with change (said the Nymph) I could do them, for in troth Madam, my heart and soul rejoiceth when I think, or hear of him; therefore I fear I cannot refuse, which is the cause I pray daily to hold me out of his sight, since I cannot see him, but to my deadly torment in another's possession, then how may I hope to see him return, I find no possibility to enjoy, or hope for it.  
Trust me (said the Queen) he is recanting, and ere long you will see it, but be careful in accepting, lest the others importunity, and your slackness mar not all again. Then did the Queen tell her all that had passed between her, the Emperor and the Shepherd, which made her a most joyful woman, and glad beside for his sake, that the Queen took his talk so well, touching her Majesty's self so nearly. Their discourse ended, and Myrasilua having given her word to be kind again, or rather to coutinue so as well in expression to him, as in her heart she still had been, entreated Pamphilia to sup, and accept of such fare, as Foresters had in those Deserts. She gave her many thanks, and went out with her, so they eat, and after the Queen went to bed, desiring to be alone, the freelier to think of her other self; and though she enjoyed not his sight, to see him lively in her soul, where he was engraven by faithful memory.  
O Amphilanthus (said she) why hast thou left thy poor Pamphilia thus, newly raised from death of despair, to the life of hope and happiness, to be cast down lower, than before in misery? My better and dearer self, I know it was not thy meaning to leave me thus soon, nor in this manner. What Devil is risen now to undo, and murder my content? Accursed be this Wood, the Day we went an hunting, the motion to that rude savage exercise, and all appurtenances that brought, or aided to my loss. My sweetest life, how do I perpetually dye in thy absence? My dearest heart, return and restore me, else come to see me die, and close my dying eyes with thy all-conquering conquering, and beloved hands; or if it would grieve thee, yet be content to spare me wishes in thy absence, and live thou as happy, as thou art most worthy. Let these eyes be blessed (if possibly I may ask and obtain such a blessing) with seeing thee again: let me be the fortunate finder of thee, and let me find thy favour still to me, then most luckily and eternally happy search. With these, and many more such passionate words, she spent most time of the night, till being tired, sleep would have his share of the royal Queen, and so she slept, but not long before she started, cried out, O stay, and live with me, follow not her, that loves thee not like me, forsake me not again; Oh stay, with that she stayed her speech, for than she came out of her dream, and seeing it was but a dream, was a little better satisfied, yet so it stuck in her, as the abiding of it so fresh in her thoughts, foretold an extraordinary matter in it. She dreamt, that she had him in her arms, discoursing with him; but he sad, and not speaking, of a sudden rose, and went to the door, where she thought she saw Lucenia calling to him, to whom he went, and down the stairs with her, than took Coach and fled away with her, which made her cry with that haste and loudness, but he went still with Lucenia, never looking towards her, and so she lost sight of them, Coach and all; an odd Omen, considering all that happened afterwards.  
Well, she rose as soon, as day appeared, and taking her leave of that kind Nymph, she took her horse, and went into the Wood, travelling till she came into the Desartest place, and most obscure of that part, riding up and down as well as she could for the thickness of it, she perceived at last upon a white Bone that lay there (which had been of some beast that had been killed, or died there, and the rest consumed, or then away) one drop of blood fresh, and then a little from that more, and so following it, came to a place where there was a pretty quantity, and only the tract of one horse to be seen, she feared, and tracking the blood till she came to a place made round like a Crown of mighty stones, in the midst one greater than all the rest, and on that the Armour of Amphilanthus, his Shield, and Sword, but that was stroke with such force & strength into the stone, and as if run half way in it, as none could stir it, that, and the armour was hacked, and cut in many places, besides all bloody, and the blood as fresh, as if but newly shed, on the other side his horse lay dead, and hard by an infinite and huge Boar slain, yet so terrible to behold, as it almost amazed the beholders, a little from thence a Gentleman of excellent proportion dead also; but the Queen looked on nothing but her Deer Armour and Sword; after she saw the Knight, and knew him not being unarmed, standing as still as the stone, and as unmoveable, till at last she sunk to the ground in a swound; her women helped to unlace her, and her Knights fetched water and such things to bring her to life again, as they could get there. In the mean time came a Knight in gilt armour, and seeing this miserable spectacle, he kneeled dowue by the Queen, and assisted her poor Ladies, whose grief and amazement was such, as they were scarce able to do the service required at their hands. At last she breathed, and then sighed, looked up, cried, O my dear Amphilanthus, I come, I come, than fainted again, and again they fetched her. When she saw she had not power to die, as she hoped, and found herself in the arms of an armed Knight, she said; Sir, I beseech you what authority have you over me in my misery, that you venture to hold me from my resolution? either I pray leave me presently to my own will, or more kindly send me to him, after whom I will not live. What account can I give the world of his loss, whom all the world admired and loved? What will Germany, Italy, and all say of me? what curses lay upon me, and my Country, when they shall know that with me, and in this place they have lost him? Accursed Country, but more accursed woman, for whose sake the Earth's glory and happiness came into it, and here, Oh here is? More she would have said, but her speech and voice faltered. The Knight had pulled off his Helm, and then as passionately weeping and lamenting as they did, he spoke, being known to be Polarchos. Alas Madam (said he) how comes this misfortune, be like yourself, and tell me, that I may, and your other servants redress this wrong as near as we can, and know what is become of that royal man. O Polarchos (said she) how can I look on thee, and say, thy Lord is dead, and so my heart departed. Never let me hear those words, cried he: but where is his body, or how know you he is dead? What can be hoped, for else, said she? see you not his sword that made so many bow, and yield? his arms that served him in so many conflicts, his horse that never failed, while he had life, how can it be otherwise, but he is dead since, what else could separate him from these jewels. Then afresh they lamented and cried; but Pamphilia at last remembered (calling his sweetness, and love as freshly, and affectionately to her sight as if present, but most grievously, because parted) that he was not armed, when he parted from her, that gave a Spring to hope, and made her stay her tears, till she was resolved, which soon she was by Polarchos, who told her, that he having rome up and down the Forest, at last returned to the Tents, where he with the rest of the Officers stayed with their provisions, expecting them to come to rest, and feed on those things they had provided, and so return to the City. But as he came, and lighted, instantly a young fellow like a Forester, came crying, That your Majesty was taken away by thieves, and carried into the thickest part of the Wood, whereupon he armed himself, and speedily took the way he directed him; we with as much speed as we could followed him, but in the Woods we lost sight of him, and all (as if led by several Spirits) are scattered and lost. Lost indeed, said she, we all are, since he is lost, more worth than the whole Earth, and lost by treason, as now it plainly appears; then they fell to their lamentations again, but Polarchos took the Arms, and would have put them up. No, said she, these shall here remain, none being worthy to touch, much less to wear them after him. Then they hung them up, putting in pins of Gold into the great stones, and on every stone hung a piece, enriching that Crown with more rich ornaments (having then the Arms of the most magnanimous Prince of the World) then if the costliest Diamonds had been inchased in them; the Sword they also thought to hang up with his Shield, but Polarchos could no more move that, than Pamphilia; the Scabbard they hung with the Shield, and underwrit some lines, Pamphilia both making them, and engraving them, as shall be told hereafter. Polarchos began to be a little better in hope, when he saw the Sword in that order, trusting it was but some Enchantment, from which he might be delivered, though held some time from them, which was a new grief to think upon. When they were going away, the Queen to lament and mourn, which she vowed during her life to do, and Polarchos to live in some remote place, never to see man nor creature more, the excellentest being gone, they saw out of holes in the stones, smoke, and fire suddenly to fly out with it. Pamphilia adventured, and pulling hard at a ring of iron which appeared, opened the great stone, when a door showed entrance, but within she might see a place like a Hell of flames, and fire, and as if many walking and throwing pieces of men and women up and down the flames, partly burnt, and they still stirring the fire, and more brought in, and the longer she looked, the more she discerned, yet all as in the hell of deceit, at last she saw Musalina sitting in a Chair of Gold, a Crown on her head, and Lucenia holding a sword, which Musalina took in her hand, and before them Amphilanthus was standing, with his heart ripped open, and Pamphilia written in it, Musalina ready with the point of the sword to conclude all, by razing that name out, and so his heart as the wound to perish. fain she would, nay there was no remedy, but she would go in to help him, flames, fire, Hell itself not being frightful enough to keep her from passing through to him; so with as firm, and as hot flames as those she saw, and more bravely and truly burning, she ran into the fire, but presently she was thrown out again in a swound, and the door shut; when she came to herself, cursing her destiny, meaning to attempt again, she saw the stone whole, and where the way into it was, there were these words written.  
FAithfull lovers keep from hence  
None but false ones here can enter:  
This conclusion hath from whence  
Falsehood flows: and such may venture.  
Polarchos attempted likewise, but could only (for being unconstant) pass the flames, but not come within reach of the Emperor, but then was cast out also. The Queen then perceived what this was, and so as sadly as before resolved, she returned to the Court, where more like a religious, than a Court life, she lived some years. Polarchos presently provided long grey Robes, like a Hermit, and on the outside of the Armes-crowned Crown he made a Cell, where he lived daily beholding the Arms, and lamenting for his Lord, kissing the stone wherein he thought he was enclosed, and thus lived he, guarding the Arms of his Lord, till the adventure was concluded.  
The other eleven Princes that came with Amphilanthus into Pamphilia, and were as Polarchos hath told you scattered, and divided in the Desert, it was the fortune of the Prince of Transiluania to come within two days after to the same Lodge, where the Queen had lain with the dainty sad Nymph; but hearing of Pamphilia's being well and safe, only perplexed for the want of Amphilanthus, stayed not, but followed the search of them both, till he came to the seaside, where beholding the waves, and comparing men's fortune to the rising, falling, and breaking of them, he saw a little Boat come towards the land, and in it a fair Damsel, weeping and pitifully complaining. The Prince took great compassion of her, demanding the cause of her sorrow.  
Alas Sir (said she) shall I tell you, and you prove like other Knights, I may well then accuse my forwardness, and pain; but if you will promise to succour my Lady, who is so fair, worthy and great, as will take away the show of my imperfections, perfect in nothing but duty to her, I will then tell you what you ask. Speak fair, and sad Lady (said he) and I vow to serve your Lady, and yourself with my best endeavours, although I must tell you, I am in search of such, as unwillingly I would be diverted, but compassion compels me to serve you. She thanked him, and thus proceeded. Blessed may you, and all your enterprises be, who for a distressed Ladies sake will lay aside your own occasions, and let me know I beseech you, to whom she is thus much engaged. I am (said he) Prince of Transiluania, servant to the Emperor Amphilanthus, from whom I was parted in yonder Desert, and have since sought him, and was yet in the quest of him, and the Queen of this Country, with eleven Princes more his servants, all severed from one another, and seeking each other; God send they may happily meet said she; and you brave, and courteous Prince be for ever happy for your nobleness. The business which urgeth me to demand your help is this, my Lady and Mistress is the Princess of Lycia, only daughter to the King of that Country, next neighbour to this place, so as your stay shall not be very long from your search; with this Lady the Lord of the Mountains called Taurus (an unworthy man, rude, proud, ill-favoured, savage and rough as well in person, as in manners, but wonderful powerful, and mighty of body, means and people) fell in love; she being as delicate, as he abominable, which made her hate him as much, as he sought her, but her father a good Prince, loving peace, would not provoke war, but rather yield her to him.  
This brought the sweet Princess into desperate melancholy, and despair, but a Noble man as well in truth of virtue, as descent and honour to defend her from so much harm, took her into his protection the same day she should have been given to the Mountain Lord, venturing life, honours, and estate to keep her free. This being discerned by the cruel proud man, and her father, the good old King troubled withal, utterly disclaiming any knowledge of it; they raised men to take her back by force, and catch him, who should certainly suffer for such an attempt: but the place is strong, the cause good, and the defence just, and honest, so as none I hope will do other than pity her, and seek to redress her wrongs; this hath continued eight months, and now the King hath sent directly to her, to yield herself into his hands to be bestowed on the fierce Montaltanus, or to be forsaken for ever of him, and disinherited.  
This message was heavily received by the poor Princess, yet she resolved to dye disinherited, and be the poorest in estate, rather than the unhappiest by marriage; wherefore after an humble answer, and dutiful refusal of yielding to be wife to Montaltanus; she demanded one request of her father, which was to let it be lawful for her to send forth in search of some Knight, who would defend her quarrel against him, whom if he overcame, she should be yeeded unto his Majesty, if her Knight got the victory, than she should be free, and inherit what she was borne unto, and this to be performed in two months, and peace in the interim.  
These things were agreed on, and granted with much vainglory on the assured Champions side; then did the Lady send four Damsels abroad, of which number I am one, three are returned without finding any, and now are but three days left of the perfixed time, the Nobleman hath also his pardon granted on the conditions of conquest by the strange Knight, else at the King's dispose. Now Sir, if you please to undertake the quarrel, you shall make an noble brave (but unfortunate) Princess bound unto you, and hers, all your servants. Is the Noble man said the Prince, in whose hands she is, married, or ambitious by his service to obtain her? He is married truly Sir said she, & hath a virtuous Lady to his wife, as forward, & ever was as himself to serve the Princess, and only pitiful respect brought him to venturne upon this danger; I will be their servant answered the Prince, and venture my life to release her and save him: Together they went, she the happiest woman living, in that she thus should serve her Mistress, and the Camp they gained, the night before the expecting time of Combat, he passed by the Camp, and through some part of it, having licence as it was appointed, and agreed on, those that saw him, commended him much, for a brave and personable man, likely, and promising much in him: but when he came to the Castle, the pleasure the Princess, and her friends felt, cannot be expressed, especially in the Lady herself, who imagined at first sight it had been Amphilanthus, and indeed she might easily be deceived, for he some what (and much for his honour) resembled him, but he wanted much of well marked, for he was short of him in stature, more in shape, and colour being blacker, and most in sweetness, and perfect lovelynes, yet this was a very brave Gentleman, his greatest faults being to high an opinion of his own worth, which was lessened by his over valuing of that, which otherwise had been more valued; but this business he undertook, and bravely performed the next day, encountering his enemy in a List, made of purpose between the Camp, and Castle, the Lady being placed by her Kingly Father, in a Throne raised of purpose for them.  
Then entered the great arrogant Mountain Lord, to meet no less a self esteeming Prince, who was mounted on a brave stirring horse, the colors he wore were straw colour, and hair colour: the Caparisons were cut into the shape of leaves, dead the colour showed them, and being set on straw colour cloth of Gold, they seemed as if fallen on sand, and moving with the Air which the horses motions made likely, and so pretty: On his shield he had a dead Tree painted, save in the midst of the naked body, there was as it were one little knot of leaves budding forth, & seeming greenish with a word in his language, which interpreted, was understood that there yet was some hope. These Arms, and furniture were new, which might have distasted the young Lady, but the loss of his Imperial Master coloured that sufficiently.  
The fierce Montaltanus was in blood red, like his cruel disposition: Plume he had none, nor device, saying those were only things proper to Feasts, and young men, who thought more on fashion then business; a great, and much stirring Horse he also had, which well he governed, for a very good Horse man he was, and full of valiant courage. The place, spectators, judges, and themselves ready, the Trumpets sounding, they encountered, in which encounter they showed all that could be required of strength, skill, and rage, yet the last so much governed, as made the best judging eyes say, that showed itself more then dainty, and exquisite cunning would have permitted, running something to the conceit of boisterousnes, but they meant to fight, not to play: Then drew they their swords, after the breaking their staffs, without any advantage on either side, and fiercely fought while one hour lasted, & passed before any advantage was seen, till the Transylvanian casting his eyes on his hope, and Lady, gained so much force, as he struck the proud Mountaner such a blow on his Helm, as he made him stoop to the Earth, and then strake off his head, taking off the Helm, he by the hair which was long, carried it to the Princess, presenting it unto her, which she received with thanks, and so much gratefulness, as in requital, and with consent of her Father, and friends she gave herself to the Conqueror, as the best part of his Conquest, and what he as affectionately, as fortunately embraced; yet love to his Master made him stay but a small time there, though he might thus have been excused, but he was forced to be accompanied in some part of his journey, for he going into the Kingdom of Pamphilia, his new wife and dearest love, would not be denied to go thither with him, most for company, but much to see the admired Queen, so as soon as the King had made the People swear faith unto them, as his successors they departed for Pamphilia,  
Ten yet are left in search of the Emperor, but it was the Bavarian duke's fortune to meet the next Adventure, which was this; having traveled long in the Desert, weary with pain, and fruitless search, he came unto the skirts thereof, which were high Hills towards Lycia, at the bottoms he beheld fair, and pleasant Meadows, and delicate streams running through them, he descended, and coming into them, he found many folks there mowing the grass, and some making it up for their winter provision, showing thriftyer People they were then those that prodigally spent the present time without care of the future. He spoke unto them kindly, and they respectively gave him answer. He demanded if they knew of any strange Knights passing that way; they answered that two in fair Armours, the one blue, flowered with Gold, the other russet and silver, (by which he knew them to be of his companions, the one the Duke of Wirtenberg, the other of Brunswick) passed by in great haste, enquiring after an old man and a young Damsel, who it seemed had done some ill Act, or pretended some against them.  
The Duke courteously thanked them, and so hasted after them, being directed the way they took, he passed till he came to the head of a River, whose sweetness at the beginning could not content itself, but it must wilfully run in Pride, so far till it looseth itself in the Lycian Sea; like such ambitious men as never think they have the full of preferment, by honours, riches, or any other benefit, till they swallow themselves up in the Gulf of merited Death. From this not far off he espied a Town, and a brave Country about, sweet, rich, and every way delicate, called Myra; he road still towards it, coming among dainty Meadows, and fruitful plains, admiring this place, he had a greater cause given him of admiration, for he saw a Pyramede justly before him curiously made, and as richly adorned with rare Trophies belonging to Love, which showed that it was dedicated to that God, but one thing seemed strangest to him, which was a Garland hanging on the one side of it, of flowers dead, & withered, some fallen off, others decayed, following them that were gone before, and under it these lines graven in a piece of Brass.  
Egypts' Pyramids enclose their Kings,  
But this far braver, nobler things;  
Virtue, Beauty, Love, Faith, all here lie  
Kept in Myras Tomb, shut from eye:  
The Phoenix dies to raise another fair,  
Borne of her ashes, to be heir;  
So this sweet Place may claim that right in woe,  
Since here she lies, Heaven willing so.  
The brave Knight beheld it very wishly, conjecturing by it, that it was the Tomb of some famous woman, and that Monument made for her by her servant, which made him lament (though a stranger) for them both; for her, as a loss to those parts, never to be repaired; for him, as never to be relieved having such a loss. Then he called to mind his own fortune which made him light, and laying, or rather throwing himself upon the grass, at the foot of the Pyramede, letting his horse go at his own pleasure, while his Master felt none of that part, groaning out these words, and weeping he delivered them. How fit is this Adventure befallen me to be brought to this place where I may freely, and sadly without interruption breath out my miseries? Unfortunate Peryneus, what is Bavaria, or all the world to thee, having lost thy only delight, and for that which thou didst love them? O thou Mirror of thy time and sex: Dearest Elyna, was thy Spring and young Summer too sweet, and pleasing for us; nay, such as we did not, or could not be worthy of it? was thy tenderness too delicate, or thy delicacy too tender to suffer itself with us: thy exquisite sweetness, such as we like Bees would greedily have sucked, thy daintiness to enrich our pleasures; and therefore fearing we should surfeit, would take away all, lest part might hurt.  
Dearest Elyna, yet though thy goodness was beyond our merit, why wouldst thou for ever leave thy faithful Peryneus, who dies in thy loss, and lives but in thy memory: Then turned he himself on his back, crying out, O Heavens, why did you behold her end without fatall-killing thunder, and all storms that could be thought on, or executed by you? never let such cruelty again be endured, plagues being their companions, noisome smells and dangerous infections; but the greatest plague could come depriving the Earth of her, hath yet brought but this, that with her last breath she sweetened for ever the air, and left the most delicate odour of her most sweet breath to bless the Country, as if of purpose, that all may say, this was Elyna's breath, and we must breathe to her memory.  
My only companion Memory, assist me now, and let me to thee, and with thy help, relate again our loves.  
Thou knowest when, young, wanton and idle, I lived at the Emperor's Court, courting, and oft times received of the not refusing Ladies: Elyna appeared like the happy sign of no more destruction in that kind, for I had before felt pain and pangs of love, but she took away all, giving me life and comfort; for she requited me, nay deserved more than I could give her, so as I remained wanting, but not in want of love faulty. Thou canst with me remember how I loved a Maid belonging to the Empress, fair and fond she was, and so her fortune continued with the latter; but her I left. Thou canst call to mind that a Widow loved me, and I received her affection; for who would deny beauty and kindness? But she was not for me, though for the satisfaction of her fondness I fond ventured danger.  
Thou wilt (it may be) say I was led astray with the liking of a Duchess, wife to a great Duke, I cannot deny that: but both of us must join, and truly say, Elyna came like a fair chaste cloud, and wrapped up my heat in her snowy arms, keeping it only to warm her requiting breast, but hid the bright hot beam from harming her, or making others either warm with delight, or hot with fury for it.  
Sweetest Elyna, my soul's joy is thinking of thee, wert thou not yet unkind a little in leaving me, yet didst thou leave me the worthiest way, and noblest; nothing but death took thee from me, no other thread broke; nor any but that cruel fatal Sister, could have dissevered our twived loves; nor hath death done that, for dying thou didst bequeath thy love to me, and met and equalled by mine own, it remains jointly mixed; not two, but one, and such an one since compounded with them, as now I may boldly say, I hold enclosed in me the richest treasure of love and faith that ever man's breast had, being the glory of both Sexes, hers for worth, mine for humility and loyalty.  
I remember kind Memory, when she told me she feared our loves were discovered to the suspicious Empress, how sweetly and carefully she spoke unto me, wishing my care of myself, but expressing her love in the height of kindness to me, fearing she could not enough let me know both, or fear both without a less love than passion would permit; yet thus she was cleared from suspicion that passion never had more force, nor yet more regular power then in her, She as passionately loving as any, yet with that discretion tempered it, as none so discreetly showed passion.  
She forbade me not speaking to her, coming to her chamber, looking on her, writing to her, (as idle humorous Lovers do) startling at every motion, Love being in them but like Honey kept in the Hives, many stings of trouble to hold one from enjoying: but in her love and care were real, and so used; no less was her fashion noble, kind, and free, then when no suspicion was, not although the Empress took her about the neck, led her to a window which looked on a Terrace, bade her look forth, and tell her who that was who walked with his back towards them; she answering, it was Peryneus. Is he not (said she) the handsomest man you ever saw? Truly (said she) Madam, his mind joined to his person, makes him appear excellent, and such I dare presume your Majesty thinks him to be; she answered nothing, but frowned. Elyna retired, yet never stirred from her former brave carriage to me, love in her (indeed) being most excellent.  
O Elyna, Elyna, what shall I say more, or can say less, and speak truth, but that thou wert living, and dead art the worthiest example of thy Sex. That is enough, & too much said one, who lay on the other side of the Pyramid; for Myra was and is beyond her, take life or death which you will: I will venture both and take the worse, answered he, rather than hear Elyna wronged.  
They both were angry, both vexed: but hasty in choler, took not the hurtfullest, though the readiest way to hurt; for they flew one upon the other with great fierceness, but small harm could ensue, for no weapons they used but their hands, the one having none, the other at first for haste using none, and after finding the others want in honour to his Mistress, would not contend with an unarmed man, not (as he deemed him) worthy to be meddled withal in so noble a quarrel, unless he came like a man to maintain such a business of so great weight; wherefore stepping from him, he thus resolutely spoke to him.  
Unfortunate man (said he) see thy error in double kind made plain unto thee; tell not me of plain showing errors, but rather plainly confess your presumptuous fault, or let us try it out with the sword: Thou art (said Peryneus) unarmed, and yet armed with the greatest insolency in the world, to use these speeches, and venture to call me to account for a truth, while thou must maintain a falsehood in defending thy first foolishly bold words. A sword I have said he, and for other Arms, I have forsworn wearing any; therefore if thou wilt keep on thine do, and I make no doubt but to overthrow thee and thy armed pride together. With that he took down a sword which hung on the same side of the Pyramid, over the place where he lay: the brave Duke would not take any advantage of him; beside, assured that his cause was just, unarmed himself, and so they were going about to conclude the difference with the end of their lives, to sacrifice their bloods to their dearest and only Love's memories.  
But happier for them and the honour of Lovers it fell out; for three delicate Nymphs came by coming from hunting with their bows in their hands, and Quivers at their backs, their apparel green, white buskins and delicate Garlands on their heads; to these two angry Lovers they came, and with sweet persuasions (mixed with threatenings to shoot him that first strake a blow) pacified them, desiring to know the ground of the quarrel, and withal the discourse of their fortunes. They consented to the one, but would not promise the other, which was to be friends till the Stories were ended, lest new dislike in the relations might arise, if none, they would then obey them; if any, the first was the fittest to be answered.  
The Nymphs then to be no cause of dislike commanded them to draw lots who should begin, lest the pre-eminence might be a new stirring. They liked that well, for therein they thought their Mistresses had honour; the chance fell on the defender of the Pyramid, for so he called himself, who began thus.  
Sweet Nymphs, and you Sir, will you be placed to know I am called Alarinus of this Country, this accursed Country, poor beggared Country, having lost all that rich was, worthy or good in it: I was the chief of command herein, but Myra, who commanded all, and all of me; but she gone, I am no more but less than any thing, and now the most miserably overthrown and ruined: She (I say) was sole Lady of this place, which is honoured with her name, and the holding those sacred relics her bones and ashes in her bosom where she is interred. A Lady she was of infinite parts, wanting in nothing but good fortune, which showed much neglectivenesse to her, envying surely her worth, and jealous she should have had her place and ruled the wheel whereon she turned her to the lowest part, and thus it was.  
O thus: can I say thus, and not just then depart? I can and must; yet O unjustly she was thus punished surely for my too great offence. Dear, nay, divinest Myra, thus thy end and my succeeding end did happen, than wrung he his hands, wept and tumbled on the earth, as weary of all life, she being gone, then sitting a little up, his hands upon his knees, and his head hanging down dejected, eyes on the ground, and his tears falling from them, as from two stills, she was, groaned, he, most fair, lovely, and winning, yet won to herself a stayed constancy, which made all but myself lose, or rather want what they sought. She loved (in that all-happy man) myself; to say I loved her, it is too little, all loved her, but I served her: many then envied me. I joyed in her favour (which was my blessing,) and regarded nothing else, poor men; said I, that trouble themselves, labouring for the harmful knowledge of the disdain allotted them, or to hear of me the man that enriched with this heavenly treasure, scorns all other wealth: But the King of Lycia had a Nephew, who would have her whether she would or no; dislike him she did, refuse him with civility and fair language she often did, at last, flatly deny him she did; upon this he laid baits for her, betray her he sought to do, bribe her servants he did, corrupt her counsel he did, gain her women by gifts and promises to work his ends he sought, and did; in conclusion, nothing that was ill, false, and harmful to her, he left undone; but all treachery and wickedness he plotted and did against her, the innocent Dove of virtue: what she propounded to her counsel, he knew by them, what she trusted to her servants, they delivered to him, what she confidently put into her women's hands, they instantly gave him intelligence of, so as she was betrayed like Pigeons, by a flattering Glass enticing them to believe all was for their good, and so she was betrayed. The King of Lycia then came to visit her, taking the occasion as he pretended of being so near her country, which a Progress had brought him to; he was entertained answerable to his mind, and for her estate to give; he brought also with him a delicate fine young Lady his only daughter, whom he put upon Myra, to persuade for her Cousin; but she was young and her judgement though good, and great for her years, which were but small and came short of hers, to whom she was to speak, and whom she should work by her wit and sweetness: but Myras wit was without compare, her judgement solid, and infinite her knowledge, her experience having settled the Monarchy of her excellent parts, so as the Princess did well, but Myra much better. She persuaded prettily, but Myra judicially refused. The King then returned troubled, but not expressing it, his disposition being naturally gentle, and mild, soft and not so much as the hardness of contradiction in him; grieve he would sooner than quarrel, and so went home, his Nephew with him puffed up with malice, scorn, and treachery, that swelled as poison in his breast: but soon did he come again with all his ill about him (wherewith he was filled like a nut with the kernel, no place void so much in him, as where air of virtue might pierce, or be:) She seeing him return vowed to forbid him boldly; but this, as she thought to have done, was before the act came abroad, privately delivered him by his instruments, but her servants, which infinitely harmed her; for he to prevent his banishment, and equal her disgracing him, raised a most detestable slander on her, and how? or by whom? but alas, by me saying she had: Rather (I beseech you) imagine, if you can let any ill imagination enter into your thoughts of so excellent a creature, than put me to rehearse it, or boldly think any ill with this consideration, that it was the root of itself, that the Devil invented it, and then pity her and me, who unjustly suffered, or indeed only her, since she alone deserves pity, being injured, and for one so unworthy, yet to her just: This was none of my least aflictions, since it was the course whereby her fate was governed, leading her to her end, and making me part of the mischief. The State on this imprisoned me, shut her up in her lodgings, suffering no access to her but such as they permitted; he might and would against her will have liberty, this so galled her sweet nature, a stain in reputation, being so terrible to her, as shame to another was not near it, besides knowing my imprisonment: And lastly, seeing how she was and had been betrayed, none being near her that she had not found far from faith to her, overpressed with grief, and grieved with oppression, she writ unto the State, finding means to have it delivered safely, looking often to that end out of her window, and at last seeing a Gentleman, whose faith she thought untouched, threw the letter to him, not commanding but beseeching him to deliver it the nxet Sunday, when the Counsel sat, and not to give it to any one, but to them all, nor to nominate the person so unfortunate that sent it, lest the knowledge of the sender might hinder the reading of it. The Gentleman promised to do it, and with honest care and careful honesty performed it, as she could have wished.  
Much dispute there was about it, the Counsel were divided and several opinions held; the insolent wooer (who would, he said, for all the knowledge of her ill, take her to wife if she would be good and true to him afterwards) was much against the granting her request: but most voices carried it, and her desire was consented to in part, which was, that being accused, and as she protested, falsely and shamefully wronged by slander, none being able to accuse her but by wicked surmises, she might have the law that no ordinary subject was denied, which was that she might be cleared by Combat, that he whosoever it were who would maintain that she was guilty, might be encountered by one whom she should nominate, which was myself: but that was refused, for they said, so it might be but a too honourable concluding of my days who had so injured the State in her dishononr, as no punishment could be sufficient for me; but if she could find one who would defend her, she should have leave to send in search of one, whom, if by the Champion overcome, she should be left to his disposing, and I should be delivered to him, to have what severe punishment he should inflict on me: these were hard conditions; yet she yielded unto them, rather than still remain in the ill opinion of the world, and both of us as prisoners.  
Three Gentlewomen were then sent forth to seek a Knight that would venture in her defence, none in the Country would, either so frighted they were with the strength of the Prince, or doubtful of the cause, he having made it so foul on her side, so as abandoned of her servants, strangers must relieve her, and from such must her good as her hope proceed. The time grew on, half being expired, when one of the women fortunately met the valiant (but proud) King of Celicia, a young man, haughty and ambitious of honour. And who lately died for his ambitions, (said Perineus if I be not deceived) seeking the Star of women, the Queen of Pamphilia for wife.  
It may be so (said Alarinus;) but this was some years before that misfortune could befall him being in the spring of his adventures, the blossoms but appearing, scarce blown, of his valour; or the discovering of it, this being the first great trial of his strength: But is he then dead (said he?) Yes truly said Peryneus, I saw him slain by my Master the Emperor Amphilanthus being in Pamphilia, and in the sight of the Queen whom he much loved, or seemed to do so, but I pray go on. This King coming, and hearing the truth still spread by every good tongue undertook the business, partly for justice, partly for gain of honour. Being arrived at the Court, the insolent wretch, the robber of my Lady's honour, and my bliss; made little account openly of him, though I understood afterwards he wished any other of those parts had undertaken the quarrel, and indeed he had reason, for he was a brave Gentleman for strength, valour, and all things required in a Prince, no fault in him but that he had too much, for his pride might have been spared.  
The day was appointed, and the two Combatants came forth, my Lady and Mistress was in a strong Tower placed only to see, myself right over against her, able to see, but not discern her perfectly, though such were our loves, as our eyes pierced further than any others could have done, so as we saw each other, and clearly discerned our miseries with open eyes to misfortune; the Combat began between them, while imprisonments, our eyes beheld each other as greedily, and earnestly the continual Combat endured in our hearts against our unjust as those did, who contended for victory: we striving but to give expression her due. I saw me thought in her imprisonment, Unjustice, Wrong, Injury, Slander; nay, all wickedness, and so I called them all by their names, and reviled them, but what answer had I? Wickedness is strong, and hath a more powerful command in this age, than honesty, or worth.  
O me cried I, must I live, and only hope that this man shall give us life, or shameful death? her honour already is dead, killed by that, yet living, Villain, whose death can never re-give life or recovery to that murdered honour.  
O dear Honour, how nice art thou, and precious, yet how soon harmed? Like the daintiest skins soon Sunne-burnd: Shall these Locks, cried I, combat for such a jewel? Can she not, or may she not live without these rude helps? Must her sacred virtue be tried like other questionable, or, she be named as if in a Romancy, that relates of Knights, and distressed Damosels, the sad Adventures? O Myra, thou art, and wert ever without compare, wherefore should thy honour be called on, but for Honour's sake, thy dear breast being the richest tabernacle for it? but what availed this? Alas nothing, I might sigh, and grieve, they fight, and bleed, but what of all? all came at last to one end, the Villain was killed by the brave King, but my Lady died also, for such a device they had, as the battle being hard and questionable who should have the victory: the King fell, but soon recovered, at which instant it seemed that I threw myself out of the window, which was high, and the Ditch infinite deep into which I was to fall, so as no hope could be of escaping for any that fell there.  
Myra might, and did see it, but as most it concerned her, so did it work in her, for she instantly withdrew herself from the window, threw herself upon her bed, ctyed out only against misfortune, and so broke her heart, and died, her last words being, yet though honour, and life be lost, I die just, and truly thine, my only dear Ala-: and this Ala: was all, for all my name she spoke, death either then wholly possessing her, or she desirous still to hold me near her, kept that last part in her, for her to end with, and me to live by; yet truly had I like to have gone with her, with her (though asunder) I may say, for our soul's united had gone together: but alas, I was not so happy, though had I had a spirit like hers, or weapons suffered me, I had soon overtaken her, or came to her as her soul parted, but I was hindered, and she had all my powerful spirit, the show of my falling, and the truth of her death, was thus.  
The Villain had dressed me, and a stuffd-man-like thing in suits alike, his intent being this, (and such was the performance in some kind though too hasty they were) that if the King overcame, I should be thrown down, if the other, the counterfeit piece should be cast forth, that all hope being taken from her she might the sooner yield to him: but the Executioners seeing the King down, threw out the framed Alarinus, which brought as much mischief as all ill could do, for she seeing it, imagining it to be me, died, and left all misery to dwell with us, especially in me. I fell from the window in a swoon, thinking the day lost, they heeded not any thing more, but confident of the Champion's victory, tended me, striving to save me to this misery.  
The doors within a little while after were opened, and I fetched forth to death, I thought, but so it happened not, nor near so much good befell me, for I no sooner saw liberty with the King who came for me, but I met the cruelest of deaths encountering her death. O Myra, my best, and last Love, thy memory lives in me, and I live but to remember thee; now let me know, if so much love, so much misfortune, chastity, and dear true Love rested in your Mistress, else I must not yield?  
He than twined his hands one in another, wrung them, and sighing wept, then lay down on his side, leaning his elbow on the ground, and his face on his hand, when the Bavarian followed thus. Love (I confess) you have had plentifully showed unto you; yet as grief is felt but by one's self, none being able to compare with the knowledge, unless he felt the equal weight: no more can I yet see, but that my loss is the greater.  
Myself am called Peryneus Duke of Bavaria, but vassal to misfortune, my Lady was called Elina daughter to the Duke of Saxony that now is, brother in law to the Emperor that then was, she was brought up with the Empress, and there I fell in love with her, she as much did affect me, although at that time there were three of us fiercely wooing her, the other two were the Dukes of Brunswick, and Wertenberg, the one infinite rich, but as poor in natural perfections, for he is weak in judgement and discourse, else fair and white.  
The other as lovely as a man can be, or indeed, a woman for delicate clearness, and sweetness, but wanting in estate as the other in wisdom. Myself the third, and such as you see gained the love from the other two, and the hate of the one while she was living, now he useth me well, but so she had been still, would I had still been hated. My ill fortune it was also that the Empress liked me, she was not so true a wise as Ulysses had, but yet she was, and had a brave Woman, and beloved of many, she nobly requiting most, for gratitude is a great matter in Lovers.  
This sweet Bird of beauty, and virtue, Elyna, saw the Empress' Love, as clearly as her own could make it transparent, through which she saw likewise sorrow, and was sad, as despairing; I having that countenance as carefully beholding her, as her love cared for me; I feared she loved I saw she loved, and grieved because she loved; For O me, I durst not think it was myself: the King of the Romans then, now my Lord the Emperor, (after his receiving that Title, for overthrowing the usurping Duke of Sax; in whose place and to whose honour, and estate, my Lady's Father, by the Emperors and Princes favours succeeded) came to Prage where the Court was; to entertain him all triumphs were provided, none thought enough to welcome him who had saved the Empire from ruin. Sports of Field were most in use, the King most affecting them, at those exercises I was one, and then called the servant to the Duchess, she pleased to honour me with a favour, but the greatest honour was, that she sent it by Elina, who coming into the Chamber of Presence, having laid it on her Farthingale, I approached like the rest, but above all others in affection, to her, she that day honoured me more than usually, we was wont, turning from the rest and looking on me, bashfully for fear of them, sadly because employed against herself as for another, sweetly, but slowly bringing forth these words.  
I am said she (O dearest she) entreated by many to give favours this day, but my Lord I am determined to deny all, because not able to content all, yet to you who have not asked, I must present this Scarf, giving me a marvelous rich one of Crimson Tafaty, embroidered with gold, silver, and dainty coloured Silks, even to the height of richness, and delicacy, but the delicatest delicacy was, that she presented it me. I kissed my hand to take it, and kissed that part where she had touched it, blush I did, and tremble with joy, and wonder, till she looking on me; my Lord (said she) are you amazed, me thinks you should know the Sender, this she spoke so low, as none but I heard it, and I was sorry I then had hearing, rather would I have been deceived, and thought graced by her, then assuredly honoured by the Duchess, I bowed low unto her, saying, I had been richer in content if she had given me a Shooe-string of hers. She started, smiled, and with her eyes kindly showed, she liked my words, but gave no answer; so I departed, and with the rest of the Court performed what was expected of us: oft times, I confess, I looked up to to the window were she stood, and thence took spirit, and hope grew then, and still increased when I saw she entertained, and not rejected my humble affection.  
Thus were we fortunate, but how much longer can that word last than it is spoken? Alas, no longer, for no sooner were we truly assured of what our souls called bliss, enjoying hearts wishes in loves happy remembrance, that yet said, this is, and was, when (miserable Fate) her Aunt discerned it, wearing quickly than glass eyes to make every moat seem thousands, and so in a solid body appear beams to her mistrust, stumbling on all occasions that might be harmful to us. Elyna then grew sickly, what with grief, and this jealousy, faint and weak, unable to suffer both the weights of love and suspicion; the former the Empress took to be the cause, and so told her walking in a Garden, and through a hedge spying me, told her, who was saying, she must take physic, There is the Physician (said she) that best can cure you. The sweetest soul blushed, guiltiness and fear (seeing her stern looks) moving her blood.  
Her Majesty seeing that, still built upon the first ground, and so suddenly in a fret flung out of the Garden. I attented Elyna into her Lodgings, where she related this. I was sorry, and glad at one instant, for still this increased assurance of my happiness, but being for her trouble, I was grieved. The Empress then disgraced her; and used her with that scorn, as her hart, greatness, and freeness could not suffer: But what could she do? remedy she had none, her Father demanded the cause, troubled that she had lost her Mistress' ravour, she could not give him account without infinite wrong to both; the Empress being besought by her friends, who all took notice of her fall, could gain but what the rest had that she was offended, and justly, but the cause none should know. At last to some Ladies, who were mortal enemies to Elyna, and her house, she said, that the cause was such, as out of love to the honour of her Family and Blood, she was sorry, and unwilling to tell it, although her own baseness merited no other, then publishing for it; for would you think it (said she) all her pride, haughtiness, scorn of Lovers, disdain of Dukes and Princes, despising any estate of a less man than a King, thinking herself worthy of the Emperor's successor; all these (I say) are fallen, and how fallen? not slipped, or leaned aside, or cracked, that hope might be of mending, but quite sunk under the base burden of love, or lust rather; and of whom? no better, nor other, then Tolmulundus my Gentleman Vsher.  
They (though hating Elyna) not loving the Empress, believed her not nor could have so mean a conceit of her, whose worth had increased their dislike, joined with the succession of their Spleenitike passions, answered (as after we came to knowledge) prettily well for her: but this madded the Empress, when she saw that friends and enemies, and all were for Elyna, who when she heard by these Ladies, who instantly acquainted her with all, either for hate to her, or her Mistress, she was afflicted with this more, then with any thing, crying out, O devilish fortune, cannot my misery be sufficient to glut her withal, but my honour must be her prey? Well, yet your Majesty is happy that I know the true reason, and that so much I love the Bavarian Duke, whose safety I prefer above all other fortunes, as I will perish thus in silence rather than to speak to your ruin, which is in my hands to draw on you, since so I might harm him. Was not this an expression of true love? What greater, since what greater wrong can be, then for a great Lady to be Slandered, and by so base a villainy, and so much untruth? honour is to noble herbs esteemed beyond life, so it was by her, who dearest of all to me held that so precious, as the touch of it strake so deep into her, as the biting of a Viper, taking away all hope of recovery by present fainting, or safety to return to her: for women's honours especially theirs most admired (the admiration working against itself) are so nice to be touched, as they are like little Sluices, that but opened, let in Rivers, and Oceans of discourses, and so blots never to be salved any more than a Flood can be withstood, or turned back. This she apprehended, and this molested her; yet (said she to me) my Lord, all these in this kind are comforts and joys to me, since for you I suffer, rather choosing, as she protested, injury for me, than fame without me; and that which only vexed her was, that she did not rightly accuse her, and say, it was I she loved; that (said she) had been honour, this shame.  
At last she obtained leave to leave the Court, and so retired; but than though free, and bravely living, yet this was a corrosive to her: many came to her at first, but the report blown abroad of her love to me, made all give over suing; yet a young Count of Germany (and a true German he was in face and fashion) would needs make himself believe he loved her, and her, that he desired her, but he spake not, and she would not understand his signs. He would gaze on her, have fits of sigh, and almost swoundings before her, she would like a charitable creature gave him Cordials, but the true Cordial Love she only gave to me. Poor man, would she say, what doth make him cozen and hurt himself, to trouble me? At last she told a tale before him of himself, his wooing so dully, her scorn, and affection to another, all in the third parsons, but so plainly and finely, as he left her to her pleasures.  
The Empress, whose malice grew as her heart, filled with rancour for being left by me, for her, who was more loathsome than plagues to her, then to think upon, since the robber of her choice, hearing how finely she lived, envied that, because she was contented, plotted all she could; & at last she told the Duke her father of the love between us: he enraged, knowing we could not marry, I being contracted in my youth to another, flew into such fury, as he made the whole Court ring of the noise of his dislike, and the injury he thought he received, and his whole Family, by her dishonouring herself and him; this which he called dishonour being his own indeed, because he blazed that, which was not but by his own bawling thought on, never committed. A foul bustle he kept, and shrewdly threatened me behind my back: but I went to him, and satisfied him so far, as we parted friends, and he grew to his old good opinion of her; yet he advised, playing then the Counsellor, as before the Champion, that I should refrain my often coming to her; which to please him I did, because I saw my Elyna desired, her father should be pleased, but alas not in that kind, for my absence grieved her, and molested me; she pined with love and grief, grew pale and weak, I lamented for it; but so far it grew, as she fell sick: I cherished her, she took it so; I watched with her, she was glad of it, as loving to enjoy me; I never left her, till life left her, which by a cruel Fever deprived her dainty body of her daintier breath, which was the richest treasure, and which for my joy then; but eternal sorrow now she breathed into me, I kissing her as she departed, giving me that, and her love for the most incomparable Legacy that any man can or could receive; thus, thus she died, and thus yet doth she live in me, I breathe her breath, I love her love, I live but for her sake, and I hope shall ere long die to serve her, and go to her. Then he threw himself flat on the ground, the other looking on him, rose, and lay down by him, took him in his arms, and said, Never let strife be between us, whose fortunes so near concur, none can be nearer, nor none so like, unless it could be that Elyna and Myra were but one woman, and you and I one man: we are both equally unfortunate in loss, they equal in perfections, yours only something more happy in a quieter death, and dying in your arms, mine in a speedier end; thus the difference none, let no difference be betwixt us. I am as ready to embrace this, as you have been to urge it (said Peryneus), none liker Patience of misfortune, none fitter to agree together; wail you your worthy chaste Myra, I will lament my chaste and worthy Elyna; sigh you, I'll do so, complain, I'll answer you, and both conclude as the Period, Never lived worthier creatures, never unhappier souls outlived worth. Thus they embraced, thus twined, past some time, and after lived together, attending the Piramede, where twice every year funeral solemnities were done by them: after the first year the Bavarian returned home, and there lived in sorrow, never marrying, but still loving his loved Love's memory.  
The Nymphs returned, glad of the peace and agreement, while the two Knights (the people spoke of in fair armours) went on in the search, being (as Peryneus guessed) the Dukes of Werttenberg, & Brunswick, who had this accident to bring them into that Country and enquiry. They, as the other Princes, did seek the Emperor, and the Queen, and fortunately for the one, the Duke of Brunswick, such a youth as Peryneus described him, in a Castle in the Desert, being there received civilly by the Lord and Lady of that place, the Lord a very old man, the Lady of middle age; he having married her when he was aged, and she young, had one daughter then about fourteen years, able to hear of Cupid, though not (it may be) experienced by wound of his force. This young innocent Maid never having understood any thing in that kind of making love offered her, nor knowing how to deny, when so kind an offer was made, as profession of being a servant, and but desiring her favour, not understanding what such a favour as a Lover asketh, meant, when the Duke courted her, kissed her hands, vowed his service, flattered her innocent ears with fair beguiling words, when his face could not but invite liking, his smiles won yielding, his body though low and thick, his speech was sweet, and being little, like itself, little troublesome but more pleasing, than the more kinder Youths she had ever heard: want of wit was covered with being a Duke, greatness being much with many women; his face it is certain was blush-burnt, but his words delightful, his countenance mild, his fashion, protestations, amorous entertainment, gentle, dainty, winning; so as one may say in him, the want in his brains were repaid, by the goodness and gentleness of his fashion, and spirit. Pretty honest he was, something valiant, above most merry, and the pleasing company that might be, true in a kind to his friend (a reasonable virtue), loyal to his Prince, courteous to his Blood, and beloved for these little parts of all that knew him, so as his outward beauty and these qualities, being enriched with a smooth flattering way of loving women, made him gain well.  
These I cannot say out of judgement in her, won her, but by fate it fell on her at first, and after she used his virtues but for a mask for her liking him, or an excuse for her choice, when it should have been a commendations to her understanding, to find so much in the inward part, as to oversee the ordinary way for women's love, which is outward beauty, and that in some measure he had, that being joined with delicate apparel, being the most usual attractive powers to their affections, as if rather they would love Pictures, than the wisest or worthiest man in old clothes, or ill made; Ruffs and Bands being more to a fair Lady, than valour or learning, the one accounted poor and heavy, the other boisterous and troublesome, neat suits better than hacked (though by that) rich armours. O the ignorance of women, or rather the misfortune of such misunderstanding women; for of that delicate sex there are excellent creatures, and among those, many Pictures, good Pieces, and in truth this was a pretty one, who willingly, and (alas) gladly received the Duke's suit, smiled on his blushing looks, yet as fair as he could make them: for borne bashful, he could not find love powerful enough to warrant his face with boldness, though to crown it with obedience.  
He finding her coming, how did he leap like a wanton into the River of joy, swimming, and so embracing comfort in his arms, yet wanting the chief part, let slip the flattering hope; again yet taking the streams in his arms, and striking forward to his ends. Alas what needed this? she was won, he only wanted opportunity, will and consent failed not, which he finding also, found this means to compass it. The Duke of Wertenberg was lodged so, as his chamber looked into the Garden, which was betwixt his Chamber and hers, the windows opposite, and so cross, as they were so far asunder, as they could not do any more, then see one another, neither perfectly discern looks or smiles, nor let speech make their ears beneficial to them; but lovers will make benefit of small things, so did they of this: for here (he gaining the help of his friend to the good he sought) he brought this profit to his love.  
The Duke of Wertenberg was a brave Gentleman, but sometimes sickly, so as he used to lie warmer in his bed, and wear such things as appeared a little woman-like, and withal, something curious he was in his Chamber, which not exceeding the limits that became himself, he was never blamed for it, but now it brought him praise, because it served his friend, who thus procured his ends. The weather hot, evenings' fair, & night's light by the Moon's aid, he persuaded his companion to put on his Waistcoat, and night-wearing, and walk into the garden, having a fair Mantle on his body, he not so much higher than the Page which waited on the Duke, who was a young man, or great boy, took his garment, which was a Horsemans' coat of cloth, guarded with Velvet, that those who might by chance else see them, might think they meant not to be seen, but walked there to pass the evening. Admirably he played on the Lute, and carried one of purpose with him, his Cap he wore low over his face, and came softly and passionately as lovers do, and might appear, because otherwise they must have been discovered: the Duke of Wertenberg acted his part extremely well, for going, playing, and singing: and well he might, for often he had loved; being cross the Garden, and almost under her window, he spoke in great passion these words.  
Unhappy man, loving unloved, serving unregarded, affecting without help, honouring without esteem, and smarting unpitied: Turn your favourable eyes O Heavens on me, and you fair Moon, who it is said govern women, and persuade, command not (for she must ever rule) my cruel Mistress to think on me, requite me I seek not, but chastely as you do, and as fairly, and kindly smile on me: I beg this of you, nor ask but what your cold brightness, and chaste coldness may grant me; alas you frown, and pull a scarfie Cloud over your divine face to hide your favour from me, and show your displeasure to me, What shall I do wretch that I am? all powers earthly have denied me succour, and now the Heavens refuse me countenance? nothing is left me but despair, and thou poor Lute, touched on then speak unto me, and let thy music speak to her, and hold me if possible, so long in quiet, as attention may make a respite from sorrow, as admiring a change of times, not fortune, for to that I must return.  
The Lover-boy-like Duke, gave him again his Lute, for he carried it when he played not, and being close under the window that he could not be seen, but perfectly heard, he played, and so rarely as might justly have brought ears, and they loving ears unto the player, but here there did want little drawing her, who was run before to the window, having heard the door open, and her heart withal, which told her he was coming, for none else could come but themselves, or other, but her soul told who; some were with her, else she had come down; impatient she was, yet a little doubtful, and therefore a little more troubled, but the rest young as she was, made the good motion to open the windows and see who these were, she soon yielded to to that, and not only opened them, but threw them from her: upon that noise the Lord and his supposed servant appeared; the Duke of Wertenberg demanding pardon, the other only coming so far as to see her, who put her self so clean out of the casement as she might easily see him, and be sure of him, and none else descry them.  
She then graciously granted the Duke's demand of pardon, but on these conditions, that he or his servant should play again, and sing said she if please you. She desired but what was granted, an other Lady standing lower, and looking out of the other Casement, so much liked, and looked on Dorrileus of Wertenberg, as she was surprised with his Love: the Lady loved not her servant so much, as she did equal in fierceness, or exceed in her flames, so as he stood as but the train to fire, and blew up the strength of her heart with every look, or word he gave. The other amorous Duke seeing this came well on, able to play and sing also, like a Duke helped by Art, sung these verses in manner or imitation of Saphiks.  

IF a clear fountain still keeping a sad course,  
Weep out her sorrows in drops, which like tears fall;  
Marvel not if I lament my misfortune,  
brought to the same call.   

Who thought such fair eyes could shine, and dissemble?  
Who thought such sweet breath could poison love's shame?  
Who thought those chaste ears could so be defiled?  
hers be the sole blame.   

While love deserved love, of mine ctill she failed not,  
Fool I to love still where mine was neglected,  
Yet faith, and honour, both of me claimed it,  
although rejected.   

Oft have I heard her vow, never sweet quiet  
Could once possess her while that I was else where,  
But words were breath then, and as breathe they wasted  
into a lost Air.   

So soon is love lost, not in heart imprinted,  
Silly I, knew not the false power of changing,  
Love I expected, yet (ah) was deceived,  
more her fond ranging.   

Infant Love tied me not to mistrust change,  
Vows kept me fearless, yet all those were broken:  
Love, faith, and friendship by her are dissolved,  
suffered unspoken.   
The young Lady was now directly lost, and so gone as she hated her patience, for not throwing herself out of the winddow to him. They finding this, lost not the means offered them, wherefore the Duke of Wertenberg moved to her the sweetness of the air, the delicacy of the place, the temperateness of the weather, the brightness of the night, and all, and more than needed to entice her down, so as willing of herself, and annimated by her companion she went with her, none else offering to stir, but promising to attend their return. Being come into the Garden they saluted the Duke of Wertenberg, he talking a little while with her, then falling into discourse of Music, she turned to the youth who they said by reason of a sickness he lately had, was forced to keep on his Cap, commonly for fear of cold, yet he stirred it a little before his face, she on a less matter might have blinded her friend, who was already struck blind with love, so as she let her assosiate and Cousin (as she was) do what she would, and use her discretion, she would take her time, and no sooner did her love turn towards her, but she took that turn as to her, and as powder takes fire, burnt, and flashed wtih haste unto his receuing: skipping, to his looks, and words like the jacks in Virginals touched with the keys; and such sudden and ready sound did she give, answering so soon, as some would have thought they had agreed before of their speech, and repeated but too hastily. After some such passages, he said that they had commended his servant so much, as he wished he could play, and sing like him, since so well pleasing. Alas my Lord said she, I liked you best, and yet what need you wish for more winning powers, since thus you conquer where you come? He understood her, and his friends, so as he took her hand, & walked with her into a fair Arbour: not unwillingly she went with him, who though a Lover, he was not so dally constant, but in absence he could gratify fair Ladies whose kindness demanded it, yet retain himself firm in his choice to love, and to be kind again if she pleased; and thus he was the perfectest lover, who loved love, and for love's sake served and saved love from hurt, thus truly was he a true lover, reserving still thus much for his only Mistress, as when he was most contented with them he still thought on her, and wished her in their place, so was he mindful of her without exception, affectionate without measure and kind to them for her remembrance sake.  
What the other two did I leave to consideration, for to express two such passages would tire you, but this I may say, they were till morning almost together, they met the next night again, and all were well pleased, and sighed no more but for parting which soon happened, for what happy estate in love hath any abiding? As the first night seemed bright, and delicate, this alas had all the clouds of dislike upon it; That gave not their hearts so much pleasure; as this did dolorous complaints, That had not sweet disguise in it to give testimony of love; but this had open show of blackest, and grievousest sorrow; They embraced not with such greediness, as now with terror of never meeting more; They met not the sharp edges of desire with more delight, than now with affectionated torment; and these alas were their fortunes, and this their sufferings. Dorileus yet bore it like such a lover as he was, not more loving than he needs must, nor caring more than would please himself, nor grieving in all his life so much, or little as might hurt him, yet as one of that number he sighed, and said, he wished to stay still there, but his there, was every where, if he found handsome women, and kind entertainment, he removed not, but to such like pastures, so as he but (as one might say) dined, and supped at several places, but lay still at his own home of change, a pleasant bed no question where several delights embraced, and lulled his wanton appetite in the soft Cradle, or arms of variety; his friend was so much more troubled than he, by that he used to do all things seriously, love seriously, grieve as seriously, and change as often, and seriously; earnest in that he was doing, and no more constant than others, and in his inconstancy none so serious. At his parting (disguises after the first night laid aside) he presented his Lady with a Sonnet of his own, he said, but the truth is his friend made it for him, and so was his Secretary justly; She liked it, and admired it, after his going, singing it continually to please herself, it was thus.  

THat which to some their wishes ends present,  
Is counted day, which former crosses mend,  
Yet nightlike day my blessings do prevent,  
And brings that loss, whereto my mischiefs tend.   

By day's approach, alas, that light doth end,  
Which is the only light of my content,  
And more I see, day strive her light to lend  
The darker am I, by sad parting rent.   

Like one long kept in prison, brought to light;  
But for his end, condemned ne'er to be  
Freed from his Dungeon, till that wretched he,  
Conclude his living with his latest sight.   

So now with grief, doth day appear to me,  
And Oh! too early since we parting see.   
This she sang, and even ware it out of breath with singing, kissed the original Copy because in his own hand, and never thought it near enough, nor ever dearer was a paper to a Lover: great pity it was not his own work, but as it was, it was liker a Lover's present, counterfeit as his vows, & protestations, yet true beguilers of welbeleeving women, who were happier to be Heretics, than such believers. Thus wit, and well followed courting, gained his desires, who with his friend having taken leave of the Lord, and all the house traveled their way on in their search, till one day in a small valley between two little Hills, they met an old man, and and a young Damsel (as she seemed) together, he riding on a Mule, she on a fine Palfrey, but so fine her Beast was, and so disloyal his Mule to their haste, as they both tired, and went no faster than as he beat one, and the other for fear of that example, (a curious, at least profitable observation) nodded on, so as with the most melancholy, but discreet pace that Creatures, not rasionall, could use, they came (like one against the wind) towards these Princes; who beholding them were pleased, yet troubled like courteous Knights, for their ill haps were purposed to demand of them when they met, the cause of their mischances, but in the mean time he might hear them sing, though like Swans before their ends, for so was this end of their journey, or their horses ends, being they could go no farther; the manner of their Song was as odd as their adventure, singing Dialoguewise as if agreed, yet contrary to the one's wishes, the Woman began, at lest to their hear thus.  

Wo. FOnd aged man, why do you on me gaze,  
Knowing my answer? resolution take  
Follow not fond in an unusd Maze  
As if impossibilities to shake.  
For know I hate you still, and your poor love  
Can me as soon as Rocks to pity move.   

Man. Alas my dearest soul, too long I knew  
I loved in vain, your scorn I felt likewise,  
Your hate I saw; yet must I still pursue  
Your fairest sight, though you do me despise;  
For love is blind, and though I aged be,  
I can nor part from it, nor it from me.   

Wo. What blame dost thou deserve, if thou wilt still  
Follow my hate, who will not breathe to change,  
And strive to gain as if from scorn, or ill  
Loving disdain as Iuels rich, and strange:  
Or canst thou vainly hope thy wailing cries  
Can move a pity? no let this suffice.   

Man. pity, alas I ne'er could look to see  
So much good hap; yet Deer be not to cruel,  
Though you thus young hate aged love in me,  
My love hath youth, or you shall see love's fuel  
Deserving your reward, than not deny,  
Let me now see those eyes kind, or I die.   

Wo. These eyes of mine thou never shalt behold,  
If clouds of true disdain may dim desire,  
They shall as black be as thy faults are bold,  
Demanding what's unfit: a poor old fire  
Wasted like Triumphs, sparkles only live,  
And troubled rise from embers which outlive.   

Man. I do confess a boldness 'tis in me  
Ought to resist, if your sweet self command;  
Yet blind me needs you must, for if I see,  
Mine eyes must rest on you, and gazing stand:  
Heaven not forbids the bacest worm her way,  
Hide that dear beauty, I must needs decay.   

Wo. My beauty I will hide, mine eyes put out,  
Rather than be perplexed with thy sight,  
A mischief certain worse is, than a doubt,  
Such is thy sight, thy absence my delight;  
Yet mine the ill, since now with thee I stay.  
Tired with all misfortune cannot stray.   

Man. Thy beauty hide? O no, still cruel live  
To me most hapless; dim not that bright light  
Which to this Earth all lights and beauties give.  
Let me not cause for ever darkest night,  
No, no, blessed be those eyes and fairest face,  
Lights of my soul, and guides to all true grace.   

My sweet commanderesse shall I yet obey  
And leave you here alas unguarded? shall  
I not then for sorrow ever stray  
From quiet peace, or hope, and with cursed thrall  
Sat down and end? yet if you say I must  
Here will I bide in banishment accursed:  
While you pass on as cruel, happy still  
That none else triumph may upon mine ill.   
When they had concluded, she fell into an extreme laughter, saying, we have indeed need to neglect, and I take the authority of banishing you, while our beasts are so beastly natural, as to love one another's conversation so well, as not to be willing to part, so as though tired with your suit, and wearied with the noise of your love, yet I must by a tired beasts fault, longer remain to weary myself withal.  
I know not (said he) whether I shall thank your beast now, or no, since against your will I have this favour; but I see, I may chide, and blame mine justly, whose lazy or unfortunate body keeps me here to offend you. I see not (said the young Duke of Wirtenberg) why you should be uncontent with being still together, since I never saw in contrariety so much agreement.  
We have these two years lived thus (said the old man, and for all I see, must wear out more time in wrangling. The Lady seemed wondrous strange, and would scarce look on them outwardly; yet she leared vildly under her Hat at the smug Youth, she thought his dainty round, pretty mouth deserved kisses; and when he spoke, imagined they parted but to procure kisses, and so they did, for they kissed kindly at return to meeting. She was fair, and as wanton as beautiful, and as beautiful as would entice most to her wantonness; she was in fashion as chaste, as in mind and body lascivious, and lascivious as a wicked soul could be in a damnable body, so as a rare example, she was of the worst kind of an ill woman: dissembling excellent in, crafty beyond measure, false beyond expression, and what not, that might make a woman change nature with a beast: Another man's wife she was, yet a wife, or worse to all men that would, hunting after them as Nimrod did after Dear, and more dear were they to her, and indeed, to many of them, when they paid for their courtesies, or ambition to meddle with such a creature, who was not only great in birth, but as great in ill. This disguise she had put on to try Adventures, not being any otherways known, then to be a frank Gentlewoman: this old man she had with her, had been her servant, made elder by her service then his years called him unto, and so much hers, as she made him an instrument to bring in others to her service. Natious she had known many, yet not so many as she desired, wherefore she would yet travel a little farther, and learn, though not by experience, yet familiar knowledge, her worst ends. Lord how she smircked on the young sweet Youth, but he in whom before belief of favour sprang, would yet not show to love if not moved handsomely to it, so he saw it not, or regarded it not, but Clauterino more heeded her eyes, and as them his own fickle mind, which soon thought she was worth winning to his purpose which was but for discourse, and never held Constancy in absence worth observation, wherefore he began to compliment with her.  
She (rather than miss both, would take either,) acccepted of his favour, and after some business of his entreaty, and her modest-like bashfulness, she told her story thus: shaking her head like a bough in a storm of wind, or nodding like and old wife sleeping in an afternoon, licking her lips, and glaring like a Cat in the dark: Sir said she, alas what shall I say? I am as you see a woman, but as I know an unfortunate one; I was married by my own consent, though little knowledge of my friends, to a young Gentleman I chose for love, but little I found in him since, so as I fear he had only the face of Venus, but not the affections, much business I had to get him, and great ones used in it for my sake, and some whom I could for all my love to him, have wished they would a while have kept me, rather than given me away, yet willingly for one end or other I studied to gain, and got him, but alas it proved the beginning of the marriage between Ifis, and Inath.  
He was a Youth, 'tis true, and not a man (for which I married him) but this was my Destiny: which finding, and the want of what I hoped for, I complained, and justly I think; some of my own Sex spoke loudly of me for it, but were it their cases, I assure myself they would do as I did, but this was my ill, and hereupon I seeing my friends (what with matching without their consents, and since taking this course) leave me. I undertook a journey into Pamphilia, where it is said, there is a water, that will recover all diseases, ease all griefs, especially take away all melancholies; I chose a Troop fit for me; but I met some few days, since an unruly consort, who moved with my beauty, as they pleased to call this poor part of me, would needs have that, and all; but my men defended me so well, as they left me not but for death, and in death, so as I could not blame, but only pity them; there remained none of them neither but this old man, who loving more than having reason for, undertook to ride with me to the next City, where I mean to provide myself of company; and in truth I must needs say of the poor man, he hath carried himself honestly, but foolishly loveth me, who cannot requite him.  
So it seemed by your Dialogue (answered the Dukes: but (said the Brunswick Duke) though you love not him, you may in time, and by desert, like another. That is not forbid me (said she.)  
While they were thus discoursing, came another Damsel riding fast, and looking with as much haste, who indeed needed succour. The Duke of Wirtenberg seeing her, demanded what she so earnestly and speedily sought.  
Help Sir (said she) a thing we may all want, and I at this present stand in great need of. What troubles you, said he? The life of a Villain that seeks my dishonour. How, said he? He hath long sued to me, but refused (replied the Damsel) sought to betray me, and this day laid an Ambush for me, but with the speed of my horse and the assistance God gave me out of his mercy, I fled hither, more spirit then being in me, than I could ever have thought I should have found in myself; and pray Sir even now for honour's sake assist me, at least keep me from the danger of those Creatures. You are I see by your habits a Stranger here, yet let not justice or pity be set as strangers from you: you seem a brave worthy Gentleman, I can appear but a miserable creature, that I hope or beseech to gain compassion.  
Fair Damsel (said he), guide me to these men, and I will lose my life, or save you. Nay Sir (said she) that needeth not; for let me by your favour be safely at home, and I desire no more, nor so much as that you should meet them, or I ever see them again.  
Direct me, and I will conduct you (said he): so together they went, she telling part of her tale to him, while the other three took another way to this deluding woman's House, who was called Lycencia: with much pleasure the wanton Duke went with her, amorous as any love, but at last used by her like an Ape fed, and knocked by her wit.  
The true worthy couple held on, till they came to a Wood side, there she told him was the danger. In the midst was her house, but between were the Traitors, that the nearest way to the house, but as so to peril, wherefore she desired to go more about.  
Nay (cried he) never let us shun the true way, for fear or what we see not, that harm may with self knowledge be fled hence, of if not, though you may very well misdoubt my valour, having had no trial of it; yet I dare warrant to carry you to your house, if there were more than you have named; this you may think a bravery to speak, but I hope to let you see it; so they went on, she still proceeding in her story, till coming into a part of the Wood, whence they might see, as through a walk the house, which stood though below, that Hill whereon they were, on a Hill also, and she lifting up her eyes to see, and show the place, first telling him, Now (said she) I shall soon show you my poor habitation; then looking that way, Poor indeed (cried she) alas my Lord I am ruined, my Castle burns, and I chill with cold despair.  
He looking up, saw it true, whereupon he was a little amazed, yet not willing to show it to her, spoke bravely, and advisedly to go on, which she consented unto, and coming nearer, they discerned only the first Gate on fire, and the assalliants with their Master being twenty gathering faggot, and other provisions together to fire the rest. They labouring had put off their Arms, only the chief had his armour on; the Duke did never use to lose opportunities in any sort, especially fairly offered; wherefore he entreated the Damsel to stay in the Wood, so as she might see what past, while he went down to them. She obeyed, and he spurring towards them, demanded, why they were so cruel to burn so delicate a place. 'twere much more delicate (replied they) if the Mistress were in it, and you, as faggots to burn to our triumph. That were too hot work (said he): but honest men, I hope you are but in jest with me, and that you seek rather to help, then destroy this place. We seek to preserve it. Yes sure, said they (scornfully laughing at him) we desire that, and so you shall find if we catch you meddling, or aiding the Lady thereof.  
If she demand aid (said he) I cannot refuse a Lady. No, then take this, said one, and this, said another, throwing stones, cudgles, and other heavy, and unhappy harmful things at him, some of them lighting on him, and making him smart; he liking not that, took up a strong Pole, and field many, but some killed. Then came their Master, and he enraged like a hunted Bull, drew his sword, reviling the Prince, and threatening more, then after he gained though death. Dorileus brave and good, heeded not his words, but flung away his Pole drawing his sword; thou art armed, said he, doubly with sin and iron; therefore my sword shall now be used to cut them both from thee, and thee from the world, though it scorned to show itself to thy servants; so they fought, and to the cost of the Traitor, whose head Dorileus cut off, and presented it to the Lady, who staying behind a tree in the Wood beholding the issue, and praying for the success.  
Some of the servants fearing when the sword glisteren (joyfully shining for her truth) fled away into the Wood, and came near where she was, but she quickly considering her danger, stayed not to discourse, but with reins let loose, ran down towards the Combatants, the one for her welcome, presenting her with the head of her enemy, which he then cut off, and gave unto her, who like Tomeris of Sithia, held it by the hair, but gave it quickly another conclusion, for she threw it into the midst of the flaming Tower, which then as being in itself enemy to good, because wasting good, yet hotly desiring to embrace as much ill, and so headlongly and hastily fell on it, either to grace it with the quickest and hottest kisses, or to conceal such a villainous, and treacherous head from more, and just punishments: the fire proceeded no farther, the bodies for sweetness sake were all thrown into it, and together there consumed, too honourable a burial for such creatures, but thus it was. Then passed they that place, and entered the Palace, which was of Alabaster, white as itself can be, and pure as the Mistress, whose heart never had spot of ill, nor her body of disproportion: chaste as the Goddess, true as truth, for she never loved but once, and so ever, milder than the sweetest calm, & sweeter than the sweetest Violet: constanter than that virtue, and purer than her complexion, which never was for excellency equalled, or could be counterfeited, that would not show like itself vile, & unworthy to presume to imitate such excellency. Free & noble was her affection, discreet & brave her conversation, excellent her discourse, & so the Duke witnessed, who after his return related her story given to him by herself, both in words, and in one kind in verse. He remained there but two nights; going to his Companion who had been courting the little, or never refusing Lady, and had conducted her by her appointment to a Castle near at hand. Welcome, nay most welcome was this Duke unto them, she one as a friend gladding in his presence, the other as a longing and desiring lover; good countenance she showed the Suitor, but her heart, and eyes sued to the other, happy she seemed to be in his presence, and rather than to be out of it, or barred his sight, she would endure to hear him tell of his Loves, and his being beloved, when he said a Lady had honoured him so much as to like him, to love him, and take him as hers; could she otherwise choose said she in herself, would not I run to such a fortune? When he told how kindly a Lady had granted her love to him, would she not rather flee to him, than refuse cried she? I blame her not, but curse my fortune that cannot embrace him as my wishes lead me.  
When he told his own ties to a Lady unimitable, beyond commendations, and expressions, faith in him only being able to come near that worth in her; alas, sighed she, this only touched me, that he loves, otherwise I might hope, but love grounded in any place, fair, or other, carries the power with it. Out of this discourse she was willing to put him, so as although contrary to her best wishes, she put him to speak the story of the Lady that fetched him to her aid, which in the same verse she delivered to him, he thus delivered it reading it to her, but for the particulars they were entrusted to him, and he would not for love's sake break a trust, but as passionately for his Lady, as this for her love, read the pretty Pastoral thus, in Shepherdess names, to cover her own ill fortune the better.  

1  
A Shepherd who no care did take.  
of aught but of his flock,  
Whose thoughts no pride could higher make,  
Then to maintain his stock,  
Whose sheep his love was, and his care,  
Their good, his best delight:  
The Lambs his joy, their sport his fare,  
His pleasure was their sight.   

2  
Till Love (an enuier of man's bliss)  
Did turn this merry life  
To tears, to wishes which ne'er miss  
Encumbrances with strife.  
For whereas he was best content,  
With looking on his sheep:  
His time in woes, must now be spent,  
And broken is his sleep.   

3  
Thus first his woeful change began,  
A Lamb he chanced to miss,  
Which to find out, about he ran.  
Yet finds not where it is.  
But as he passed (O fate unkind)  
his ill led him that way,  
Whereas a willow Tree behind,  
A fair young Maiden lay.   

4  
Her bed was on the humble ground,  
her head upon her hand,  
While sighs died show, her heart was bound  
In love's untying band.  
Clear tears her clearest eyes let fall,  
Upon her Love-borne face:  
Which Heavenly drops did sorrow call,  
proud witness of disgrace.   

5  
The Shepherd stayed, and fed his eyes,  
no farther might he pass,  
But there his freedom to sight ties,  
His bondage, his joy was.  
His Lamb he deems not half so fair,  
Though it were very white:  
And liberty he thinks a care,  
Nor breath's but by her sight.   

6  
His former life is altered quite,  
His Sheep feed in her eyes,  
Her face his field is of delight,  
And flocks he doth despise.  
The rule of them he leaves to none,  
His Scrip he threw away:  
And many he forsakes for one,  
One, he must now obey.   

7  
Unhappy man whose losing found,  
What better had been lost:  
Whose gain doth spring from such a ground,  
Whereby he must be crossed.  
The worldly care he now neglects,  
for Cupid's service ties,  
Care only to his fond respects,  
where wave-like treasure lies.   

8  
As this lost man still gazing stood,  
Amazed at such a sight:  
Imagining no heavenly food  
To feed on but her sight;  
Wishing but her beams to behold,  
Yet grieved he for her grief,  
When mournfully he did unfold  
Her woes without relief.   

9  
His new Sun rose, and rising said,  
Farewell fair Willow tree,  
The root of my estate decayed,  
The fruit for hapless me:  
What though thy branch, a sign be made,  
Of labour lost in love?  
Thy beauty doth no sooner vade,  
Then those best fortunes prove.   

10  
My songs shall end with willow still,  
Thy branches I will wear:  
Thou wilt accompany my ill,  
And with me sorrow bear.  
True friend said she, than sighed, and turned,  
Leaving that restless place,  
And Sheephard, who in passions burned  
lamenting his sad case.   

11  
This Maid now gone, alone he left,  
Still on her footsteps gazed,  
And heartless grown, by love bereft  
of mirth, in spirit raised,  
To satisfy his restless thought,  
He after her will hie,  
His ruin to be sooner brought,  
And sooner harm to try.   

12  
Then thus his latest leave he took,  
My Sheep (said he) farewell,  
Let some new Shepherd to you look  
Whose care may mine excel.  
I leave you to your freedom now,  
Loves-lawes so fast me bind,  
As no time I can you allow,  
Or go poor flock, and find   

13  
The Maid whom I so dear love,  
Say it was her dear sight,  
Which from your keepe doth me remove,  
And kills my first delight.  
Go you my Dog, who careful were  
To guard my Sheep from harm,  
Look to them still, no care forbear,  
Though love my senses charm.   

14  
But you my Pipe that music gave,  
And pleased my silent rest,  
Of you I company will crave,  
Our states now suiteth best.  
For if that Fair no pity give,  
My dying breath shall cry,  
Through thee the pains, wherein I live,  
Whereby I breath to dye.   

15  
Madly he ran from ease to pain  
Not sick, yet far from well,  
Heart robbed by two fair eyes, his gain  
Must prove his worldly Hell.  
After his heart he fast doth high,  
His heart to her did fly,  
And for a biding place did cry,  
Within her breast to lie.   

16  
She that refused, when he her spied,  
Her whom he held most dear,  
Lie weeping by a River's side  
Beholding papers near.  
Her ruling eyes must yet be dimbd,  
While pearl like tears she shed,  
Like shadows on a Picture limbed;  
At last these words she read.   

17  
When I unconstant am to thee  
Or false do ever prove,  
Let happiness be banished me,  
Nor have least taste of love.  
But this alas too soon, cried she,  
Is O by thee forgot,  
My hopes and joys now murdered be,  
And falsehood is my lot.   

18  
Too late I find what 'tis to trust  
To words, or oaths, or tears,  
Since they that use them prove unjust  
And colour but our fears.  
Poor fools ordained to be deceived  
And trust to be betrayed,  
Scorned when our hearts are us bereaved  
Sought to, a while delayed.   

19  
Yet though that thou so false hast been,  
I still will faithful be;  
And though thou thinkst to leave no sin,  
I'll make my loyalty  
To shine so clear, as thy foul fault  
To all men shall be known,  
Thy change to thy changed heart be brought,  
My faith abroad be blown.   

20  
This having said, again she rose  
The papers putting by,  
And once again a new way chose  
Striving from grief to fly:  
But as she going was along  
That pleasant running stream,  
She saw the Sallow trees among,  
The Shepherd Aradeame.   

21  
For so this woeful Lad was called,  
But when she him beheld,  
What witchcraft hath thee now enthralled,  
And brought thee to this field?  
What can the cause, or reason be,  
That thou art hither come:  
Where all must taste of misery,  
And mirth with grief entomb?   

22  
If mirth must here entombed be,  
Fair Sheephardesse, said he?  
This place the fittest is for me,  
If you use cruelty:  
For know I hither come, to see  
Yourself, wherein now lies  
My life, whose absence martir'd me,  
Whose sight my power ties.   

23  
Give me but leave to live with you,  
It is the life I crave:  
To you I bound am to be true,  
My life to you I gave;  
When first I did behold you lie,  
In shade of willow tree:  
That time my soul did to you tie,  
Those eyes did murder me.   

24  
Is this the reason (ah cried she?)  
The more I wail your case,  
Who thus partaker, needs will be  
In grief, and in disgrace,  
I pity you, but cannot aid  
You, nor redress your ill,  
Since joy and pain together paid,  
Scarce satisfies the will.   

25  
If I do tie you, I release  
The bond wherein you are,  
Your freedom shall not find decrease,  
Nor you accuse my care.  
The pain I have is all my own,  
None can of it bear part,  
Sorrow my strength hath overthrown,  
Disdain hath killed my heart.   

26  
And Shepherd if that you do love,  
This counsel take of me,  
This humour fond in time remove,  
Which can but torture thee;  
Take it from her who too too well  
Can witness it is so:  
Whose hope seemed Heaven, yet proved a Hell,  
And comfort changed to woe.   

27  
For I was loved, or so I thought,  
And for it loved again,  
But soon those thoughts my ruin brought,  
And nourished all my pain,  
They gave the milk that fed be'eife  
Till weaned, they proved dry:  
Their latter nourishment was grief,  
So famished I must dye.   

28  
Then see your chance, I cannot change,  
Nor my affection turn,  
Disdain which others moves to range,  
Makes me more constant burne,  
My sighs I'm sure cannot you please,  
My grief no Music prove,  
My flowing tears your passions ease,  
Nor woes delight your Love..   

29  
If my sight have your freedom won,  
Receive it back again;  
So much myself I find undone,  
By gifts which prove no gain.  
As I lament with them that love,  
So true in Love I am,  
And liberty wish all to prove,  
Whose hearts waste in this flame.   

30  
Yet give me leave (sighed he with tears)  
To live but where you are,  
My woes shall wait upon your fears,  
My sighs attend your care:  
I'll weep when ever you shall wail,  
If you sigh, I will cry,  
When you complain, I'll never fail  
To wail my misery.   

31  
I will you guard, and safely keep  
From danger, and from fear,  
Still will I watch when you do sleep,  
And for both, sorrows bear.  
Make me not free, I bondage crave,  
Nor seek else but to serve,  
This freedom will procure my grave,  
These bonds my life preserve.   

32  
For life, and joy, and ease, and all  
Alas lies in your hands:  
Then do not cause my only fall,  
I tied am in such bands.  
Part hence I cannot, nor love leave,  
But here must ever bide:  
Then pity let my pain receive,  
Do not from mercy slide.   

33  
If that (said she) you constant are,  
Unto your coming ill,  
I'll leave this place, yet let all care  
Accompany me still:  
And Shepherd live, and happy be,  
Let judgement rule your will,  
Seek one whose hart from love is free,  
And who your joy may fill.   

34  
For I love's bondslave am, and tied  
In fetters of Disdain:  
My hopes are frozen, my Spring dried,  
My Summer drowned with pain:  
I loved, and worse, I said I loved,  
Free truth my ruin brought,  
And so your speech the like hath moved  
and loss for gaining bought.   

35  
With that away she hasted fast,  
Left him his cares to hold,  
Who now to sorrow make all haste,  
Woes drive his hopes to fouled:  
Now he can see, and weeping say  
His fortune blind he finds,  
A heart to harbour his decay,  
A state which mischief binds.   

39  
This now he feels, and woefully  
His birth, and life he blames,  
Yet passions rules, when reasons lie  
in dark, or quenched flames:  
That place he first beheld her in,  
his biding he doth make:  
The Tree his liberty did win,  
He calls his Martyr stake.   

37  
And pleasingly doth take his fall,  
his grief accounts delight:  
Freedom, and joy this bitter thrall,  
His food her absent sight.  
In contraries his pleasures be,  
While mourning gives him ease,  
His Tomb shall be that hapless Tree,  
Where sorrow did him cease.   

38  
And thus did live, though daily died,  
The Shepherd Arideame,  
Whose causeless tears which never dried  
were turned into a stream,  
Himself the head, his eyes the spring  
Which fed that River clear,  
Which to true hearts this good doth bring  
When they approach it near,   

39  
And drink of it, to banish quite  
All fickle thoughts of change,  
But still in one choice to delight,  
And never think to range:  
Of this sweet water I did drink,  
Which did such faith infuse,  
As since to change, I cannot think,  
Love will death sooner choose.   
She that was before won, what wrought this in her, seeing love, seeking love, expression moving admmiration, and that so much as to admire him in her choice at first sight, so well to choose, but the truest work, or waif of her Loom was to do, which was to win him, win she would, and at last as nothing, or very little is hard to purchase in a man's breast a kind pity or rewarding love, as if but exchanging, and the latter part of that their merchandise. She compassed her desires like herself the worst way, for she made the poor loving Cauterino be the means to his loss; urging very much and earnestly, she replied that if he loved so much as he said, he should express it by bringing Dorileus to speak with her, framing the cause to be concerning a Sister of hers in the house whom she said was far gone in love with him.  
He gladdest of this, that thus he might serve her several ways, went straight to his friend, and most friendly brought him unto her, into a Garden appointed for it, going away as kindly as she wished, leaving them together, who then private, she began.  
My Lord said she, you may well tax me of boldness, but impudence I beseech you clear me off, since Love the powerful god of hearts commands me to this adventure, in which yet I blush, lest you should otherwise judge of me, then of fervent affection, which hath stirred this unusual manner, contrary to a woman's modesty in seeking you; but my Lord my love is so violent to you, as that blinds me to any course but this, which is to beg pity of you, and compassion for my pain.  
The hardest heart could hardly deny such a request, much less his, which was never in that kind cruel; wherefore he went the nearest way to content her, granting her request, and appointing that night to wait upon her, what a business she kept then? her Chamber was so perfumed, and sweetly furnished, herself so delicate to entertain, as when he came he thought it a brave journey, and dainty conquest of himself, for she wooed, and he had now the labour saved of Courting, loving, and all other troubles, but yielding, which is easy on such conditions for the best of that Sex to do. The night is come, and he prepared went to his Mistress; the other amorous Duke being extremely molested with his passion, could not sleep, but vexed with doubt and love, rose from his bed, and went to his friend's chamber to discourse, and so ease his burdened burning breast, but thither arrived, he found only a light burning, his Page asleep in the chair at the bed's feet, and the Duke absent; this strake him into a jealous passion, as thinking none so worthy as his Mistress, none so likely there. fore to be served, and so concluded none other than this wrong to him.  
Then he complained against his friend for breach of friendship, since he knew how much he loved, but straight came this again, that that tie without breach might be broken, for love cannot be resisted, and none can command that power, so as force, not will, did here offend; but all women for this trick he reviled, and cursed himself for being the means, and help for thus betraying him, making him the instrument (as in scorn) for her satisfaction in love, and contempt.  
This being entered into his thought, he ran into the Garden, meaning to go to her Chamber, find them and revenge himself with railing at her, but the doors which went to that way were shut, so as he called to her, scolded as no man ever did like him in that kind, and many women, (though most are perfect in that loud faculty) could not equal him, few surpass him. No answer being made him, he threw stones at the windows, beat down the glass and made such a coil, as would have distempered any but lovers, on all sides to have heard it. But they would not be moved for all his bawl, nor he long endure this lonely, but violent roaring passion, so as he returned with as much fury, and shame, as Vulcan did when he saw his Rival Mars: Much this nights work stuck in his stomach, but what remedy? patience got a little room, and she (as he after said) gave him all satisfaction so as he gaining too, and then commanded to silence, he had his desire every way satisfied also, cozening him who had been before hand with him, and thought he had her to himself, while she laughed at both to see them so finely dealt with all, and she having full content; but here they must not now stay, so as telling her they must go in search of the Emperor, she gained one day more of them which they granted. The night before the morning for their parting, having at several hours taken leave of them, both they in their lodgings should have been surprised, and made prisoners, by men let into their chambers armed, but they valorous, never sleeping though they were in bed, quickly rose, and bravely defended themselves, scaped their hands, and arming themselves, came out of their chamber to seek the Devil, and head of this action; but she (hearing how the business went) with her old wicked companion were fled.  
They followed in search of them, so as now in two Quests they traveled, till they met an noble, and brave Lady, to whom telling their fortunes, she assured them of the wickedness of that woman, being the most notorious for ill, of any of her Sex, & how that in her flight with her old Squire, she met a man equal to her, (if two such pieces could be squared to equal proportion in ill,) who having been treacherous, and beyond mischeif's skill abused by her, finding the advantage, took her from her old Guard, tied him to a Tree fast for helping himself, where he starved, and died, being but within two days found, and for her, he carried her to the top of a mighty, steep, and craggy Rock, there took his wicked revenge of her, for thence he threw her down, but as she fell loving all mankind, she held him so fast as he went unwillingly with her, breaking their necks, and so past the same way of unfortunate end, yet fittest for ill so to go together. This was seen by some, who took up the bodies too late to be helped, but he being known to them, the cause was soon known to us, who had understood both their lives, and could but hardly sorrow for their ends, only in that they were Christians. This heard, and haviug past a little time with this noble Lady, they took their leaves, taking their way to their own Countries, having searched, but in vain, for their Lord, returned; they lamented for him, and remained in souls afflicted. The Prince of Venice is the next to be spoken of, who having done as his other companions did, at last met with the Duke of Savoy, and the Duke of Florence, all sad, distressed, and beyond measure grieved; yet some kind of joy or touch of it they felt in meeting each other: then seeing all hope lost, they resolved together to return into their country perpetually to mourn and lament their loss, giving over Arms, Travels and all, living sad and retired lives, wailing that, they and all Christians were bereaved of, which was happiness; now seeing, feeling, tasting nothing but distress: to the Sea they took, and shipping themselves, hoist sail for Italy, cursing Asia, and all in it save the poor afflicted Pamphilia, whom they left in all desperate sorrow; for having missed finding of him, they returned to her Court, and with unspeakable grief found her possessed; with sorrowful and lamentable demeanours they parted from her, words they had but few, but tears, sighs, and groans in full plenty; now spoke they one to another, but scarcely till they had been some two days at Sea, their eyes only acting speeches part, and assuring each other of their true loves to their Prince and themselves. At Sea the Florentine saw a Ship lying near the Greek shore, as at Anchor, many men and some women upon the hatches; drawing nearer, they might discern mourners, and among all, none armed: ah (said he) that company surely are of our associates, their livery tells them at least so to be. Their outsides indeed, said the Venetian, counterfeits our inward grief. The Savoyan looking steadfastly on them, said, he was of their opinion, and the rather because he thought he saw Selarinus among them; they then haled to her, which she answered, and as they were sending some to her to know the newest they perceived a Squire to put out the loug Boat and make towards them; they than attended his coming: now did the wind rise, (a calm having been before) and the waves begin to swell, answering the boiling in their breasts. The Squire could but be at their ship when it was so rough, as without perishing he could not board her, especially being under sail as she was; so as he only called to them, who said, his Lord Selarinus desired to know if they were of Asia, and if they knew how Pamphilia did, if rescued, and by whom. They could not answer more, then that she was set free by Amphilanthus, but now he was lost, as with grief for the remembrance of him, and the word lost, so filling them, and partly for the noise the Sailors made, and for the distance that the Boat was by the tempest in that time carried from them. The Ship likewise was grown a Traitor to them, and their governors, taking new Commanders, the wind and the Sea, yet they contending make a rough dispute and distempered government, so as soon they lost sight of Selarinus, Greece, Italy and all being carried into the Britain Sea; long they roamed at Hul, for advice or Art now helped not till the storm so soon ceased as it had begun, and they perceived for their comforts, (as beauty is comfortable to all good eyes) the fair Rocks of Britain, anciently called Albion; but by happiness after many misfortunes again called Britain. The winds and Seas appeased, they landed near a Cliff of infinite height and danger if not known: when they were a shore and armed, two purposed to travel and alter their names, but the third overruled them, and by any means would not consent to go, but as their own selves, and in their own persons, not seeking to hide the nobleness of their search and truth of their duties. At the place where they landed they got horses to the next Town, which was twelve miles off, according to the reckoning of that Country: then came they to a very fair Town, large, but not any way curiously built, though the houses were of stone, but they low and ill covered made them seem poor. There were women of marvelous beauty; for Britain had the name to have the fairest Creatures in her of all women, and that part the honour to have the fairest of Britain; many they saw as they passed by, but as variety they passed them, gazing as on wonders; but a wonder it had been to have stayed them, whose thoughts flew on still to the finding the happiness of their Master's recovery, beauty was not now the Shrine they offered to, yet at other times that would willingly have stayed them, now love & affection were two things, or one so mixed, as no other thing, or part could enter, but the finding of Amphilanthus, to be either, and so both. On in the Country they passed till they came to a Desert that proved only rich in Air, and that in greatest bounty, in few places it was inhabited, the rest all Desert, and as wild as any civil Country could be. Many places, they passed, stony, woody, rocky, and as odd as could be, lamentable travelling in it, the people rude and churlish, so as with much difficulty, but to them good fortune, they happened on a Nobleman's house: antiquity they saw in all things there, in house, age of furniture, of servants, building, and situation, which was such, as certainly were not, nor could be under hundreds of years; the Master of the house was not there then, travelled upon occasion into another Country, but the Mistress there, and she the most ignorant proud woman living, caring for, nor respecting any but herself and hers, as rude and ill mannered a company, and as vain as herself were about her, though much opinionated to be well-bahaved creatures, and so they seemed to be bred no other than such which were of her own being, and who could have that only way of good fashion, as she said, to be admired, and to all other eyes the worst of fashions. Of her blood, she had some who equalled, nay exceeded her, so as she may be excused thus, that she woman-like had ambition to be chief of her blood, which she said was the best, and would rather excel in ill, than not be the most excelling: neglect she did all people but her chosen assotiats, so as one might justly say they were strangers that came to her house; for none were familiar with her but her private (& sometime too foolishly expressed, humours. The friends her husband best loved in his absence were used like others, it may be sometimes sooner had the ill fortune to see her proud person, else no more privileged, when in his presence, she would like his Dog fawn on him, and them: then there came thither a wondrous brave Lady, who was a Kinswoman of her La: to whom as much respect as she could let slide from herself was used, and who yet looked for as much as either, or both had, nay as well could have been expressed to such like Ladies, and near of blood to all vanity and proud folly. These Ladies the Princes met one field from the house, by good fortune to them, else they might have stayed for admittance longer than their haste would permit them; sad they were and penfive, proud they were and insolent, the Knights did them Princely respect, they gave unmannerly acceptance, with much humble manner they presented themselves to them, they fleering one on the other most rudely entertained them, looking on them carelessly, as who would say, we honour you with this, but who would rather do well, would do otherwise. The Florentine was haughty, and where he found neglect he could repay it, else most noble; but not knowing the nature of the Britons, was so discreet as not to be rash, therefore he rather to bear then provoke ill entertainment, spoke with his hat in his hand, in this manner. We are Travellers and strangers; yet more strangers to the sight of such beauty, as till this instant I never did behold; and which doth so amaze me with content, as I am rapt into the clouds of pleasure, not being able to express your excellencies but by my infinite admiration; beholding you like so many Suns contented to distribute your equal beams to let us be the abler to behold you: here I see the excellentest excellency of the rarest perfections; excuse them most excellent Ladies, if my Companions, or myself have overslip'd any due respect unto you, since the fault wholly lies in your overruling powers, and we must excuse ourselves by that fault, if you close up all powers in amazement, you must pardon the amazed, and if you show beauties beyond expression or ability to be suffered, no more than flames can be to a naked person: how should one, especially my strooken self, be able to do what I am called unto by respect unto such divine souls? Hide your conquering beauties, and then our great weaknesses will get some strength to speak, if but in a manner of admiration; but so short of your deserts, as I shall still remain a poor, and an ashamed speaker for myself and companions, who cannot speak thus much for themselves as I do. The Ladies left him in his speech, and taking hands walked away, as who would say, by that time the Oration is done, we will come again, smiling on themselves and their uncivilnesse. The other two Princes laughed at the Florentine, who was so angry and ashamed, as he (being very black) looked between fury and blushing like a Night-piece: what to do he could not resolve; but the other two did for him, which was to go to the Town and rest them till the next day morning, and so proceed in their journey, in this uncomfortable Country where their first entertainment was so strange.  
When they came to the Inn, there they found a second or rather a perfect Hell, there were Knights and Squires, but all fellows, and most fellowlike drunk: some were singing, some dancing, some quarrelling, others fiddling, some calling for more drink, in which they all like the burden of a Song agreed, and called more. These Princes fell into this second misadventure, the first had too little courtesy, this as far exceeding in too much abundance; for every one had a several humour, and they must endure them all: but an advantage they had in this kind, though to their loss of sleep, for they being well on their way before their coming, a very little more satisfied them, and sent them to rest, some to bed, some under the tables, some on benches, one in the Garden on a Lavender bed, while the Princes again took their horses and rid some miles further, and in the Desert in a most poor (but for quiet, rich) house, they spent the rest of the night, the next day taking their way towards the Court, where then lived the King, but they not destined to see so much happiness met this Adventure.  
Passing along a most craggy and stony Lane, they came at the end of it, to a tripartite divided way, a stone in the midst, and the way so justly parted, as it made them imagine it was a place fit to be accepted and to part themselves equally to take their offered favours: Upon the stone they laid their hands, swore there within three Months to meet again, without strange accidents befell them, to declare their loss, and search to all, their names never to conceal, and so at the conclusion, to return every one to his own Country, to lament their Lord and friend. It was the Florentines fortune to encounter the first adventure, which was, after he had rid in that stony way sometime, he came to a large Commune, spreading itself broader still unto his sight, as coming out of a River, the Sea appears boundless: So did this Land extend itself, having no bound to comprehend, or limit sight; sheep there were in abundance, and some Cattle, people he saw none, so as it appeared there was little danger of losing them, or that the trust was great in those parts.  
At last a Countryman he met driving a Cart which had carried wood, (a commodity in those parts) of him he demanded what that place was, and the name of that part of the Country. He replied, the place he was on was called the Forest Champion, that part of Britain being full of Forests and Chases, anciently called the deserts of Britain; a little way from thence he told him was a fair house, where a noble Knight and his Lady lived within a part of the same Forest, which they had enclosed, and made like an orderly civil place, from the others wildness, and shut themselves within a Pale; woods were within this place, the rest all Heath and Rocks, scarce a Bush, but no tree that could shelter one from a small shower.  
The Prince desired to be directed to that place, which the honest man did, waiting on him till he came within sight of it; now Sir, said he, you cannot lose your way, except you will of purpose; so he took leave of him, who arrived within a short time there; the Knight had at that time much company with him, and one Lady who in her younger time had the fame for one of the fairest, (if not the fairest) of that Country. But Love (the Ruiner of beauty when cursed had decayed her beams of outward perfection, though her inside by the virtue of constancy shined the clearer. Black had her fortune's been: so were her habits, sad her face;, and her countenance not heavy, but grave: the Knight was a brave Gentleman, for his inward parts learned and honest, but lame by blows in his youth when he travelled, as he had in most parts of Christendom; his Lady a young woman, cheerful and pleasant, the daughter of a great Lord, and Sister to as fine a Gentleman as was in that Kingdom: but the Prince most marked the sad Lady, of whom he enquired, after some compliments and a little acquaintance of the Knight, who would needs stay the Prince there that night, the Lady went away, having not above some six or seven miles to ride to her fathers.  
After her going, there came to the same place a Knight, not a youth, nor a stayed man, forward in speech, and so valiant and bountiful of it, as he would (where ever he came) have all the talk; some being angry at him for it, who thought they could speak as well, and it may be better, but he carried it with his boldness, and unless any would fight with him he would do so still. Some laughed at him, and said he rung such peals of discourse, as were sufficient to be reckoned among those rung for triumph, or joys for Nuptials; others pitied him, as fearing it a disease, or Palsy in his tongue, but all admired he held out so long with matter, unless he had as strange a faculty in his brains of perpetual working, and so made that motion in his tongue to rid her burden. The Prince much wondered at him, thinking he was led thither to see the Prince of contrarieties, the first Lady as silent, as he talkative, the others in a reasonable good mean like himself, thinking them both strange; at last, as the round of this most discoursing Knights thoughts, came to the height, he began to speak of the Lady. Did you ever, said he, see a sweet Lady so much changed as she is? I knew her, and so did you, a fair, dainty, sweet woman, noble and freely disposed, a delicate Courtier, curious in her habits, danced, rid, did all things fit for a Court, as well as any brave Lady could do? what can change her thus? they say she is in love: would that man were hanged would suffer such sweetness to decay by his cursedness: but I think and believe it is so; for I have made love to her myself, and she refused me, who never before heard the word of denial. I offered her Horses, though she wanted good ones at that time, yet she would not take mine, nor presents from any for fear of offending him, who presented her with nothing but scorn. I made Verses to her, said them to her, who commended them faintly, and instead of thanks, said some of his to me, as to let me see, that as he was most dear to her; so was all that he did or belonged to him. I have a Brother was in my case for her love, but more grieved; for she used him scarce civilly, me she ever did respectively, and that wrought so much with me, as I hate the woman he loves, and is the cause of her trouble for her sake; but for mine own part, I can bear her denying me well, by reason I can love as often as I see cause, and stay no longer on it; nor stayed he there, but with this last word took his leave, only saying, he would follow the Lady, if but to vexe her, as easily he might do, or any other discreet person, if he continued his talking travel, which was more wearisome than travel itself to a quiet Spirit.  
When he was gone, the Room was like a calm after a storm, or as after foul weather the Air is silent, and sweet: so all being quiet, they pleased themselves as Birds in the Spring, with their own tunes: but then did the Florentine desire to hear more of the Lady, which the Knight with much respect to him, and honour for her, delivered thus. Noble Prince, said he, if I go about to tell you her Story, I must undertake to tell you the most unfortunate, of the most deserving woman that ever was, and venture to relate a business which I shall be unable to deliver to her worth, or the excellency of the matter; but this I may say for her, she was the vertuousest and fairest Maid in this Kingdom, the unfortunateliest married, and unhappiest wife this Country had, the most desolate and grieved Widow; for in all estates that ever she was in, if she had a show of good, she had substances of ill and mischief to succeed. In her youth, or (indeed) infancy, she loved a brave Knight, who deserved all love and respect: but yet he had a fault, as most men have. I was his companion, and knew as much of him for some time as any did; yet that was a secret, and I never (intruth) mistrusted it, till I was gone into a retired life, and a change grown among us all, being divided several ways, and scattered like hail: She called to the Court, continued her begun love, he fell in love with her, and so much as he raged almost with passion till he discovered it, being for a while (as he vowed himself near madness; but as passions are hot, and in youth more flaming, then afterwards mature judgement will permit, he grew slacker, she grieved, lost her content, and yet thinking to please him, as that being her only end, refrained (fearing as seeing his dislike and scorn to her) his presence, hoping to content him with giving liberty to his new choice.  
This, whether offending, or (as he took the matter) making it seem an offence, she lost his love; and not only that, but he made it appear that he loathed her: She (sweet Creature) whose heart to him, was but as the softest part of his to his new Mistress, so grievously took this cursed hap, as she melted into grief, as Virgins wax with the heat of fire will into water, and yet thereby the coldness of that Element grow hard, as frozen by coldness: So was she closed in cold despair; yet not hardened, but with that, not with hate, or dislike, suffering as patiently, as a dead body permits handling, by any rude standers by; she only felt pain of love, and into that was metamorphosed. All delights she cast from her, all exercises left, covered her misfortune with the loss of her Husband, when as, if her love had continued true, she had in the other loss been happy; but as it fell out, a most unhappy creature she was, and is. An ancient Lord, old in age and antiquity of honour, made love unto her; she was not only perplexed with him, but with her friends and Parents, he being infinitely rich; but she finding that her heart (as she called him, and as that was subject to him called itself his) would not consent, she refused, and with great joy that he loved her so well, as he could not think of imparting her to any other, though sure enough, that he could not hold her long, Death being gaping for him.  
After she denied men of all sorts for age, and fortune, who durst take the boldness to sue to her; Lately a young Duke of this Country made proffer of Love to her, but she not willing to entertain him, would not believe he meant it, and so persuaded him out of it; yet he looks after her, follows her when he may, meets her where he can have opportunity, smiles on her, seeks to please her in all he may, and in some things doth, for he never speaks to her (but by looks) of Love; his company she allows of out of nobleness, and out of true love will not hear of his love.  
An ancient Lord also, and a mighty rich man for estate, (but in years) seeks her, she will not understand it; He sends to her, invites her to his dwellings, She finds still excuses, and neglects civilly. He vows to find her out, and court her. She flies, and takes journey's vnthought on to shun him, and all this is for love, that so she flies Love, willing to warm her hands at the fire of honour, but dares not come near the love-fire for fear of scorching, while she burns in her own flames; never any more beloved woman breathed, nor ever will or can breathe so true a loving woman. What hath she left unexprest to manifest her affection in all kinds? life she hath ventured, honour lost, beauty and all happiness dead, while she grows old in her truth of love, and hath but that for her own satisfaction to content herself withal, and that is riches unspeakable, when in her own soul she can say, I am just; yet suffer for it, as if a fault, what is then a virtue, when such perfections are errors? One pretty tale she now, as you came, told me, her still beloved friend came into her company by Adventure, having with him a dear companion of his, newly grown into that league of friendship, and brought by him into the same with all his friends. This Gentleman, seeing her discreet, grew into discourse with her, she loving all that loved her; loved, even his Mistress for his sake, was well pleased with his conversation, and so near they grew, as he spoke freely to her, and she coufidently to him: so much she saw in him, as she knew he knew most of her fortune; she grudged not his knowledge, for a nobler man breathes not, as she says, except her own friend, and he must before her have no Competitor named, for worth or any goodness, though she suffer for his ill, so excellent he yet appears to her. But this brave Gentleman at last with freedom began to persuade her to leave her constancy, which would but hurt her, and continue no other ways true then truly to say she had loved longer, and justlier than he: but seeing no return nor hope, no longer to be a slave, when she might be free, nor to him who deserved so ill from her, as if she loved ill so well as to be bound to it; yet did he never name his friend, though by discourse said, he knew him, ever protesting to name none in such kinds. She only answered this, that so much she loved and honoured truth, as she desired she might live in that (if a fault) and grow old with such a virtue, whose worthiness would give her youth, and eternity in comfort, and honour to the world, her wrinkles by truth would be closed, and she seem as fair as ever; her paleness and loss of complexion restored by the rareness of such a virtue; and her Age, as by Medea's charms turned to infancy in the clearness and ableness of such worth. He lamented her misfortune, she smiled to hear him so much mistake, and told him 'twas her perfection: this is the error, said he, of women, and yet not generally do they err in this kind; so as I may only say of a woman, and of one of the best, and therefore the more to be pitied. The Florentine did naturally love strange things, and such as could hardly be compassed, wherefore he had a great desire to see this Lady again, and to court her, and so resolved to try his fortune, having as he thought, as much boldness and winning power as any man. To help him on, the same talking Knight came again the next day, being the most absolute endless Visitor in Britain; he confidently promised to bring him thither where she was, and to put them together, and then said he if thou dost win her, thou hast better luck then all the brave bold Britons have yet attained unto. This familiarity seemed odd, yet the Florentine had his end also, and bore with his (as he heard it in his language) rudeness; so they took their leaves of the lame Knight, and went the nearest way to her abiding; but before they arrived there, the Florentine had so much of his companions tongue, as he would have given a great part of his hopes to have been rid of him. At the last they came to the Castle, she was not at home, but rid forth to take the Air; they being Knights never were out of the way; so they followed her and found her sitting in a great wood reading some papers, which were Verses her love (in the time of his affection to her) had made, and given unto her: she read them, wept, kissed them, wrapped them up, put them into her breast, to print the stamp on the outside, as they were engraven in the inside, sighed, wiped her eyes, and yet some bold tears had kissed her quaking lips, ready, but afraid to part, & say he was unjust; for the very unjustness matyred her, and the saltness of those drops made her taste her cursed fortune. They approached, she changing her countenance and now almost ashamed to seem so good, he proving so contrary, whom she thought the best, almost doubting if it were not ill to be good among so many ill, and such as contemned goodness; yet bold in herself, armed with the rarest virtue, and knowing that enough to justify her, and defend her, she met them; they with reverence fit to give and to be taken by her, saluted her, than the everlasting Speaker, who never ceased talking, no more than Brooks on Pebbles leave murmuring, told her the desire they had to kiss her hands. She said they had much honoured her with that visit; the Florentive with delicate language spoke, she with much modesty and respective fashion entertained him: much he admired her grave and yet courteous manner, the eloqnence she spoke such, as made him think she was the best spoken woman he had ever heard, and the greatest part of her eloquence was the plainness, but excellently well placed words she delivered, her speech was as rare and winning, as the Knight troublesome, and most times idle; yet such he esteemed his wit, and the continuance of his babbling was so usual, as he could not hold, but interrupted them, and fell into his old fit of gambling. The afflicted Lady looked sadly on him; but when she saw how grievously the Prince took his interrupting of them, she smiled, and to herself said; would my pains could be thus partaken, then would my suffering be the less; but oh, none are fit to know mine but myself, none then to suffer them. The Florentine he chafed so much, as he could not frame with patience any one thought, but with a confusion of dislike: stood gazing on him, who talked on, and regarded, or not, said Verses, spoke Prose, and rhyme again, no more heeding answers (so he heard himself) than if he had raved or talked in his sleep: Yet at last there was no remedy but she must hear some lines the Knight lately made in commendations of his Mistress' eyes, and blaming her being sleepy in the morning, when she should have been up to entertain him; the Verses were these.  

Rise, rise from sluggishness, fly fast my Deer,  
The early Lark prevents the rising lights:  
The Sun is risen, and shines in the rights  
Of his bright glory, till your eyes appear.   

Arise, and make your two Suns so clear show,  
As he for shame his beams call back again,  
And drown them in the Sea for sorrow's pain,  
That you, Commandress of the light may know,   

The duty Sun, and all must yield to you  
Where richness of desert doth lie embraced,  
Night by your brightness wholly now defaced,  
And Day alone left to you as lights due.   

Yet be as weighty still in love to me,  
Press me with love, rather than lightly fly  
My passions like to women, made to tie  
Of purpose to unloose, and oft be free.   

Thus may your lightness showing ruin me,  
I cannot live if your affections dye,  
Or leave off living in my constancy  
Be light and heavy too, so we agree.   
These I protest before God (said he) I made at the instant, when I saw she was not up, nor ready, and many more I made to her, and others, on the sudden. I seldom think of them, but naturally they come unto me; many of my Ancestors hath been Poets, and so I succeed in that quality, and I like it well, it passes away the time well, and some of my songs I have set, and song them. But when he talked of singing, the Florentine was then ready to die, for half dead he was with the noise of speakiug, singing added to it would utterly have ruined him, so as he was forced to say, My Lord, we came hither to visit this excellent Lady, and short time I have to enjoy the happiness of her sight; let us therefore I beseech you, gain so much favour, and honour from her, as to hear her say some thing of herself. It is well said, cried he, and since the Prince desires to hear your story, I pray let him have it. I have not (answered she) ready, or perfect delivery of speech so well as you; therefore if it please you, especially of the Prince, I desire to be excused, since I can only when I have said all, but conclude, I am as you see me, the most unhappy, unfortunate, miserable, lost woman, that can be found breathing. Then did the tears again fall from her eyes, but so lovely she appeared in sorrow, as it was almost equal in sweetness, and winning, to joy, and as powerful in command, for it fully conquered the Florantine, never after being cured but by death, living many years, and loving constantly to his death, a rare, and seldom known thing among men, of his rank especially.  
Night now grew on, so as they took their leaves; fain the Prince would have stayed, but she never, or wondrous seldom invited any, though if they can and stayed, she did welcome brave, or needing men; two tortures were he now fallen into, parting from her, & going with him, whose noise would make him mad, his heart being oppest with melancholy, & but justly was he punished for aspiring ever till that time to love, and win this, he saw the Emperor loved; as if being his servant, he were bound to like as he liked, and love as he loved, which did not please his Master, nor got him much gain, if not where no gain was by winning. Once more he must see her, and rather than miss his desire, he persuaded his silent companion to accompany him, which he did, and taking Hounds with them, as if both to visit, and show pleasure, they took their journey. They came where she lay, and with much ado got her abroad, who rid daintily, and which quality did more (if more could be) entice, and inflame the brave Prince, who still attended her; she as little, as he infinitely fond, still accompanied her, who finding it, meant to put him, beside his ordinary Knightly pace, and if he would be with her, take pains like a good honest Forester; wearier he had been with this chase, which was of a Stag, then of three days travel, but she was there, as his heart told him, fainting would never win such a spirit; so he spurred on, and she rid from him; at last the Stag fell, and so the hunting ceased with the death mote. Home they all returned, and with much glory and loss, glory for victory, loss of hearts: back to the Knight's house the Companions went, whence the next morning the Prince of Florence was called by an Adventure of some joy, an Esquire came unto him, who had been in many Countries to seek him, and by mere chance cast upon this shore as they were, was informed that three brave Knights were there lately arrived, being in the West part of the Country of Britain, by their description they seemed to be some of those he sought, and so finding him, was much comforted with hope of the others. He was sent from the Duke of Burgundy, whose good hap it was to go the right way, and find the Emperor after some time, and much travel; this gave great content to the Prince, yet grieved he was to part out of Britain, but necessity did compel him, so as away he went, taking his leave of the Knight, who was most kind, and freely noble, leaving him in trust to do a friends part in remembering his service to the Lady. With the Squire he posted with as much speed, as that Country would give him leave, taking first to the place, where his two Companions parted from him. There arrived (as he did) at that instant, but unarmed, and all in Willow colour; the Prince of Venice, who had fallen on this Adventure, riding down the way allotted him, he came at the end of three days travel to the side of a most delicate and sweet River, being indeed one of the best of Britain; at that place there was a passage to cross to the other side, he took boat there, and landing, came into very rich grounds, but not much pleasant, that soil being rather for profit then pleasure; but passing that, he found a most delectable Country, being a Forest, and the daintiest of all those parts, seeming rather an exact piece of curiosity, than an habitation for wild Beasts, woods, plains, corn grounds, and delicate Springs, many brave dwellings, and fair and fine houses in abundance, so as they seemed as the Banquetting-houses to so many excellent Gardens: the Woods were not great, but pleasant, every field as it were fringd, and laced about with trees.  
The Prince road on, much in admiration of this place, following a pretty Brook, which with the sweet murmuring and pleasing passing invited him to follow him, as if by loving whispers he had entreated him, he understood it so, and so rid beholding him with as much kindness, till at last he brought him into a fair Meadow, there he grew as if angry, he had not said some thing in his commendations, to swell and grow high with spite, but calm still, and fair, and well might he be so, for close by on the bank lay such a Shepherdess as Urania was, and that is sufficient expression for her perfections, her Hook and Scrip lay by her, her bright and delicate hair looked like straw in the Sun, when his glistering beams shine on it, and that receives, and pays equal lustre: yet she to grace the straw more (or fearing her partiality should be by the Sun corrected for wearing other beams than his, or else punished for being near equal) had to defend his blows a Hat of that matter, on her more radiant rays, shunning the Sun's hot kisses, or envious touches. She was tying flowers together, the rest lying in her Lap, and she picking out those she best liked, casting some others into the River, which smiled in thanks to her for those favours. As she thus played, so did her Sheep and Lambs by her: as free in joy, as she was from love, or any such vexation: full were her eyes, and full of commanding power, her forehead was most covered with her Hat, as in pity for fear of murdering with the clearness, and azure veined pureness, yet her smooth cheeks, plump soft lips, and delicate fine chin, showed a field of conquest, where still they held the victory, her hands bare (making up her Nosegay) said by their unmatched whiteness, that they were to be adored, not put to use, unless to cherish hearts, their softness knowing no hard work, could not be cruel, but gentle to wounds, by themselves especially given. Were not here allurements sufficient to draw the Venetians heart to servitude? certainly far less would have had power to melt the most iron breast of any Italian, whose hearts are all apt enough to love, but here his admiration stayed his love to wonder, yet wonder brought at last resolution to love, and go unto her, had not he a little been interrupted by the coming of a Lady towards the Shepherdess.  
This Lady came, as it seemed, from an house on the top of a Hill, which well might thither, and many miles further he descried, a Groom some half a mile below it on the descent of the Hill, out of which she did seem immediately to come. She came alone accompanied only with a Book to the River's side, but on the contrary side of them, and cheerfully (affection gloriously shining in her eyes) saluted the Shepherdess, who instantly arose, and with as kind and loving looks answered her salutations. The Lady said, that the water was now proved to be as dull an Element, as the earth which joined with her here in heavy thwartness to hold them asunder, ignorant of such spirit, as love had in their hearts in desire of meeting. Here is a Bridge (said the Shepherdess) if you will venture. I am ill at such a business, said the Lady, and you little better, we may both fall in.  
With that the Prince drew near, and offered his service to them: they accepted it, and he pulling off his Gauntlet, took the Lady by the hand, and safely led her over; then did the two (loverlike) women kiss, and embrace each other: when their own passions were a little satisfied, than they both thanked the Knight, desiring to know what accident brought him thither, especially armed, where little Arms was required, or used; blessed Peace, the comfort of souls, having only government in that place. He said, he was a stranger, & but lately arrived in those parts, being the Prince of Venice, by chance cast on the Briton shore, whence he came, he had been much out of fashion if he had not been in Arms, and being so, you are as much out here, said they, and therein is our happiness. Have you no Knights Adventurers in this Country, said he? Knights we have (said the Lady) good store, and adventures; but they seldom are put together, our Knights leaving the adventuring part, unless out of necessity, none loving a happy, and worthy peace better, and none abler, or braver in war, when occasion calleth on them: but if you will try adventures, here are many in this place, several Enchantments, and diverse hard ways to attempt them; Charms are here in abundance also. So it appears, saith he, for you do carry charms enough about you to overthrow Armies of hearts, then making so many yield, how can you be but in peace, when none dare war against such powers. We are armed with strong resolutions, said the Shepherdess, and defended by our own virtue, so as we fear no enemy, if not lurking in our own breasts, which yet have not appeared, I am certain have not had the boldness to adventure in my sight. How free you are (said the Lady) while I that live in the same State, am yet environed with enemies: I had the same subiect-like freedom which you had, yet I have yielded to another Prince, and in that am a Traitor; for alas I have another Monarchy ruling in me, than the true one of this Country. This is a strange confession, said the Shepherdess: but for Love's sake, how long hath it governed, and what is it? The same Lord, in whose name you conjure me. How, cried the Shepherdess? why dearest Lady, can your incomparable wit, matchless spirit, unparallelled judgement, unspeakable discretion, unusual knowledge, peerless learning, and most admirable virtue yield to the poor, mean, wayward, foolish and weakest passion; you that have conquered hearts, and millions of them, while you have gloried in your own strength and power, rightly to be made an example to all your sex for constant worth and worthy confidence, will you fall lower than my companions, poor and weak Shepherdesses, let your spirit awake, and open your eyes to virtue, it is she calls upon you. It is she shall rule me, said the Lady; for none but a virtuous love will I take, or yield unto, and in such is virtue requisite to be called to counsel. You will all flatter yourselves said the Shepherdess, and Love that blind Devil which deludes you, bringing you on, as men do children by Plums, to have them do as they desire; so this false God will abuse you with his crafty delusions, he will make all faults show as fair, and rich as Diamonds; but the richest of them taken inwardly, are poison; he will paint over his worst cousenages with virtue to entice you; but won, he will appear in other colours: he will gild his bitterest pills with golden promises, rich hopes, and all falsehoods, and when; You have said your worst, replied the Lady, and we considered all, I must love, and so I hope shall you dear friend, if but for love's honours sake, since an enemies gaining is more honour, than the conquest of hundreds of us that are professed his enemies. A goodly profession certainly (said she), and a great purchase you have yet to enrich yourself withal, who had lately the richest stock, and treasure of true, noble, and virtuous freedom. The Lady took her in her arms, and smiling kissed her, Chide me not dearest Celina, I cannot help nor alter my fortunes, run not on the error that I can withstand the power, commands from Kings to your companions; for who are (unless yourself) free; what man ever lived, that loved not, or woman breathed, who had not some affection; not yourself but love, if but this life; I love where I may gain happiness, and the truest end for which we are, and to which I hope you will come: then Oh do not you afflict me with blaming me, my love to you shall be no less, but rather more, since the better I know how to love, the better, I shall love you. A fine and rare conclusion truly, said Celina, and just loverlike to deceive yourself; in troth Love hath played her part well in so short a time to instruct you thus perfectly: but if you pardon your loving, I can scarce do so for your cursing me, since wishing me to be a lover is a flat curse; pardon me thus you may (said Rossilea), since I wish you as myself. With that the Prince, who was taken with the Shepherdess' love, came in to part the loving, yet for love disputing friends, little needed any peacemaker between them, whose affections to each other were so twined in union, as could not be unwoven by any workman but death, yet he loving and pleading for love, they all sat down jointly lovers, he loving her, the Lady her Servant, the Shepherdess her liberty. The Prince then looking on her, who so much scorned loan: and speaking to the other subject of affection, entreated he might be so bold, as to beseech the favour of her, to know who she was, and the manner of her love, she answered, she would not deny that request, but tell her story with so much truth and passion, as she could, hoping by it to win the Shepherdess to be her fellow in service, as her chosen friend in love. You must use strange eloquence (said she) to persuade me to such a servitude; but if ever I fall into it, it will be to keep you company, yet dear should I buy such a friendship.  
As they were thus going about to relate their stories, the Shepherdess started up, saying, she saw her sheep disturbed, and frighted at something by the bank, as they were going to drink; she ran thither, and looking to see what it was, found a man drowned, as she thought; she with that cried out, and the other two came hastily to her, and altogether helping her, lifted him up, no sooner had she (fair and loving Lady) seen his face, but she forgot the delicateness of her green Velvet Gown, the richness of her fair carnation, embroidered petticoat, her white shoes, and rich laced shooties, all was cast aside, and he being laid on the bank, she laid herself in the wet, and on the ground by him, rubbed his pale face, wept, cried for help, did all that a friend, a servant, but most a lover could do for his recovering.  
Elina saw the care her friend had of him, & with what affection she sought his saving, she thought it charity, she liked the virtue, she seemed to lament with her as her friend, she counterfeited not, but in truth sorry, yet at first she imitated Rossalea, first knew not alas how to grieve, but so she played till it was so perfectly counterfeited, as she acted beyond that part, and in earnest grieved; paleness here won more than beauty, that to her was the greatest beauty, wannes and dead looks, more than cheerful colour, cold lips more than warm living ones, heat yet in them to burn her: she who could not like a living Prince, or any man, falls in love with a dead man; can such fire rise out of ashes if not kindlied by love the truest fire; she who hated love, loves in the most miserable sort, she who contemned affection, affects an image of a man; nay, she who chid her friend for this fault, as she calls it, falls into a greater, and more to be disliked, for she doth not only love, but loves hopelessly, not only a man, but a stranger, and not but which was above all a man fittest to be for his worth beloved, but her friends chosen love; here is love just in power and punishment: Now may Rossalea not only blame her friend but herself, for had she not instructed her, and wished her captivity she had never thought of it, had she not commended love she had still continued an enemy unto it, but had she not so passionately loved, and showed the way by her affectionate and dear expression, she had not known how to entertain those flames, or practise the use of them.  
Now Rossalea sighs, rubs his temples, lays her lips to his as if to feel if he breathed. Celina doth so also, but when she toucheth his lips she finds a new pain, and yet she stays on them, and thinks, nay swears, Love was a fine power, and that she infinitely offended while she did not love, and then vows if life come again to him she will love him, and needs must I said she, for if in death he be thus lovely and winning, how rare will he be in life? then she considers he may be the man, her friend loves, seeing her unusual grief for him, and care of him; friendship then comes in, but love prevails, and to give her due punishment deluds her as she before told, and described the truth of love's falsehood, and in the same kind she had told Rossalea he used her, thus she falleth into the snare she persuaded her to avoid, being fed with hope by this blinding spirit, that this might be the much admired brother of that Lady, but hope had not here so settled a ground, but that some other of love's followers came in also; jealousy appears in yellow mantles dressed against Rossaleas kissing him: why, said she, if he be her brother doth she so affectionately kiss and embrace him, with such dearness as I do who love him; and if her love, why should she do this before me who so much affect him? Or why should she be so unkind to her friend, to manifest her passions before my face to vex me; at last so full of raging love she was, as she would scarce let the Lady touch him, who poor woman could hardly do it, grief so abounding in her, and what ease she had was only that she saw she should want nothing, Celina her friend being so careful of him, this care she imputed to love, love indeed it was, but not as she took it to her only, but merely to him, here did that little, though great conqueror play a master prize; the poor Venetian strove as much by way of helping as either, and at last searching about him, found a wound in his left side, whereout issued into his clothes much blood, the wound he stopped and bound neatly up, then with the continual rubbing him, and throwing water in his face, he came a little again to himself, breathed, and in a small space looked up, and seeing his life in his Mistress before him, strove to express his joys, what could she do, weep and wash his face with her tears, holding each other in their arms twined like bows we call twins; one dying, the other but a little flourishing, he weak, and his arms though shaking, yet withal her affection's power held her, she loving as much as he, with her arms encircled him, and withal tenderness and love closed him in her breast; Celina embraced both, loving both as their kinds were; in excess on the other side the Venetian held all three, so as the four made in their cross embracements a true lover's knot, and so it was on some parts; poor Celina, I pity thee, but what help can be found for thee? alas none, insolent thou wert to love; scornfully, peevishly reviling him, and now but deservedly thou art pained, and he justly revenged: this is scarce the entrance, what will be the success? pain, torment, loss, affliction, mourning, lamenting, pining, nay, dying, and this will be the conclusion; woeful profits, but such as revengeful love allotteth thee; let never woman (especially hereafter) be so bold to contest, nay contemn so powerful a godhead; when this small remainder of life had a little stayed, and gained some other poor addition to it, the Lady with all love and care entreated Elina to call some boy of hers (as some she had to look to her flocks) and send him to her house for her Coach to carry him thither, she called a lad but loath she was to go on the message, both for going from him, and by that means to have him carried from her; but the Venetian took his horse, and being directed by them to the safest ford, rode to the house and speedily with the Coach returned, bringing a bed in it the easilier to carry him without shaking, or opening his wounds, the fair shepherdess mourned much at this parting; but one must suffer, and now it is her part and time; being come to the house, Surgeons are presently sent for, and soon brought, for a great City was not far off; life was then assured him, but a long time they thought it would be before he recovered, so much blood he had lost, and the long lying in the water had hurt the wound and would hold it something longer from healing, mother never was so tender of a child, as Rossalea of her love; the Venetian as ready as a friend to express care, yet was he amorous, and in the morning after he had seen the Gentleman had taken rest, he walked forth to find his heart hover about the body of the Sheepherdesse, passing down the walk which went to the Grove, he heard not far from him, two discoursing earnestly, the one as repenting, the other threatening; he hearkened, though scorning that trick if upon any occasion but profit to his friend, wherein he was most just and observant, this besides leading him by their own inducing speeches on, saying did I consent to so detestable a fact led by thy wickedness. Oh Framinius, that not only thyself may curse, but I already find the hellish tortures for it, my soul boyles and burns in the flames of my offence, yet thou wickedly sayest thou hast but revenged thyself, and done but right in that, my breast swells with sorrow, and I pine in despair of pardon, a religious poor thing said he thou art, and as religion ties me I must not suffer thee too long to languish; then did he with a Dagger in many places stab him, the youth (for so the Prince after saw him to be) patiently, yet sadly taking his end, committing himself to God and admonishing the other to think, to whom he had committed himself, and his last hopes. With that the Venetian called Leurenius, step in, and not after the ordinary way taking the hurt body, but the hurter he caught, and using these words held him. Villain, said he, thus to murder one, whose all and least drop of blood being stained by thee should so have been cheerished: What canst thou then say in thy defence, or on thy part, to excuse this cruelty? this youth is not only slain by thee but tied to suffer the slaughter having no defence for himself, not only so but as your speeches argue made ill and guilty of blood, this but annimated and emboldened him having no more order or bounds then the Sea hath in a storm on rotten and yielding ground: wicked soul what canst thou say to answer thy wickedness? better than you replied he, this bold and saucy inquisition; who authorised you in this examination? who made you inquisitor or judge? truth and pity said Leurenius: neither ever ruled or had power in me said Vicianus; I am Lord of myself, and much good lands hereabout, I owe now nothing to any, I did, and was indebted to the great keeper of the Forest, whose command greater than mine I could not suffer, but after many contentions and controversies between us, he not the man that would submit or yield, I laid a plot for revenge, that being my refuge, and yesterday finding my advantage took it, and now am satisfied, for his life I have, and now am free, this creature being my only Counsellor, who hurt dangerously by him, who intruth was valiant and had many good parts, yet drowned them all in the brook of dislike to my orders which were not to be corrected by him, I so ordered him as we two I say had his life, and least that should come out, I have now made away with him, so will I do with you (for in such bussinesses I love no Counsell-keepers, with that he let fly at him with a weighty club of Iron, but Leureneus was nimble, and well used to escape such perils, so as slipping aside he avoided it, but withal stepped in like a younger brother to possession, & closing with him threw him down; then possessed he himself with his arms, and forced him to tell him he had done this ill, he confessed it was done by treasons compact, more he would not say, but by chance watching opportunity, catched the Prince's dagger and would have stabbed him, but he quickly prevented it, and made the actor better act his part, shunning the blow, and catching him unprovided, for resistance armed only with mischief got the dagger from him, and throwing him down on his knees, made him acknowledge his fault, and make his confession; the chief Forester is a great Lord and infinitely powerful in love of friends and people, but most enriched with the affection of the Lady of the Forest whom I affected, and who had by the Lord's appointment, that honour done to her, that title being given her, which madded me as much as her refusing me, which proudly she had done, yet sought I not so much revenge of her, as of her servant, and our Forest Lord, her affection I hoped to win by love or force, he gone whom she affected, and to be rid of him I resolved, and yesterday I dispatched it. This youth, my then in show cherisht-Lad, slew him with an arrow as he alone rid to see his walk, and to be sure of him when wounded, I threw him into the Brook, where if any seek they may find him; his wound is on the left side, the instrument a Bow, the weapon abroad arrow, so as now if I die I have this satisfaction, he goes, and is gone before me. You are said the Prince, much deceived in this, for though hurt, he lives, and to recover we make no question, but to assure you of it, you shall go with me, and from him, and his dearest only beloved receive your punishment. Back he led him by force, and delivered him unto them, he was by the Officers of that part the Lord being a party having no power to punish him) sent unto the City into a sharp prison, whence he was conducted to such punishment as the judges, and Officers appointed for him. Leurenius again going down towards the Meadows to find his heart which in Celinus breast he saw craving love, or pity, she lying on the ground, careless of order, or modesty, almost distracted, and lying in the most disordered Posture that could be, for so discreet and curious a woman, tumbling on the ground, clapping her breast, sobbing, weeping, crying, all passionate joined to her mastery: one while she tore her hair, and thrust her face, as it were, into the ground, another time she rated her passions by sufferance, and so challenged reward: then she confessed the reasons, and so recalled her claim; then she blamed her folly, but quickly commended her love: thus by contrarieties she gained respite, but not ease from her pains, flying like down in the air; miserable bondage, and most so, because to a late free heart. O servitude insufferable, and slavery not to be endured. Wretched Celina, cried she, that have these unmeasured thoughts, and want of power to express them but in patience, some lines she put together, but so few, as could make no kind of verse, not having proportion, or number: these indeed, said she, are fit for my making, unmeasurable thoughts leave me, as hope & help abandons me. Then she again vexed to the soul rolled on the grass, and with her tears to the earth, and on it, Receive me dear Mother, said she, into thee, and let me be as I am, once again with thee. The Prince was grieved to see his soul, which in her was thus perplexed, he cried against his ill, lamented as for her, and in as much distress as any that ever loved, he governed under the weight of his affliction; he heard her complain of unfortunate love, he said he might as justly do so to: she said it was strangely fatal to love so violently at first sight: He shruged, and said it was his fate; no complaints she would make that he had not the same cause to dislike, for no pain was in her that he was not a patient of, yet strong it was, the pains one, the accident one, and cause one, they were by two equal sufferings made diverse, and several. She complained she could not measure her passions. He, that he could not please her by putting them in measured feet, yet to pass the time, having a fine voice, and skill fit for a Prince, he sung this Song.  

1  
Have I lost my liberty,  
And myself, and all, for thee  
O Love?  
Yet wilt thou no favour give  
In my loss thy blame will live;  
Alas remove.   

2  
Pity claims a just reward,  
But proud thoughts are thy best guard  
Once smile:  
Glory 'tis to save a life  
When deceivers are in strife  
Which to beguile.   

3  
Your gain hath my pain begot,  
But neglect doth prove my lot,  
O turn,  
Say it was some other harm,  
And not your still sought for Charm  
Did make me burn.   

4  
Thus may you all blame recall,  
Saving me from ruins thrall  
Then love  
Pity me, I'll no more say  
You to cruelty did sway,  
But loyal prove.   

5  
Else be sure your tricks I'll blaze,  
And your triumph Castle raze  
Take heed,  
Conquerors cannot remain  
Longer than men's hearts they gain,  
Worse will you speed.   

6  
You a King set up by love,  
Traitors soon may you remove  
From by,  
Take this counsel serve loves will  
And seek not a heart to kill,  
Lest both do cry.   
She heard him, and liked neither, his tune nor words, her heart another was flying, or staying but to fly further, as taking breath for a longer journey. He looked towards her, she from him, he went as to her, she rose and walked towards the Grove; he followed and sighed, she went on, and was deaf to his sorrow; he cried to her, she was silent, and answered not, as not taking his words to her. He overtook her, and with tears told her his pain; she was sorry for him, and could be so, her own being so great. He said her sight had killed him: she answered, he lived yet (and she hoped should) to be cured of that wound.  
He said, none but she could cure him. She replied, she was an ill Chirurgeon, else she would not be uncured. Alas, said he, pity me. O pity, said she, have compassion on me. It is you dear Shepherdess (sigh he) can and must pity me. Pity, said she, hath so little acquaintance with me, as I cannot invite her to me, how then shall I spare so much to you? Your first sight (said he) murdered me. Alas that first sight, said she, should hurt us both; it is my case, and certainly this is but a charitable pains you take, to help me to discover my pain, which is so intolerable, and past remedy, as both with our best (and I think addition of) wits cannot relate or discover.  
I but saw you, and my heart was made subject to you. I but saw him, and I was his slave, cried she. Would I were that He, said he. So would not I, said she, for than I should not have this pleasure in grieving nor tormenting you. Why, hate you me because I love you? No, answered she, but because I am rejected; I love to see others tortured I will suffer all tortures, crid he, so you will at last commiserate my woe. I shall in a general kind, said she; for I shall lament, mourn, and feel my torment, such as I shall pity all that smart, and so may pity you, but with no more favour, than a private man may take a King's thanks, when thousands cry, God save him. Will you permit me to live, and serve you here, said he. I need no defendants, said she, and for servants I have those sitter for my command then you can be: but Sir let not falsehood, or beguiling hopes abuse you, this is no life for you, this no place for your abiding, be yourself, and fruitlessly follow not what you shall never gain, proceed in your profession, and as armed against enemies, arm yourself against this fond affection, I wish you well, but am unable to aid you, my heart is disposed of, you a brave Knight may better fit yourself with a deserving, and gallant Lady; I wish you all good fortune, but that now you seek, and as a friend advice you to leave this suit endless, and gainelesse.  
With that she came to a Gate which opened into a fine Grove, she had the key, and opening it, went in; yet at the entering turned, and with a sigh, a scornful look to him, and a slight courtesy bade him farewell, shutting the door after her. He (as in that Country they have a Phrase) returned with a cold fire to warm himself, if not with his own flames; yet strait he went not thence, but a while looked after her, when he perceived her cast herself on the ground at the root of a Hauthorne, speaking to herself, but the words he directly heard not, at last she sang with a sad voice, a song the delicate Rossalea had once made, she being perfect in Poetry, it was but finished, when an other Shepherdess came to her, as sad, and grieved as she was, no difference, but that the former had the greater, and curster spirit; this as much, but milder, and softer; she wept, and had done so long, this distressed Maid did so too, at last they came nearer to speak, and thus they discoursed.  
What accident, said Celina, hath brought you hither? Sadness and mischance said the other. What procured them, said the first? Love, cried the second, the Lord of hearts, and of yours too I hope, and so should seem by your looks. Mine eyes and looks are but true to my heart, said Celina. If they tell you so, they are but the glasses which I see myself in, said the other drawn to misery. We are all pictured in that piece, said she, a large cloth, and full of much work. While they were in this discourse, a third came singing a song merrily, and carelessly of either being heard, or the power of love, it was this, 

Love grown proud with victory,  
Seeks by sleights to conquer me,  
Painted shows he thinks can bind  
His commands in women's mind.  
Love but glories in fond loving,  
I most joy in not removing.   

Love a word, a look, a smile,  
In these shapes can some beguile,  
But he some new way must prove  
To make me a vassal love.  
Love but etc.   

Love must all his shadows leave  
Or himself he will deceive,  
Who loves not the perfect sky,  
More than clouds that wanton fly.  
Love but etc.   

Love, yet thus thou mayst me win,  
If thy staidness would begin  
Then like friends w'would kindly meet  
When thou provest as true as sweet  
Love then glory in thy loving  
And I'll joy in my removing.    
Finely sung (said Celina), but it is an idle subject you sang of, because 'tis love (said she), because it is not loving, said the other. Loving (cried the new come Lass) than I would swear 'twere idle indeed: why sweet Celina (said she) I hope you are none of those poor Vassals, his baby Kingdom consists of; I am one, if you call his royal government such, and I think one of his truest servants. Now in troth I lament your mischance (said she) it is a fortune I would not wish mine enemy: yet your friend, said Celina, is fallen into it: then pity her, and pray for her I think, I were best (said she) for sure all his subjects are in miserable case. I am in it above help, or hope of returning; then, said she, both we see nothing is impossible. I rejoice in your company smilingly, said the first come Lass, and I lament for you both cried the last: And I thank you both, said Celina, and for you I hope ere long by such an occasion, or some worse, you may fall into my fortune.  
The Prince seeing all the three thus free in discourse, entreated, that he might be admitted, Celina was persuaded by them, and so they called him in: then began they again to talk, at last they went to pretty plays, as choosing of Kings and Queens; the lot fell on Celina, who commanded the Venetian to stay no longer in those parts, but to go unto his friends, and in witness of his captivity, to travel unarmed, till he met them, or was forced by injury to put them on. This was more than sport, yet he obeyed, and having liberty to take his leave of the Lady, he kissed her hand, and departed. The last Shepherdess that so reviled love, being called Lemnia sighed at this parting, loving good company, or him who had gained from her a more kind conceit, than she had had formerly of mankind, as if the spring to the summer of her love, which increased by a strange heat, growing in absence to the height of flaming, as if the fire of love were so universal, as the warmth like that of the Sun, would heat worlds at a time: so his force served in absence to scorch, nay burn her heart. She looked after him as long as she could see him, and marking his loving looks back cast, and sad on Celina, she liked, pitied and loved his manner, so him, and at last stole in to be a lover before she was aware; a crafty Ladd this Cupid is, poor creatures how you are beguiled by him. Celina, and Derina had enough now to please themselves, and vex her withal, yet sometimes, and often the latter part fell to them, while she pleased herself with her passions; these three now sound captive might dance the tricks of Love to the tune of Sorrow. Celina loves one whose heart and soul was her friends. Lemnia a Prince stranger, and loving Celina. Derina a brave youth, but married to the Forest lord Sister, poor souls, and the poorest, loving thus hopelessely; All they could do in their best humours, was to lament absence, in the cursedest, and worst to rail at Love, and their misfortune, curse sight, hearing, believing, and all that were assistants, instruments, or sufferers to these passions; but the Venetian having (as the rest had at first done) sworn to obey what ever he was commanded, went with sad steps up the Hill, his heart falling faster into despair, than his feet ascended.  
When he came into the Garden he met the Lady, who told him some were with her Lord about business, therefore entreated him to stay, he obeyed her, and being loath to have his ill known, which might be imputed to folly in him, to avoid her question, entreated to hear her story, which thus she related.  
My name (said she) is Belizia, daughter to the Earl Martial of this Country, near allied I am to the greatest of this Land, but only tied to this Forest Lord, for whose sake, I have forsaken all, and live here a lonely life with him; much my friends, and Kindred were displeased withal, his means being small, though his honour and worth great, which I looked on, & loved and so to them gave my heart, and had not this misfortue happened, the celebration of my gift had been performed to our only joys this next week, but now must be deferred, though I trust to be one day happy for all this misery; never man hath been so loving, nor so constant; nor if I may speak for myself, never any woman hath been so firm and passionate, none yet so secret; for many years I loved before I acknowledged it, nay, before any thought I could think on such a flame, yet when discovered, some remembered I had been a good friend to his pretty godhead, never suffering him to be abused when my power could help his honour's defence.  
One of his Sisters was the first mistrusted me, and telling me of it, I denied it, but so blushingly, and faintly, as that was a perfect confession. She loved me so well, as she was glad of it, being sure to have a perpetual tye on me by this means, which though she might have assured herself of before, yet Lovers love strictest ties to bind their loved to them; so much indeed we loved, as but the fair Celina I affected her only, and best of woman kind.  
The ill man you took yesterday, my friends had rather have bestowed me on, but he was contrary to my heart to like, would so I had been to his, than had not my dear been wounded, nor he come to so untimely an end, for this last night (before his time for execution, by the Law appointed) he strangled himself in the Prison, having nothing but his garters to execute his wicked enterprise: withal when this Story was thus telling, one came unto the Lady, to let her know, that many Ladies were come to visit her, she then, though unwillingly, took leave of the Venetian, whose good, and fair behaviour gave content where ever he did come, but he said, he was compelled by necessity, so he took his way, first taking leave of the Lord, his Squire carrying his Arms, he not being to wear any, while he was in Britain, by his cruel Love's command.  
He traveled till he came to London, admiring the bravery, and sumptuousness of the City, but most of the Court, arriving just against a mighty triumph was to be made in honour of the King, and some strange Princes who came of purpose to honour themselves, with kissing his hands. Nobly, and courteously was he received at the Court, much was he perplexed with passion, much pitied by all, and as much he was troubled, that he was barred from exercising himself in those sports, which by reason of his promise to Celina he could not do, not being able to wear arms while he was in Britain, if not for defence, yet at the Ring he ran, and did it so finely, as the King and all admired him; here he stayed the conclusion of the triumphs, then remembering his friends, and oath, he took his leave, taking towards that place where he arrived, just as the Florentine did, but when he saw Leurenius in a Court Suit of Willow colour Satin embroidered with Gold, his Armour trust up, & carried on a Horse after him, What Metamorphosis is here, cried he? Is this Leurenius the brave Venetian Prince, and my friend? While I was worthy, I was so, but now am nothing, replied he, but sorrow and despair. What is the cause said he, & what makes you travel contrary to our vow, unarmed? Overcome (cried he) by the power not equallable of a Shepherdess, and by her command to leave this Country, and to travel unarmed till I met with you, having heard my story, and my former ill fortune, she added this to me the worst of ills.  
Britain, said the Duke of Florence, hath been counted the most pleasant, delightful, and happiest Country in the world, being for all bounty of contents a world itself, nothing missing or wanting to the full plenty of happiness. Yes said Leurenius, pity wants in the heart of Celina, and in a Lady whom I met, sighed the Florentine, and who hath tied me as fast as you are in the bonds of Love, but not of slavery, for you are a little to far gone, but Leurenius here is good news, the Emperor is found, and we must strait repair unto him, Celina to be thus causelessly cruel alas, but is the Emperor found? and you utterly lost, cried his friend I fear: fear not dear friend, (said he) she will not yield, her heart made of these Rocks cannot be pierced, her soul hath no compassion, nor will hear more to pity, than fire will by supplication when it is ruining the rarest buildings, then fear not I shall go with you; but said the Florentine you are much altered in your speech, your discourse differs, nor is so certain. All is in me uncertain, but my love, that is fixed cried he, I am Love, I love, and will love. His friend beheld him with infinite grief, cursing the accident that parted them, on the ground he cast himself, a bank by chance being there green, and clean, rolled on it, wept, and grovelling on the ground, wiped his face again with it, thus, thus, cried he, would I have done at Court, cursing the order that held me from it; my heart swelled with bearing my pains, and all the honours done me were but corrosives to my soul, she, she Celina having banished me. Leave these vain passions said his friend. I must leave myself first cried he. I love dear friend, and if you could love so, you would not wonder at me but envy my happiness in being such an one. Such an one, cried he, God forbid, I love, and this Country I may thank for it also: this charming Country; for no better, she is filled with enchanting beauties framed to tie, and ruin men: revile not this blessed Realm, the flower of peace, beauty, honour, virtue, happiness, and most of Shepherdesses. I love this Country, and I love, did not the valiant Hercules' love? Yes, said the other, and spin almost as wise a web as you go about to do, certainly (dear friend) I shall in my extremity gain help by seeing your affliction; but man what think you of the Emperor? God bless him, said Leurenius, and make Celina knde, else I die. His companion was discreet and loving, so he urged him no further, but made the Squire tell the story of the Emperor, as his Master the Duke of Burgundy had related it to him, and commanded him to deliver it to the Princes, and as he found any of them to send them still home. When that unfortunate hunting was past, wherein Amphilanthus was lost, the Queen distressed, and all the Princes scattered, the Emperor having got his arms, followed in search of Pamphilia, who was (as he by a villain was informed) stolen away by thieves, in the wood, hotly pursuing the quest, rage and revenge boiling in his breast, he happened on a strange place for thickness and obscureness; yet the undaunted and loving Prince proceeded till he found a Crown of stones, of infinite and huge bigness; weary with travel, he alighted, and thinking to rest, tied his horse to one of those stones, no sooner was it done, but a terrible, fierce and mighty boar, issued out of the wood, running mainly at Amphilanthus, but he thinking to shun the encounter, and take advantage of the Beast, in his passing, the Horse unruly at the sight of him, did his best likewise, striking at him, but missing him, the Boar with his tusk strake the Horse into the body, so he died. The Emperor troubled as well for the love he bore the horse, as for his want and danger he remained in with this cruel beast, watched opportunity, with vow of revenge, and so as the Boar ran at him, he stepped aside, and nimbly skipping in again, thrust him to the heart before he could turn. This was no sooner done, but many men armed set upon him, he valiantly, like himself, defended his honour and life, one young man unarmed, but above all most harming him, and pressing more than the rest upon him, he slew, the rest all at the instant vanished, and with a blow given that was on the head, which cut him to the eyes, a voice cried, Farewell Amphilanthus; the voice he knew, and presently in stead of that young man, he saw to his thinking Pamphilia slain, and by his hand; he threw himself on the ground, striving to help her, but she was carried into a stone which lay in the midst of the Crown, by whom he could not see: but how did he labour to hold her back or keep her with him, who living never sought, but to be with him, nor now left him, deceit only abusing him by this enchantment; entreat, pull, all would not serve, stronger powers had her, as he believed, and made her inocently offend, and part from him she entirely and loyally loved, and from whom she never slid: into the stone she was carried, up he then rose, with his sword striking at the stone, as to hew it asunder, and take her out, but his sword stuck therein: wilt thou leave me too said he? then his armour he pulled off which with the blows those enchanted men strake was much hacked, and blood thrown of purpose, as if shed by him upon it (when he was unarmed he laid the pieces on the stone, vowing that should be his monument, being the richest, her heart enclosing him, and there would he dye, a Ring of iron he then saw, which pulling hard, opened the stone; there did he perceive perfectly within it Pamphilia dead, lying within an arch, her breast open and in it his name made, in little flames burning like pretty lamps which made the letters, as if set round with diamonds, and so clear it was, as he distinctly saw the letters engraven at the bottom in Characters of blood; he ran to take her up, & try how to uncharm her, but he was instantly thrown out of the Cave in a trance, and being come again to himself, resolving to dye, or to release her since he found her loyalty, he saw these words only written in place of the entrance.  
This no wonder's of much weight,  
'Tis the hell of deep deceit.  
Admiring it and the words he was called to for help by Musalina, her he saw, she must be followed, Pamphilia is forgotten, and now may lie and burn in the Cave, Lucenia must be rescued also, her he saw madly carried by a savage man, he ran towards the place he saw them go into, as he thought, then were they there rudely handled, and they carried several ways, all that night in the wood he lay, three passions distract him, tired with running, and laded with grief, in sleep Lucenia won him, all passions now but how to recover her having abandoned him; three days he did wander thus, till at the end of them towards night he came unto the Sea, there he saw a savage man take her up in his arms and throw her into a Boat, leaping himself after, and when she would have thrown herself into the Sea, crying still to Amphilanthus to succour and have compassion of her, the rude wretch tied her by the hair, to his leg, and so road away with her. Musalina from the wood again claiming aid, with her hair rudely cast about her, and loudest cries; the divine powers held him for all this witchcraft, from hurting himself, else certainly he had been much in danger, what passions he suffered then cannot be told, a furnace of fiery torments blazing & burning in him, than came on other boats, as standing doubtfully whether to return to Pamphilia, or follow Lucenia, but force of charms prevail, so he called to that and those in it, offered money, prayed, besought, used all means to gain passage, at last the bark put in, and took him aboard, a storm than rose, or as by charms he believed not, yet being free from those devilish witchcrafts, till he arrived at Tenedos, on the shore he saw Musalina and Lucenia walking, and safe; Musalina having by devilish Art been the cause of all this. Now had he almost forgot all had passed by the enchantment, that being almost finished, but all things before happening were fresh in his memory, his sword, armour and horse he had he thought use of, and now blames himself for going so madly and foolishly unarmed, but they saluted him, welcomed him, cherished him, he told his fortune, how pleasant and dear was this to them, and now, said he, I am disinchanted, and to us most affectionately welcome said they; no more shall charms now trouble you, from them, and through them said he, I have broken, and am come to you, and there is he still living in much pleasure, the Duke my Master, by his travelling that way, after adventures many and dangerous, landing in Tenedos, where he happily (because the search ended) found the Emperor, but seeing his resolution took his leave of him, and the Princes of Denmark and Swethland, whom he met and rescued in a cruel fight at Sea against Pirates, with noble victory, are all returned and gone into their several Countries, sending me hither to seek you, being advertised by the ships that brought you hither, ask of all ships and men still for you, that you were by her landed here, am I faulty said Leurenius to be charmed by love? since the earth's glory, and such a Ruler as Amphilanthus can be charmed, Love said the Florantine hath in this greatest triumph; the Duke of Savoy the next day arrived, who told his story thus: after they had to him related the Emperor's fortunes, his discourse being of the rescuing of a distressed Lady set on by thieves, who finding advantage by her staying a little behind her company, had ceased on her, rob her of her jewels, and would have shipped her, she lamentably complained, he coming by heard her, so he relieved her, and her servants wanting her also, came in to her succour, many thanks he had for his noble favours, and most when she knew that he was a great Prince, and a stranger, and would be so free and courteous to a strange Lady: after that adventure being a brave one, saving the modest honour of a Lady, he returned with little more knowledge of Britain, the time short of stay, the places desert and wanting of adventures, Knights none to encounter, peace having with true honour and conquest, taken away those rude troubles, and travels, all these met, they resolved, to go to their own homes, and thence send to know what the Emperor would do, and so resolved, home they went: The Florentine being so free as to leave his heart with the sad loving Lady, the Venetian so mad to give his unrewarded to Celina, but the Savoyan, graver and more stayed, as his years were some more than theirs, carried his home to bestow it in his own air.  
Amphilanthus having stayed in Tenedos, sometime walking abroad alone, many several thoughts possessing him, he saw a Nymph sitting by a Brook side, being in the evening, besides a private and unfrequented place, each Angle and wanton winding embanked with trees, and flowers, reeds, rushes, all other water commodities richly abounding there, for the service and pleasure of such like herself, she stood still behind a large willow tree, while she undressed her, and pulled off her fine apparel, as her upper garments and ruff, her neck then remaining bare, so as more fine and delicate she seemed, and merrily did she this, singing a dainty song concerning chastity; so pure and mild is the stream near her thoughts, and actions such as made the Emperor jealous if he could be so, being royally free from such folly, yet tender he was least the Brook with his cold (and her unused to cold) arms might make her start and so molest her with such unpleasing embracements, therefore to preserve her from such hazard, and her honour from the danger, her naked simplicity might bring her to, in any hands but his, he spoke to her, now was she amazed, bashfulness, modesty, fear, trembling and all possessing her, yet so prettily in such danger she looked, and such commanding in petitioning looks she cast, as humility and submission directly governed, but he who was by them, only put in mind of such as once pleased him, he in place of taking, or thinking, of taking these, ask favour, or using power, told her she need not fear him, who only sought to gain quiet rest to his thoughts which were wand'ring to his heart, distant thence by much; then with tears in his eyes, casting them up as unwilling to let such passions govern in him, or seem to do so in his bravest parts, though he must thus be subject to passion, he walked away toward the house again, more perplexed then ever; sigh she did, & so, as made every good heart groan to hear them, strangely altered he grew, the cause none knew, many, most, nay a al that saw him, admired, after supper some two days being past, the Duke of Saxsony, arriving there, having heard of his being in that Island, he told the Ladies that the Squire had been long without him, and that he must confess himself extreme negligent, and unworthy of that dignity no more prising the care of it, wherefore he resolved with the Duke of Saxony the next morning to take his way towards Germany, and because the ways were tedious, long, and beside filled with such noble friends of his, as would make him stay longer than he was willing, he would go by Sea. Musalina and Lucenia were much grieved at this, but reason, and there ancient knowledge of his resolutions if once resolutly taken, not to be removed, were forced to give consent; Lucenia came with him to the waters side, so to pass over into Romania to the Queen again to serve her, Musalina so far brought him and her, there they took their leaves. The Emperor and his friendly servant, sailing along the Archipelago, Amphilanthus willed him to tell him his adventure, which he did, having all happened in Pamphilia, lead therein by marvelous, rare, and unheard passages, than he told him as occasion brought in, his being at the Nymph's house, where the Queen had lain, her recovering her first love by their means and discourse, with the Queen's passion and grief for him, and his loss, and all the sorrow which after these Adventures were finished he found, and left Pamphilia in, directly assuring him, that in such miserable grief she remained, as long she could not sustain. Lastly, how Polarchos kept the crowned Stones, none at his departure being assured of the Emperor's life, or being, but within the Stone.  
These things wrought in him, like drops falling on soft stones, they wear in to them at last, though in the beginning touch & slide off; more & more this pierced, and so much strengthened with his own affection, as he resolves to see her; so he commanded the Mariners to land him on the Pamphilian shore, which they did, he enjoining them to sail on for Germany, giving the Duke of Saxony letters to Ollorandus, and the rest of the Counsel, with all instructions fit for such employment, promising to be there in short time after, nothing (this visitation made) should hinder him; the Duke humbly kissing his hands, overwhelmed with joy for this good news, and assured hope of the having it performed, went for Germany, safely arriving there, the King Ollorandus more joyed with this blessed intelligence, then with all the happinesses he ever enjoyed, Bonfires and all expressions of joy made, in testimony of this happy tidings, and all the Princes sent unto, to come and assemble themselves against his return, which with glad souls they did, for as their souls they loved him; grief now abiding no where but in the Lady's breasts, who hardly brooked absence; but variety of content made that passion and want sufferable.  
Pamphilia still continued her devour vow, and heart tormenting sorrow, was yet by her servants and Nobles persuaded to ride abroad; she was wonderful unwilling, knowing it would but trouble her the more, for what pleased others tormented her; what others delighted in vexed her to see? what others gloryed and pleasured in, tortured her; when others commended the sweet Air, pleasant Fields, Brooks, Meadows, Springs, Flowers, all these said she, show severally to me my only loss, and serve but as if I wanted remembrance of him, which I should hate my soul for, if she had not true, and multiplicity of worthy matters to glory in the memory of him, and sorrow for his loss; that word loss, made her as if loose herself in passion, yet never lost she the use and plenty of her tears, being as if silent, and retired to spare her breath to spend it in sighs for him, and her thoughts to be expressed in tears; yet abroad she went to satisfy their desires, and as it happened to content herself, although had any that morning but spoken that word, as if she should be content, it had been as ill to her, as meriting her disfavour; but coming into a wood, sweet and delicately pleasing to all but herself, to whom nothing could be in that nature, she walked alone having lighted from her horse, commanding them to attend her return in that place, they obeyed, and she wandered a good space, her thoughts yet making farther journeys, yet so far she went till she came to a dainty Spring, issuing out of a stony bank upon pebbles, and making on them a murmuring, sweetly doleful tune, clear the water was running on gravel; and such as was fit for her clear eyes to look upon, weep she did, tears falling into the stream, not much increasing the brightness of it, though abundantly they fell, but certainly enriching it with rare sweetness, and dropping into it such virtue as appeared after in some that drank of it, for at that very instant there arrived a Knight armed on horseback, the Queen heard his horse, and looking up contrary to her accustomed fashion, had no sudden wit to leave the place, but sat still or lay still as she did, he saw her not, but seeing the dainty stream alighted to drink of it, and not knowing a readier way, pulled first his gauntlet off, than his helm to take up some of the water; the Queen lying among the flowers, and some bushes between, so as she could better see him, than he discern her, especially not thinking of any there perceived; O what? nay what? her soul without herself, because in an other body returned, she quickly rose up, and as she parted so hoped to meet him, kind to her, she ran unto him, forgiving, nay forgetting all injuries, he seeing her threw down his helm, with open arms received her, and withal unfeigned affection embraced her, and well might he joyfully do it, love thus expressed, besides a labour saved of ask pardon, but here such Ceremonies needed not, those are by these lovers thought fit for either false Lovers, that must make up their contents with words, or new or unexperienced Lovers, who talk half their time away, but they knew each other, loved, only happy in each other, and admired each others loves; never was such affection expressed, never so truly felt, to the company, they together returned, he leading her, or rather embracing her with his conquering arms, and protesting the water he drank being mixed with her tears, had so infused constancy and perfect truth of love in it, as in him it had wrought the like effect, than were they the best bestowed tears that ever my eyes shed, though till now hardly have they been dry said she; speak not said he of so sad a business, we are now again together, and never, so again, I hope, to part, to her train thus they arrived, but when known by them, they never stayed to be called to kiss his hands, but ran all at once, every one striving to be first, and all casting themselves at his feet, he took them up, and with much noble kindness received them; then they returned to the City, and the next day to the wood again to see the hell of deceit, but now no more to be abused, thence they brought with them the most loyal servant, and the bravest friend that ever man had, the noble Polarchos; Amphilanthus now recovered his Sword, and brought home his Armour, resolving nothing should remain as witnesses of his former fickleness, or the property of that place, destroying the monument, the Charms having conclusion with his recovering; but none but himself could have gained the Sword, because belonging to him, millions had tried in the mean space, and all lamentably perplexed; now all is finished, Pamphilia blessed as her thoughts, heart, and soul wished: Amphilanthus expreslesly contented, Polarchos truly happy, and joyful again; this still continuing all living in pleasure, speech is of the Germans journey, Amphilanthus must go, but entreats Pamphilia to go as far as Italy with him, to visit the matchless Queen his mother, she consents, for what can she deny him? all things are prepared for the journey, all now merry, contented, nothing amiss; grief forsaken, sadness cast off, Pamphilia is the Queen of all content; Amphilanthus joying worthily in her; And   

PAMPHILIA, TO AMPHILANTHUS.  

1  
WHen night's black Mantle could most darkness prove,  
And sleep (deaths Image) did my senses hire,  
From Knowledge of myself, than thoughts did move  
Swifter than those, most witness need require.   

In sleep, a Chariot drawn by winged Desire,  
I saw; where sat bright Venus' Queen of Love,  
And at her feet her Son, still adding Fire  
To burning hearts, which she did hold above,   

But one heart flaming more than all the rest,  
The Goddess held, and put it to my breast,  
Dear Son now shut, said she, thus must we win;   

He her obeyed, and martyred my poor heart.  
I waking hoped as dreams it would depart,  
Yet since, O me, a Lover I have been.   

2  
Dear eyes how well indeed, you do adorn  
That blessed Sphere, which gazing souls hold dear?  
The loved place of sought for triumphs, near  
The Court of Glory, where Love's force was borne.   

How may they term you April's sweetest morn?  
When pleasing looks, from those bright lights appear  
A Sunshine day, from clouds, and mists still clear:  
Kind nursing fires for wishes yet unborn.   

Two Stars of Heaven sent down to grace the Earth,  
Placed in that Throne which gives all joys their birth,  
Shining, and burning; pleasing yet their Charms:   

Which wounding even in hurts are deemed delights;  
So pleasant is their force, so great their mights,  
As happy they can triumph in their harms.   

3  
YEt is there hope, then Love but play thy part,  
Remember well thyself, and think on me;  
Shine in those eyes which conquered have my heart,  
And see if mine, be slack to answer thee.   

Lodge in that breast, and pity moving see,  
For flames which in mine burne in truest smart,  
Exciling thoughts, that touch Inconstancy,  
Or those which waste not in the constant Art.   

Watch but my sleep, if I take any rest,  
For thought of you, my spirit so distressed,  
As pale and famished, I for mercy cry.   

Will you your servant leave? think but on this,  
Who wears love's Crown, must not do so amiss  
But seek their good, who on thy force do lie.   

4  
Forbear dark night, my joys now bud again,  
Lately grown dead, while cold aspects, did i'll  
The root at heart, and my chief hope quite kill,  
And thunders struck me in my pleasure's wain.   

Then I alas with bitter sobs, and pain,  
Privately groaned, my Fortunes present ill;  
All light of comfort dimbed, woes in prides fill,  
With strange increase of grief, I grieved in vain.   

And most, when as a memory to good  
Molested me, which still as witness stood,  
Of those best days, in former time I knew:   

Late gone as wonders past, like the great Sow,  
Melted and wasted, with what, change must know:  
Now back the life comes where as once it grew.   

5  
CAn pleasing sight misfortune ever bring?  
Can firm desire a painful torment try?  
Can winning eyes prove to the heart a sting?  
Or can sweet lips in Treason hidden lie?   

The Sun most pleasing, blinds the strongest eye,  
If two much looked on, breaking the sights string;  
Desires still crossed must unto mischief high,  
And as Despair, a luckless chance may fling.   

Eyes having none, rejecting proves a sting,  
Killing the bud before the tree doth spring;  
Sweet lips, not loving, do as poison prove:   

Desire, sight, eyes, lips; seek, see, prove, and find,  
You love may win, but curses, if unkind,  
Then show you harms dislike, and joy in love.   

6  
O Strive not still to heap disdain on me,  
Nor pleasure take, your cruelty to show  
On hapless me, on whom all sorrows flow,  
And biding make, as given, and lost by thee.   

Alas, even grief is grown to pity me,  
Scorn cries out against itself such ill to show,  
And would give place for joys delights to flow;  
Yet wretched I, all torture bear from thee.   

Long have I suffered, and esteemed it dear,  
Since such thy will, yet grew my pain more near:  
Wish you may end, say so, you shall it have;   

For all the depth of my heart-held despair,  
Is that for you, I feel not Death for care,  
But now I'll seek it, since you will not save.   

Song. I.  

THe Spring now come at last  
To Trees, Fields, to Flowers,  
And Meadows makes to taste  
His pride, while sad showers  
Which from mine eyes do flow  
Makes known with cruel pains,  
Cold Winter yet remains,  
No sign of Spring we know.   

The Sun which to the Earth  
Gives heat, light, and pleasure,  
joys in Spring hateth Dearth,  
Plenty makes his Treasure.  
His heat to me is cold,  
His light all darkness is,  
Since I am barred of bliss,  
I heat, nor light behold   

A Shepherdess thus said,  
Who was with grief oppressed,  
For truest Love betrayed,  
Barred her from quiet rest:  
And weeping thus, said she,  
My end approacheth near,  
Now Willow must I wear,  
My Fortune so will be.   

With Branches of this tree  
I'll dress my hapless head,  
Which shall my witness be,  
My hopes in Love are dead:  
My clothes embroidered all,  
Shall be with Garlands round,  
Some scattered, others bound;  
Some tide, some like to fall.   

The Bark my Book shall be,  
Where daily I will write,  
This tale of hapless me,  
True slave to Fortune's spite.  
The root shall be my bed,  
Where nightly I will lie  
Wailing in constancy,  
Since all true love is dead.   

And these Lines I will leave,  
If some such Lover come,  
Who may them right conceive,  
and place them on my Tomb:  
She who still constant loved  
Now dead with cruel care,  
Killed with unkind Despair,  
And change, her end here proved.    

7  
Love leave to urge, thou knowest thou hast the hand  
'Tis Cowardice to strive where none resist,  
Pray thee leave off, I yield unto thy band,  
Do not thus still in thine own power persist.   

Behold, I yield; let forces be dismissed,  
I am thy Subject conquered bound to stand  
Never thy foe, but did thy claim assist,  
Seeking thy due of those who did withstand.   

But now it seems thou wouldst I should thee love,  
I do confess, 'twas thy will made me choose,  
And thy fair shows made me a Lover prove,  
When I my freedom did for pain refuse.   

Yet this, Sir god, your Boy-ship I despise,  
Your charms I obey, but love not want of eyes.   

8.  
Led by the power of grief to wail brought,  
By false conceit of change fallen on my part;  
I seek for some small ease by lines which bought,  
Increase the pain; grief is not cured by Art.   

Ah! how unkindness moves within the heart,  
Which still is true and free from changing thought:  
What unknown woe it breeds, what endless smart,  
With ceaseless tears which causelessly are wrought.   

It makes me now to shun all shining light,  
And seek for blackest clouds me light to give:  
Which to all others only darkness drive;  
They on me shine, for Sun disdains my sight.   

Yet though I dark do live, I triumph may,  
Unkindness, nor this wrong shall love allay.   

9  
Be you all pleased, your pleasures grieve nor me;  
Do you delight? I envy not your joy:  
Have you content? contentment with you be;  
Hope you for bliss? hope still, and still enjoy.   

Let sad misfortune, hapless me destroy,  
Leave crosses to rule me, and still rule free:  
While all delights their contraries employ,  
To keep good back, and I but torments see.   

joys are bereaved me, harms do only tarry,  
Despair takes place, disdain hath got the hand:  
Yet firm love holds my senses in such band,  
As (since despised) I with sorrow marry.   

Then if with grief I now must coupled be,  
Sorrow I'll wed; Despair thus governs me.   

10.  
THe weary Traveller, who tired, sought  
In places distant far, yet found no end  
Of pain or labour, nor his state to mend:  
At last with joy is to his home back brought.   

Finds not more ease though he with joy be fraught,  
When past his fear content like souls ascend:  
Then I, on whom new pleasures do descend,  
Which now as high as firstborn bliss is wrought.   

He tired with his pains, I with my mind;  
He all content receives by ease of limbs:  
I, greatest happiness that I do find,  
Belief for faith, while hope in pleasure swims.   

Truth saith 'twas wrong conceit bred my despite,  
Which once acknowledged, brings my heart's delight.   

11.  
YOu endless torments that my rest oppress,  
How long will you delight in my sad pain?  
Will never Love your favour more express?  
Shall I still live, and ever feel disdain?   

Alas now stay, and let my grief obtain  
Some end; feed not my heart with sharp distress:  
Let me once see my cruel fortunes gain,  
At least release, and long-felt woes redress.   

Let not the blame of cruelty disgrace  
The honoured title of your godhead Love;  
Give not just cause for me so say, a place  
Is found for rage alone on me to move.   

O quickly end, and do not long debate  
My needful aid, lest help do come too late.   

12.  
Cloyed with the torments of a tedious night,  
I wish for day; which come, I hope for joy:  
When cross I find, new tortures to destroy,  
My woe-kild heart, first hurt by mischief's might.   

Then cry for night, and once more day takes flight.  
And brightness gone, what rest should here enjoy  
Usurped is: Hate will her force employ;  
Night cannot Grief entomb though black as spite.   

My thoughts are sad, her face as sad doth seem;  
My pains are long, her hours tedious are;  
My grief is great, and endless is my care;  
Her face, her force, and all of woes esteem.  
Then welcome Night, and farewell flattering day,  
Which all hopes breed, and yet our joys delay.   

Song. 2.  

ALl Night I weep, all Day I cry, Ay me,  
I still do wish, though yet deny, ay me:  
I sigh, I mourn, I say that still,  
I only am the store for ill, ay me.   

In coldest hopes I freeze, yet burn, ay me,  
From flames I strive to fly, yet turn, ay me:  
From grief I hast, but sorrows hie,  
And on my heart all woes do lie, ay me.   

From contraries I seek to run, ay me,  
But contraries I cannot shun, ay me:  
For they delight their force to try,  
And to Despair my thoughts do tie, ay me.   

Whither alas then shall I go, ay me,  
When as Despair all hopes outgo, ay me:  
If to the Forest Cupid hies,  
And my poor soul to his law ties, ay me.   

To the Court: O no, he cries fie, ay me,  
There no true love you shall espy, ay me:  
Leave that place to falsest Lovers,  
Your true love all truth discovers, ay me,   

Then quiet rest, and no more prove, ay me,  
All places are alike to Love, ay me:  
And constant be in this begun,  
Yet say, till Life with Love be done, Ay me.    

13.  
Dear famish nor what you yourself gave food,  
Destroy not what your glory is to save:  
Kill not that soul to which you spirit gave,  
In pity, not disdain, your triumph stood.   

An easy thing it is to shed the blood  
Of one who at your will yields to the grave:  
But more you may true worth by mercy crave,  
When you preserve, not spoil, but nourish good.   

Your sight is all the food I do desire,  
Then sacrifice me not in hidden fire,  
Or stop the breath which did your praises move.   

Think but how easy 'tis a sight to give,  
Nay, even desert, since by it I do live,  
I but Chameleon-like, would live, and love.   

14.  
Am I thus conquered? have I lost the powers,  
That to withstand which joys to ruin me?  
Must I be still, while it my strength devours,  
And captive leads me prisoner bound, unfree?   

Love's first shall lean men's fant'sies to them free,  
Desire shall quench love's flames, Spring, hate sweet showers;  
Love shall lose all his Darts, have sight, and see  
His shame and wish, hinder happy hours.   

Why should we not Loves purblind charms resist?  
Must we be servile, doing what he list?  
No, seek some host to harbour thee: I fly   

Thy Babish tricks, and freedom do profess;  
But O, my hurt makes my lost heart confess:  
I love, and must; so farewell liberty.   

15.  
Truly (poor night) thou welcome art to me,  
I love thee better in this sad attire  
Then that which raiseth some men's fant'sies higher,  
Like painted outsides, which foul inward be.   

I love thy grave and saddest looks to see,  
Which seems my soul and dying heart entire,  
Like to the ashes of some happy fire,  
That flamed in joy, but quenched in misery.   

I love thy countenance, and thy sober pace,  
Which evenly goes, and as of loving grace  
To us, and me, among the rest oppressed,   

Gives quiet peace to my poor self alone,  
And freely grants day leave; when thou art gone,  
To give clear light, to see all ill redressed.   

16.  
Sleep fie possess me not, nor do not fright  
me with thy heavy, and thy deathlike might:  
For counterfetting's vilder than death's sight;  
And such deluding more my thoughts do spite.   

Thou sufferest falsest shapes my soul t'affright,  
Sometimes in likeness of of a hopeful spirit;  
And oft times like my Love, as in despite;  
joying, thou canst with malice kill delight.   

When I (a poor fool made by thee) think joy  
Doth flow, when thy fond shadows do destroy  
My that while senseless self, left free to thee.   

But now do well, let me for ever sleep,  
And so for ever that dear Image keep  
Or still wake that my senses may be free.   

17.  
SWeet shades, why do you seek to give delight  
To me, who deem delight in this vild place:  
But torment, sorrow, and mine own disgrace,  
To taste of joy, or your vain pleasing sight?   

Show them your pleasures who saw never night  
Of grief, where joy fawning smiling face  
Appears as day, where grief found never space:  
Yet for a sigh, a groan, or envy's spite.   

But O: on me a world of woes do lie,  
Or else on me all harms strive to rely,  
And to attend like servants bound to me.   

Heat in desire, while frosts of care I prove,  
Wanting my love, yet surfeit do with love,  
Burn and yet freeze, better in Hell to be.   

18.  
WHich should I better like of, day or night?  
Since all the day, I live in bitter woe:  
Enjoying light more clear my wrongs to know,  
and yet most sad, feeling in it all spite.   

In night when darkness doth forbid all light;  
Yet see I grief apparent to the show,  
Followed by jealousy, whose fond tricks flow,  
And on unconstant waves of doubt alight.   

I can behold rage cowardly to feed  
Upon foul error, which these humours breed,  
Shame doubt and fear, yet boldly will think ill.   

All those in both I feel, than which is best  
Dark to joy by day, light in night oppressed?  
Leave both and end, these but each other spill.   

Song. 3.  

STay my thoughts do not aspire,  
To vain hopes of high desire;  
See you not all means bereft,  
To enjoy no joy is left,  
Yet still me thinks my thoughts do say,  
Some hopes do live amid dismay.   

Hope then once more, Hope for joy,  
Bury fear which joys destroy,  
Thought hath yet some comfort given,  
Which despair hath from us driven:  
Therefore dearly my thoughts cherish,  
Never let such thinking perish.   

'Tis an idle thing to plain,  
Odder far to dye for pain;  
Think and see how thoughts do rise,  
Winning where there no hope lies;  
Which alone is lover's treasure,  
For by thoughts we love do measure.   

Then kind thought my fant'sie guide,  
Let me never hapless slide;  
Still maintain thy force in me,  
Let me thinking still be free;  
Nor leave thy might until my death,  
But let me thinking yield up breath.    

19  
COme darkest Night, becoming sorrow best,  
Light leave thy light, fit for a lightsome soul:  
Darkness doth truly suit with me oppressed,  
Whom absence power doth from mirth control.   

The very trees with hanging heads condole  
Sweet Summers parting, and of leaves distressed,  
In dying colours make a grieffull role;  
So much (alas) to sorrow are they pressed.   

Thus of dead leaves, her farewell carpets made,  
Their fall, their branches, all their mournings prove,  
With leavelesse naked bodies, whose hues vade  
From hopeful green to wither in their love.   

If trees, and leaves for absence mourners be,  
No marvel that I grieve, who like want see.   

20.  
THe Sun which glads the earth at his bright sight,  
When in the morn he shows his golden face,  
And takes the place from tedious drowsy Night.  
Making the world still happy in his grace.   

Shows happiness remains not in one place,  
Nor may the Heavens alone to us give light,  
But hide that cheerful face, though no long space,  
Yet long enough for trial of their might.   

But never Sunset could be so obscure,  
No Desert ever had a shade so sad:  
Nor could black darkness ever prove so bad,  
As pains which absence makes me now endure.   

The missing of the Sun a while makes Night,  
But absence of my joy sees never light.   

21.  
WHen last I saw thee, I did not thee see,  
It was thine Image which in my thoughts lay  
So lively figured, as no times delay  
Could suffer me in heart to parted be.   

And sleep so favourable is to me,  
As not to let thy loved remembrance stray:  
Lest that I waking might have cause to say,  
There was one mnute found to forget thee.   

Then, since my faith is such, so kind my sleep,  
That gladly thee presents into my thought,  
And still true Loverlike thy face doth keep,  
So as some pleasure shadowlike is wrought.   

Pity my loving, nay of conscience give  
Reward to me in whom thyself doth live.   

22.  
LIke to the Indians scorched with the Sun,  
The Sun which they do as their God adore:  
So am I used by Love, for evermore  
I worship him, less favours have I won.   

Better are they who thus to blackness run,  
And so can only whiteness want deplore:  
Theu I who pale and white am with grief's store,  
Nor can have hope, but to see hopes undone.   

Besides their sacrifice received in sight,  
Of their chose Saint, mine hid as worthless rite,  
Grant me to see where I my offerings give.   

Then let me wear the mark of Cupid's might,  
In heart, as they in skin of Phoebus' light,  
Not ceasing offerings to Love while I live.   

23.  
WHen every one to pleasing pastime hies,  
Some hunt, foam hawk, some play while some delight  
In sweet discourse, and music shows joys might:  
Yet I my thoughts do far above these prize.   

The joy which I take is, that free from eyes  
I sit and wonder at this day-like night,  
So to dispose themselves as void of right,  
And leave true pleasure for poor vanities.   

When others hunt, my thoughts I have in chase;  
If hawk, my mind at wished end doth fly:  
Discourse, I with my spirit talk and cry;  
While others music choose as greatest grace.   

O God say I, can these fond pleasures move,  
Or music be but in sweet thoughts of Love?   

24.  
ONce did I hear an aged father say  
Unto his son, who with attention hears  
What Age and wise experience ever clears  
From doubts of fear, or reason to betray.   

My son (said he) behold thy father grey,  
I once had as thou hast, fresh tender years,  
And like thee sported destitute of fears;  
But my young faults made me too soon decay.   

Love once I did, and like thee, feared my Love,  
Led by the hateful thread of jealousy,  
Striving to keep, I lost my liberty,  
And gained my grief, which still my sorrows move.   

In time shun this, to love is no offence,  
But doubt in Youth, in Age, breeds penitence.   

Song. 4.  

SWeetest Love return again,  
Make not too long stay;  
Killing mirth and forcing pain;  
Sorrow leading way:  
Let us not thus parted be,  
Love, and absence ne'er agree.   

But since you must needs depart,  
And me hapless leave;  
In your journey take my heart,  
Which will not deceive:  
Yours it is, to you it flies,  
joying in those loved eyes.   

So in part we shall not part,  
Though we absent be,  
Time, nor place, nor greatest smart,  
Shall my bands make free:  
Tied I am, yet think it gain,  
In such knots I feel no pain.   

But can I live, having lost  
Chiefest part of me?  
Heart is fled, and sight is crossed,  
These my fortunes be:  
Yet dear heart go, soon return,  
As good there as here to burn.    

25.  
Poor eyes be blind, the light behold no more,  
Since that is gone which is your dear delight:  
Ravished from you by greater power and might,  
Making your loss a gain to others store.   

O'erflow and drown, till sight to you restore  
That blessed Star, and as in hateful spite,  
Send forth your tears in floods to kill all sight,  
And looks, that lost wherein you joyed before.   

Bury those beams which in some kindled fires,  
And conquered have their love-burnt hearts desires,  
Losing, and yet no gain by you esteemed;   

Till that bright Star do once again appear,  
Brighter than Mars when he doth shine most clear;  
See not then by his might be you redeemed.   

26.  
Dear cherish this, and with it my souls will,  
Nor for it ran away do it abuse:  
Alas it left (poor me) your breast to choose,  
As the best shrine, where it would harbour still.   

Then favour show, and not unkindly kill  
The heart which fled to you, but do excuse  
That which for better did the worse refuse;  
And pleased I'll be, though heartless my life spill.   

But if you will be kind and just indeed,  
Send me your heart, which in mine's place shall feed  
On faithful love to your devotion bound,   

There shall it see the sacrifices made  
Of pure and spotless Love, which shall not vade,  
While soul and body are together found.   

27.  
FIe tedious Hope, why do you still rebel?  
Is it not yet enough you flattered me,  
But cunningly you seek to use a Spell  
How to betray; must these your Trophies be?   

I looked from you far sweeter fruit to see,  
But blasted were your blossoms when they fell:  
And those delights expected from hands free,  
Withered and dead, and what seemed bliss proves hell.   

No Town was won by a more plotted slight,  
Then I by you, who may my fortune write,  
In embers of that fire which ruin'd me:   

Thus Hope your falsehood calls you to be tried,  
You're loath, I see, the trial to abide;  
Prove true at last, and gain your liberty.   

28.  
Grief, killing grief, have not my torments been  
Already great and strong enough? but still  
Thou dost increase, nay glory in mine i'll,  
And woes new past, a fresh new woes begin?   

Am I the only purchase thou canst win?  
Was I ordained to give despair her fill,  
Or fittest I should mount misfortunes hill,  
Who in the plain of joy cannot live in?   

If it be so, Grief come as welcome guest,  
Since I must suffer for another's rest;  
Yet this (good Grief) let me entreat of thee,   

Use still thy force, but not from those I love  
Let me all pains and lasting torments prove;  
So I miss these, lay all thy weights on me.   

29.  
Fly hence, O joy, no longer here abide,  
Too great thy pleasures are for my despair  
To look on, losses now must prove my fare;  
Who not long since on better food relied.   

But fool, how oft had I Heavens changing spied  
Before of mine own fate I could have care:  
Yet now past time I can too late beware,  
When nothings left but sorrows faster tied.   

While I enjoyed that Sun, whose sight did lend  
Me joy, I thought that day could have no end:  
But soon a night came clothed in absence dark;   

Absence more sad, more bitter than is gall,  
Or death, when on true Lovers it doth fall;  
Whose fires of love, disdain reasts poorer spark.   

30.  
YOu blessed shades, which give me silent rest,  
Witness but this when death hath closed mine eyes,  
And separated me from earthly ties;  
Being from hence to higher place addressed.   

How oft in you I have lain here oppressed?  
And have my miseries in woeful cries  
Delivered forth, mounting up to the Skies?  
Yet helpless, back returned to wound my breast.   

Which wounds did but strive how to breed more harm  
To me, who can be cured by no one charm  
But that of Love, which yet may me relieve;   

If not, let Death my former pains redeem,  
My trusty friends, my faith untouched, esteem,  
And witness I could love, who so could grieve.   

Song. 5.  

TIme only cause of my unrest,  
By whom I hoped once to be blest,  
How cruel art thou turned?  
That first gav'st life unto my love,  
And still a pleasure not to move,  
Or change, though ever burned.   

Have I thee slacked, or left undone  
One loving rite, and so have won,  
Thy rage, or bitter changing?  
That now no minutes I shall see,  
Wherein I may least happy be,  
Thy favours so estranging.   

Blame thyself and not my folly,  
Time gave time but to be holy,  
True Love such ends best loveth:  
Unworthy Love doth seek for ends,  
A worthy Love, but worth pretends;  
Nor other thoughts it proveth.   

Then stay thy swiftness cruel Time,  
And let me once more blessed clime  
to joy, that I may praise thee:  
Let me pleasure sweetly tasting,  
joy in Love, and faith not wasting,  
and on Fame's wings I'll raise thee.   

Never shall thy glory dying,  
Be until thine own untie,  
that Time no longer liveth,  
'Tis a gain such time to lend,  
Since so thy fame shall never end,  
But joy for what she giveth.    

31.  
AFter long trouble in a tedious way,  
Of Love's unrest, laid down to ease my pain,  
Hoping for rest, new torments I did gain  
Possessing me, as if I ought t'obey.   

When Fortune came, though blinded, yet did stay,  
And in her blessed arms did me enchain:  
I, cold with grief, thought no warmth to obtain,  
Or to dissolve that ice of joys decay.   

Till rise (said she) Reward to thee doth send  
By me the servant of true Lover's joy:  
Banish all clouds of doubt, all fears destroy;  
And now on Fortune, and on Love depend.   

ay her obeyed, and rising felt that Love  
Indeed was best, when I did lest it move.   

32.  
HOw fast thou fliest, O Time, on Love's swift wings,  
To hopes of joy, that flatters our desire:  
Which to a Lover still contentment brings;  
Yet when we should enjoy, thou dost retire.   

Thou stayest thy pace (false Time) from our desire  
When to our ill thou hast'st with Eagles wings:  
Slow only to make us see thy retire  
Was for Despair, and harm, which sorrow brings.   

O slake thy pace, and milder pass to Love,  
Be like the Bee, whose wings she doth but use  
To bring home profit; masters good to prove,  
Laden, and weary, yet again pursues.   

So lad thyself with honey of sweet joy,  
And do not me (the Hive of Love) destroy.   

33.  
HOw many eyes (poor Love) hast thou to guard  
Thee from thy most desired wish, and end?  
Is it because some say thouart blind, that barred  
From sight, thou shouldst no happiness attend?   

Who blame thee so, small justice can pretend,  
Since 'twixt thee and the Sun no question hard  
Can be; his sight but outward, thou canst bend  
The heart, and guide it freely thus unbarred.   

Art thou, while we both blind and bold, oft dare  
Accuse thee of the harms our selves should find:  
Who led with folly, and by rashness blind  
Thy sacred power do with a child's compare.   

Yet Love, this boldness pardon; for admire  
Thee sure we must, or be borne without fire.   

34.  
TAke heed mine eyes, how you your looks do cast,  
Lest they betray my hearts most secret thought:  
Be true unto yourselves; for nothing's bought  
More dear than Doubt, which brings a Lovers fast.   

Catch you alwatching eyes ere they be passed,  
Or take yours fixed, where your best Love hath sought  
The pride of your desires; let them be taught  
Their faults for shame they could no truer last.   

Then look, and look with joy, for conquest won,  
Of those that searched your hurt in double kind:  
So you kept safe, let them themselves look blind,  
Watch, gaze, and mark till they to madness run.   

While you mine eyes enjoy full sight of Love,  
Contented that such happinesses move.   

35.  
FAlse Hope which feeds but to destroy and spill  
What it first breeds, unnatural to the blrth  
Of thine own womb, conceiving but to kill  
And plenty gives to make the greater dearth.   

So Tyrants do, who falsely ruling Earth,  
Outwardly grace them, and with profits fill,  
Advance those who appointed are to death;  
To make their greater fall to please their will.   

Thus shadow they their wicked vile intent,  
Colouring evil with a show of good:  
While in fair shows their malice so is spent;  
Hope kill's the heart, and Tyrants shed the blood.   

For hood deluding brings us to the pride  
Of our desires the farther down to slide.   

36.  
HOw well (poor heart) thou witness canst, I love,  
How oft my grief hath made thee shed forth tears,  
Drops of thy dearest blood; and how oft fears  
Borne testimony of the pains I prove?   

What torments hast thou suffered, while above  
joy thou tortured wert with racks, which longing bears:  
Pinched with desires, which yet but wishing rears  
Firm in my faith, in constancy, to move.   

Yet is it said, that sure love cannot be,  
Where so small show of passion is descried;  
When thy chief pain is, that I must it hide  
From all, save onely one, who should it see.   

For know, more passion in my heart doth move,  
Then in a million that make show of love.   

Song. 6.  

YOu happy blessed eyes,  
Which in that ruling place,  
Have force both to delight, and to disgrace;  
Whose light allures and ties  
All hearts to your command:  
O look on me who do at mercy stand.   

'Tis you that rule my life,  
'Tis you my comforts give,  
Then let not scorn to me my ending drive:  
Nor let the frowns of strife  
Have might to hurt those lights;  
Which while they shine they are true loves delights.   

See but when Night appears  
And Sun hath lost his force,  
How his loss doth all joy from us divorce:  
And when he shines, and clears  
The Heavens from clouds of Night,  
How happy then is made our gazing sight?   

But more than Sun's fair light  
Your beams do seem to me,  
Whose sweetest looks do tie, and yet make free:  
Why should you then so spite  
Poor me? as to destroy  
The only pleasure that I taste of joy.   

Shine then, O dearest lights  
With favour and with love  
And let no cause, your cause of frownings move:  
But as the soul's delights,  
So bless my then blessed eyes,  
Which unto you their true affection ties.   

Then shall the Sun give place,  
As to your greater might,  
Yielding that you do show more perfect light.  
O then but grant this grace,  
Unto your Love-tide slave,  
To shine on me, who to you all faith gave.   

And when you please to frown,  
Use your most kill eyes  
On them, who in untruth and falsehood lies,  
But (Dear) on me cast down  
Sweet looks, for true desire;  
That banish do all thoughts of feigned fire.    

37.  
NIght, welcome art thou to my mind distressed,  
Dark, heavy, sad, yet not more sad than I:  
Never couldst thou find fitter company  
For thine own humour, than I thus oppressed.   

If thou be'st dark, my wrongs still unredressed  
Saw never light, nor smallest bliss can spy:  
If heavy joy from me to fast doth high,  
And care outgoes my hope of quiet rest.   

Then now in friendship join with hapless me,  
Who am as sad and dark as thou canst be,  
Hating all pleasure or delight of life,  
Silence and grief, with thee I best do love.   

And from you three I know I cannot move,  
Then let us live companions without strife.   

38.  
WHat pleasure can a banished creature have  
In all the pastimes that invented are  
By wit or learning? Absence making war  
Against all peace that may a biding crave.   

Can we delight but in a welcome grave,  
Where we may bury pains? and so be far  
From loathed company, who always jar  
Upon the string of mirth that pastime gave.   

The knowing part of joy is deemed the heart,  
If that be gone what joy can joy impart  
When senseless is the feeler of our mirth?   

No, I am banished and no good shall find,  
But all my fortunes must with mischief bind;  
Who but for misery did gain a birth.   

39  
IF I were given to mirth,, 'twould be more cross,  
Thus to be robbed of my chiefest joy:  
But silently I bear my greatest loss;  
Who's used to sorrow, grief will not destroy.   

Nor can I as those pleasant wits enjoy  
My own framed words which I account the dross  
Of purer thoughts, or reckon them as moss;  
While they (wit-sick) themselves to breath employ.   

Alas, think I, your plenty shows your want;  
For where most feeling is words are more scant;  
Yet pardon me, live and your pleasure take.   

Grudge not if I (neglected) envy show,  
'Tis not to you that I dislike do owe;  
But (crossed myself) wish some like me to make.   

40.  
IT is not Love which you poor fools do deem,  
That doth appear by fond and outward shows  
Of kissing, toying, or by swear gloze:  
O no, these are far off from love's esteem.   

Alas, they are not such that can redeem  
Love lost, or winning keep those chosen blows:  
Though oft with face and looks love overthrows;  
Yet so slight conquest doth not him beseem.   

'Tis not a show of sighs or tears can prove  
Who loves indeed, which blasts of feigned love,  
Increase or dye, as favours from them slide.   

But in the soul true love in safety lies  
Guarded by faith, which to desert still hies:  
And yet kind looks do many blessings hide.   

41.  
YOu blessed Stars, which do heaven's glory show,  
And at your brightness make our eyes admire:  
Yet envy not, though I on earth below,  
Enjoy a sight which moves in me more fire.   

I do confess such beauty breeds desire  
You shine, and clearest light on us bestow:  
Yet doth a sight on Earth more warmth inspire  
Into my loving soul his grace to know.   

Clear, bright, and shining, as you are, is this  
Light of my joy: fixed steadfast, nor will move  
His light from me, nor I change from his love;  
But still increase as th'earth of all my bliss.   

His sight give life unto my love-rould eye,  
My love content, because in his love lies.   

42.  
IF ever love had force in humane breast,  
If ever he could move in pensive heart:  
Or if that he such power could but impart  
To breed those flames, whose heat brings joy's unrest.   

Then look on me; I am to these addressed,  
I am the soul that feels the greatest smart:  
I am that heartless Trunk of hearts depart;  
And I that One, by love, and grief oppressed.   

None ever felt the truth of love's great miss  
Of eyes till I deprived was of bliss;  
For had he seen, he must have pity showed.   

I should not have been made this Stage of woe,  
Where sad Disasters have their open show:  
O no, more pity he had sure bestowed.   

Song. 7.  

SOrrow, I yield, and grieve that I did miss;  
Will not thy rage be satisfied with this?  
As sad a Devil as thee,  
Made me unhappy be:  
Wilt thou not yet consent to leave, but still  
Strive how to show thy cursed devilish skill?   

I mourn, and dying am, what would you more?  
My soul attends, to leave this cursed shore  
Where harms do only flow,  
Which teach me but to know  
The saddest hours of my life's unrest,  
And tired minutes with grief's hand oppressed.   

Yet all this will not pacify thy spite,  
No, nothing can bring ease but my last night,  
Then quickly let it be,  
While I unhappy see  
That time so sparing, to grant Lover's bliss,  
Will see for time lost, there shall no grief miss.   

Nor let me ever cease from lasting grief,  
But endless let it be without relief;  
To win again of Love,  
The savour I did prone,  
And with my end please him, since dying, I  
Have him offended, yet unwillingly.    

43.  
O Dearest eyes, the lights, and guides of Love,  
The joys of Cupid, who himself borne blind,  
To your bright shining, doth his triumphs bind;  
For, in your seeing doth his glory move.   

How happy are those places where you prove  
Your heavenly beams, which makes the Sun to find  
Envy and grudging, he so long hath shined  
For your clear lights, to match his beams above.   

But now alas, your sight is here forbid,  
And darkness must these poor lost rooms possess,  
So be all blessed lights from henceforth hid,  
That this black deed of darkness have excess.   

For why should Heaven afford least light to those,  
Who for my misery such darkness chose.   

44.  
HOw fast thou hast st O Spring with sweetest speed)  
To catch thy water which before are run,  
And of the greater Rivers welcome won,  
Ere these thy newborn streams these places feed.   

Yet you do well, lest staying here might breed  
Dangerous floods, your sweetest banks forerun,  
And yet much better my distress to shun,  
Which makes my tears your swiftest course succeed.   

But best you do when with so hasty flight  
You fly my ills, which now myself outgo,  
Whose broken heart can testify such woe,  
That so o'ercharged, my lifeblood, wasteth quite.   

Sweet Spring then keep your way be never spent,  
And my ill days, or griefs, asunder rend.   

45.  
GOod now be still, and do not me torment,  
With multitude of questions, be at rest,  
And only let me quarrel with my breast,  
Which still le's in new storms my soul to rend.   

Fie, will you still my mischiefs more augment?  
You say, I answer cross, I that confessed  
Long since, yet must I ever be oppressed,  
With your tongue torture which will ne'er be spent?   

Well then I see no way but this will fright,  
That Devil speech; alas, I am possessed,  
And mad folks senseless are of wisdom's right,   

The hellish spirit, Absence, doth arrest.  
All my poor senses to his cruel might,  
Spare me then till I am myself, and blest   

46.  
Love thou hast all, for now thou hast me made  
So thine, as if for thee I were ordained,  
Then take thy conquest, nor let me be pained  
More in thy Sun, when I do seek thy shade.   

No place for help have I left to invade,  
That showed a face where least ease might be gained;  
Yet found I pain increase, and but obtained,  
That this no way was to have love allayed   

When hit, and thirsty, to a Well I came,  
Trusting by that to quench part of my pain,  
But there I was by Love afresh embraced   

Drink I could not, but in it I did see  
Myself a living glass as well as she;  
For love to see himself in, truly placed.   

47.  
O Stay mine eyes, shed not these fruitless tears,  
Since hope is past to win you back again,  
That treasure which being lost breeds all your pain;  
Cease from this poor betraying of your fears.   

Think this too childish is, for where grief rears  
So high a power for such a wretched gain:  
Sighs nor laments should thus be spent in vain;  
True sorrow never outward wailing bears.   

Be ruled by me, keep all the rest in store,  
Till no room is that may contain one more;  
Then in that Sea of tears drown hapless me,   

And I'll provide such store of sighs, as part  
Shall be enough to break the strongest heart:  
This done, we shall from torments freed be.   

48.  
HOw like a fire doth Love increase in me?  
The longer that it lasts the stronger still;  
The greater, purer, brighter; and doth fill  
No eye with wonder more than hopes still be.   

Bred in my breast, when fires of Love are free  
To use that part to their best pleasing will,  
And now impossible it is to kill  
The heat so great where Love his strength doth see.   

Mine eyes can scarce sustain the flames, my heart  
Doth trust in them my passions to impart,  
And languishingly strive to show my love.   

My breath not able is to breathe least part  
Of that increasing fuel of my smart;  
Yet love I will, till I but ashes prove.   

Sonnet.  
LEt grief as far be from your dearest breast  
As I do wish, or in my hands to ease;  
Then should it banished be, and sweetest rest  
Be placed to give content by Love to please.   

Let those disdains which on your heart do cease,  
Doubly return to bring her soul's unrest:  
Since true love will not that beloved displease;  
Or let least smart to their minds be addressed.   

But oftentimes mistake be in love.  
Be they as far from false accusing right,  
And still truth govern with a constant might  
So shall you only wished pleasures prove.   

And as for me, she that shows you lest scorn,  
With all despite and hate, be her heart torn.   


Song.  

O Me, the time is come to part,  
And with it my life-killing smart:  
Fond Hope leave me, my dear must go,  
To meet more joy, and I more woe.   

Where still of mirth enjoy thy fill,  
One is enough to suffer ill:  
My heart so well to sorrow used,  
can better be by new griefs bruised.   

Thou whom the Heavens themselves like made,  
should never sit in mourning shade:  
No, I alone must mourn and end,  
Who have a life in grief to spend.   

My swiftest pace to wail bent,  
Shows joy had but a short time lent,  
To bide in me where woes must dwell,  
And charm me with their cruel spell.   

And yet when they their witchcrafts try,  
They only make me wish to dye:  
But ere my faith in love they change,  
In horrid darkness will I range.    

Song.  

SAy Venus how long have I loved, and served you here?  
Yet all my passions scorned or doubted, although clear;  
Alas think love deserveth love, and you have loved,  
Look on my pains and see if you the like have proved:  
Remember then you are the Goddess of Desire,  
and that your sacred power hath touched and felt this fire.   

Persuade these flames in me to cease, or them redress  
in me (poor me) who storms of love have in excess,  
My restless nights may show for me, how much I love,  
My sighs unfaignd, can witness what my heart doth prove:  
My saddest looks do show the grief my soul endures,  
Yet all these torments from your hands no help procures.   

Command that wayward Child your Son to grant your right,  
and that his Bow and shafts he yield to your fair sight,  
To you who have the eyes of joy, the heart of love,  
And then new hopes may spring, that I may pity move:  
Let him not triumph that he can both hurt and save,  
And more, brag that to yourself a wound he gave.   

Rule him, or what shall I expect of good to see?  
Since he that hurt you, he (alas) may murder me.    

Song.  

I That am of all most crossed,  
Having, and that had have lost,  
May with reason thus complain,  
Since love breeds love, and Love's pain.   

That which I did most desire,  
To allay my loving fire,  
I may have, yet now must miss,  
Since another Ruler is.   

Would that I no Ruler had,  
Or the service not so bad,  
Then might I with bliss enjoy  
That which now my hopes destroy.   

And that wicked pleasure got,  
Brings with it the sweetest lot:  
I that must not taste the best,  
Fed, must starve, and restless rest.    

Song.  

Love as well can make abiding  
In a faithful Shepherd's breast  
As in Princes: whose thoughts sliding  
Like swift Rivers never rest.   

Change to their minds is best feeding,  
To a Shepherd all his care,  
Who when his Love is exceeding,  
Thinks his faith his richest fare.   

Beauty but a slight inviting,  
Cannot stir his heart to change;  
Constancy his chief delighting,  
Strives to flee from fant'sies strange,   

Fairness to him is no pleasure,  
If in other than his love;  
Nor can esteem that a treasure,  
Which in her smiles doth not move.   

This a Shepherd once confessed,  
Who loved well, but was not loved:  
Though with scorn & grief oppressed  
could not yet to change be moved.   

But himself he thus contented,  
While in love he was accursed:  
This hard hap he not repent,  
Since best Lovers speed the worst.    

Song.  

DEarest if I by my deserving,  
May maintain in your thoughts my love,  
Let me it still enjoy;  
Nor faith destroy:  
But pity Love where it doth move.   

Let no other new Love invite you,  
To leave me who so long have served:  
Nor let your power decline  
But purely shine  
On me, who have all truth preserved.   

Or had you once found my heart straying,  
Then would not I accuse your change,  
But being constant still  
It needs must kill  
One, whose soul knows not how to range.   

Yet may you loves sweet smiles recover,  
Since all love is not yet quite lost,  
But tempt not Love too long  
Lest so great wrong  
Make him think he is too much crossed.    

Song.  

FAirest and still truest eyes,  
Can you the lights be, and the spies  
Of my desires?  
Can you shine clear for Love's delight,  
And yet the breeders be of spite,  
And jealous fires?   

Mark what looks do you behold,  
Such as by jealonsie are told  
They want your Love..  
See how they sparkle in distrust,  
Which by a heat of thoughts unjust  
In them do move.   

Learn to guide your course by Art,  
Change your eyes into your heart,  
And patient be:  
Till fruitless jealousy give leave,  
By safest absence to receive  
What you would see.   

Then let Love his triumph have,  
And Suspicion such a grave,  
As not to move.  
While wished freedom brings that bliss  
That you enjoy what all joy is  
Happy to Love..     

Sonnet. I.  
IN night yet may we see some kind of light,  
When as the Moon doth please to show her face,  
And in the Suns room yields her light, and grace,  
Which otherwise must suffer dullest night:   

So are my fortunes barred from true delight,  
Cold, and uncertain, like to this strange place,  
Decreasing, changing in an instant space,  
And even at full of joy turned to despite.   

justly on Fortune was bestowed the Wheel,  
Whose favours fickle, and unconstant reel,  
Drunk with delight of change and sudden pain;   

Where pleasure hath no settled place of stay,  
But turning still, for our best hopes decay,  
And this (alas) we lovers often gain.   

2.  
Love like a juggler comes to play his prize,  
And all minds draw his wonders to admire,  
To see how cunningly he (wanting eyes)  
Can yet deceive the best sight of desire.   

The wanton Child, how he can feign his fire  
So prettily, as none sees his disguise,  
How finely do his tricks; while we fools hire  
The badge, and office of his tyrannies.   

For in the end such juggling he doth make,  
As he our hearts instead of eyes doth take;  
For men can only by their slights abuse   

The sight with nimble, and delightful skill,  
But if he play, his gain is our lost will,  
Yet Childlike we cannot his sports refuse.   

3.  
MOst blessed night, the happy time for Love,  
The shade for Lovers, and their Love's delight,  
The reign of Love for servants free from spite,  
The hopeful seasons for joys sports to move.   

Now hast thou made thy glory higher prove,  
Then did the God, whose pleasant Reed did smite  
All Argus eyes into a deathlike night,  
Till they were safe, that none could Love reprove.   

Now thou hast closed those eyes from prying sight  
That nourish jealousy, more than joys right,  
While vain Suspicion fosters their mistrust,   

Making sweet sleep to master all suspect,  
Which else their private fears would not neglect,  
But would embrace both blinded, and unjust.   

4.  
Cruel Suspicion, O! be now at rest,  
Let daily torments bring to thee some stay,  
Alas, make not my ill thy easeful prey,  
Nor give loose reins to Rage, when love's oppressed.   

I am by care sufficiently distressed,  
No Rack can stretch my heart more, nor a way  
Can I find out, for least content to lay  
One happy foot of joy, one step that's blest.   

But to my end thou fliest with greedy eye,  
Seeking to bring grief by base jealousy;  
O, in how strange a Cage am I kept in?   

No little sign of favour can I prove,  
But must be weighed, and turned to wronging love,  
And with each humour must my state begin.   

5.  
HOw many nights have I with pain endured?  
Which as so many Ages I esteemed,  
Since my misfortune, yet no whit redeemed  
But rather faster tied, to grief assured.   

How many hours have my sad thoughts endured  
Of kill pains? yet is it not esteemed  
By cruel Love, who might have these redeemed,  
And all these years of hours to joy assured.   

But fond Child, had he had a care to save,  
As first to conquer, this my pleasures grave,  
Had not been now to testify my woe.   

I might have been an Image of delight,  
As now a Tomb for sad misfortunes spite,  
Which Love unkindly, for reward doth show.   

6.  
MY pain still smothered in my grieved breast,  
Seeks for some ease, yet cannot passage find,  
To be discharged of this unwelcome guest,  
When most I strive, more fast his burdens bind.   

Like to a Ship on goodwin's cast by wind,  
The more she strive, more deep in Sand is pressed,  
Till she be lost: so am I in this kind  
Sunk, and devoured, and swallowed by unrest.   

Lost, shipwrackt, spoilt, debarred of smallest hope,  
Nothing of pleasure left, save thoughts have scope  
Which wander may; go then my thoughts and cry:   

Hope's perished, Love tempest-beaten, joy lost,  
Killing Despair hath all these blessings crossed;  
Yet Faith still cries, Love will not falsify.   

7.  
AN end fond jealousy, alas I know  
Thy hiddenest, and thy most secret Art,  
Thou canst no new invention frame but part,  
I have already seen, and felt with woe.   

All thy dissemble, which by feigned show,  
Won my belief, while truth did rule my heart,  
I with glad mind embraced, and deemed my smart  
The spring of joy, whose streams with bliss should slow.   

I thought excuses had been reasons true,  
And that no falsehood could of thee ensue,  
So soon belief in honest minds is wrought;   

But now I find thy flattery, and skill,  
Which idly made me to observe thy will,  
Thus is my learning by my bondage bought.   

8.  
Poor Love in chains, and fetters like a thief  
I met led forth, as chaste Diana's gain  
Vowing the untaught Lad should no relief  
From her receive, who gloried in fond pain.   

She called him thief, with vows he did maintain  
He never stole, but some sad slight of grief  
Had given to those who did his power disdain,  
In which revenge his honour was the chief.   

She said he murdered and therefore must dye,  
He that he caused but Love, did harms deny,  
But while she thus discoursing with him stood;   

The Nymphs untied him and his chains took off,  
Thinking him safe; but he (loose) made a scoff,  
Smiling and scorning them, slew to the wood.   

9  
PRay do not use these words, I must be gone;  
alas do not foretell mine ills to come:  
Let not my care be to my joys a Tomb;  
But rather find my loss with loss alone.   

Cause me not thus a more distressed one,  
Not feeling bliss, because of this sad doom  
Of present cross; for thinking will o'ercome  
And lose all pleasure, since grief breedeth none.   

Let the misfortune come at once to me,  
Nor suffer me with grief to punished be;  
Let me be ignorant of mine own ill:   

Then now with the foreknowledge quite to lose  
That which with so much care and pains Love chose  
For his reward, but joy now, then mirth kill.   

10.  
FOlly would needs make me a Lover be,  
When I did little think of loving thought;  
Or ever to be tied, while she told me  
That none can live, but to these bands are brought.   

I (ignorant) did grant, and so was bought,  
And sold again to Lover's slavery:  
The duty to that vanity once taught,  
Such band is, as we will not seek to free.   

Yet when I well did understand his might,  
How he inflamed and forced one to affect:  
I loud and smarted, counting it delight  
So still to waste, which Reason did deject.   

When Love came blindfold, and did challenge me.  
Indeed I loved, but wanton Boy not he,   


Song.  

THe Spring time of my first loving,  
Finds yet no winter of removing;  
Nor frosts to make my hopes decrease:  
But with the Summer still increase.   

The trees may teach us love's remaining,  
Who suffer change with little paining:  
Though Winter make their leaves decrease,  
Yet with the Summer they increase.   

As birds by silence show their mourning  
in cold, yet sing at Springs returning:  
So may Love nipped a while decrease,  
but as the Summer soon increase.   

Those that do love but for a season,  
Do falsify both Love and Reason:  
For Reason wills, if Love decrease,  
It like the Summer should increase.   

Though Love sometimes may be mistaken,  
the truth yet ought not to be shaken:  
Or though the heat a while decrease,  
It with the Summer may increase.   

And since the Spring time of my loving  
Found never Winter of removing:  
Nor frosts to make my hopes decrease,  
Shall as the Summer still increase.    

Song.  

Love a child is ever crying,  
Please him, and he straight is flying;  
Give him, he the more is craving,  
Never satisfied with having.   

His desires have no measure,  
Endless folly is his treasure:  
What he promiseth, he breaketh,  
Trust not one word that he speaketh.   

He vows nothing but false matter,  
And to cousin you he'll flatter:  
Let him gain the hand, he'll leave you,  
And still glory to deceive you.   

He will triumph in your wailing,  
And yet cause be of your failing:  
These his virtues are, and slighter  
Are his gifts; his favours lighter.   

Father's are as firm in staying,  
Wolves no fiercer in their praying.  
As a child then leave him crying,  
Nor seek him so given to flying.   

BEing past the pains of Love,  
Freedom gladly seeks to move:  
Says that Love's delights were pretty;  
But to dwell in them 'twere pity.   

And yet truly says, that Love  
Must of force in all hearts move:  
But though his delights are pretty,  
To dwell on them were a pity.   

Let Love slightly pass like Love,  
Never let it too deep move:  
For though Love's delights are pretty,  
To dwell in them were great pity.   

Love no pity hath of Love,  
Rather griefs than pleasures move:  
So though his delights are pretty,  
To dwell in them would be pity.   

Those that like the smart of Love,  
In them let it freely move:  
Else though his delights are pretty,  
Do not dwell in them for pity.   

O Pardon Cupid, I confess my fault,  
Then mercy grant me in so just a kind:  
For treason never lodged in my mind  
Against thy might, so much as in a thought.   

And now my folly I have dear bought,  
Nor could my soul lest rest of quiet find;  
Since Rashness did my thoughts to Error bind,  
Which now thy fury, and my harm hath wrought.   

I curse that thought and hand which that first framed,  
For which by thee I am most justly blamed:  
But now that hand shall guided be aright,   

And give a Crown unto thy endless praise,  
Which shall thy glory and thy greatness raise,  
More than these poor things could thy honour spite.     

A Crown of Sonnets dedicated to LOVE.  
IN this strange Labyrinth how shall I turn,  
Ways are on all sides, while the way I miss:  
If to the right hand, there in love I burn,  
Let me go forward, therein danger is.   

If to the left, suspicion hinders bliss;  
Let me turn back, shame cries I ought return:  
Nor faint, though crosses which my fortunes kiss,  
Stand still is harder, although sure to mourn.   

Thus let me take the right, or left hand way,  
Go forward, or stand still, or back retire:  
I must these doubts endure without allay  
Or help, but travel find for my best hire.   

Yet that which most my troubled sense doth move,  
Is to leave all and take the thread of Love..   

2.  
IS to leave all and take the thread of Love,  
Which line strait leads unto the soul's content,  
Where choice delights with pleasures wings do move,  
And idle fant'sie never room had lent.   

When chaste thoughts guide us, than our minds are bend  
To take that good which ills from us remove:  
Light of true love brings fruit which none repent;  
But constant Lovers seek and wish to prove.   

Love is the shining Star of blessings light,  
The fervent fire of zeal, the root of peace,  
The lasting Lamp, fed with the oil of right,  
Image of Faith, and womb for joys increase.   

Love is true Virtue, and his ends delight,  
His flames are joys, his bands true Lovers might.   

3.  
HIs flames are joys, his bands true Lovers might,  
No stain is there, but pure, as purest white,  
Where no cloud can appear to dim his light,  
Nor spot defile, but shame will soon requite.   

here are affections tried by Love's just might  
As Gold by fire, and black discerned by white;  
Error by truth, and darkness known by light,  
Where Faith is valued, for Love to requite.   

Please him, and serve him, glory in his might  
And firm he'll be, as Innocency white,  
Clear as th'air, warm as Sun's beams, as day light  
Just as Truth, constant as Fate, joyed to requite.   

Then Love obey, strive to observe his might  
And be in his brave Court a glorious light.   

4.  
ANd be in his brave Court a glorious light  
Shine in the eyes of Faith, and Constancy  
Maintain the fires of Love, still burning bright,  
Not slightly sparkling, but light flaming be.   

Never to slake till earth no Stars can see,  
Till Sun, and moon do leave to us dark night,  
And second Chaos once again do free  
Us, and the World from all divisions spite.   

Till than affections which his followers are,  
Govern our hearts, and prove his powers gain,  
To taste this pleasing sting, seek with all care  
For happy smarting is it with small pain.   

Such as although it pierce your tender heart,  
And burn, yet burning you will love the smart.   

5.  
ANd burn, yet burning you will love the smart,  
When you shall feel the weight of true desire,  
So pleasing, as you would not wish your part  
Of burden should be missing from that fire.   

But faithful and unfeigned heat aspire  
Which sin abollisheth, and doth impart  
Salves to all fear, with virtues which inspire  
Souls with divine love; which shows his chaste Art.   

And guide he is to joy, open eyes  
He hath to happiness, and best can learn  
Us, means how to deserve this he descries,  
Who blind, yet doth our hidn'st thoughts discern.   

Thus we may gain since living in blessed Love,  
He may our Prophet, and our Tutor prove.   

6.  
HE may our Prophet, and our Tutor prove,  
In whom alone we do this power find,  
To join two hearts as in one frame to move  
Two bodies, but one soul to rule the mind   

Eyes which must care to one dear Object bind,  
Ears to each others speech as if above  
All else, they sweet, and learned were; this kind  
Content of Lovers witnesseth true love.   

It doth enrich the wits, and make you see  
That in yourself which you knew not before,  
Forcesing you to admire such gifts should be  
Hid from your knowledge, yet in you the store.   

Millions of these adorn the throne of Love,  
How blessed are they then, who his favours prove?   

7.  
HOw blessed be they then, who his favours prove,  
A life whereof the birth is just desire?  
Breeding sweet flame, which hearts invite to move,  
In these loved eyes, which kindle Cupid's fire,   

And nurse his longings with his thoughts entire,  
Fixed on the heat of wishes formed by Love,  
Yet whereas fire destroys, this doth aspire,  
Increase, and foster all delights above.   

Love will a Painter make you, such, as you  
Shall able be to draw, your only dear,  
More lively, perfect, lasting, and more true  
Than rarest Workman, and to you more near.   

These be the least, than all must needs confess,  
He that shuns Love, doth love himself the less.   

8.  
HE that shuns Love, doth love himself the less,  
And cursed he whose spirit, not admires  
The worth of Love, where endless blessedness  
Reigns, & commands, maintained by heavenly fires.   

Made of Virtue, joined by Truth, blown by Desires,  
Strengthened by Worth, renewed by carefulness,  
Flaming in never-changing thoughts: briers  
Of jealousy shall here miss welcomnesse.   

Nor coldly pass in the pursuits of Love  
Like one long frozen in a Sea of ice:  
And yet but chastely let your passions moon,  
No thought from virtuous Love your minds entice.   

Never to other ends your Fantasies place,  
But where they may return with honour's grace.   

9  
But where they may return with Honour's grace,  
Where Venus follies can no harbour win,  
But chased are, as worthless of the face,  
Or style of Love, who hath lascivious been.   

Our hearts are subject to her Son, where sin  
Never did dwell, or rest one minutes space;  
What faults he hath in her did still begin,  
And from her breast he sucked his fleeting pace.   

If Lust be counted Love, 'tis falsely named,  
By wickedness, a fairer gloss to set  
Upon that Vice, which else makes men ashamed,  
In the own Phrase to warrant, but beget   

This Child for Love, who ought like Monster borne,  
Be from the Court of Love, and Reason torn.   

10.  
Be from the Court of Love, and reason torn,  
For Love in Reason now doth put his trust,  
Desert and liking are together borne  
Children of Love, and Reason, Parents just.   

Reason adviser is, Love ruler must  
Be of the State, which Crown he long hath worn;  
Yet so, as neither will in least mistrust  
The government where no fear is of scorn.   

The reverence both their mights thus made of one,  
But wantonness, and all those errors shun,  
Which wronger's be, Impostures, and alone  
Maintainers of all follies ill begun.   

Fruit of a sour, and unwholesome ground  
Unprofitably pleasing, and unsound.   

11.  
Unprofitably pleasing, and unsound.  
When Heaven gave liberty to frail dull earth,  
To bring forth plenty that in ills abound,  
Which ripest, yet do bring a certain dearth.   

A timeless, and unseasonable birth,  
Planted in ill, in worse time springing found,  
Which Hemlock like might feed a sick-wit's mirth  
Where unruled vapours swim in endless round.   

Then joy we not in what we ought to shun,  
Where shady pleasures show, but true borne fires  
Are quite quenched out, or by poor ashes won,  
Awhile to keep those cool, and wan desires.   

O no, let Love his glory have, and might  
Be given to him, who triumphs in his right.   

12.  
BE given to him, who triumphs in his right;  
Nor fading be, but like those blossoms fair,  
Which fall for good, and lose their colours bright,  
Yet die not, but with fruit their loss repair:   

So may Love make you pale with loving care,  
When sweet enjoying shall restore that light,  
More clear in beauty, than we can compare,  
If not to Venus in her chosen might.   

And who so give themselves in this dear kind,  
These happinesses shall attend them still,  
To be supplied with joys enriched in mind,  
With treasures of content, and pleasures fill.   

Thus love to be divine, doth here appear,  
Free from all fogs, but shining fair and clear.   

13.  
FRee from all fogs, but shining fair, and clear,  
Wise in all good, and innocent in ill,  
Where holy friendship is esteemed dear,  
With Truth in love, and justice in our Will.   

In Love these titles only have their fill  
Of happy life-maintainer, and the mere  
Defence of right, the punisher of skill,  
And fraud, from whence directions doth appear.   

To thee then, Lord commander of all hearts,  
Ruler of our affections, kind, and just,  
Great King of Love, my soul from feigned smarts,  
Or thought of change, I offer to your trust,   

This Crown, myself, and all that I have more,  
Except my heart, which you bestowed before.   

14.  
EXcept my heart, which you bestowed before,  
And for a sign of Conquest gave away  
As worthless to be kept in your choice store;  
Yet one more spotless with you doth not stay.   

The tribute which my heart doth truly pay,  
Is faith untouched, pure thoughts discharge the score  
Of debts for me, where Constancy bears sway,  
And rules as Lord, unharmd by Envy's sore.   

Yet other mischiefs fail not to attend,  
As enemies to you, my foes must be,  
Cursed jealousy doth all her forces bend  
To my undoing, thus my harms I see.   

So though in Love I fervently do burn,  
In this strange Labyrinth how shall I turn?   


Song. I.  

SWeet, let me enjoy thy sight  
More clear, more bright than morning Sun,  
Which in Springtime gives delight  
And by which Summers pride is won.  
Present sight doth pleasures move  
Which in sad absence we must miss:  
But when met again in love,  
Then twice redoubled is our bliss.   

Yet this comfort absence gives,  
And only faithful loving tries,  
That though parted, Love's force lives  
As just in heart, as in our eyes:  
But such comfort banish quite,  
far sweeter is it, still to find  
Favour in thy loved sight,  
Which present smiles with joys combined.   

Eyes of gladness, lips of Love,  
And hearts from passion not to turn,  
But in sweet affections move,  
In flames of Faith to live, and burn.  
Dearest then, this kindness give,  
And grant me life, which is your sight,  
Wherein I more blessed live,  
Then graced with the Sun's fair light.    

2.  

SWeet Silvia in a shady wood,  
With her fair Nymphs laid down,  
Saw not far off where Cupid stood,  
The Monarch of Love's Crown,  
All naked, playing with his wings,  
Within a Myrtle Tree,  
Which sight a sudden laughter brings,  
His Godhead so to see.   

An fond they began to jest,  
With scoffing, and delight,  
Not knowing he did breed unrest,  
And that his will's his right:  
When he perceiving of their scorn,  
Grew in such desperate rage,  
Who but for honour first was borne,  
Could not his rage assuage.   

Till shooting of his murdering dart,  
Which not long lighting was,  
Knowing the next way to the heart,  
Did through a poor Nymph pass:  
This shot the others made to bow,  
Besides all those to blame,  
Who scorners be, or not allow  
Of powerful Cupid's name.   

Take heed then nor do idly smile,  
Nor Loves commands despise,  
For soon will he your strength beguile,  
Although he want his eyes.    

3  

COme merry Spring delight us,  
For Winter long did spite us,  
In pleasure still persever,  
Thy beauties ending never:  
Spring, and grow  
Lasting so,  
With joys increasing ever.   

Let cold from hence be banished,  
Till hopes from me be vanished,  
But bless thy dainties growing  
In fullness freely flowing:  
Sweet Birds sing  
For the Spring,  
All mirth is now bestowing.   

Philomela in this Arbour  
Makes now her loving Harbour,  
Yet of her state complaining,  
Her Notes in mildness straining,  
Which though sweet,  
Yet do meet.  
Her former luckless paining.    

4.  

Lovers learn to speak but truth,  
Swear not, and your oaths forgo,  
Give your age a constant youth,  
Vow no more than what you'll do.   

Think it sacrilege to break  
What you promise, shall in love  
And in tears what you do speak  
Forget not, when the ends you prove.   

Do not think it glory is  
To entice, and then deceive,  
Your chief honours lie in this,  
By worth what won is, not to leave.   

'Tis not for your fame to try,  
What we weak, not oft refuse,  
In our bounty our faults lie,  
When you to do a fault will choose.   

Fie leave this, a greater gain,  
'tis to keep when you have won,  
Than what purchased is with pain,  
Soon after in all scorn to shun.   

For if worthless to be prized,  
Why at first will you it move?  
And if worthy, why despised?  
You cannot swear, and lie, and love.   

Love alas you cannot like,  
'tis but for a fashion moved,  
None can chase, and then dislike,  
Unless it be by falsehood proved.   

But your choice is, and your love.  
How most number to deceive,  
As if honour's claim did move  
Like Popish Law, none safe to leave.   

Fly this folly, and return  
Unto truth in Love, and try,  
None but Martir's happy burne,  
More shameful ends they have that lie.     

1.  
MY heart is lost, what can I now expect,  
An evening fair after a drowsy day?  
Alas, fond Phantasy, this is not the way,  
To cure a mourning heart, or salve neglect:   

They who should help, do me, and help reject,  
Embracing loose desires, and wanton play,  
While wanton base delights, do bear the sway,  
And impudence reigns without respect.   

O Cupid let they Mother know her shame,  
'Tis time for her to leave this youthful flame,  
Which doth dishonour her, is ages blame,  
And takes away the greatness of thy name.   

Thou God of Love, she only Queen of lust,  
Yet strives by weakening thee, to be unjust.   

2.  
LAte in the Forest I did Cupid see  
Cold, wet, and crying, he had lost his way,  
And being blind was farther like to stray;  
Which sight, a kind compassion bred in me.   

I kindly took, and dried him, while that he,  
(Poor Child) complained, he starved was with stay  
And pined for want of his accustomed prey,  
For none in that wild place his Host would be.   

I glad was of his finding, thinking sure,  
This service should my freedom still procure,  
And in my arms I took him then unharmed,   

Carrying him safe unto a Myrtle bower,  
But in the way he made me, feel his power,  
Burning my heart, who had him kindly warmed.   

3.  
Juno still jealous of her husband jove,  
Descended from above, on earth to try,  
Whether she there could find his chosen Love,  
Which made him from the Heavens so often fly.   

Close by the place where I for shade did lie,  
She chafing came, but when she saw me move,  
Have you not seen this way (said she) to hie  
One, in whom virtue never ground did prove?   

He, in whom Love doth breed, to stir more hate,  
Courting a wanton Nymph for his delight;  
His name is jupiter, my Lord, by Fate,  
Who for her, leaves Me, Heaven, his Throne, and light.   

I saw him not (said I) although here are  
Many, in whose hearts, Love hath made like war,   

4.  
WHen I beheld the Image of my dear,  
With greedy looks mine eyes would that way bend,  
Fear, and Desire, did inwardly contend;  
Fear to be marked, Desire to draw still near.   

And in my soul a Spirit would appear,  
Which boldness warranted, and did pretend  
To be my Genius; yet I durst not lend,  
My eyes in trust, where others seemed so clear.   

Then did I search, from whence this danger rose,  
If such unworthiness in me did rest,  
As my starved eyes must not with sight be blest,  
When jealousy her poison did disclose.   

Yet in my heart unseen of jealous eye,  
The truer Image shall in triumph lie.   

5.  
LIke to huge Clouds of smoke which well may hide  
The face of fairest day, though for a while:  
So wrong may shadow me, till truth do smile,  
And justice sun-like hath those vapours tied.   

O doting Time, canst thou for shame let slid,  
So many minutes, while ills do beguile  
Thy age, and worth, and falsehoods thus defile  
Thy ancient good, where now but crosses bide?   

Look but once up, and leave thy toiling pace  
And on my miseries thy dim eye place,  
Go not so fast, but give my care some end,   

Turn not thy glass (alas) unto my ill  
Since thou with sand it canst not so far fill,  
But to each one my sorrows will extend.   

6.  
O That no day would ever more appear,  
But cloudy night to govern this sad place,  
Nor light from Heaven these hapless rooms to grace  
Since that light's shadowed which my Love holds dear.   

Let thickest mists in envy master here,  
And Sunne-borne day for malice show no face,  
Disdaining light, where Cupid, and the race  
Of lovers are despised, and shame shines clear.   

Let me be dark, since barred of my chief light,  
And wounding jealousy commands by might,  
But Stage-play-like disguised pleasures give:   

To me it seems, as ancient fictions make  
The Stars, all fashions and all shapes partake,  
While in my thoughts true form of Love shall live.   

7.  
NO time, no room, no thought, or writing can  
Give rest, or quiet to my loving heart,  
Or can my memory, or Phantasy scan,  
The measure of my still renewing smart.   

Yet would I not (dear Love) thou shouldst depart,  
But let my passions as they first began,  
Rule, wound, and please, it is thy choicest Art,  
To give disquiet, which seems ease to man.   

When all alone, I think upon thy pain,  
How thou dost travel our best selves to gain,  
Then hoverly thy lessons I do learn;   

Think on thy glory, which shall still ascend,  
Until the world come to a final end,  
And then shall we thy lasting power dicerne.   

8.  
HOw Glowworme-like the Sun doth now appear,  
Cold beams do from his glorious face descend  
Which shows his days, and force duw to an end,  
Or that to leave taking, his time grows near.   

The day his face did seem but pale, though clear,  
The reason is, he to the North must end  
His light, and warmth must to that Climate bend,  
Whose frozen parts could not love's heat hold dear   

Alas, if thou bright Sun to part from hence  
Grieve so, what must I hapless who from thence,  
Where thou dost go my blessing shall attend;   

Thou shalt enjoy that sight for which I die,  
And in my heart thy fortwes do nuy,  
Yet grieve, I'll love thee, for thistate may ' mend.   

9  
MY Muse now happy lay thy self to rest,  
Sleep in the quiet of a faithful love,  
Write you no more, but let these Fantasies move  
Some other hearts, wake not to ewe unrest.   

But if you Study be those thoughts addressed  
To truth, which shall eternal goodness prove;  
Enjoying of true joy the most, and best  
The endless gain which never will remove.   

Leave the discourse of Venus, and her son  
To young beginners, and their brains inspire  
With stories of great Love, and from that fire,  
Get heat to write the fortunes they have won.   

And thus leave off; what's past shows you can love,  
Now let your Constancy your Honour prove.   
FINIS.