ADMIRABLE EVENTS: SELECTED OUT OF FOUR BOOKS, Written in French by the Right Reverend, John Peter Camus, Bishop of BELIE.  
Together with moral Relations, written by the same Author.  
And translated into English by S. Du VERGER.  
LONDON, Printed by Thomas Harper for William Brooks, and are to be sold at his shop in Holborn in Turnstile Lane. 1639.   

TO THE MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY OF HENRIETTA MARIA, Queen of Great Britain.  
THE ancient and modern custom which all Authors have, and do yet hold, in dedicating their works to the hand of eminency and greatness, is grounded either upon desire to see them powerfully protected, or by them to proclaim some testimony of devoted affection, or to appear grateful for benefits received, if I shall call to this support of my thrice humble dedication to your Highness, the aforesaid motives either several or joined together, I doubt not but their weight will beg pardon for my presumption, and incline your Grace to its favour, since whether I make my address in the humble supplication of the first, or in a revering sense of the second: or lastly, in the general obligation of the third respect. I profess no more than what the least and meanest in the rank of subjects is owing to the source of Majesty, whose influence quickeneth, gives motion and being to all civil industries, sending their lives to equal centre.  
In point of subject, since nothing from mine own conceptions was fit to adventure upon so high a theatre. I assign my part to the only choice and conveyance of an Author, with language intelligible to the English shore, who in the variety and multitude of his writings, both Theological, moral, and historical, hath as with a Crystal stream watered a continent of the greatest extent in Europe: and although in himself like good wine he needeth no bush to recommend him to the reader's gust, yet in this presentment to your gracious Majesty. I will serve him in by the hand of a curious taster. Rare Ca●ssin, who in a noble translation of the Holy Court, towards the end of the second part, hath these words, as well of proper gratitude to his person, as of a full Elegy of the graces and beauties of his mind.  
I may well say (saith he) that I were stupid and ungrateful, if I should not confess to have been much excited to prosecute this labour by the honourable invitations which my Lord Bishop of Belie hath used towards me in his works, I cannot set too high a price upon his recommendation in such a subject, for he is verily one of the most able and flourishing wits that ever handled pen: to see the number of his Books, one might say, he began to write, so soon as to live, and to consider their worth, it is a wonder how so many graces and beauties which others attain not but with much labour, increased in him, as in a soil natural for eloquence.  
This Character flowing from so learned a pen, may of itself be a fair invitation to your Highness, to peruse the work which I have here drawn up to a translation: it is an extract of several Histories culled out of two Treatises entitled Singular Events, and Moral Relations, an argument not improper for a virtuous mind, whether profit or pleasure be aimed at, for Histories are the storehouses, where virtues are faithfully conserved to posterities veneration, and vices detestation: it is an armoury where armour of proof for all degrees is fitted to the hand; it is a glass wherein to behold, adorn, and fashion out the life to what is worthy imitation, and to have in hortour and avoidance what is deformed in the beginning, or foul in the end: in fine, they are the only monuments of truth, which they purely deliver, no way flattering or concealing any thing  
Give leave then, most gracious Princess, where I began, there to determine my thrice humble Dedication, with homage and binding oblation of these first fruits of my small industry to your all-atracting goodness, which let it deign to assume unto favourable acceptance, herein imitating the precious amber, that commands the ascent of small, and worthless substances, not for their merits sake, but for the honour of its force, and virtue to attract. Thus my presumption I hope, may be excused, your Highness all commanding virtue being graciously inclined  
To the humblest and lowest of all your Majesty's most devoted servants, S. Du VER●ER.   

The Author's Epistle to the READER.  
THe enterprise which I have taken in hand, is to wrestle, or rather to encounter with thosefrivolous books, which may all be comprised under the name of Romants, which would require the hands which fables attribute unto Briareus, or the strength which Poets give unto Hercules: the hands of that Giant to handle so many pens, and the vigour of that Heros to undergo so painful a labour: but what cannot a courage do, animated by a zeal of pleasuring his neighbour, and provoked by desire to advance the light of virtue, and to lessen vice. O why hath not my pen the virtue to cure the wounds that these wicked books cause in this world! or at least, why cannot it devour those monsters, which the writers of those aforesaid works, mere enchanters of minds cause to appear in the forms of books? or like as an eagle's feather devours all other feathers, so might my pen devour all those other pens. When shall the light of virtue, & verity dissipate the shadows of vice and vanity? will the false Dagons never fall before the Ark of serious, true, and beneficial entertainments of the mind? at least if these my labours could cure those who are miserably infected with often viewing these Pamphlets: If the loss of so much time may be called employment, I should not think my labour spent in vain, nor my pen unprofitable. But when I see this mischievous tree, which I strive to cut down, casting forth so many branches, as I lop off, and doing like the Vine, which never sprouts so well, as when it is cut, it makes me fear a labour like unto that of Danaides, or of Sisyphus. Who would not wish for as many hands as Briareus, for to oppose so many styles, which are used in that so vain, and so wanton a kind of writing? And who would not wish for the arm of Hercules, to overcome this Hydra, whereof I can no sooner strike off one head, but up springs another? You would think the fable of Cadmus a truth in this subject; and that of the ancient Serpent's teeth, there grows up armed men to fight in defence of lies: that if Hercules (according to the proverb) could do nothing against two, what may we think to do against these legions?  
Now to overthrow so many fabulous Books, I undertake not my combat directly, as if I were confuting heresies, for it is not needful that I should trouble myself to prove the obscurity of darkness, nor to show the falsehood of these Romants, Adventures, Chivalries, and other such trash, which confess themselves fabulous in their Prefaces, and whose reading full of fantastical conceits of feignings, of impossibilities, of absurdities, of enchantments, of extravagancies, and such like trumpery, sufficiently showeth their impertinency, which were (as the Apostle saith) to combat against the air, and to ton without end, or at the most to imitate that idle Emperor, who made war only against flies By what manner do I then labour to overcome my adversaries? it is by diversion, setting relations true and beneficial, in the place of those that are profane, fabulous, and not only unprofitable, but for the most part pernicious, to the end that those whose great leisure causeth to seek wherewith to employ their time, may find wherewithal to entertain their desires.  
Even as truth is constant, so falsehood is wavering and differing, & is capable of more different forms, than the materia prima, or the Proteus of Poets, which is the cause that these Authors, who love vanity, and follow after lies, set forth their works in as many fashions, as they please. This variety being no small attractive unto those that passionately affect such kind of reading: and it is no small advantage, that fantastical relations have over those that are true, for those are made at pleasure, like leaden rules, or images of wax wherewith you may do what you will, filling them with monstrous encounters, surmounting both probability and imagination, things which delight and wonderfully suspend the mind: in brief, they stuff them with so many baits, that the licourishnesse of the sauce makes them lose the taste of the meat, which of itself is without savour or relish, and most commonly hurtful: whereas narrations of things, which have truly happened, are tied to more subjection, for although a man may order them handsomely, and slip in some convenient dress, nevertheless conscience obliges to keep faithfully to the ground and body of the History: and yet in the particularities which are added, either for connexion, or embellishment of the recital: the Author is strictly tied to the bounds of probability, out of which he may not swerve a nails beadth, without discrediting the whole work. For although fables, parables, and poetical fictions, do sometimes hide in them good precepts, and many serious examples, yet the instructions lose much of their credit when they are mixed amongst vain inventions: and when they do not lean to the solid foundation of truth, even as the Manna of Calabria looseth much of its virtue, when it is gathered of flowers which grow in places that are too moist.  
Now amongst the multitude of these writings, which like unto Reeds, have nothing but a pleasing verdure, and a fair show of stately words, hollow and empty without any solid substance, there are one kind, which may be called an Aunt's nest, a seed-plot or nursery of these wanton inventions, and that is it which bears the titles of tales and novels: amongst Italians, those of Boccace for the purity of language, are much esteemed, but they are ●o full of impurities, impieties, fopperies, and absurdities, that I have sometimes wondered, how such a wit, capable of so many good things, hath wasted time in tales (setting aside their filthiness) more befitting an old wife that would bring a child to sleep, than a person professing learning: they do also make account of those of Baudell, which I have never seen, they esteem them because of the style, but as I have heard by those that have read them, they contain such beastliness and abominations, that they have not only been suppressed by authority of the Magistrate, as pernicious to good manners, but also by public detestation: true it is that there was amongst the rest, some sad events which had been gathered and translated into our tongue by Bell Forest, whereof he hath framed his tragical histories, yet some of them would deserve correction, being full of flesh and blood. They have also those of Giraldy, of Sausonin, of Straparolle, full of so much licentiousness and dishonesty, that it is pity to see these Books in the hands of youth, who suck this Heraclian honey (sweet but venomous) through the sight, and which by its reading, teacheth such corruptions and filthiness, as but by the practice of most dissolute persons would never be taught them.  
Moreover, in all these stories (for the most part) invented at will, there is su●h manifest fopperies, and such great want of judgement in the Authors, and of likelihood in the narrations, that it is a strange thing, that reasonable spirits can be paid with such counterfeit and uncurrant coin. Truly, we are not men, but by reason, and when this light of our soul is out of its Ecliptic line, and strayed from its way, we fall into bottomless pits of absurdities: but what shall we do to cure those that delight in their follies?  
Amongst the Spaniards, above all writers of Romants, and great tellers of tales, novelties, and stories, those of Ceroantes are much esteemed: and truly having read them, I have found his wit to be very great in those small things. A man of the world, a great gyber and scoffer, and who handsomely, and to the uttermost, sets out his wares. Deigo Agrada hath followed these, adding unto his the surname of moral, because of the morals which he draws at the end of those occurrences, which he recites. This man in my mind is more judicious, and less insolent, although he takes licence to fly out sometimes a little. Among our French, a fine wit, in truth, and who hath a fine style, hath recreated himself in writing French tales or novelties, which fare surpass the Italian, and are no whit behind the Spanish: he is moderate in his imaginations, and modest in his words, he hath not deigned to set his name to this work, wherein he seems but to have only tried his pen, which he destinateth to some higher and more serious labour. Another hath given us a taste of historical diversities, but this book is so little, that it is but a show, which breeds a wish for an ampler piece. Unto this may be annexed the tragical Histories of Bell Forrest, and those made by Rosset, bearing the same title.  
These are the writings of that sort, which have fallen under my view, not that I have taken patience to read them distinctly, but I have run over some pieces of them, only as to feel their pulse, and inform myself of their language and Country. But for to say in general what mine opinion is of these and all such like confused heaps of frivolous relations, I cannot better compare them then to dainty garden knots & borders which have Serpents hidden under their flowers, or unto fine fields: pleasing unto the eye, but full of Hemlock and Aconitum, or unto Salads, wherein are poisonous herbs, or unto those fine Goldsmith's works, wherein are inserted base metals, and counterfeit stones, or unto those liquorish Spanish dishes of meat, called pot porride, delicious in taste, but prejudicial to health; or unto the horse of Troy, out of which came armed soldiers, by whom that beautiful City was turned into ashes. I say not this so much to disgrace my adversaries, as to give testimony to truth.  
Now (my dear Reader) it is this kind of books which I strive to supplant by these singular Events, which I hear offer unto thy view, thou shalt not see therein those paintings of Eloquence, nor those industrious ornaments wherewith those Antagonists adorn their ridiculous tales, to make them glide the sweether into the minds of them that spend time abouttheir Chimaeras. But thou shalt here find natural beauties without art; I mean, examples which borrow all their grace and worth from the force of truth which upholds them, and whose testimonies are seen in the times, places, and persons.  
All these Events, which I call singular, as well for being rare and notable, as for having no connexion the one with the other, each one making its body, hath as it were undertaken, either to cry down a vice, or to extol a virtue. The eng ●ayme at, as being (as it is also the end of all good history) to withdraw from evil, and to excite unto good, to breed a holy horror of bad actions, and a just desire of actions that are good, ever (as occasion serves) adding a few words, short, but pressing, like to so many spurs, which prick forward to well doing, and so many Bits which hold back from the doing of evil, sometimes showing the recompnce of goodness, and sometimes the punishment of vice, to the end that love and fear may support the good, and retain the bad in their endeavours. This is the mark at which this work wholly levels, whose intention at least canblamed.  
As for the manner I am to advertise thee, that I study as much as I can for brevity, and thereupon abridge it of all the trim with which I extend my other Histories, where giving my mind scope, as in a full sea, I hoist up sails, and run at large, as the course of my pen carries me: here I cut my Vine, and nip of its buds, yea I clip my wings to keep me from soaring: I keep close to the matter, & give little liberty unto my thoughts, to spread into digressions, if they be not necessary, and as it were bred in the subject, by reason whereof I have weaned myself from the sweet milk of poesy, and have abstained from putting any verses in these Events. I have also taken away the other graces, as Apostrophes, dialogismes, complaints, speeches, conferences, letters, orations; in brief, all that might enlarge or embellish, so that in comparison of our other relations, these are but abridgements of histories, and as it were Skeletons, nothing remaining but the bones of each Event, stripped of the ornaments which might have set forth their bodies in a far fairer hue. In the art of painting, little pieces have their graces, as well as great pictures, which have all their dimensions: so have abridgements in their kinds, as well as larger and ampler discourses: and as stronger blows are given by a short weapon, then by a long; a wound with a Dagger being no less dangerous, then that with a sword: even so it happens that the mind draws more profit from an example restrained within the bounds of its subject, then from another whose superfluous relations may either distract the attention, or leave it languishing: many times small streams are more delectable than great rivers, and the least springs more pleasing than torrents, and meats cut in small bits, are swallowed with most ease. There be minds which foil in reading a history of great length, humane patience being not of any great extent: but when Events are set down in such a manner, as the end is not fare from the beginning, this is it which encourageth the reader, and both giveth him a desire of seeing further, and also eases him in reading, besides variety is always more delectable, and gives better content, than uniformity, & pleasure is a bait to a reader, which those that writ, should in no wise contemn.  
This book of Events is a Garland made of many flowers, a honey composed of many herbs, whose juices are different, a treacle made of diverse ingredients, and wherein the Serpent of vice is seasoned with so many antidotes, that in lieu of hurting, it will do good. It is a work of inlaying, where each piece making its body, hath a several colour and virtue, and all together make a prospective, which will not be unpleasant, except it be unto those muddy unsettled spirits, who can like nothing of another's doing, being burdensome unto themselves, and troublesome unto all the world.  
If I did write these Histories rather to please men, then to benefit my neighbour, it may be I should be fain to fear their censures, and seek to conjure or appease their bad humours. But should I entertain such a thought, as to purchase reputation in this world, then would I set myself in another posture, and would give unto my pen a subject more flashing, and ranging, but being too weak to soar into high matters, I am content that it shall keep so low, even to touch the ground: and that bringing more profit to my neighbour, it should yield little or no fame unto the Author.  
Examples of good and evil have a like virtue, (provided) they meet with a disposition according in the souls of them that see them. For many read books for curiosity, others for variety, or to pass time, and for want of other employment, another with envy, few with sincerity, few with a desire to profit, and to put in practise the good instructions they find therein; from whence proceeds the ill usage of so many Authors, with so much ingratitude and cruelty; that who so sets forth a Book, exposes himself unto the mercy of mockers and detractors: drones which do but hu●me about flowers, without gathering any honey from them; and as Spiders, who make venom of all that they read.  
But let them say on, some good souls (nevertheless) whose dispositions are inclined to virtue, will be glad to find profitable admonitions set do●ne, and sweetly mingled with varieties of pleasures fitting their humour. And therefore I have strov● by the help of my pen to publish examples worthy to be noted, to the end that we may grow wise by the good or evil hap of others. This is the mark aimed at by all these Events, which I have gathered in the great field of the world. It is your part, dear Reader, to extract honey out of the hardest stone, oil out of the flint, studying a reformation of manners in this school of humane actions; Remembering always that the secret (and if I may so say) the great work of prudence and justice, is to avoid evil, and to embrace good.   


A Table of the Events contained in the first part of this Book.  

THe generous Poverty, page 1  
The prudent Mother, 27  
The discreet children, 38  
The curried Persons, 49  
The waking man's dream, 59  
The old man passionate in love, 68  
The good fortune of honesty, 80  
The generous Friend, 96  
The evil counsel punished, 107  
The long vengeance, 119  
The unlucky word, 125  
The justification of crime, 132    

The Moral Relations: The second Book containing these.  

THe honourable Infidelilty, 143  
The frustrate intentions, 182  
The happy Stay, 192  
The foolish Boast, 205  
The treacherous brother in law, 215  
The fortunate Misfortune, 224  
The impudent Attempt, 243  
The unlucky Feigning, or Counterseiting, 251  
The double Fratricide, 258  
The double Rape, 276  
The just recompense, 289  
The weak Conjecture, 298  
The vanquished man's Trophy, 307  
The Idea, 318  
The unconstant ambitious woman, 322  
The Amazon, 330  
The happy Almsdeed, 351     


THE GENEROUS POVERTY.  
The First Event.  
NOthing elevateth the mind so much as riches, whose ordinary effect is to puff them up with pride, that possess them, which makes the Psalmist King to blame those that put their trust in their own power, and boast in the multitude of their treasures; And on the contrary, nothing so much abuseth or dejecteth a spirit, as poverty.  
This hath given ground for the Emblem, which represents a man cast down to the earth by the weight of necessity, in despite of the wings of generosity, which endeavour all they may to ra●●e him up again; For as there is a river in Elide, which passeth through the sea, and gives the waters no touch of its bitterness; so there are some souls so well framed, that in despite of the meanness of birth or breeding, yet they carry both generous, and lofty spirits; it is like to a fire hid in mud, even as that fire which was found at jerusalem in the bottom of a well, at the return from the captivity of Babylon, we shall see it verified in this Event which I learned of a Germane Gentleman being at Milan.  
In Breslau a chief City of Slesia, a Province of Germany, near neighbouring to Bohemia, there lived two Citizens of mean quality, who loved each other entirely; Teudas the one was a Tradesman, and Venon, who was the other used a kind of traffic in mercery. This Venon being gone into Vienna in Austria to buy some commodities, stayed three months in his voyage: and at his return found himself welcomed with two disasters, whereof he quickly grew extreme sensible; to wit of the loss of his wife, whom he dearly loved, and by whom he had some children: the other was the misfortune of his friend, who was cast into prison, and past the hope of ever getting out, yet was it not for any disorder in him, but rather it was his goodness which had brought him into this deplorable estate; for that he having been bound in a great sum of money for one of his friends, whom misfortune had made unable to satisfy, he was condemned to the payment of it himself: whereupon all that he was worth (which consisted chief in household stuff) he sold, and for the remainder his body was attached, and clapped up in the Goal as aforesaid.  
In this place, which may very well be called the centre of misery, and the tomb of the living; Venon came to visit Teudas, who grievously complaining of Fortune, accused her of injustiee, in that she reduced him into that so miserable estate for well doing: but he grieved not so much for the loss of his liberty, and goods, or for his own misfortune, but for that he had lost the means to marry an only daughter he had, whose age made her marriageable, fearing necessity should bring her into some vain, and l●wd course of life.  
Venon stood not to comfort him with many words, but coming to promises, which he soon confirmed by effects, he told him, that his misery was a mark of his virtue, against whom Fortune hath a sworn and professed enmity, but he ought to animate himself against this Fort, and to imitate wrestlers, who stretch themselves up on their feet, so much the stronglier and more courageously, by how much their adversary (with whom they are to encounter) is tall, and lusty: and as for the good which he had done, whereby this evil had happened to him, he must never the more, repent it, because whatsoever he sowed in tears, he should reap in joy, provided that he could but possess his soul with patience; for seeing friendship had cast h●● into prison, now friendship should fetch him forth, for he had means sufficient to red●eme him out of this his misery, and relieve him in this extreme necessity, and that having hands he might ●●●our for his living, as before he did, as for his 〈◊〉 whatsoever he had should be as common to hi●, as it was to himself, the law of perfect friendship requiring it should be so, and that he would have him feel his good fortune, as sensibly, as he felt his bad: the union, and connexion of friends, being no less than the union, and connexion of the limbs in a man's body, which administer to each other, as occasion serves. At least (saith he) I shall receive this contentment from the evil which hath happened unto you, that thereby I have the means offered to show you a testimony of my sincere affection, in this your necessity, and that I am truly your friend. All that I have is yours, make use thereof according to your several occasions: if you thereby attain to a better fortune, I am sure you will acknowledge it: but as for me I will have no other reward for my service, but only the continuation of our love; and as for your daughter let not that trouble you, seeing that I have lost my wife, I am contented to take her for my second, if you will, but if her mind be settled else where, or that you have a desire to match her otherwise, I have wherewithal to give her a good portion.  
What unexpected consolation was this to the heart of Teudas, to hear these speeches from his friend whose words he knew to be as true, as they were free, he had been very unwise, if he had refused his proffered assistance in so pressing an accident, he would have used some compliments, but the greatness of the benefit going beyond his thought, words, and thankes, vanished in his mouth.  
No says Venon (who judged of the interior thoughts by the exterior alteration of his face) we need not give thanks for making use of that which is our own; if I am yours, much more are all my goods yours. And either you had no need of them, or else it was your own fault that you disposed not of them at your pleasure heretofore.  
Without any longer discourse, he goes presently home to his house, takes all the money, that he had gotten by his wares, and delivers his friend, by paying the sum, for which he was detained.  
What say you of this generosity in a man of mean rank, who had scarce means enough to free himself from necessity, if he should add thereto much industry and pains.  
Well, not long after he married Ermige the daughter of Teudas, who although fare from his age, yet considering the good he had done unto her Father, she took him not only for her husband, but also for a second Father, and esteemed herself very happy that she might serve as a recompense to him, who had so liberally drawn her Father out of prison, she served him with all reverence, and entire affection, that Venon thought himself much bound to him, whom he had obliged. Who finds a virtuous woman (saith the wise man) findeth a price inestimable, the heart of her husband relies only upon her, and she waiteth on him diligently, and faithfully: you cannot imagine with what ●ffection this young woman loved this old man, and how passionately this old man affected this his young wife.  
Of so amorous an union of these two hearts, and bodies, issued Rosana, as a creature destined to love honourably, and generously, she was but two months old when her Grandfather Teudas overcome with sorrow, and grief for the loss of his goods, left this life to enjoy a better.  
Her Father Venon (who had much weakened his estate in drawing his dear friend out of prison) daily felt necessity approaching, but God who guardeth the just, and seethe no good deed pass unrewarded, provides for him beyond all hope or expectation, for those that seek him can never want any thing, Venons greatest grief was much like that which Teudas felt in prison, because that seeing himself old he feared, that he should not leave his wife wherewithal honestly to maintain herself, and to bring up, and match this daughter.  
Comfort thyself O Venon with good Tobias, and be assured that although poverty overtake thee, yet thou shalt have means sufficient, provided that thou fear God, hope with job that all shall be restored to thee again double.  
Scarce had Rosana been a year at her Mother's breast, but she was plucked from thence by an appearance of good fortune.  
There are two powerful houses in Slesia, whose owners are reckoned in the rank of Princes. The Duke of Lignits and the Duke of Swednes. The wife of one of these great men of which my Author could not assure me, being ready to cry out, a nurse was sought out for her to give suck to the child, which she expected. Ermige was chosen for one of the best, that could be found in all Breslaw: this came in good time to keep this poor family from necessity, which daily (as I have showed before) increased.  
The Duchess was delivered of a son, whom we will name Sapor, he was delivered up to Ermige to nurse, and Rosana was put to another. And now Ermige and her husband are made part of the Duke's household▪ and are wholly employed in bringing up the young Prince Sapor; when time came that Rosana was weaned, and of some stature, she was put to rock the Prince, and find him sport, as the manner of children is▪ Thus grows Rosana gently, like a Vine by ●'s E●me tree.  
When the Prince came to age and understanding, he love● Rojana as his foster sister, with the ordinary fondness of children towards them that make much of them, and find them sport to pass away the time, and Rosana serves, and waits upon him, as her Lord and Master.  
Sapor was not above three or four years old when Venon paid nature the tribute, which all humane creatures own, leaving both his wife, and daughter to the Duchess, who looked for no other fortune, than what proceeded from her bounty. The little Prince affected his nurse, and foster sister in such a manner, that although he was now weaned, yet they both tended him, and waited on him.  
But here we must observe, that as fire elevates the matters, whereinto it takes although they are of themselves heavy, so likewise love raiseth the hearts wherein it takes an impression, and stirs them up to motives, and actions fare surmounting, both the age, and condition of the parties. This I say in respect of the love, and affection which Rosana bore to Sapor, of whom, even in her infancy, she was so taken, that this flame increasing with her years, arrived at last to perfection.  
None will deny but that it is an error condemnable to say that parents beget the souls as well as the bodies, knowing that their beginning comes immediately from God, but since the disposition of temperature, and of the organs through which the spirit exerciseth its functions, hath great effect in regard of the firm union of the soul, and the body. It is no great wonder if that Rosana being sprung from parents, whose inclinations were wholly to friendship, that her blood and heart should be addicted to this passion, otherwise might she have been rather thought a monster in nature, if she should not have partaked of the qualities of those that begat her, let us neither spare the rehearsing, nor let pass the praise due unto her faithful affection, since that both honesty, and generosity have been the wings wherewith it hath mounted thus high. Things that are ashamed of sight most commonly seek darkness, wherein to shroud themselves, but those that are virtuous, walk in the light of the day; why should we blush for being in love? there is nothing so much commendable as that which is guided by purity. The law of Christians is wholly grounded upon love; we are not ashamed to show our love to a picture, to a horse, or a hound: we think nothing to good for them: why then should we be ashamed to cherish a reasonable creature? a person well descended, well bred, who respects nought save honour, and virtue, which are the most amiablest qualities. For beauty is but the weak wind thereof, and a thing which ought to be taken but as the badge of goodness, even as the blossoms on a tree are only praised for the fruits, which shall come of them. Verily the Elements which give us our being, and life are not more necessary than mutual love, and friendship. But whither doth this thought carry me against the promise I have made, not to let my pen fly out too far, nor insist too long upon any particular? but the reason is, that I have in hand a virtue so heroical, that the singularity thereof hath drawn from me those few words in its commendation.  
Rosana (as you have heard) loved Sapor in her infancy, with such an extraordinary fervour, that as soon as she lost the sight of him, she did nothing but weep and complain, for this Prince was the Adamant of her heart, and she was the Marigold, whereof he was the Sun, never was there seen in so tender years so strong a passion, all the world wondered at it; and the Duke and Duchess took therein an incomparable pleasure: they often passed time in vexing this little creature, by threatening to put her away from the Prince, to which she would reply in such a manner as could not be expected from so small an age, or so little strength, and like an Amazon sought to fight with all those, who sought to take her joy from her.  
Alas, we see many love dogs more for their trustiness then for any handsomeness in them, only because they are loving to them, and if beaten away, yet they will come, and creep at their feet; love is not repaid, nor satisfied but with love. It was a thing impossible but that Sapor should love this little creature, who so much affected him, for to love is the powerfullest charm whereby to make ourselves beloved of others, he could not be without her, and if at any time she chanced to be away, there was nothing could make him merry.  
Love equals lovers, these were equal, whether it were that love abased him so low as her condition, or elevated her unto his quality, love breeds a resemblance, because it's property is to transform the lover into the thing beloved, This effect appeared in Rosana who framed herself unto all the humours of the Prince, that she seemed rather to be wha● she was not, she imitated him in all, and forsaking him no more than her shadow, she did the same things she saw him do.  
The Duchess (seeing this humour) caused her (only for recreation) to be clothed like a little page, a habit which pleased her so well that she neve● put it of but with tears.  
In their first infancy, which unites the tongue, they without ceremony called brother and sister, and every one wondered at the courage, and boldness of this little girl, when she grew bigger, she called the Prince her Master, and he called her his Page.  
All the exercises which the Master learned the Page did learn, and which is the more to be admired, she learned them with such a grace, that she seemed afterwards for a mirror or example to her little Master, As Physic is given to the nurse that so through the milk the child may be cured, so was it with Sapor, for when they were to give him any lesson, either of dancing, study, or any thing else, they first taught it to his Page, she learned the faster to please him, and he took the greater care that he might not be outstripped by a girl, an emulation of virtue without envy. You would not choose but think that nature by a pure instinct taught these children the most grave Philosophy that Plato hath discoursed, of the effects of honest love.  
They being now grown up from the innocency of their first age, they entered into the limits of civility, and the ceremonies of the world; and they began to attain to the knowledge of themselves, what shame soever they sought to breed in Rosanna, who now was grown pretty tall, to draw her from the Prince's conversation, she would never give ear thereunto, for her conversation being unspotted she feared no reproach, she was so much affected to bodily exercises as dancing, leaping, vaulting, riding, fencing, shooting with bow, and piece, running, playing at tennis, at pell mel, and hunting, that they had marvellous much ado to draw her from it, and not wholly, for it was impossible, the Prince incessantly calling for her, not only, when he was at any exercise, but at all other times when she was absent.  
At last, her age permitting her no longer without decency, or modesty so freely to frequent with Sapor, The Duchess placed her among the other Gentlewomen, and unto some small exercises, whereunto she applied herself, but not without much contradiction, except it were in such works, which might yield some service, or pleasure to the Prince, for unto those she settled herself with so much diligence, that it sufficiently witnessed the ardour of her affection.  
It happened sometimes that the other Gentlewomen would blame her for this her extreme affection, which she shown towards the Prince, seeing the difference of their estates, and the modesty which she owed to her sex, but thereunto she answered, that she loved him, as a sister ought to love a brother, and with the same reverence, that a slave bears to his Lord.  
The Prince on his part bore with no less impatience the privation of his Page's conversation, and it was his greatest contentment, when he could slip in amongst the Gentlewomen, thereby to entertain her at will, who possessed his thoughts.  
Lewd desires being entered into his spirits with knowledge, changed his love intosensuality, which could not be just, being that marriage was not his aim, notwithstanding, as he long since knew the honesty of this creature, who for a kingdom would not have blemished her integrity; he dissembled a long time his pretention, but being not able any longer to bear the impetuosity of his appetites, he would on a time have passed unto some unseemly, and unbefitting action, which this generous Amazon would by no means endure, but told him, that she would desire their loves might continue as virtuous, as ever they had been, for (said she) if you spoil the foundation, the edifice cannot but fall to ruin, if virtue be wanting, then farewell friendship, These words coming from the mouth of a servant, as from a Princess; bridled for a time the furious appetite of Sapor so much majesty hath virtue in itself.  
But not long after temptations gave him new alarms, so that being unable any longer to oppose their violence, he resolved to speak, rather than perish in silence.  
Unto his lewd suit, so little expected by this wise maid he received answer as followeth. Remember O Prince that poor as I am, and destitute of fortunes favours, I am rich in honesty. I love Sapor as my life, but as I love mine honour more than my life, so I love it also more than Sapor. If you truly love me, as you have given me many precious testimonies thereof, then love me honourably, otherwise I freely renounce your friendship, and all the advantages, that I may hope for from you thereby, I say not this to the intent to breed more love in you, nor to draw you to desire me for your wife; such a vain presumption never yet flattered my spirit: I know the baseness of my descent, and that so great an elevation would soon cast me into a most horrible precipice. I love you without interest, without pretence, and without any other desire, then to see you great, and glorious in the world, and in the arms of a Princess, worthy to be the spouse of so great a Prince, And both you, and she will I wait upon with all the humility, and affection of a faithful slave, who will seek no other reward, but the only glory of serving you, and of loving you next after God, and mine honour, above all that is in the world: and if fortune so frown that you die in deeds of arms, I will perish at your feet, that on my tomb may be mixed the Lilies of my chastity, with the palms of my valour, and myrtles of my incomparable love to my so dear esteemed Master, whom I conjure to banish from his spirit all bad, and unjust intentions, and to be ●●ther the protector, than the destroyer of the modesty, and purity of a creature, who (saving that) is entirely his. For help herein consider that I am your sister, if not by birth, yet by fostering, love me then, and preserve me as a brother, and I will honour you as my Lord, my Prince, and the only light of mine eyes.  
Whosoever hath seen a strong North wind sweeping away in short time all the clouds which obscured the face of heaven, hath seen the effects that these generous words uttered forth with such a grace, and sincere feeling, wrought in Sapor.  
If it happen sometimes that a multitude having begun a mutiny, excite a furious sedition, that fire, and sword march in the field, and Cities, that stones fly, and rage makes a weapon of any thing that comes next. And in the midst of all this hurly-burly, a grave man of authority presents himself unto this so many headed beast for to appease its violence, and bring it gently back unto its duty, you shall on a sudden, see what effect this will work in their ears, and what attention they will yield unto his words, wherewith he can so well win their hearts, that weapons fall from their hands, fury, vengeance disperse themselves, & in place of so furious a tempest succeeds a joyful calm, In the soul of Sapor was risen a tumult of passions revolting against reason, and this torrent bore him away into a precipice of dishonesty, but being become wise, by the generous remonstrance of the Amazon, peace returned to his soul; with a glorions resolution to vanquish himself, wherein certainly he deserved more praise than if he had overcome a whole Army. For this is the highest degree, whereunto virtue can raise a courage, seeing that many overcome others, who else would never have subdued themselves.  
After that time the Prince purifying his affections, and for ever banifhing unclean intentions from his thoughts, never after importuned Rosana with any thing, which might in any ways offend her chastity. And so fare was he from being cured of this ardent fever by despite, or contempt, that contrariwise his love founded on the estimation of this virgins invincible virtue, did much increase, if what was arrived at its extremity could receive an increase, true love only aimeth at the good of the object beloved, even as Rosana delighted only in the honour and glory of her Prince, and to see him daily increase in virtue, and reputation, which are the true earthly riches, that cannot perish, so Sap●● had nothing that he so much desired, as to raise her whom he truly loved, as if she had been his natural sister, the flame of his love having then no more but a moderate heat, without blackness or smoke.  
The Duke his Father being dead, and he the eldest, and next lineal successor in that house, being entered into the honours, and the rank whereunto his birth had called him, amongst many Gentlemen his followers, he had an inclination to favour Numerian a younger brother well descended, and of a good house, a younger brother, which is as much to say, as one seeking his fortune in his courage.  
Friendship is not idle where it settles, it presently falls to work; that it may make itself more known by effects, then by words. Sapor desirous to advance this young Gentleman thought he could not more befriend him, then in giving him for his wife, her whom he affected as his sister: And her whom he could well have wished for himself, if the glory of his birth had not obliged him, by reason of state; to seek a match conformable to his quality.  
Numerian held for a great favour the motion, which the new Duke made him of this marriage; considering with himself that it was the only means to establish his fortune in this great house. The Prince himself also moved it to Rosana, who answered him with her accustomed generosity, as followeth: Master (said she) will it not be a treason, to give this body to a man who shall not possess the heart, being so filled with the honest love it bears you; that there is no place void for any other subject: permit me (my dear Prince) to die a virgin, and with the glory of a vestal, who hath not let her fire go out; The permission which I have had to love you, I hold for so great an honour; and the happineffe of your reciprocal friendship, is so precious in my memory, that I should think myself a bastard Eagle, that having fastened mine eyes on so great a light, should now remove them on some lesser star; permit me to be an Heliotropean (the herb Turnesole) and that I may close up the leaves of my affections to all other lights, but only to that which gives me day. It is not that I pretend any other thing in my love, but the contentment I find in honouring you; and you know that I have often protested that the happiness to wait upon you, sufficiently pays the reward of all my services. For all the recompense which I look for from you, is to be, and so to dye, yours; Neither do I disdain Numerian being a brave, and virtuous Gentleman; and of whose merit, although I had no other proofs save your estimation, it would be sufficient, to make me respect him. For your judgement is my law, and your will my rule. No, unto what degree soever your goodness shall raise me, yet I shall never forget the meanness of my condition. But I am of that opinion, that I should love that fair image, which love for you hath graven in my heart, if I should lodge another therein, which hath made me desire to live, and dye as I am.  
Sister (said the Prince ravished in admiration at the courage of this female) if I thought the marriage which I propound unto you, should never so little diminish the affection you bear me, I would never consent thereunto, nothing being so precious to me, as to see myself beloved, and so fervently by a subject so amiable, but because the love that you shall bear to him as your husband, shall not be contrary to that which you bear to me, as being your brother, I did verily believe that this marriage would bring neither to me, to him, or to you any manner of prejudice. Love is like honour, which varies itself according to the qualities of the persons, or like unto the Pourcontrell, or Peake fish, who becomes of the same colour the things are, whereon it fastens, so that a man may love diverse persons with all his heart, according to diverse respects, a father, as a father, a mother, as a mother, a husband, as a husband, and a brother, as a brother: This flame of love extends itself like unto the flame of a torch, which lights many others without wasting itself; and it is thus that I intent to give you unto Numerian, you know I love him, but with a far inferior affection to that I bore you, my desire is to advance him, and likewise you, so that when you are joined together I shall have a double cause to do you good, and to gratify you in what I may.  
By these reasons which were as plausible, as true, Rosana (who saw but through the eyes of Sapor) suffered herself to be drawn to this match, whereof none was more joyful than Numerian, in so much that it is hard to express the contentment he took, being as it were, in ecstasy, or transportation of his spirit.  
The first time, that the Prince made them talk together, Rosana with that manly, and generous gesture, which was both usual, and natural in her, spoke to this Gentleman as followeth, Sir here is your Master, and mine, who hath a desire to join us together in the laws of Hymen: But before I embrace his proffer, and before I will be made subject to your power, I must propound two conditions, without the which I cannot, nor will not be persuaded to take you for my husband, my body shall be thine, and so entirely thine, that never any but thyself shall have part therein. I shall come a Virgin to thy bed, and if it be so that I must lose the flower of that integrity, which I did intent to preserve all my life time, yet it shall perish at least with honour in lawful wedlock; first than thou shalt not need to watch over my fidelity, because I shall be more jealous thereof, than thou canst, and if I should chance to offend therein (although I rather wish all the thunders of heaven to fall on my head, yea the earth to open and swallow me up) my hand should prevent thine in the revenge of so great a wrong, and if death permits me to survive thee, be sure, that even to thine ashes I will keep a body pure, and a troth inviolable. I will love thee as my husband with all my heart, but for to prevent jealousies, know thou this, that I will love Sapor as my Prince, and dear Master, but imagine not him to have any part thereby in any thing which shall appertain to thee, nor to be arrival or sh●rer in thy bed, he hath no such thought, and if he had, he should find his expectation frustrate; and if thou dost 〈◊〉, that this friendship, which is so pure, honest, just, ●●● lawful, should be contrary to the loyalty, I own to thee, and that it may be a means to d●vide my heart, Then even at this present I renounce thy love, and alliance, for I am resolved to carry to my grave this first, and glorious flame, wherewith my heart hath been fed, and my spirit pleased, even from my cradle hitherto, and if you think these things agreeable with the duties, I shall owe to thee, here I am ready to obey him, whose desires are laws to me. The other condition is, that thou take me not as a house Dove, to employ myself in spinning, sowing, and keeping the chimney corner, thou knowest that I have been bred in another manner, and according to that, I desire that thou permit me to exercise myself in arms, and hunting, and such like recreations, and if thy courage do call thee at any time forth to war, either of thy own accord, or with our Master, that thou then make me partaker of thy labours, and thy hazards, and also of thy laurels, and palms. On these conditions I am ready to obey, and to follow thee in life or death.  
Numerian no less ravished at the spirit, and courage of this maid, then with her beauty, which indeed though mean, yet embellished with extraordinary graces, agreed unto all she desired, joying much in having met with a mate, with whom he might reap as many laurels, as myrtles.  
The young Duke honoured this marriage with such pomp, and magnificence, that he could not have expended more liberally at the marriage of his own sister, he gave also large gifts to the married couple, which were but in earnest, for greater things, that he intended to effect for their advancement.  
Numerian remained still with the Prince, and in greater authority in the house, and Rosana with the Duchess Dowager, who was very glad of this marriage, which freed her from the fears she had, that her son passionately affecting this maid should have a desire to marry her.  
Not long after Sapor wedded a young Princess of Bohemia, and at this wedding, did Rosana (among the joys she had to see her Prince so highly matched) make her grace and ability appear, in the Masks, Tournaments, and other things, which Knights did, to honour this feast, she bore away many prizes, which won her great praise, yea without envy of her competitors, who admired the good carriage, and dexterity of this Amazon: But the richest jewel that she then won was the heart of the young Princess, who took such an affection unto her, that she seemed to dispute the pre-eminence thereof with her husband, thus doth virtue purchase estimation wheresoever it comes, and in this manner doth it draw hearts unto it.  
She with Numerian had such credit, and authority in the Prince's house, that all passed through their hands, and nothing was well thought on but what came from them.  
Thus they passed some years, rich in wealth, and children, when the wars of Hungary, a kingdom neighbouring unto Slesia, came to disturb this calm. The Prince Sapor being called by the Emperor, had great command in the Army, whereunto he went, with a train befitting his greatness; Numerian, who was always at his side, intended not to forsake him in this voyage, whereunto his own courage was a sufficient solicitor, beside the loyalty, and love he bore to his Master.  
He intended to leave his wife to wait upon the young Duchess, but she unwilling replied unto him as followeth. Numerian (said she) thou dost ill, remember our contract of marriage, thou wrongest our love in desiring alone to run the hazard of war, heaven having made me thy partner, and I shall continue so as well in things that tend to profit, and also in those that tend to the hazard of your person, neither is it thy part to hinder me from entering into the least part of the honour thou art going to purchase, I can despise life, and defy death, chief if I see my noble Master, and thyself witnesss of my valour, and fidelity.  
Never had I (said Numerian) the least distrust either of thy faith, or thy courage, neither is it that which makes me desire thee to abide with the Princess, but only to be a comfort, and an associate in the absence of the Prince, besides the events of war are uncertain: and I wish that thou mayst survive me to bring up our children, and to preserve my memory.  
No, no, replied Rosana, I am destinated to some other matter, then to govern a family, others shall have that charge; the love I bear to my Master, and to thee, permits me not to forsake you, if you die, I will die also; if you live, I will live, whether you go I will follow, separation cannot have place in our union.  
Be it than as thou wilt (said Numerian) I will not envy the glory, which thou mayst purchase, it shall be common to us both, let us go, and hazard our lives in the service of our benefactor.  
She than puts on man's apparel, and following her Master, and husband they arrive at the Army.  
Every day Sapor gave wonderful proofs of his valour, and Numerian, with the fair she warrior never lost slight of him. For to have acknowledged their victories with Crowns, a Forest of Laurel, would scarce have sufficed.  
Upon a day a toy took them to give the enemy an assault in one of his quarters, but the sentinel having given the watch word, they found themselves encompassed in such sort, as the Prince was in great danger, either of losing of his life in the place, or of being taken by the Turks. Then did love whose fire worketh no less effects, than the fire of thunder, cause Rosana to take such pains as cannot be expressed, now thought she, or never, is it time to make proofs, and show of my true affection unto him whom I love more than myself, with which thought she immediately cast herself, where the danger was most eminent, even like a furious Tigers, who runs herself amongst the weapons of the hunters, by seeking to free her young ones, she lays at the first she meets, and overturnes him, striketh another, makes a third run away, and gives no stroke, but it lights home, and is sorely felt, she plays her part so well, that opening the thickest of the press she makes way for the Prince to escape.  
Numerian seeing this, stooped down his head, and runs himself into the midst of them, and labours to do some good office for that dear half of himself, who had done so much for Sapor, and as one more careful of hers then of his own life, he conjured her affectionately to retire, under the safeguard which he yielded thereto by his resistance.  
What said she (in a kind of anger) would you counsel me to forsake the honour, wherein I am, to purchase shame by flight, if you will oblige me, than I pray retire yourself, I have yet both an arm, and a heart strong enough to uphold your retreat, it were pity that you should cast yourself away, being able enough to pleasure our Master in an occasion of more importance, only remember our love, and tell him, that I die his slave.  
I refuse thy warrant said Numerian, for I will rather dye, then see thee perish, I conjure thee by the obedience thou owest me, that thou get thee from hence, age, and reason, yea and sex will, that I precede thee, go serve my Master and cherish my memory, as thou hast promised.  
Whilst they thus contested, Sapor was in safety, and these two lovers found themselves enwrapped by a multitude, who furiously summoned them to lay down their arms, whereunto these great courages replied boldly, that they were never accustomed to make such dishonourable compositions, we will, said they, die with our weapons in our hands, to which words they joined blows, turning, and laying about them on all sides, that they made the very stoutest give back, but as they were about to make a glorious retreat, and had almost given way to their own soldiers, even then a multitude overcoming them again, Numerian was thrown to the ground, and run through in diverse places, having but so much time as to say farewell my dearest Rosana, thy courage hath undone us.  
These words moved with pity the very hearts of those barbarous people, who invited the valiant she warrior to yield, desiring her to be willing to live, and to comply with the desire they had to save her, but this admonition was in vain, for this generous loving woman answering only with her sword, so kindled the wrath of those she hit, that one of the wounded desirous to revenge his hurt, thrust his sword quite through her body, and sent her soul to accompany Numerians.  
The skirmish ended she was found among the dead, with her husband, and after they knew that she was a woman, they that had felt her strokes, did more admire her valour.  
Now the sorrow, and grief of Sapor cannot be expressed, which he took in this loss, he sent for the two bodies, that he might yield to their ashes (which he watered with his tears) some testimony of his friendship, he caused them to be carried to Slesia, where he spared no cost to make their funerals and caused a most stately tomb to be erected over them, for preserving their memory unto posterity as long as marbles can last.  
In this Event all men may plainly see, that virtues strive to enter in rank into the Elegy of this generous Amazon, purity, magnanimity, constancy, valour, courtesy, resolution, courage, but above all that makes it most illustrious who can but admire to see love, and honour, with honesty to be so straightly conjoined in her spirits.  
O soul truly heroical, and who mightest have deserved a more eminent birth, and higher fortune, but what need had she of birth, or fortune? showing us in her generous poverty, that virtue is not tied in the degree or blood of persons, and that it raiseth those that possess it even above all humane condition.   

THE PRUDENT MOTHER.  
The Second Event.  
WHen Widows are left with children grown to man's estate, they commonly are much troubled in governing them, for they are like horses, as we may say, having slipped the collar, soon forgetting the respect, which they own unto those that have begotten them and they think themselves too wise to be ruled by a woman's counsel, yea they scorn to submit themselves to a sex which seems to be borne for to live in subjection, Fathers as being stronger keep the authority over them better, but what they restrain in them by power, and fear, mothers should do by prudence, and love, following his maxim of the mother which I shall represent unto you in this Chapter, who turned back her son from a foolish design, preserved the honour, and quiet of her house, and was after all, most dutifully thanked of her child, who confessed to have had from her both his being and raising.  
She was of that part of Gaul which is commonly held to be the country, wherein wisdom doth inhabit, where the North wind doth subtilise the air, and causeth it to pass through the spirits of the inhabitants, who thereby become, wonderful crafty, circumspect, and discreet in their affairs, you may suppose that I speak of Neustria, but I know not whether it were in the higher, or the lower, that this happened which I am about to relate, notwithstanding there are some that conjecture it to have been in the lower part, and in a City joining to the sea coast, as it will appear in the sequel of this Event.  
A widow Lady, whom we will call by the name of Fronesse because of her prudence, kept her house in a Castle, whereof her husband, now deceased, was Lord, who left her diverse children, whose breeding, and bringing up was all her care.  
It is well known that in Normandy the eldest son carries away all the means and estate, the youngest he leaves to inherit misery, so that this mother being not able to bestow on them any thing, save breeding, to the end, that they might advance themselves in the world, by the virtues, and good parts which she intended to confer upon them, she spared no cost to procure them the learning of exercises, fitting for them. The eldest, to whom we will give the name of Thierry, finding himself to have a good estate, took little care in any thing, but only in hunting, and in visiting his neighbours, which are the employments of Gentry, and Nobility in that country; and in this manner of idleness, it is no wonder but the fire which lies commonly in young blood, should kindle in the veins. Objects (saith the old maxim) do move the powers, and he having no other but such as were base, and inferior, a m●●ne subject, and inferior enthralled him: A husband man, who was tenant to one of his Farms, had a daughter whose beauty was above a country beauty, and whose wit, and person had not any thing clownish, nor unbefitting, but her apparel.  
Nature who breeds pearls so clear, and smooth in shells so rugged, and who createth the precious Diamonds, and Rubies, in the craggiest rocks, takes delight sometimes to show that she is no less industrious in the country, then in cities, and that there she can produce a field full of flowers, which oftentimes may contend for beauty, and sent with those that are carefully nursed up in walled Gardens, and in the best ordered grounds, and to say the truth, I find that guile is so rooted in Cities, that honesty, and beauty are there for the most part artificial, and sophisticated, whereas in the simplicity of the Country, there is as little art in manners, as painting on faces, and in conclusion, beauty is there for the most part more chaste, and chastity more fair.  
This young Gentleman feeling himself inflamed with the love of this Driade whose name was Enemond, imagined that she being not only his subject, but as were his domestical, he should easily tame her, and bring her to the fist, as a bird of lure, but he flattered himself with that he only desired, for he found himself fare wide from his account, meeting in this chaste creature such an untractable humour, which serves for a rampire unto honesty, that he at first thought this haggardlinesse to proceed from the rudeness of her breeding, and that being not accustomed unto the honours, and blandishments he used towards her, she was therewith affrighted, but who so considers that she is a Norman, who with the very milk hath sucked in craft, and circumspection, shall soon know that she rather feigned herself affrighted, only of purpose to avoid the importunities of this complementer, in vain did he look, wink, court, sing, prattle, make such postures, and gestures, as youth is wont to use to express their passion, because she had neither, eyes, tongue, gesture, countenance, nor signs to correspond with so many fooleries, but closed her ears against the tunes of this enchanter, seeing him come she would turn another way, or draw near unto her mother, or employ herself about some housewifery, in brief she avoided the approach of this Gallant with such studied flights, and shifts, that all the subtleties, which he invented to entrap her, were as so many vented mines, without any effect. In fine seeing that she could no longer avoid the importunities of this drone who was continually buzzing about her ears, as a wise, and well advised maid, she acquainted her mother therewith, to the end that she might make it known unto Fronesse the mother of this Gentleman. This Lady (extremely exact in what concerned her honour, and one who was ever watchful to preserve the good name of those, that served her) had no sooner known the passion of her son, but she gave him such sharp, but discreet instructions, that had he been capable of reason, it would have made him become wise, what did not she say? to admonish him of his folly, with what did she not threaten him? if he abstained not from so base a design, but this passion had cast such a veil over his eyes, and so shut up his ears, that he little regarded the profitable admonitions of Fronesse.  
He persists obstinately in pursuit of Emenond, and the more to entice her, he promises her marriage, but she although a Country wench yet preferred her honesty before all the wealth in the world, she was also held fast by another tie, being long before engaged in her affection unto a youth of her own quality, whom she loved as dear, as she did her life: so on the one side the loyalty she had vowed to keep to him, that loved her for a good end, and one the other fide fear of being deceived, or forced by Thiery made her marvellous circumspect, and wary, she well knew the great difference of these two parties, and as she saw likelihood to hope for the one, so she thought it but a folly to desire the other; for what show soever this young Gallant made, or what oaths soever he did swear, she knew his intent was but only to get his will of her, and then to leave her, but the Bird was craftier than the crafty fowler, and what nets, or snares soever he set, either by his sighs, his Crocodile tears, his presents, or his promises, he could never get footing, in the good opinion of this discreet maid, who endeavoured with more cunning to defend herself, than he did to assail her.  
In mean time the vehemency of his passion did grow so unmeasurably, that it brought him to the gates of fury, and despair, if at the first he jested, when he spoke of marrying this country wench, at last seeing there was no other way to attain to the top of his desires, he requires in good earnest to have her in marriage. The more Fronesse laughs at this his proposition, the more he grows obstinate, and having gotten the knowledge that Final was beloved of this maid, he swears that he will rid the world of him, and in effect this poor country fellow avoided as much as possible he could the presence of this madman.  
The parents of Enemond by the command of Fronesse locked up their daughter, insomuch that she was not seen by the rays of the Sun, Thierry seeing himself hindered by so many obstacles, enters into such a frenzy, that he seems like a man without either sense, or reason, his blood being moved by sorrow, and anger, a strong Fever seized on him, and that so surely, that the Doctors judged him a dead man, still he cries out of Enemo●d, so deep was the thought of her rooted in his ●●agination.  
The prudent mother sustained all this while an incomparable sorrow for the loss of this child, who being her eldest she counted him for the pillar of her family, she knew very well the ground of his disease, and fearing least contradiction should make him worse, she intends to deal with him, as with those melancholy Hypochondriaches, unto whose fantasies, how extravagant soever they be, they must never be opposed, so that by degrees sweetening the bitterness of his spirit, and promising him satisfaction, and that if he could recover Enemond, he should have her for his wife, by these two ligaments the extremity of his fury was tempered, and somewhat assuaged, and his fever became more moderate, so that this her fair speech worked the same operation in him, as music doth unto those in Calabria that are stung by the venomous Spider Tarantula, he began shortly to amend and show signs of his recovery, but very often would he urge his mother to reiterate her promise that he should have Enemond; when he began to grow dull, for the greater furtherance of his health, they caused this maid to come to him, which had almost cast him into a relapse, for hearing her speak, as she was by them instructed, he was on a sudden so overjoyed, that he redoubled his Fever, which was fare more dangerous then at the first; at last Fronesse thinking with herself, that when he recovered his health he would constrain her to keep these promises, (which were made but as lures to bring him forwards) devised a stratagem which took happy effect. Now began Thierry to walk about his chamber, and to ask for Enemond.  
To whom answer was made that she with the grief that she took for his sickness was herself fallen into so violent a Fever, that she was thought to be in great danger; this soon assaulted the heart of Thierry, who would not so soon have appeased himself, but that he imagined this news to be feigned, he hath a great desire to go visit this sick maid, and continually entreats that he may be led to her, but Fronesse ordered the business in another manner; and to cut up the root of all these fooleries in her son, she presently caused Final to be married to Enemond, and gave three hundred French Crowns in portion to this maid, upon condition that she, and her husband should go into Picardy, and there live for a year or two. Now said she we must make Thierry believe that Enemond is dead, and because that he will scarce believe his own eyes for the verity thereof, we will give her a sleepy potion, that shall so sound benume her senses, for three or four hours, that she shall seem as dead indeed, then shall he see her in this state, yea we will cause her obsequies to be prepared, and a fantasme, or species to be put into the grave, so that generally she shall be said to be dead, Final, Enemond, and her parents all agreed unto Fronesse her will, Enemond counterfeits herself sick and takes the sleepy potion, the news of her death is spread about the town, and brought to Thierry, he sees her in this case, and believes she is dead, a burial is feigned, whilst she and her husband are going in a voluntary exile to the furthest part of Picardy, Thierry abandons himself, and spends his time only in sorrow, and tears, terming himself the unfortunatest of all lovers, sometimes he seeks to end his days by hunger, another time by poison, again by some steeled weapon, whereupon some grave religious men are brought to him, who prevailed over his passion so fare by their good exhortations, that they quite rooted up these unnatural, and desperate resolutions of his mind.  
The prudent mother (who now knows the amorous inclination of her son, and that if his love remain without an object (such a melancholy may seize on him that he may thereby fall into a consumption) seeks on all sides for a match fitting for him; Wives are as easy to be found for rich elder brothers, as difficult to be found for poor younger brothers, but Thierry must be cured by a remedy proportionable to his disease, beauty hath wounded him, beauty must therefore be the antidote, that must cure him, Fronesse not much respecting wealth, makes choice of a very fair, and virtuous Gentlewoman named Gaudence, who was the wonder of all eyes, that beheld her, she delays no time, but presently communicates her mind, and desire to the maids parents, they considering how advantageous, and profitable this alliance might in time grow to be, held themselves much honoured in granting her request, but said Fronesse you must add your helping hand, for we must deal in this matter, as with a sick mind, therefore I hold it not convenient to speak to him of suppressing his old flames by new affections, as yet, for you know, that the want of appetite, or relish in sick persons, causes them to dislike the best meats: we must be industrious, and so work the matter, that he may be snared of his own accord, without perceiving any thing at all of the business. There was no more comparison to be made between this Gaudence, and and the other country maid with whom he was so fare taken, then between the day, and the night, but as those, that have been a long time in darkness, must of necessity have sometime to use themselves to light, and to know its worth; so it is needful for this poor man almost out of his senses to return to reason by little, and little, and to acknowledge by degrees, the difference between a fair noble, and well bred Gentlewoman; and a rude country wench: be pleased therefore (said she) speaking to the mother of Gaudence, to visit me as as a neighbour, and to give you the more cause to come the oftener, we will fain some business, which you desire to be decided between us, and bringing your daughter with you, I am sure her presence will do more of itself, than I should be able to do by all my authority, or instructions.  
This discreet plot was approved on by the parents, and succeeded so happily, that without enlarging myself any further on the particularity of this new love, I will say in a few words, that Thierry became so amorously taken with the beauty of Gaudence, that hardly any memory of his first doting affection remained in him: crafty Fronesse seeing him tied in affection to this fair face, and engaged by desires to this object, took no small delight in seeing her bird so entangled, and the more to augment these desires, she proposed difficulties, by reason of the unequality of the match, and seemed backward in giving consent to that, which she desired no less than Thierry.  
Not long after this match was consummated with such content to this Gentleman, that his joy cannot be expressed but by the words of such, who have been in the like manner ravished, and transported as he was: about two or three years after, his mother seeing him still more and more possessed with the love of his spouse, and jesting with him at the passion he was in for Enemonde, she discovers the whole stratagem whereof she had made use, by that means to draw him from the match, whose inequality would have been an everlasting reproach unto his posterity; now this was the time wherein Thierry acknowledged the good his mother had done for him, and presently yielded her infinite thankes.  
Final, and Enemond were recalled from their exile, and the honour, and peace of this family was attributed to the wise government of this prudent mother.   

THE DISCREET CHILDREN.  
The Third Event.  
THE former Event hath showed you in a prudent mother the care that parents have of their children, and in this Event you shall see the reverence, and obedience due unto parents, by the story, which I shall relate unto you, which will show you the great wisdom, and discretion of children that endeavour to hide, and bear with the infirmities of her, who had brought them into the world.  
On that great and famous River of Rhine, which heretofore served as a bound unto our Gaul, there are diverse Earls, which in the language of that Country are called Rhinegraves. It is well known that of all nations there is none that so jealously preserve their Nobility, as the Germane, nor more fear to undermatch themselves, so that an Earl will never give his daughter to a Baron, nor a marquis will not marry with the daughter of an Earl, and in this manner are families carefully preserved in their state, and dignity, thus much I say because the knowledge thereof serves for a ground to our story.  
An Earl's daughter whom we will call Crisolite having also married an Earl of the Rhine or a Rhingrave, had by him many children, whereof four, to wit, two sons, and two daughters were living when as he died, and left her a widow at the age of forty years, and by reason that she had been married very young, her children were then of good years, so that the eldest was in the two or three and twentieth year of his age; This Lady for a time managed their estate, with all the diligence, and care of a mother, who truly, and entirely loves those, that are blood of her blood, and flesh of her flesh; In the cold time of her widowhood there kindled in her such ardours, as could not honestly be quenched but in a second marriage.  
This good Dutch woman, who went plainly to work in this her intent, casts her eyes diverse ways to find out a match equal to her birth, for Noble men of that quality are fare more scarce there then in France, and Italy; and beside among those, that she could either have wished, or intended to have had, there was none found that was willing to match with a widow of her age, and charged with children, so that all hope being taken from her that way, her looks which did but seek to find a Rock worthy her shipwreck went no great voyage ere they found it; a young Gentleman one of her subjects, who was ordinarily among the followers of her children, was the mark whereat she aimed: This fair image slipping through her eyes into her heart, ingraved itself so deeply there▪ that it was wholly past her power to raze it out: truly there lie hid great incommodities in greatness, amongst many this is one, to be always in view, and yet to have no liberty to act what we would, and this is it that kills Crisolite, who agitated by her new flames, can neither quench them, nor manifest them, d●ring neither by word, nor by sign, to evaporate the least sparkle thereof, with what contradictions, is she tormented, on the one side representing unto herself the perfections of her new beloved, which her imagination augmented after the manner of those that love; on the other side the glory, and quality of her birth, which she blemished in so much abasing her affections towards a subject, so fare disproportioned.  
The Germane Nation free as the French, is not capable of long concealment: after Crisolite had in vain employed her whole endeavours to drive from her mind this delectable Idea, which so willingly persecuted her, she resolved to discover her flame (whose pretensions were just being they aimed at marriage) unto whose conficient person, she therefore first reveals it to one of her Gentlewomen, one of a stayed age, and whose fidelity she had tried before in weighty matters, but this woman well knowing the custom of the country, did so mislike that her Mistress should so unequally bestow herself, that in stead of moderating the passion of this gentle Lady by mild words, she more augmented it by her contradictions, so fare rejecting what Crisolite had said unto her, that she would scarce have patience to hear her.  
The Countess repulsed on this side, gave her woman charge to keep all secret, and promised her (though fare from her intent) to think no more of fleurial (so will we call this Gentleman) but she soon addressed herself to one of her domesticals, from whom she hoped to have fewer replies, and more service, wherein she was no whit deceived, for great persons find too many favourers, and furtherers of their passions, how unjust, and unreasonable soever they be: this man's name was Leuffroy, unto whom his Lady having committed her secret in trust, he promised to execute faithfully all that she should command him: nothing else I desire, said she, of thee, but that thou faithfully make known unto fleurial his good fortune, in the greatness, and purity of my affections.  
Leuffroy failed not so to do, and having made this Gentleman understand the passions that the Countess suffered for him, which tended only to marriage, fleurial stood more amazed at this discourse then if he had been stricken with a thunderclap: he was not so simple but that he knew to what height of wealth, and greatness this love called him; but he considered withal, that the highest aicents, make the deepest precipes, and that the sorest falls follow extraordinary raisings, he supposed, that if he should correspond with Crisolites desires, he should arrive unto such wealth, as he durst never have so much as hoped for, on the other side he feared the wrath of her children, who coming to know this practice, would terare him in a thousand pieces, as he very well knew the humour of fortune, who deceitful as she is, deals with men as the Eagle with the Tortoise raising them very high, for to shatter them in pieces, by casting them down, and that rubbing the glass on the top with honey she makes the drinker taste the Wormwood in the bottom, he would not trust too much therein, nor be taken like a silly bird, by the glistering of this fair glass, fear overcame his ambition at first, and made him sleight Leuffroyes' recital, giving no other answer, but that speaking without letters of credence, he could not persuade himself otherwise but that he intended thereby to mock his good meaning.  
If that be all replied Leuffroy, I shall soon certify you that I speak not of mine own accord, but well authorized by her who gave me this charge, not long after he brought him letters from the Countess, whose hand he knew very well, which caused him not to doubt of Leuffroyes' commission; notwithstanding whether it were, that he continued in his fears, or that he meant to cast oil on the fire of this Ladies inflamed heart, he said unto the Messenger, that he feared a surprisal, and that this hand being easy to be counterfeited, it was perhaps a lure to call, and a snare to entrap, and undo him.  
Leuffroy was at the point of being angry at this mistrust, which seemed to tax him with treachery, but considering with himself the just cause, that fleurial had to suspect, and besides that his Lady's intent was not to vex him, he moderated his choler, and turning it into a merriment, he said verily fair sir you marvellously fear your skin, and you seem very nice in an occasion, for which a thousand knights would hazard the loss of a thousand lives a piece; it is, said fleurial, neither my life, nor my skin that I seek to put in safety, being ready to expose both the one, and the other unto all manner of pains, and death for the service of so noble a Lady, but I fear that her honour, which is dearer to me then all that concerns myself, should become interessed, or wronged, and then if her children should never so little perceive this business, what corner of the earth were able to shelter me from their wrath, or what power could make me escape the cruelty of their vengeance.  
Discreet Leuffroy having by this discourse understood the motions of this Gentleman's soul, who was held back from seconding the intentions of the Countess, only by fear of her children. made it all known unto her, whereupon Crisolite resolved not to waste herself away in that manner, by concealment of her affection from her children, being to her as unprofitable, as it was troublesome, but before them to declare her passions and intentions.  
Having then on a morning caused them all four to come into her chamber, two wit, the two sons, Maximilian, and Septimus, and the two daughters, Anicete, and Catherine: She said thus unto them, my good children, for the cares I have had in your bringing up, and for the endeavours of a good mother, which I have ever yielded unto you, I believe none of you but will confess how tenderly, and hearty I have loved you, during the time that heaven permitted me to live with your now deceased father. I have behaved myself toward him with all the submission, modesty, and fidelity, which a wife owes unto her husband, but in fine cruel death hath taken him from me, and parted us, and he hath left me in an age not yet so great, that it should freeze the blood in my veins, nor interdict me to think of a second marriage; I have done all that I can to put this idle fantasy out of my head, but my nature is so repugnant unto this holy virtue of continency, which heaven doth not grant to every one, that I believe I ought rather to marry then to burn; and that is the thing I am determined to do: but because I am not of a common condition, matches conformable to my birth and quality, are not easily found; therefore I have cast mine eyes, and fixed my heart on a Gentleman, with whom I hope to have more contentment then if he were of greater degree; and whose alliance will be less prejudicial unto you, then if I took another of higher birth: I know the laws of the Nobility of this Country very well, but I know also, that the laws of nature are more ancient, and those of love more strong, you know what great revenues I have brought to this house, which if it were transsported into the hands of another husband, your inheritance would be much diminished, I have found a way with which I shall rest well contented, our honour shall be sheltered, and your means shall not be lessened, nor impoverished: I will secretly marry this Gentleman, whom I shall name unto you, he shall dwell in my house as a domestical servant, none shall know that I have mismatched myself; and if any children shall issue from him, and me, they shall be brought up secretly, and they may be provided for with indifferent means. In this manner without any prejudice to you, I shall be satisfied. I speak freely, and roundly to you, as to my children, from whom I hope for as much love, respect, and consent, as the goodness of your nature doth promise me: another, it may be, more haughty and more imperious would have done whatsoever her passion had dictated unto her, without your counsel, and it may be also that another having less fear of God, and less respect to honour, would have remedied her incontinency by means, as dishonourable, as unlawful: but I had rather dye a thousand deaths, then to set such a spot on my blood, and posterity, knowing this that a woman without honesty, of what quality soever she be, is but as it were a laistall; finally I do entreat you not to speak any thing to dissuade me from this my resolution, being I have declared unto you, that it is absolutely necessary for my contentment, only judge whether the way by me proposed be not reasonable, and fitting, as well to set my conscience at rest, and my honour at shelter, as to preserve the means which I brought into your Father's house.  
If these four children were not amazed at this proposition, is not a question to be asked, but at last seeing they must make use not of consultation, but of resolution, in a business determine, they make a virtue of that necessity, which is not subject to any laws, and embracing obedience, and discretion, inclined themselves to the will of their mother, whom they saw to be as careful of their good, as of her own contentment; whereupon the eldest speaking for all the rest, answered her with all dutiful respect, and modesty: that although their common desires could (it may be) more wish to see her in a glorious widowhood, then in a disadvantageous marriage, nevertheless, they were so many ways obliged to her, both for their lives, and for the means which they held of her, and also for the great pains she had taken in their education, that they had rather renounce themselves, and their own judgements then to contradict her, in any one point: that she was their Mother, their Lady, and their Mistress, that she might dispose of their bodies, their lives, their means, and their wills according to her good pleasure, it belonging not unto them to resi●● any of her intentions, and that the only glory of obeying her, as their mother was the fairest lot in their heritage, and seeing that they had hitherto been ruled, and governed by her without any contradiction, in what concerned themselves, they could not with reason disapprove what she should do for herself, that they would honour, and respect him, that she should choose for her husband, after what manner soever she would command, and that she might be only pleased to appoint, and she should find in them a perfect obedience.  
Chrysolit saw that these were not so much words of compliment, as of sincere verity, weeping with joy, and tenderness, and blessing the wit, and discretion of her children, thanked them with great signs of acknowledgement, and having discovered unto them her affection to fleurial, and that it was he that she intended to have, not long after she made him the Steward of her house, and having privately married him, none being present but only her children, Leuffroy, and some of her Gentlewomen; this young Gentleman in stead of being puffed up with pride by his match, behaved himself with so much humility, and moderation, as well towards the Countess, as towards her children, that both the one, and the other strove who should love him most.  
There were two daughters borne in this second marriage, who were brought up secretly; the first whereof, and eldest was named Margarite, the other named Lucide, who some few years after the death of Chrysolit was honourably married, she inherited the wealth, wherewith the Countess and her former children honoured the fidelity of fleurial, who even after the death of Chrysolit remained with Maximilian the Rhinegrave governing all his house.  
Thus was the mother contented, the children counted discreet, and all things passed quietly without rumour, and to say the truth for to hinder a widow from marriage who is resolved to marry, is as much as to oppose banks unto a great torrent of waters, besides it is not the part of dutiful children to control the will of their parents; yea I dare say although it were somewhat unreasonable. These children did deserve much praise, who by their submission, and consent avoided the tumult, and broils, which opposition, and resistance breeds, and by their secrecy and silence, preserved the honour of continency, and by their prudence and discretion retained the great means, which came to them by their mother: but truly the moderation of fleurial deserveth a particular praise, having been able to contain within the bounds of respects, notwithstanding this elevation, it being a thing ordinary enough to spirits less judicious, for to pass from use to abuse, and from riches to insolence, which hath caused the proverb, that honours change manners, a proverb crossed by the temperance of this Gentleman.   

THE CURRIED PERSONS.  
The Fourth Event.  
WHen a sinner is arrived to that degree of impudence, as without shame to commit his iniquity in the face of heaven, and earth, and to that height of insolence, as to despise the justice of God and men, then doth the wrath of God kindle as a fire, as a devouring fire, which brings a total consummation, for patience too much provoked becomes fury; and although God be patiented, long suffering, very merciful, and endureth the malice of perverse persons, yet when the measure is full, then doth he cast his vengeance abundantly upon the proud, and presumptuous: there are some kind of natures so bad, that not content to do all the evil, and wickedness they can devise think themselves not fully satisfied, if they make not known unto others the pleasure, which they take in acting their sin, yea they glory in their malice, if I have done evil (saith the impudent in the Scripture) what punishment hath happened to me for it. There are others, who being reprehended, and admonished, threaten to do worse, & who like unto resty horses made more wayward by the spur, the more their scandals, and reproaches are borne with, the worse, and more malicious they become: it is for those that the millstones of God's wrath grind late, but when they come, they grind very small, and the grievousness of the torment is augmented by the foreshowing of the punishment, in the example which I here propose unto you, behold all these verities, as in a mirror.  
In a city of our part of France the name whereof I will not now declare, although I know it very well, A gentleman of the new impression, whom we will call Opile, had made him notable, by getting some small victories in the wars, with a company of Carabines which he commanbed, and with which he did 1000 robberies, and outrages in the country. This man during the time of peace seeing his sword hang by the wall, and the most part of his company cashiered, betook himself to spend foolishly what he had so unjustly gotten together, and this was in frequenting gaming houses, and lewd places, where he wallowed himself in all manner of naughtiness: At last being fallen in love with a Merchant's wife, whom we will disguise under the name of Anaclete, he never ceased, until by his importunities and devises he had brought this miserable woman to condescend unto his will, and not content thus to defile his neighbour's bed by infamous adultery, as if one part of his licentiousness had consisted, in the show of it, he boasted thereof in a most abominable, and impudent manner, and in lieu of hiding his filthiness, he laboured by all manner of ways to manifest it. Imagining that he should be counted for a brave fellow, thus under a husband's nose to seduce his wife, and defile his bed.  
The good Merchant more attentive in the care of his affairs then the demeanour of his disloyal wife, either did not see, or at least would not seem to see these disorders. As among virtues, continency beareth the name of honourable, so amongst vices licentiousness beareth the title of dishonourable and infamous, nothing in the world more diminishing the reputation. The small sensibility that Anaclete shown in such an assent, exposed him not only unto the laughter of his neighbours, but moreover unto the detraction of his ill willers, who accused him of connivency, as if he had been confederate with his wife's lewdness.  
This calumny being come to his ear, stung him so to the quick, that he resolved to take away this infamy from his house, and to wash the stain thereof in blood, but remembering himself, and considering that the honour of a wise man depends not on the frailty of a sex so subject to infirmity, & besides fearing the ruin of his fortune by murdering him, that had dishonoured him, he kept back his anger, and settled his mind to sufferance, and concealment, but the bravadoes of the Captain, and the audaciousness of his wife grown insolent by his timidity, the hooting of his neighbours, and the reproaches of his kindred were unto his heart such pressing stings, that drawing strength out of his weakness, and courage out of his natural pusillanimity, he protested to avenge himself solemnly, if his wife abstained not from her evil courses, and returned to her former duty, and respect which she owed to him, not daring any more to meddle with the Captain, whose very name stopped his mouth, being reported to be extreme hasty, and cruel, he instructed his wife with the best admonitions he could frame, but seeing her in lieu of profiting thereby, to mock him for his pains, he was constrained to change accent, and taking a harsher tone to come unto threats, whereat this female creature being nettled began to reply with bawling, and injurious terms, threatening that she would have him crippled if he were so bold as once to strike her: Anaclete moved with choler lifts up his hand, and makes so fair an impression therewith on her cheek that the mark of his fingers remained there a good while printed by reason of the blood which thereby mounted up to her face, adding moreover with a solemn protestation sound to curry both her, and her minion if ever he found them talking together.  
Eudoxe (let us call this woman) full of despite by such an affront resolved with herself, to take deep vengeance thereof, neither wanted she means so to do, having the sword of Opile at her command, but because this Captain intended not to marry her, she desired not that he should go so fare, as to kill her husband, but only that by threats, and some blows he should keep him in awe, having then made her complants unto him, and told him how Anaclete had said, that if he found them together he would curry them both, Opile who was not wont to be used in such a manner, promised to teach her husband to speak in another fashion, and so severely to revenge the blow which she had received, that she should have cause to be satisfied therewith.  
Meeting on a time with this poor man he began to vent, and utter his bravadoes against him, and to swear that if he continued in his fantastical humours, he would hack, and hue him in so many pieces that the skilfullest anatomatist should hardly set him together again. Anaclete answered him coldly, that if he were of his profession, and had been bred up in arms, he would answer him in the same terms, but that the condition of a soldier, and that of a merchant are not used to join together, the ell and the sword being weapons fare different, that the law of marriage gave him full authority over his wife, whom he had forbidden to come in his company, to the end that the evil reports might be wiped away which were spread abroad, to the disadvantage of her honour; and that he believed, that there passed no dishonest act in their conversation, but that an honest woman ought to be exempt, both from the crime, and the suspicion, and that if his wife abusing him with her tongue, he had made use of his hand to hold her peace, it was not for Opile to think himself offended therewith, except he would show to have some share in her, who no way, that he knew to be lawful, appertained to him.  
From this answer, that might have satisfied any man that knew reason, Opile taken occasion to increase his choler, and passion, which made him like a tun filled with new wine the which fowls itself with its own foam, because that the rashness of the discourse made him utter many words, not only outrageous against the person of Anaclete, but which plainly discovered, that he sought to have more part in her, whose cause he defended, than either law, or honesty could permit, which so hardly oppressed good Anaclete, that he was constrained to reply, that if ever he saw him approach his wife, he would do his endeavour to resist force by force, and to drive disgrace from his house.  
Whereunto angry Opile replied like a soldier, if I were said he asleep in thine own bed, thou wouldst not dare to awake me, yet thou hast said that thou wouldst curry both thy wife, and her minion (speaking of me) if thou didst find us together; but be thou sure that I will speak to her when it shall please me in despite of thy threats, and foretidings, and since thou hast spoken of currying me, as if I were a horse, assure thyself that it shall not be before I have well rubbed thee to my mind; and thereupon he lifts up a great staff, wherewith he would have accompanied his words, but the legs of Anaclet● by a quick flight, saved him at that time from a basting.  
The proud soldier boasted of this discomsiture, as if he had won the field, but he sung the triumph before the victory, he continues his filthy action with this wicked woman, more openly, and impudently then ever, but it will not be without punishment. Lead is long ere it be hot, but than it melts on a sudden; the Diamond is difficult to be broken, but when it doth break, it goes all to powder; so is it with slow, heavy, and timorous humours, they must have time to increase their choler, and when it is at the height they are as red hot iron, which long retains its heat, Anaclete wronged beyond all measure, resolved to end his dishonour, or his life, he makes his complaint to his kindred, and friends, who all taking part in his misfortune, and hating the insolence of Opile, promised to assist him in this revenge, being just, and authorized by the laws.  
Accompanied then with three or four good fellows, resolved to surprise the adulterers, and to punish them as they deserved, it was an easy matter to find them together: some few days before Anaclete intended to put in practise his design, he feigned a certain kind of reconcilement with his disloyal wife, he makes extraordinary much of her, as if his former affections had renewed, but they were Apes ●uggings, which smother with their embrace, this woman grown expert in deceits returns him the like, he feigns a voyage whereunto he said that his commerce obliged him, for to make provision of some certain wares at a Fair, his wife counterfeits a sadness at his departure, where unto she added a few Crocodiles tears; hardly was he gone, but Opile came to possess his place, and that in a manner so openly that all the neighbourhood was scandalised thereat, two days after Anaclete returns, who accompanied by four or five of his trusty friends all armed, as was fitting enters with false keys even unto his own chamber, wherein they were no sooner entered, but the adulterers, whom they found in bed together awakened, Opiles sword was seized on, as also his poniard, and pistol, he sees himself naked, and unable to defend himself, among five or six men well armed, and every one his pistol in hand ready charged, and cocked presenting them to his head, now stands our braggart well amazed, and of a Lion that he had been, is now become as gentle as a Sheep, and dares not bleat, they seize on him, and he is forthwith bound hand and foot, and in this manner laid on the bed again, the woman on a sudden awaking sees this spectacle, and presently her conscience expects nothing but death, for her punishment, she cries, she weeps, she craves mercy for herself, and Opile, in brief she plays the woman, a creature insolent in prosperity, and faint hearted in misfortune. Opile asks Anaclete forgiveness with the fairest protestations in the world, but Anaclete is wounded in his honour, a wound that is not healed with words, and seeing his enemy now in his power, caused one of his arms to be untied, and putting a wisp of straw into his hand, such as they use to rub horses withal; Opile (said he) thou hast threatened to rubbe me before I should curry thee, I will have thee to be as good as thy word, therefore take this wisp, and rub me at thy pleasure.  
Opile refusing so to do, Anaclete and those that accompanied him setting poyniards and pistols to his throat forced him to take the wisp, and pass it over the back of Anaclete, which he did very gently, than they asked him if he were contented therewith, and if he had rubbed him well to his mind, you have constrained me to it. (said he) And I will also constrain thee (replied Anaclete) to let me curry thee at my will for it is now my turn.  
Then they fastened this poor naked body to the four posts of the bed, as one extended upon the wheel, and Anaclete taking an iron curry comb, which he had caused to be made with long teeth, began to curry this gallant, so furiously, that he flaid him alive, tearing away his nose, eyes, and all that made him a man, in brief leaving no parcel of his skin untouched, he stretches his good wife on the same rack, and curried her in the same manner, casting their miserable bodies on the floor, which had neither face, nor skin, and left them there panting, and wallowing in their blood, this exploit of cruel vengeance thus acted, he retired himself into a place of safety.  
Day being come the Magistrates enter the house where they behold this horrible spectacle. These unfortunate creatures lived a while after to confess their faults, and ask God forgiveness for them. Opile died before night, the woman lived until the next day, both in torments, which can hardly be imagined. The laws forgave Anaclete this murder, but because of the cruelty of the action, he was constrained wholly to forsake the City, and to change his dwelling, ever since it hath remained, as a proverb in that place when they see any one courting another man's wife, they bid him take heed of the currycomb.  
Certainly they are quite void of humanity, who detest not the cruelty of this revenge, more worthy to be abhorred then imitated, and besides those laws, which permits husbands to kill the adulterers when they surprise them, are contrary unto the laws divine; nevertheless they were stoned to death in the ancient law, providing that it were done in the way of public justice, and by the ordinary course.  
But who doth not see in this history the just judgement of God on the insolence of this soldier, and this dishonest woman. The punishment of a fault seems the greater, yea redoubled, when as it is either shameful, or ridiculous. And amongst delinquents whom justice sends to execution, there are many that grieve more to suffer by the hands of the hangman, and to serve for a spectacle to the people, then for the loss of their life. If those, who defile themselves by adultery, had such curriers before their eyes, they would not neigh (for to speak with the Scripture) as Stallions after their neighbour's wives.   

THE WAKING Man's dream.  
The Fifth Event.  
THE Greek proverb saith, that a man is but the dream of a shadow, or the shadow of a dream; is there then any thing more vain than a shadow? which is nothing in itself, being but a privation of light framed by the opposition of a thick body unto a luminous: is there any thing more frivolous than a dream? which hath no subsistence but in the hollowness of a sleeping brain, and which to speak properly is nothing but a mere gathering together of chimerical Images: and this is it which makes an ancient say, that we are but dust and shadow; our life is compared unto those, who sleeping dream that they eat, and waking find themselves empty, and hungry? and who is he that doth not find this experimented in himself; as often as he revolves in his memory the time which is past: who can in these passages of this world distinguish the things which have been done, from those that have been dreamt? vanities, delights, riches, pleasures, and all are past, and gone, are they not dreams? what hath our pride, and pomp availed us? say those poor miserable souls shut up in the infernal prisons, where is our bravery become, and the glorious show of our magnificence? all these things are passed like a flying shadow, or as a post who hastens to his journeys end. This is it which caused the ancient Comic Poet to say that the world was nothing but an universal Comedy, because all the passages thereof serves but to make th● wisest laugh, and according to the opinion of Democritus all that is acted on this great Theatre of the whole world when it is ended differs in nothing from what hath been acted on a Player's stage; the mirror which I will here set before your eyes will so lively express all these verities, and so truly show the vanities of the greatness; and opulencies of the earth. That although in these Events I gather not either examples not fare distant from our times, or that have been published by any other writer, yet I believe that the serious pleasantness of this one will supply its want of novelty, and that its repetition will neither be unfruitful nor unpleasing.  
In the time that Philip Duke of Burgundy (who by the gentleness, and curteousnesse of his carriage purchased the name of good) guided the reines of the country of Flanders. This Prince who was of an humour pleasing, and full of judicious goodness, rather than silly simplicity used pastimes, which for their singularity are commonly called the pleasures of Princes: after this manner he no less showed the quaintnsse of his wit, than his prudence.  
Being in Bruxelles with all his Court, and having at his table discoursed amply enough of the vanities, and greatness of this world, he let each one say his pleasure on this subject, whereon was alleged grave sentences, and rare examples; walking towards the evening in the Town, his head full of diverse thoughts, he found a Tradesman lying in a corner sleeping very sound, the fumes of Bacchus having surcharged his brain. I describe this man's drunkenness in as good manner as I can to the credit of the party. This vice is so common in both the superior and inferior Germany, that diverse making glory, and vaunting of their dexterity in this art, increase their praise thereby, and hold it for a brave act. The good Duke to give his followers an example of the vanity of all the magnificence with which he was environed, devised a means fare less dangerous, then that which Dionysius, the Tyrant used towards Democles, and which in pleasantness bears a marvellous utility. He caused his men to carry away this sleeper, with whom as with a block they might do what they would, without awaking him, he caused them to carry him into one of the sumptuosest parts of his Palace, into a chamber most statelike furnished, and makes them lay him in a rich bed. They presently strip him of his bad , and put him on a very fine, and clean shirt, in stead of his own, which was foul and filthy, they let him sleep in that place at his ease, and whilst he settles his drink, the Duke prepares the pleasantest pastime that can be imagined.  
In the morning this drunkard being awake, draws the curtains of this brave rich bed, sees himself in a chamber adorned like a Paradise, he considers the rich furniture with an amazement such as you may imagine, he believes not his eyes but lays his fingers on them, and feeling them open, yet persuades himself they are shut by sleep, and that all that he sees is but a pure dream.  
Assoon as he was known to be awake, in comes the officers of the Duke's house, who were instructed by the Duke what they should do, there were pages bravely apparelled Gentlemen of the chamber, Gentleman waiters, and the High Chamberlain, who all in fair order, and without laughing bring clothing for this new guest, they honour him with the same great reverences, as if he were a Sovereign Prince, they serve him bareheaded, and ask him what suit he will please to wear that day.  
This fellow affrighted at the first, believing these things to be enchantment, or dreams, reclaimed by these submissions, took heart, and grew bold, and setting a good face on the matter, choosed amongst all the apparel that they presented unto him, that which he liked best, and which he thought to be fittest for him, he is accommodated like a King, and served with such ceremonies, as he had never seen before, and yet beheld them without saying any thing, and with an assured countenance. This done, the greatest Nobleman in the Duke's Court enters the chamber with the same reverenee, and honour to him, as if he had been their Sovereign Prince; (Philip with Princely delight beholds this play from a private place) diverse of purpose petitioning him for pardons, which he grants with such a countenance, and gravity, as if he had had a Crown on his head all his life time.  
Being risen late, and dinner time approaching, they asked him if he were pleased to have the tables covered, he likes that very well; the table is furnished, where he is set alone, and under a rich Canopy he eats with the same ceremony, which was observed at the Duke's meals, he made good cheer, and chawed with all his teeth, but only drank with more moderation, than he could have wished, but the Majesty which he represented made him refrain.  
All taken away, he was entertained with new, and pleasant things, they led him to walk about the great Chambers, Galleries, and Gardens of the Palace (for all this merriment was played within the gates they being shut only for recreation to the Duke, and the principal of his Court) they shown him all the richest, and most pleasantest things therein, and talked to him thereof, as if they had all been his, which he heard with an attention, and contentment beyond measure, not saying one word of his base condition, or declaring that they took him for another: They made him pass the afternoon in all kind of sports, music, dancing, and a Comedy spent some part of the time. They talked to him of some State matters, whereunto he answered according to his skill, and like a right Twelfetide King.  
Super time approaching they ask this new created Prince, if he would please to have the Lords, and Ladies of his Court to sup, and feast with him, whereat he seemed something unwilling, as if he would not abase his dignity unto such familiarity; nevertheless counterfeiting humanity, and affability, he made signs, that he condescended thereunto: he then towards night was led with sound of Trumpets and Oboes into a fair hall, where long Tables were set, which were presently covered with diverse sorts of dainty meats, the Torches shined there in every corner, and made a day in the midst of a night: the Gentlemen, and Gentlewomen were set in fine order, and the Prince at the upper end in a higher seat: the service was magnificent; the music of voices and instruments fed the ear whilst mouths found their food in the dishes, never was the imaginary Duke at such a feast; carousses begin after the manner of the Country; the Prince is assaulted on all sides, as the Owl is assaulted by all the Birds, when he gins to soar: not to seem uncivil he would do the like to his good, and faithful subjects; they serve him with very strong wine, good Hippocras which he swallowed down in great draughts, and frequently redoubled, so that charged with so many extraordinaryes, he yielded to death's cousin german sleep, which closed his eyes, stopped his ears, and made him lose the use of reason, and all his other senses.  
Then the right Duke, who had put himself among the throng of his Officers, to have the pleasure of this mummery, commanded that this sleeping man should be stripped out of his brave , and clothed again in his old rags, and so sleeping carried, and laid in the same place, where he was taken up the night before, this was presently done, and there did he snort all the night long, not taking any hurt either by the hardness of the stones, or the night air, so well was his stomach filled with good preservatives.  
Being awakened in the morning by some passenger, or it may be by some, that the good Duke Philip had thereto appointed: ha', said he, my friends, what have you done? you have robbed me of a Kingdom, and have taken me out of the sweetest, and happiest dream, that ever man could have fallen into, then very well remembering all the particulars of what had passed the day before, he related unto them from point to point, all that had happened unto him, still thinking it assuredly to be a dream, being returned home to his house, he entertains his wife, neighbours, and friends with this his dream, as he thought, the truth whereof being at last published by the mouths of those Courtiers, who had been present at this pleasant recreation, the good man could not believe it, thinking that for sport they had framed this history, upon his dream: but when Duke Philip who would have the full contentment of this pleasant trick, had showed him the bed, wherein he lay, the , which he had worn; the persons, who had served him; the Hall, wherein he had eaten; the Gardens, and Galleries, wherein he had walked; hardly could he be induced to believe what he saw, imagining that all this was mere enchantment, and illusion.  
The Duke used some liberality towards him for to help him in the poverty of his family, and taking an occasion thereon to make an Oration unto his Courtiers concerning the vanity of this world's honours, he told them, that all, that ambitious persons seek with so much industry, is but smoke, and a mere dream, and that they are strucken with that pleasant folly of the Athenian who imagined all the riches, that arrived by shipping in the haven of Athens to be his, and that all the Merchants were but his Factors: his friends getting him cured by a skilful Physician of the debility of his brain, in lieu of giving them thanks for this good office, he reviled them, saying that whereas he was rich in conceit, they had by this cure made him poor, and miserable in effect.  
Harpaste a fool that Seneca●s wife kept, and whose pleasant imagination this grave Philosopher doth largely relate, being grown blind could not persuade herself that she was so, but continually complained, that the house wherein she dwelled was dark, that they would not open the windows, and that they hindered her from setting light, to make her believe she could see nothing, hereupon this great Stoic makes this fine consideration, that every vicious man is like unto this fool, who although he be blind in his passion, yet thinks not himself to be so, casting all his defect on false surmises, whereby he seeks not only to have his sin worthy of excuse, and pardon, but even of praise, the same say the covetous, ambitious, and voluptuous persons in defence of their imperfections, but in fine (as the Psalmist saith) all that must pass away, and the images thereof come to nothing, as the dream of him that awaketh from sleep.  
If a bucket of water be as truly water, as all the sea, the difference only remaining in the quantity, not in the quality, why shall we not say, that our poor Brabander was a Sovereign Prince, for the space of four and ●●●enty hours; being that he received all the honours, and commodities thereof, how many Kings, and 〈◊〉 have not lasted longer, but have died 〈◊〉 ●very day of their Elections or Coronations? A● for those other pomps, which have lasted longer, what are they else, but longer dreams? This vanity of worldly things is a great sting to a well composed soul to help it forward towards the heavenly kingdom.   

THE OLD MAN passionate in Love.  
The Sixth Event.  
IT is a thing seldom seen for old men to go to war, much less to become amorous. Mars, and Venus (two deities spoken of by the Poets) are irreconcilably angry with old men, because they are dismissed, as it were, from their service, I grant there are many courageous old men, but when strength fails, whereto serves courage? As there are white Swans which draw the Chariot of the Goddess of Cyprus, so there are likewise old men, who enter into passions scarce pardonable in those that are young: but if in deeds of arms these men commit many faults; what follies do they not commit, when this abortive called love makes them grow childish again; how many dangerous fooleries this frenzy was cause of in the person of an old man, you may behold in the sequel of this History.  
In a City of one part of France, one of these which are seated on the river of Rosne (I will not otherwise specify it) a man of threescore (whose years ere then might have read him a good, & authentical lesson of coldness, and temperance) tenderly, & quietly brought up his children, which he had had by his wife deceased some years past, they were two sons reasonable big, and two daughters more than marriageable, his family, and household affairs went forward in good manner, when this little hobgoblin to whom Poets attribute a bow, quiver, wings, and torches, came, and cast into his bones an artificial fire which laid hold on his Ice, and shown that there may be some few sparks of fire among the ashes, and the flame is never so quick, as in drie-wood; there were not far from him certain children, that were orphans, but children (at least the males) able enough to govern their estate, they were two young brothers whom necessity kept united together, because if they should part their stock, either of them could scarce live on his part, they had one sister of reasonable age, and sufficient to perform their housewifery▪ they lived thus in good fashion, partly by their industry▪ partly by their means. That we may speak more clearly, and to avoid confusion we will name the old man Sostene, the two brothers T●bere, and Willerme, and their sister Eufronie. This maid having been well instructed by her deceased mother in all manner of needle works, was become very expert therein, and taught them unto other maids and children with great dexterity; Sostene having daughters, who desired to perfect themselves in these occupations so beseeming their sex, very often called Eufrony unto them, who taught them most part of her skill, with a great deal of grace, and sincerity: she was fair, but never the less virtuous, and this virtue was accompanied with such a quickness of wit, that her conversation was well thought on by every one. The good old man Sostene never thought of the treason wrought against him, by that little aforesaid spirit, who lay in ambuscado in th● eyes of Eufronie.  
During the long winter's nights, she spent the best part of the evening with the three daughters of Sostene, which, with two sons he had by his former wife, the good old man sitting in the chimney corner in his furred gown, took great pleasure in hearing the tales that these wenches told, whilst they were at their work, and the songs which they sung, and other such pleasantness, yet all within the limits of honesty, and virtue, but in all these things, as well, as in the works Eufronie excelled, and was as Diana amongst her nymphs. By degrees (for fire requires time to melt ice, and then to make the water boil which comes of it) the actions, the countenance, the speeches of Eufronie delighted him, the features likewise of her face, her smiles, her looks, and her other graces imprinted themselves on his heart, so that he desired she might always accompany his daughters, and he amongst them▪ a fair, not golden, but silver locked Apollo amidst the Muses, he became very impatient within himself when Eufronie came not: and when the care of her house or the service of her brothers retained her from thence, he was so sad, and so froward that nothing could content him; to imagine the cause of this his humour was a hard matter, for it might better have been attributed to his age, than any passion.  
In fine (not to insist too long on this old man's dotage) after some few days, himself having handled his wound, and found the shaft entered so deep into his heart, that he could not possibly get it out, he resolves with himself to seek the remedy in the subject of his smart, and attempt this Danae's Tower by jupiters' golden shower: had his thought aimed at marriage, although Hymen were out of season for him, yet had there been cause wherewith to justify his design, and perhaps so many disorders might not have happened thereby, but God Almighty by his just judgement permitted him to fall into the snares, which he prepared to entrap the honesty of Eufronie. To tell you in what manner he declared to her the torment he suffered for her sake, and the repugnancies he endured in revealing unto her his shameful pretensions, are things which I know not, and if I did know them, yet I should be loath to foul my paper with such filthy proceed. But at length Eufronie perceiving this old fire brand meant to consume her chastity, rather than to consummate a lawful marriage, she carried the matter very wisely, and warily, advertising her brothers of the passion that this old man had discovered unto her, entreating them to invent some special pretence thereby to keep her any more from going to that house, where her presence did but only cast oil into a fire which could not be quenched but with her absence.  
Tibere, and Willerme took another way all that their sister had said, and subtle, and crafty as they were thought this a good occasion well to advance their sister, and their own affairs. They therefore first commended her for imparting unto them what had passed, and withal told her that they were not willing, that she should absent herself thereby to quench this fire, but rather to augment it by her presence, and change it into a lawful desire of marriage, a thing as they shown her might easily be done, if she could guide this her design with discretion.  
She who totally relied on her brothers, whom she knew wished nothing so much as her good, and beside (a natural thing) being desirous of her own advancement, and giving credence unto their persuasions, behaved herself so discreetly towards Sostene, that she reduced his flame to such a period, as it could not long endure without possessing her: nothing causes so much love as honesty, whereby she wholly conquered him, letting him know, that she made more account of her honour, then of all the large proffers, that he made her, yea or of all the wealth in the world, and that the only means to win her was to marry her, where unto she was content (notwithstanding the great disparity of their ages) if her brothers would like thereof.  
The old man, in whom love on the one side, and shame on the other, wrought an unspeakable trouble, desired all, yet feared all, he desired to marry her, that he might possess her more at ease, but he feared the speeches of the world, and more the discontent of his children, and trouble of his family: yet of two evils he endeavours to choose the least, and that it is better to marry then consume in that manner, his pleasures seem dearer, and stick closer to him, than the speech of people, but then coming again to himself, and considering, how this would be the next way to cast him into his grave, an● to make a ridiculous upshot of his life, he recalled himself; poor reed, poor beaten bark tossed by contrary winds, he seeks many remedies in these extremities, but finds none, he at last believes, that a clandestine, a secret marriage may satisfy his appetite, and yet preserve his credit, he proposed it unto Eufrony, and she unto her brothers, who caring not which way this Boar might run into their toils, counselled her to take of the old man a promise of marriage. Sostene gave it her presently, thinking this writing would suffice to get him possession of this maid, but she, who would not permit him to have access unto her but through the Church gate, declared freely that she would never be his but by marriage.  
Then did he in the house of Eufrony in the presence of her brothers, and some others of their kindred take her for his wife, and received the nuptial blessing, which put him in possession of that he had so much desired, to his no small joy, but when this was done he found it impossible to conceal his fire that now had rather augmented by enjoying her, then been quenched, he must have Eufrony always in his house, and cannot endure to be one minute from her, but at length he behaved himself so with her, that the dullest in all the house might perceive therein so extraordinary a passion in the old man, that it must needs be, that she is either his wife, or worse. Eufrony upon this grew something jealous of her honour, so that she could not brook these bad censures, and therefore urged her husband incessantly to declare their marriage, and as a woman she sometimes cast out words whereby Sostenes children might perceive that either she was their mother in law already, or at least intended to be, which put a flay into their ears. Eufrony takes upon her such authority in the house of Sosten●, and is there so frequently, that this old man having no more shift to veil what he had hitherto endeavoured to conceal, declared unto his children that she was his wife, and that he intended they should honour her as their mother in law.  
This made them as melancholy, and discontent, as the brothers of Eufrony were glad in seeing their counsel take so good, and happy effect, whereby they were become brothers in law in the house of Sostene, from whence they drew great helps in their necessities, which the more augmented the envy, and jealousy of his children, and bred in them a desperate rage. Taddee, and Androgeo sons of Sostene, being of opinion that these persons took, as it were, the very bread out of their mouths, and that their sister was likely to swallow up a great part of their inheritance, consulted which way they might seek to be revenged. In the end they saw plainly how Eufrony in her dealings (which they counted for no other but a mere cheat) had followed the counsel of her brothers, who had so subtly advised her in the weaving her web, wherein the old man had been caught, whereupon presently enters their minds thoughts of vengeance, and as they thought themselves to be overreached by subtlety, so they resolved to murder treacherously, both the two brothers, and also the Stepmother; an enterprise both execrable, and dishonourable.  
Hereupon having associated themselves with some of their acquaintance, as bad minded, as themselves, they furiously assaulted the two brethren unawares, as they were returning from Sostenes house to their own, which (as you have heard) was not fare from thence. The two brothers little amazed at this storm stood close together, and getting to a wall stood in their defence crying out help, and murder, this noise stirred all the neighbourhood, who found them hurt in diverse places, and defending themselves courageously, for what they received they repaid the assailants manfully, for two were hurt, and Taddee wounded mortally.  
The assailants seeing much people come to help, fearing to be surprised in so manifest an assault, and riot, betook themselves to flight, excepting Taddee, who lay on the ground, and one more hurt in the thigh, who could not escape, hardly was this miserable Taddee brought to his father's house, but that having confessed his fault, and asked pardon of God, and of his father, he died within two hours after; Tibere, and Willerme, are discharged by Taddees' confession, and held for innocent, being that only in their own defence, and without any other design they had committed this murder.  
Androgeo absented himself for a time, but by change of air he changed not his evil manners, nor the malice he conceived against the two brothers of his Stepmother, but on the contrary being doubly animated by the death of his brother, and thinking it a dishonour, if he revenged it not, he resolved to dispatch them, to take them both together he had at his own cost experienced how dangerous it was, therefore he determined with his complices to take them asunder, and rid them one after the other.  
Returning back secretly into the City, and having diverse times watched his adversaries, he at length met with Willerme going alone in the street, thinking on nothing less than on the misfortune which happened unto him, for he lost his life, having not so much time as to lay hand on his sword, it was by a pistol shot, wherewith Androgeo hit him in the head, and dashed his brains about the pavement, an infamous act▪ unworthy not only of a Christian bu● of any man that hath never so little honour before his eyes; upon this he betakes himself to flight, thereby to save himself; for had he fallen thereby to save himself; for had he fallen into the hands of justice, nothing could have prevailed towards the saving of his life, pardons being never granted for such deeds, notwithstanding it was presently known, that he was the man that had done this filthy action, whereof Sostene was no less sorrowful than his new wife for the loss of her brother.  
The other brother which was Tibere swears by all the Stars that Heaven contains, he will be righted either by way of justice or by force, the blood of his brother calling on him daily to seek revenge: but time the Physician of all the wounds of the mind moderated a little his fury, so that he slackened the pursuit of justice.  
Sostene deprived of his eldest son by death, and his other son by exile, sees now, though too late, that his indiscreet passion, and unseasonable love were the grounds of all these mischiefs, yet will he not cast the helve after the hatchet, nor let that spark of his race go out which only remained in Androgeo, and to conjure this tempest he makes use of his wife's wit, who moderated the boiling anger of her brother, and in fine, for his better satisfaction Sostene gave him his eldest daughter in marriage, with such a competent portion that Tibere had no reason to think ill of any thing that had passed, all matters where hereupon accommodated, and mercy taking the place of justice, Androgeo by an abolishment of his former malice reenters into his estate.  
But what agreement soever was made, it was never possible to reunite the divided hearts of these two brothers in law, neither the alliance by their two sisters, nor the thought of the misery past, neither the entreaties of friends, nor the tears of the poor old man, could ever recall the fury of Androgeo, he looks awry, sourly, and doggedly at Willerme, who seeing this could not but do as much, for being no less haughty minded than he, by the like despisalls he mocked his arrogancy, from these lightnings of looks proceeded thunders of threats, and from the thunder of words, tempests ofdeeds.  
For behold in midday, meeting in open street, they quarrel, draw, and Willerme receiving a hurt in the shoulder, repaid Androgeo with two others, the second whereof laid him dead on the ground, although this was done by encounter, in combats, and in heat of blood, yet Willerme got away, choosing rather to justify himself a fare off, then near. Imagine now the poor old man's sorrows, when he beheld his last son lie wallowing in blood, and dead before his eyes, and moreover killed by him that was his brother in law, and son in law.  
Let us leave his tears, and despairs, as a disease contagious, because perhaps his grief may pass into those, who have the reading of these lines more for recreation, then to procure pensiveness, he now sees himself without heirs male, and his inheritance like to pass into the hands of strangers, yea even of those who are imbrued in the blood of his children! O what a heart breaking was this; too late did the scales fall from his eyes, whereby he saw, and felt that his foolish love had been the spring, and original of all these deplorable Events, at length being cast down with languor, and overwhelmed in sorrow, and discontent, a sickness seized on him, which in few days laid him in his grave, whereunto this grief accompanied him, to see all his house turned topsy turvy (as we may say) his estate disordered, his second wife taking what she could get, his two younger daughters unprovided, his sons killed, and his eldest daughter married unto a fugitive.  
O old men learn hereby to overcome, and moderate your doting passions, and endeavour to become so prudent, and wary, as to avoid any occasion which may induce such fooleries, both dishonouring you, shortening your life, and hastening your body into the grave, trust not too much unto the Snow of your head, the Ice of your blood, nor the coldness of your stomach. The flesh is a domestical enemy, which ceaseth not to molest us until death. The flesh is that enemy who lieth in ambush for the heel (that is to say) to the extremities of our life, so long as one breath is in our lips, so long there is a spark of that fire still in our bones▪ moreover it is a very ridiculous thing, and no ways pardonable to see an old man foolishly passionate, and who thinketh of a marriage bed, when he had more need think on his grave.   

THE GOOD FORTUNE. OF HONESTY.  
The Seventh Event.  
THE Romans in times past built two Temples, the one they consecrated to Honour, the other to Virtue. These were so joined, and contrived together, that none could enter the former, but they must go through the latter, this served as an Emblem to show that there can be no progress to honour but by virtue. And that glory is a perfume fit to smoke no where but before the Altar of virtue, and indeed do but mark what clear lustre, and bright sparkling you see in a Diamond, or what light comes from a great fire, the same is honour in virtuous actions, which are of themselves so resplendent, that they produce rays of esteem, and praise, to reflect on those, out of whom they issue. The Psalmist goes further, and will not only have glory to accompany the just man, but also riches to enter into his house, and to remain there, from age, to age in his posterity; so that if the ancients had had any knowledge of this doctrine, they would surely have added a third Temple unto the two former, which they would have dedicated unto good hap, or good fortune, which should have been entered through that of honour, for there is no doubt to be made but that felicity doth necessarily, as a shadow, follow the  body of virtue, and honesty; since that to be virtuous, and honourable is the highest point of felicity, whereunto an honest man can aspire: and although virtue be unto itself a more than sufficient recompense, he being unworthy thereof that seeks rewards for it, any where but in itself, for the greatest price of virtuous actions is to have done them; yet so it is that accessarily, sooner, or later, either in this world, or in the next, the acknowledgement thereof cannot fail, for God's goodness, and justice is such, that he will render every man according to his works. It is true that ordinarily fortune seems an enemy to virtue, prodigally bestowing her favours not only upon the unworthy, but most commonly upon vicious persons, so that recompense flying from desert, it seems that by virtues contrary one may arrive soon to prosperity. But let us consult with the said Scriptures, and we shall find that these felicities of the wicked pass soon away, as the wind and smoke, or as the leaf of a tree. And that he, who was yesterday exalted as high as the Cedars of Lebanon, to day is no more then, yea not so much as a low shrub of the field, not the least image of his greatness appears to them that seek after him, whereas the virtuous man is happy even in the greatest mishap, his virtues growing more, and more perfect in adversity, and in fine drawing profit out of his harms, and l●ss●s, he constrains fortune to do him homage, and to become tributary unto his merit. And to say the truth amongst the humane Events, which I carefully observe, I always have a special attention, and a particular regard unto those, wherein I see virtue triumphant over fortune. Neither are there any pictures, which more delight me, nor about which I more willingly apply my pencil in the delineation than those which represent fortune at the feet of virtue. It is most certain and assured by holy writ, as I have before shown you, that either in this life or in the next no virtuous action shall pass unrewarded, since an account is kept thereof, even to a glass of cold water, like as vicious acts shall be punished, even to idle words. And whereas here I set the good fortune of honour, or honesty which will appear in this history which I am preparing for your view, wherein I study to accommodate myself to the clear seeing eyes of the vulgar, who esteem felicity, as pieces of Gold, which weighs most (that is to say) when they are most material, and sensible, not making any account of the spiritual so much the more worthy estimation, as the soul is more worthy than the body, and the body then the clothing: and moreover, to say the truth, it is in this our age a singular thing, and worthy admiration to see virtue accompanied with good fortune, yea a remarkable rariety, and as it were a kind of monster; I have extended myself more than I intended, but the merit of the subject hath driven me thereunto, and I will confirm it in this History, which I shall make so much the shorter, that I may not pass the limits of brevity, in which I study to contain myself in all these my Events.  
The vanity of Spaniards is so great, that all their grandes think themselves Princes, by reason whereof they call their lands and Lordships their states, as if they were Sovereigns, from thence grows the proverb among them, that grandes in Spain are little Kings in in their domains, and indeed diverse of them have some reason three fore being descended from those royal houses of Arragon, of Valence, of Leon, of Navarre, as much, as what we call Provinces in France, are kingdoms in Spain, whereunto may be added their Dukes and others to whom they attribute great titles who have some image of Sovereignty in their jurisdictions, because in criminal causes, there is no appeal from the judgement of their Courts, and as for civil matters they may judge without appeal, also to a certain period limited them. This I speak thereby to show the absolute power they have over their subjects, with which they bear great authority amongst those people that are under their jurisdictions; and this power will serve as a ground, and foundation unto what I shall represent.  
In Arragon one of those whom they call titled (I am not certain whether he were of the number of the grandes, or no) lived in his Marquisate with the aforesaid power, and authority, no less feared by his vassals for his humour both Arragonian and arrogant, then beloved for his magnificence and liberality; which pierced the eyes of the people and made him commendable. And because his daily care was, that the poor should be assisted, and helped with his means, which was exceeding much, whether it were to the end to maintain his credit, and reputation, or through charity, which I had rather believe, it cannot be expressed in what good esteem he lived. He had been married, but his wife died in childbed having lived with him but three, or four years, and had left him but one son for a pledge of their love: living in this his widowhood as a man that aspired to other nuptials, and who would not spend the rest of his days in melancholy, no wonder if he were assaulted by those soft temptations: whilst he expected fortune to offer him a second match, like unto that which death had taken from him, and conformable to his estate and birth. In this ease and idleness of life gorged with wealth, he was hit (as the Elephant of Antiochus) in that part of him which was weakest.  
Those that call incontinency the sin of great persons, do ground themselves upon the proverb which says, sine Cerere & Baecho friget Venus, Ceres, and Bacchus are harbingers to the goddess Venus. Amidst the honours and pleasures wherein he lived, it had been a wonder if voluptuousness should not have presented itself unto him, and filled his mind with illusions, and his soul with sundry desires. Seeking then a subject to appease his concupiscence he casts his eye on a maid, that was one of his subjects, she was poor in worldly wealth, but so rich in honesty, and honour, that her chastity triumphed over bad fortune, and left her good hap even unto her posterity: her poverty made the marquis imagine the conquest to be easy, according to the words of that ancient, who saith, that some courages are driven unto dishonourable acts through necessity, who otherwise would never stoop thereunto; yet he found in this creature an exception unto that maxim of Alexander the greats Father, who boasted to make a Mule loaden with gold, enter into any Fortress whatsoever. Ctesiphon (so will we call this Lord) wanted not some to second him in his bad design, great persons find but too many furtherers of their pleasures, and unruly passions, but all his Engineers lost their labour, with all their subtleties, and skill, and shamefully returning acknowledged all their stratagems to be vain, against a Fortress so impregnable.  
These difficulties were so far from slackening or abating the ardour of Ctesiphon, that contrariwise it animated it the more, imagining that nothing was impossible unto him in those places, where he had authority, and that all was lawful that pleased his humour. Heraclee wis●, and virtuous, shutting her ears unto their infamous Ambassadors, her eyes unto the letters which Ctesiphon writ her, and her hands unto those great presents wherewith he thought to dazzle her, did what in like occasions honest maids ought to do, she advertised her mother thereof, who glorying in her poverty, highly commended her daughter for practising so well the instructions of virtue, which she had given her, further encouraging her rather to dye with honour on her brow, then to live with infamy; no doubt but she had made some stir in this business, had not the authority, and power of the marquis stopped her mouth, who was Lord of the place where she dwelled, but when Ctesiphons' wicked solicitors saw their labour lost with Heraclee, they then addressed themselves to the mother, who poor woman, what did she say unto them? or rather what did she not say unto them?  
Yet would they not be repulsed, imagining that this old woman intended to raise the price of her ware, so that how loud soever she spoke moved with anger, they spoke yet louder, promising her mountains of gold; they told her that it would be the way richly to match her daughter, for whose portion, in the name of Ctesiphon they promised, and proffered four thousand French Crowns, but full ill did they know the heart of Anastacie, who for all the Indian fleet would not have committed so base a sale.  
Seeing their battery could not prevail against these two Fortresses, they turn it to another side; and addressed themselves unto a kinswoman of Anastaces, whom they found more tractable to their will, they blinded her with the powder of gold, which they blew into her eyes, and plotted with her a notorious piece of villainy.  
Mean time Ctesiphon not able to hide his fire, took walks, night and day about the place where the prey was which he desired, seeking to feed his eyes with the sight of this fair image, which swimmed in his fantasy, the City soon talked of this business, and every one spoke thereof according to their opinions, some excused his youth, others accused his want of judgement, and those that had daughters marriageable, cried out on him for tyranny; mothers hid their daughters, as hens, do their chickens, who gather them under their wings, when they see the Kite, yet so it is that Ctesiphon, lost many a stay to small purpose, exposing his reputation to the pillage of every man's tongue; on the contrary Heraclee was commended beyond all measure, when it was known, that she, and her mother opposed themselves so generously against the filthy lust of the marquis, who (being not able ro purchase what he laboured for, but by deceit) had recourse unto the foresaid treacherous kinswoman, to whose house Heraclee did sometimes go, to work with the daughters of her, who so basely endeavoured to betray her, this wicked woman promised Ctesiphon to put him where he should be alone with this maid, leaving the rest unto himself to treat. As she promised, so sh● performed, for on a day as Heraclee was at her work with her sellowes, this filthy woman having called them away one after the other, in comes the marquis with the countenance of a lover, who feels himself near his conquest, at this sight Heraclee became colder than marble, and all her blood being retired to her heart, Roses left their places unto Lilies, and her face became pale, and won, like as it were dead. The marquis gins to flatter her, and as he that would as well enjoy the will of the heart, as the pleasures of the body, knowing how distasteful those enjoy are, which be forced, and how execrable are ravish, protests unto her that he is not come to force, constrain, or use any violence towards her, but only to speak his mind freely, and make her understand what she should not hear by those whom he had sent unto her, nor read in the letters he had written her, and being a crafty Courtler he so sugared his speeches, and displayed all the Rhetoric which his passion suggested unto him, for to persuade Heraclee, that what he sought of her would turn to her advancement, and no way to the prejudice of her honour, I need not fill this paper with his deceitful discourses.  
Heraclee, who well saw that the devil spoke by the mouth of this man, and that it was not fit she should delay him with fair words, holding a pair of shears hidden in her hand, said unto him with an assured voice, which testified her courage. my Lord, I do not believe that a man of your birth, and quality would commit an act so base as to ravish a poor maid, but if passion should blind you so far, I know the way to prevent this violence by my death, and for as much as I am sure it is some features that you have observed in my face, which leads you to desire my ruin, I am willing before you to sacrifice them to mine honour, and to the health of my soul.  
And at the same instant, as she was speaking these words, she thrust the points of her shears into two or three places of her face, which she would have quite disfigured, if Ctesiphon laying quick hold of her arm, had not stayed the stroke presently the blood that came forth with the horridness of the wounds maid her so hideous, that the marquis, who needed no other Antidote for his love, cried out, help, help, this generous maid thinking he called his men to aid him for to ravish her, had already laid hold ou a knife which hung at her side, and was even striking it into her heart, if she had not seen her kinswoman, and her daughters enter the room, who found her in the aforesaid pitiful case as you have heard.  
The marquis to get out of the confusion, and to avoid the tumult (after he had left one of his men to take order for the curing of this maid) retired to his Castle with the rest of his followers, the wounds were found to be such, that the Surgeons promised so to heal them, as the marks should scarce appear, but God knows what cause of talk this heroical act gave unto all the country fare and near.  
Ctesiphon for to justify himself of the reports, that went, how he would have ravished Heraclee, caused a declaration to be published, wherein confessing his passion he shown himself to be free from that design of violence, and whether it were to amend his fault or to repair the breach which calumny had made in his reputation, or whether touched with a desire to acknowledge so great a virtue, he sent unto Heraclee the double of that portion which he had before caused to be proffered unto her, when he laboured to win her to his will, but here behold another great act of this maids virtuous mind, she refused this money, for fear lest it should be thought to be the shameful price of her integrity. At length the marquis caused her to be married unto one of his officers, who received this portion from the hand of his Lord, and also a maid who with a little blemish, but a glorious blemish of her former beauty, brought him virtues far more worthy estimation.  
This is yet but the first Trophy of Heraclees victory over fortune, there is another fare beyond this, which you shall see in the sequel of this history. Not long after the marquis entered again into wedlock, marrying a Catalonian Gentlewomen of a great, and illustrious house, she being come into the house of Ctesiphon, could not long be ignorant of the history of chaste Heraclee, whose husband, as officer to the marquis, was commonly with his Lord, his wife also was often there to do her duty to her Lady, this face whose honourable marks made themselves as remarkable as her beauty which made her commendable, became suspected by the marchioness, who seeing herself not so well advantaged by nature, as this fair subject, feared lest the former flames of Ctesiphon should rekindle at the presence of this object; i● fine (not to extend myself in this relation) she became jealous, and gave such evident signs thereof, that it was perceived by the marquis, who knowing himself clear from any such thought, was willing to augment these thoughts in his wife's head, taking a delight to see her in this pleasant humour, and would always seem more merry, and jocund near Heraclee than he was wont, by this his behaviour, increasing the suspicions of Anastacy (so was the marchioness called) he brought upon her such a melancholy, that he had much ado to dissuade her from the thought of what he was not; she proceeded so fare, one day, that she endeavoured to drive Heraclee out of her Castle, and to forbid her the entrance thereof, with bitter threats, and injurious words, as fare wide from truth, as she was full of passion. Heraclee suffered all this with an incredible patience, and modesty, knowing that in remitting vengeance to the power, & will of Almighty God, he would at length, repay it, in more exemplary manner than she herself was able; during this her disgrace she made her husband the father of diverse fine children, amongst the rest of one daughter unto whom heaven had rendered with interest the beauty which Heraclee had sacrificed to the preservation of her chastity. The marchioness had children also, but she could never bring up any of them save one daughter.  
At last her suspicions dispersed themselves, and she knew that she had done Heraclee wrong, in conceiving so many bad thoughts of honesty, and in sign of the pacifying of her wrath, she took unto her the eldest daughter of Heraclee, which was but a child, for to keep company with her in those sports, and plays, which are ordinary amongst children. This little child, whose name was Patacule, had so many springing graces appearing in her face, that she promised ere long to be a Paragon of beauty, whereunto if you add her fine wit, and wonderful modesty, you shall find her full perfection; I have already shown you that Ctesiphon had a son of his first marriage, named Sabinian who was but three or four years elder than Patacule, being then brought up together, this young Marquisin addicted himself so extremely by delight unto the humours of Patacule, that he loved her by sympathy, ere he knew what love was; wonderfully was the love of these two children talked of, for Patacule had no less inclination to him, than he to her, and Ctesiphon calling to mind his former passions took an extreme delight to consider the reciprocal motions of these two innocent minds.  
Their love increased with their age, until such time as malice opening their eyes, they became more reserved in their entertainments, at last knowledge being grown in them, they must be severed, according to the rigorous laws of the Country. Sabinian was by his Father sent unto the Court, as well to learn Court fashions, as also to make himself known, and Patacule remained in the service of the marchioness. He was bred up as Page unto Philip the second whose death is so uncertainly spoken of, and in short time he purchased many friends, and great credit there, and among other great favours he obtained a Cross of Calatrane, which afterward got him a command of much revenue: He came often to Arragon to see his father, who loving him as his only son, and heir, rejoiced infinitely to see him grow so well in virtue, and reputation.  
The first impression in the heart is a great matter: so many fair faces, so many licentious companies, which are at Madrid could not blot out of his imagination the Idea of his Patacule, he still persevered in good will to her, but this was guided with so much discretion, and dissimulation, that the father could not observe therein, any more than a common, and well-beseeming courtesy.  
Going, and coming thus from his father's house to the Court, and being at Madrid he received the unwelcome news of his father's extreme sickness, whereupon he presently takes post, but he could not get home soon enough to see him alive, he was not then above two or three and twenty years old when he lost his father, after which he passed some years in his house, being their retained by the care of his domestical affairs, in the managing whereof he shown himself as frugal a husband, as his father had been a great spender, yet not prodigal, every one wished him a wife fitting his estate, and quality, for his perfect establishment: but the love of Patacule had rooted itself so deppe in his heart, and his soul was so filled with this object, that there was no place void for any other, he loved her, sought her in marriage, and what resistance soever both she, and her mother Heraclee made unto this match, seeing the extreme unequality thereof, what oppositions soever his kindred shown, what counsel soever his friends gave him, to divert him from it, how terribly soever the marchioness his mother in law stormed, being not able to yield that she who had been her servant, should be her fellow, and that she, who had served her daughter should be wife unto her son in law, and heir of all, yet never would he give over this his intent, but more, and more, regarding the virtues of Patacule than riches, and nobility, he married her, and set her at his side.  
The Dowager Anastacy being not able to endure this, intended to retire herself into Catalognia to her friends there, which Sabinian was willing unto, except she would rather make choice of some other of the lands, which appertained unto him, and thither retire herself, and live on her dowry, this proffer she accepted, and taking her daughter, whom she meant to bring up with her, away she went. Then Saebinian took the husband of Heraclee into his house, who from his father's officer was become his father in law, and put in his custody all his affairs, he gave also unto Heraclee his mother in law, the guide, and conduct of all his house reserving no other care unto himself but to pass his time in hunting, and other pleasures with his fair, and virtuous wife. Thus did Heraclee see her go forth of the Castle, that had formerly driven her forth thereat, and she entered the place of government, and managing of all the young Marquis' estate. He advanced his father in law, and all the children of Heraclee. Patacule brought him five children, which were the survivers of his name, and possessors of his estate: O how fair and illustrious is the race of chaste and honourable persons, the memory whereof shall last for ever.  
Thus you may see how great a good it is, to be enroled under the Standard, or Ensign of virtue, for on that side the victory cannot be doubted of. Behold unto what height of good fortune she hath elevated the honesty and constancy of Heraclee, and then cry out with the Psalmist, O Lord thou wilt not deprive them of any good, that walk before thee in innocency, and righteousness, but on the contrary thou wilt heap blessings on them abundantly. O God of virtues how happy is that soul that placeth all its hope, and confidence in thee alone.   

THE GENEROUS FRIEND.  
The Eight Event.  
IF that a man spend all that he have, that is to say all the goods that fortune hath lent him, in expressing his love to his friend, he will esteem it as nothing, providing that his friendship be true, but when he comes so fare as to expose himself to an assured death for a friend, this is the highest point whereunto friendship can reach, well do we see daily the rage of Duels, which diminisheth the fairest, and noblest blood of France, where friends expose their lives to the hazard of combat in maintaining the quarrels of those they love, the hope also to remain victorious, and have a share in the honour of arms, makes them the bolder in these enterprises; but in cold blood to present himself to an undoubted death for a friend, is a thing so rarely seen, that antiquity furnisheth us with no example thereof, but that of Pylades, and Orestes, and Poets tell with admiration Castor his sharing of immortality with his brother Pollux. And yet one of our French Historians in his description of Polonia relates the memorable example of a generous friendship which preserved the life of both the friends, who eagerly contended to die each for other. The singularity of this Event hath made me place it here, with few ornaments, or addition of fine words, the splendour of the action setting itself out sufficiently with its own beauty.  
Octavian, and Leobell, two young Gentlemen of Lithuania, in their tenderest youth had such an inclination each to other, that by these beginnings it was judged, that if their friendship increased with their age it would attain unto such a degree of perfection, which would dim the lustre of those▪ that ancient historians do highly commend unto us. Their parents were good friends, and neighbours, dwelling in the same City of Vilne the principal of Lithuania, but their friendship was common and vulgar in comparison of that of their children whereof they rejoiced, leaving them at their own liberty to improve it by their familiar conversation; this ordinary frequentation bred in their minds such a mutual correspondency that their wills seemed to be one, and that both h●d but one soul parted into two bodies, they had not any the least thought from each other, and no sooner had the one any design just, and reasonable, but the other would proffer him his assistance therein, and if he thought it not lawful he laboured to turn him from it, which the other would not refuse to do, as well for the love of virtue, (which was the cement, or gluten of their friendship) as for fear of grieving his friend who thus brought him back unto what was honest, and convenient.  
They learned together in the Academy, all the exercises befitting their birth, and condition, wherein by a praise worthy emulation they surpassed all their fellows, the passions which most agitate youth are quarrels, and love, in both these storms they upheld each other with so inviolable fidelity, that the interest of the one was the others, without suffering the least sprig of jealousy to cast its thorny roots of suspicion into their hearts. At length it happened that Octavian set his affection on a subject so full of honour, that it could not be attained unto but by the Rites of holy church, I mean that he could not without impudence intent any thing thereto but by way of marriage.  
Love is naturally blind, and although it be first taken by the eyes yet are they hoodwinked unto many circumstances which would hinder its birth, and growth, if they were judiciously foreseen; it was the fair face of Pauline one of the compleatest Gentlewomen of the City, which stole away his heart, besides her beauty she was a match very considerable for estate, so that this his determination was not with out difficulty to be followed, and that which made it yet less accessible, was that Gelase son to one of the principal citizens of Vilne, was a suitor to this maid, and had obtained the good will, both of his, and her parents, to proceed in his suit, so that he was in a good forwardness on both those sides, though not on Paulines, who by a natural Antipathy had a secret aversion from his humour which she could not by any means endure, he was proud, and haughty, arrogant both in gesture, and words, and in lieu of winning love by submission, he made himself odious to Pauline, by his vanities, and bravadoes, and to say thus much by the way, it must be granted that vanity is a thing so odious, that as Amber will draw unto it any manner of straws except of the herb Basill, so the heart of a humane creature can apply itself to love all sorts of people how miserable soever, except they be vain, and proud, contrariwise humility, mildness, and modesty, are such charming qualities that there is no soul so churlish but will in the end be won by them, and this was the way, by which Octavian insinuated himself into the affection of Pauline, besides the other gifts of nature, which made him commendable, a Merchant distasted in selling by his first chapman, is half agreed with the second: the pain Pauline suffered to endure the approach and conversation of Gelase made her to be presently taken with the Gentleness, and submission of Octavian, who with so much grace, wrought himself into her good will, that the offer of his service was no sooner presented, but received. And although he had no permission from her parents to become a suitor unto her, never thinking on this leave, which is so necessary to make a love lawful, which tends to marriage, she applied herself to love him with so much affection, that being not able to dissemble her fire, her actions burst out into flame, and made it known unto proud Gelase, who jealous of his own shadow, was so wroth to see he had a rival, that he conceived no other thought, but to rid him by any means whatsoever, yet ere he thundered by deeds he flashed out lightning by threats.  
But although Octavian was not so rich, nor of so ancient nobility, yet was he a Gentleman, and had a heart so well seated, that his humour could not suffer bravadoes. Gelase having said unto him scoffingly, that he took it ill he should encroach upon his bargain in the suit to Pauline, and that if he abstained not from it, he should find himself to be but a bad Merchant, Octavian answered, that he never knew but marriage affections were free, but that whensoever he should purchase this maid that way, he then should strive to put her out of his mind, but till then he was not resolved to forbear, being his courage was as great as his love, these words seconded by sundry replies, would have urged them to have fallen presently to deeds, if their friends that were present had not endeavoured to hinder this contention.  
Gelase told Octavian that he would make him pay interest for his temeriry, whereunto the other answered, that since he barked so much, he would bite but little, and that he would always make himself half the fear, if he durst set upon him like an honest man, without treachery.  
Mean time Gelase who possessed the parents of Pauline as much as Octavian the heart of the maid, caused them, that had all power over her, to forbid her the company of Octavian, unto whom they interdicted the entry into their house, endeavouring therein to please Gelase, whose alliance they wished by reason of his means, and of his noble parentage.  
This so incensed the maid's mind against him, that as she shunned his encounter, and avoided all occasions of his approach, so she sought carefully, and subtly all manner of means to speak to Octavian, or at least to write unto him, who by secret practices advanced himself as fare into the affection of Pauline, as he● drove out his competitor, who being not able any longer to bear the rigorous contempts of this maid, and being desperately jealous of Octavian, whom he knew possessed that part in her affection, that he sued for, with so much desire, he resolved to put all in a venture, and set an end to this business by the death of Octavian, whereupon he causes him to be watched night and day, and at length he learns that his usual walk was by night up and down before the house of Pauline after the manner of passionate men, than Gelase like to a jealous person that seeks nothing more eagerly, then that which they are least willing to find, went in the evening, and hid himself near that house with a friend of his, whom we will name Megatime, and one of his men a lusty tall fellow, and one, whose courage, and fidelity he much trusted, long had they not lain in their ambuscado, Octavian but comes accompanied with his friend Leobell to walk his accustomed round (it being the property of those that are possessed with any passion to walk circularly) and at certain signs, which he made, Pauline appeared at a window, with whom he entered into those discourses, which are ordinary between lovers; whilst Leobell being a little wide from them, gave them time, and liberty to talk.  
What furies of jealousy did then invade the mind of impatient Gelase? then was the time that the appetite of vengeance seized him, and that he intended to cut this rival in pieces, who to his disadvantage was thus favoured: he commands his man to go set upon Leobell, and to hold him tack, whilst Megatmie, and he would chastise the insolence of Octavian, at this command they all three start out of their hole at once, and parting run with their swords drawn to assail their adversaries, Leobell in two or three strokes gives the Servingman two wounds, whereof one laid him on the ground, as if he had been dead, from thence he runs to help his friend, that calls him, Octavian had set his back to a wall, and by the help of a shop warded, and put by the blows, and thrusts, which his enemies made at him. Leobell came furiously, and the first he met at his sword's point was Gelase, whom surprising behind, as he was eagerly thrusting at Octavian, he ran his sword into his back, up to the hilt, and with this only thrust he drove the soul out of his body, and laid him on the ground. Then Octavian entering upon Megatime gave him a slight wound in the arm, and had likewise been his death, had he not sought his safety by flight, which he could not look for from the hands of the other by defence. Leobell was without any hurt, but so was not Octavian who had two wounds in the body, whereof the one was such, that had he not been speedily dressed, he had been in danger to have lost his life, by reason of the abundance of blood, which flowed from them.  
The people run forth of their houses at the noise of this combat, and find Gelase stark dead on the stones, and his man some few steps from thence yielding up the ghost. Leobell holding up his friend whose heart fainted by the loss of so much blood, and prayed the lookers on to help to carry him to a Chirurgeon, where he swooned in such manner, that he was for a while thought to be dead, yet by force of remedies they brought him to himself again, and after the first dressing they laid him in bed.  
Mean time, while all this passed, Megatime advertised Gelases parents of this sad news, and of the untimely death of their son, and relating the matter best to his own advantage told them that they both had been assaulted in a treacherous manner by Leobell and Octavian, this first tale takes such impression that it is believed for an Oracle, whereupon recourse is had to justice, who ordains that Octavian, & Leobell shall be cast into prison, on this decree Octavian is seized, & sick, & weak, as he was, drawn into the goal.  
Leobell gets away in hope to prove his own innocency and his friends, by showing that they had done nothing but in their own defence, and that the fortune of arms had fallen on them who had unjustly assaulted himself, and his friend by treason, and advantage, but the case went quite otherwise then he expected, because that Gelase had parents, and kindred so powerful, and authorised in in the City of Vilne, that in few days Octavians arraignment was at hand, and upon the only deposition of Megatime, who was, both a party, and witness (for as much as Gelases man died presently after his master) this poor gentleman was condemned to lose his head.  
Whereupon execution day being come he was brought upon the scaffold, and although he protested publicly not to be the author of this murder, having contrariwise been miserably assaulted by Megatime, and Gelase, yet the executioner was preparing to cut of his head, when as behold here comes Leobell thrusting through the throng, and with an admirable courage crying out to the executioner to let lose the innocent, and to turn his sword on him, who was not only guilty, but true author of the murder of Gelase, and his man, then with a clear, and distinct voice, and a countenance which out braved death, he declared unto the Magistrate, who was there present to see the execution, how all had passed, in the same manner as we have related, concluding, that if a man shall dye for defending his own life, he was there ready to yield his head unto the stroke upon condition that his friend might be set at liberty.  
All the company was struck with admiration to see this generous act, and the people beginning to grow to a mutiny cried out pardon, pardon, resolving to kill all rather than suffer this execution to pass on any further. This tumult became so great, that neither Octavian who would fain have spoke, nor the magistrate could be heard, only the justice commanded that all should be ended, and that Leobell yielding himself prisoner, the case should be heard again, and judged according to equity, they had much ado to lead the two friends into prison, because the people being in an uproar would have broken their bands, and by main force have delivered them.  
The Palatine of Vilne (for Lithuania is ruled by Palatinats or governements as Polonia is) having heard of this incomparable generosity of Leobell, went himself in person to the prison for to visit the two friends, who both contested before him, each to dye for his fellow, he heard the history of the two lovers Octavian, and Pauline, the threats, and act of Gelase to hinder his affection, Megatime was examined face to face, and confronted, who by the death of the man, & the master was constrained by the force of truth to acknowledge the ambuscado, that they were three against two, and that Leobell alone did kill Gelase, and his man.  
Whereupon Leobell taking occasion to speak, pleaded the cause of his own death, declaring to the Palatine, that he only ought to lose his head, since he only had killed, if for killing in his own defence, and to save his friend from violence were a a cause deserving punishment: nay rather glory, and recompense, (said the Palatine) and thereupon presently took them both out of prison, and gave them pardon according to the power of Palatines, who are as it were Petty Sovereigns in their Palatinates, as well in Lithuania, as in Polonia. Megatime like a base, and treacherous man was put in their place, and had on a scaffold been a spectacle unto the people, if his parents, and friends by their credit, and entreaties had not gotten his punishment by death to be changed into a banishment only for some years.  
The Palatine not content only to have saved the lives of these two friends, would yet that Octavian should be satisfied in his love, causing him to be married unto Pauline, and further he procured a wife for Leobell, a Gentlewoman who was near allied unto himself, entreating these two friends to receive him as a third in their incomparable friendship, which being come to the ears of the King, in favour of the Palatine they had brave employments, and were both honourably advanced according to their condition.  
A rare example of freeness, of friendship, and of generosity, which made Leobell so freely expose his life, unto the death, yea unto a shameful death to save his friend, but his renown arose out of the infamy, whereunto he was hastening, & his name adorned with honour, his life being saved by the same gate, through which he was running to death, hereupon we may conclude that it is good to follow virtue, seeing whosoever embraces her, she ever honours with Crowns of glory.   

EVIL COUNSELL PUNISHED.  
The Ninth Event.  
Bade counsel (saith the ancient proverb) is oft times pernitions to him, that gives it, yea sometimes worse, then to him, that takes it. And to say the truth, if effects are the children of their causes, as the tree draws its blossoms, leaves, and fruits from its root, the malignity of an action ought to be attributed to the counsel that bred it: and it is commonly seen that there is more malice in those, who counsel to do naughtiness, then in those that put it in execution. So the Scripture seems more to blame the malice of Achitophel, than the levity of Absalon, because the one failed deliberately, the other rashly. O how happy is the man (saith the Psalmist) who hath not followed the counesls of the wicked, because the counsel of such shall perish, and shall cause the ruin of the authors thereof, and of those, that shall follow it; all these verityes will appear in this Event, which I am preparing to recite, where you shall see that the wickedness of a malefactor remaining unpunished, the chastisement thereof lighted on the head of him which had counselled it.  
It is no new thing to say that the counsels of women (especially of those that are bad) are dangerous. In the first creation of the world the first of all men failed by the counsel of his wife, and we who are his children daily pay the interest of this bad counsel, by the which we may say that sin first came into the world. He that is truly wise will neither trust his secrets with this sex so curious, and so tattling, nor believe its counsel. If Palinure had kept this maxim he had not fallen into the dangers, wherein we shall see him, and from which he owes his deliverance to his good fortune, or to the pity that was taken on the inconsideracies of his youth, rather than of his innocency.  
In a City of Sicilia which is not named in the Italian relation, a Gentlewoman, whom we will call Demetry was in her tender years given in marriage to an old man, whose jealousy, weakness, and craftiness, deprived her of all manner of pleasure in wedlock, wherein she accounted the days as years of captivity.  
After much sufferance death cut this band otherwise indissoluble, and drawing her from this yoke, set her (being yet young) in the liberty of widowhood. The difference of these two states appeared unto her, as extreme, as the day seems bright unto him that hath a long time been closed up in a dark dungeon, but what she held to be the greatest happiness of her life (to wit her freedom, & liberty) proved the heaping up of her disgrace, and misery, because inebriating herself with her own conceit, she betook herself so greedily to liberty that she changed its use into abuse, and of an honourable prisoner, became an infamous libertine, not content to show by her habit, & actions exterior, that she was a widow, who wanted a match, she against the custom of the country, kept as it were open gates for those, that under pretence of being suitors, passed their time at her house, in gaming, dancing, music, and such like pleasant delights which serve as employments for idle youth. At the beginning (for none become wicked on a sudden) her design was to breed love in many, to the end she might purchase one for her husband, that might be according to her own heart: besides her beauty which was rare, she had a great dowry, as well of her paternal inheritance, as of what her husband had left her, and these two things caused her to be desired of a great number, this multitude of lovers was her ruin, for inopem ipsam copia fecit, she proved poor by this abundance, she in this multitude knew not which to choose, and whether it were, that she feared to be deceived in her choice, or whether diverse pleased her eye I know not, but this she resolved to live merrily, and not marry at all, but to remain Mistress of herself in the freedom of her widowhood: if the love of incontinency had suggested his design unto her, she had then deserved praise, but that was the least in her thought, desirous contrariwise to make use of this precious gift of liberty, to serve the unruliness of her appetite, she betook herself unto a life so manifestly dishonest, that in few days she became the fable of the world, and the subject of public detraction, nevertheless for to preserve still some vain shadow of reputation unto herself, she ever kept some of her suitors in hope of marrying her, and towards those she behaved herself as sharply, and coily, as she was facile, tractable, and pleasing towards them that she pleased herself withal, so that the possessors laughing at the simplicity of the pretenders admired the tricks, and charms of this Circe, who made that inaccessible to some, which she gave in prey, and pillage to others. This wanton unchaste woman was the common rock for the youth of the City to make shipwreck at, her house was a school of lasciviousness, an Academy of licentiousness, and a right temple of Cyprus where the sacrifices were only dishonesties.  
These foolish loves are seldom seen to be without jealousy, for as rottenness takes sooner in apples, which are bruised, then in those that be sound, and whole, so jealousy, which is nothing but a corruption of judgement, takes fare more easily in giddy, and unjust passions, then in lawful affections; and this was the cause that amongst these young men, who had no pretensions, but of flesh, and blood, sundry quarrels arose; these ordinary quarrels seconded by execrable slaughters, made Demetrie, so infamous that she was accounted as a stone of scandal which ought to be cast forth of the City, because being in it, it rather served to ruin then edify, if some just order had been taken against these unjust disorders in time, that which we are about to re●●te had never happened, but as it is the part of wise persons to foresee the evils to come, so the impudent, whose eyes are only in their heads see but these, which are at hand.  
Amongst those that hunted after this glorious, but devouring Panther, one was a Lord of note, whose quality, and means, as well as his person, pierced her eyes, and although she led a very licentious, and shameful life, yet believing every one to be as blind as herself, she imagined that her bad demeanours were not perceived, which made her so presumptuous as to think she should be sought unto for marriage, as much as though she were very honest, and chaste indeed, knowing then that Fusbert was now fallen into her nets, and that nothing augments love so much as modest behaviour, be it feigned, or true, she employed all her art, and skill to breed an opinion in him that she was a woman fare more honest than she was counted to be; wherein she found such good success, that whatsoever the friends of Fusbert told him concerning the life of this Lais, he took all those verities to be but spoken in malice, and to be mere calumnies, and believing that she was as froward, and peevish to others, as she was harsh, and untractable to him, he belied the common report as if it had been a slander. The folly of his passion led him into such furies, that he could no longer live if he found not means to satisfy his desire, and Demetry granting to him no access but by way of marriage, he resolved to leap that style, and take her to his wife. This was a match so great and so rich, that the eyes of Demetry were dazzled therewith, and it made her forget that liberty which was the Element of her pleasures, and seeing him so besotted on her, she was of opinion that being his wife, she should have such power over him, and so rule him that she would cast a mist before his eyes, and so continue in her fooleries.  
Ambition than led her to give ear to this marriage, as it was foolish love that led Fusbert thereunto, but the worst was that this pigeon being not of full age, could not contract it without the consent of his mother, who was yet living, and his guardian during his nonage: now should he speak to her of this, it were but labour lost, but more likely to overthrow all the business, you shall then here what this crafty woman devised, who yielded herself to others on a far easier composition. After that she had a long time consulted this matter with her suitor, she made this agreement, for to content herself only with a promise of marriage upon condition to perform the solemnities thereof, as soon as he should come to the age sufficient, whereof he yet wanted two or three years, during the which she intended to keep this bird in cage, and to live still according to her former liberties.  
Fusbert, who to arrive at the haven he so much desired, could have signed his own death, would needs write this promise with his own blood, so much did passion transport him, now after he had signed this assurance, he thought he had enough, and as much as he desired, and that the consummation preceded this imaginary marriage; yet no sooner was he caught in this trap, but the scales fell from his eyes, after he had eaten of the forbidden fruit▪ the troop of wooers are not yet discarded, Demetries gates are still open unto companies, she is no whit the more retired, she welcomes the one, receives the other, and entertains them with as much liberty, as before, which pleases not our jealous Sicilian, if he reprove her for it, she presently accuses him of jealousy, than she protests of her honesty, and innocency, and can so well deal with him, that he is constrained to crave pardon for his suspicions, and to cry her mercy, for the wrong which she herself does to him.  
Whilst she continues in this manner of licentious living after she had (as he thought) purchased Fusbert for her husband, she caught into her nets, a new prey with whose good p●rts she was extremely taken, and this was a young Gentleman, who was a younger brother, and had little else but his sword, indeed for beauty, and v●lour he was inferior to few, bearing the heart of Mars with the face of Adonis, hardly had he attained two the age of two and twenty years, but that he had both by sea, and land manifested his valour, so that he gave hopes of proving a very complete knight. This Circe having by her charms made him her captive, was not herself nevertheless exempt from slavery, because she became as it were, an Idolater of his perfections, insomuch that being as desirous of him. as he could be of her, she needed not much entreating to yield unto his will. These unlucky women have this property to breed more passion in men after they have possessed them, then whilst they woo them, by reason of the cunning allurements wherewith they season familiarity. Richard (so will we call this young Gallant) became so enamoured on this Thais, that as she could not live without him, no more could he live without her, blindness a quality inseparable in love drove them unto a commerce so evident, that it was perceived even by the dullest sighted, much more by Fusbert whose jealousy made him now see the very atoms, the smallest things, who before let slip much greater; presently rage, and vengeance enter his spirit, sometimes he was minded to kill this rival, and this wicked woman, then recalling that, he determined to forsake this wicked creature, and to break his word with her who falsified her faith with him.  
Having by the ordinary motions of jealousy spied out all their actions, and found that his suspicions were undoubted truths, he resolved to break the bonds, in which he was obliged to this disloyal person, and endeavouring by all means possible to learn particularly what reputation she had, he found in all companies, that she was counted for a very lascivious woman, whereupon he intended to turn bankrupt in the promise he had made her, and to leave her infamous as she was fare more worthy of his anger, and revenge then of his love.  
Having remained some few days from seeing her, during which time he endeavoured to cure those wounds by absence, which his heart had received by the presence of this deceitful beauty. Demetrie who would fain hold him still in leash, mistrusting his inconstancy writ letters to recall him, but he returned her answers so full of reproaches, and spitful terms, accompanied with protestations so contrary unto the promise he had formerly made her, that she presently thought that this horse had slipped his brdle, and would scape away.  
After she long time to no purpose employed her whole art, and skill, to reconquer his mind, which contrariwise became more froward by her submission, and grew sharper by her entreaties, she fell to threats of constraint, protesting to sue him on his promise, thereby to make him acknowledge it, and to perform the contents thereof: This put Fusbert into such a rage, that not content to scoff at her menaces, and at the writing which she had, he compiled a legend of her life so full of the most filthy, and shameful things accompanied with such beastly, and dishonest truths. That Demetrie animated by a furious despair, vowed to revenge herself thereof or to dye in the attempt, but finding herself over weak to perform so notable a deed, and being not able to recall this fugitive, and so to work him some mischief, she bethought herself, that she could not better bring her bloody design to pass, then by Richard her new favourite, who being desperately entangled in her love would hazard his life in all dangers whatsoever to content her.  
The shameful reproaches that Fusbert cast forth in all companies, of this wicked woman, were spread so fare that every one spoke thereof, and beside he nominated Richard more than any other, who being descended of noble blood, and being of a brave courageous mind was not able to endure these invectives, which so merely touched his honour, together with the reputation of that woman, to whom he was so much devoted, and therefore might the more easier be induced to take the revenge thereof, whereunto Demetry employing her charming tears, he vowed by her eyes which he called his light (and which were indeed his souls deadly torches) that he would not sleep until such time, as he had presented her with the heart, and tongue of Fusbert. And in fine after he had often watched him accompanied with some bravadoes as the manner of Italy is, he took him at such an advantage, that Fusbert being pierced through in diverse places remained dead in the place.  
The kindred of this murdered man, being the greatest and most eminent of the city, caused such a search to be made after Richard, that not long after he was found, and taken by the Magistrate who cast him into prison, and in these obscure dungeons did his eyes open, whereby he came to know his fault, whereof he could hope for no pardon, in that he had such powerful adversaries, assuring himself therefore of death, he declared the truth of all, he confessed, and acknowledged, that the only counsel, and persuasions of Demetry had urged him unto an act so detestable, whereof he repent himself from the very bottom of his heart.  
Hereupon Demetry is attached and put in hold, where she denied nothing of what Richard had said, but confirmed it, believing verily that she had reason to avenge herself on him, whom she had found a traitor perfidious, and a violater of her chastity; this her malice being known, all the judges were of opinion that she deserved death: only the youth of Richard suborned by this accursed woman, bred compassion in them, whereunto adding the glory of his birth, and moreover the merit of his valour, there were none but lamented his misfortune, seeing that by the rigour of justice he was condemned to dye in the prime of his years: but his parents, and kindred, who feared that this execution would be an everlasting reproach unto their generation, and not knowing by what means to avoid it, they with money corrupted a turnkey of the prison, who gave him the means of escaping away: within few day's sentence was given against the evil counsellor, who was condemned to lose her head on a scaffold, which was done accordingly, and Richard should also have borne her company if he had not been gone.  
After this, means were made to appease the friends of Fusbert: and Richard's valour, which made itself famous of in Flanders, added unto the consideration of his kindred, obtained a pardon and abolition of his fault, and licence to return into his country, where he verified, what is commonly reported, that punishments light not always on the guilty, but sometimes on the unfortunate; and if we shall reflect on that, which led him into the mishap of this murder, there is no doubt to be made, but Demetry was more criminal than he, since he but lent his arm to the execution of that vengeance, which she had inspired him withal.  
Youth may here learn to avoid evil counsels, as rocks stained with thousands of shipwrecks, and to withdraw themselves from the unfortunate acquaintance, and familiarity of these shameless women, who not contented to fill those with scandal, who are spectators of their disordered lives, led those that follow them unto brutish, and inhuman actions, not only of the flesh, but also of blood, whereof antiquity furnisheth us with a thousand examples, amongst which the judicious reader may see if this that I have now related may not be placed.   

THE LONG Vengeance.  
The Tenth Event.  
AS the least follies are the most commendable, so is the least continuance of anger. Those revenges which are executed in the heat of choler, when the blood is boiling, although not  (forasmuch as we ought neither to excuse a vice, nor flatter a passion, which should be subdued by reason) yet are they less to be blamed then those, which are taken in cold blood, and whose continuance shows a black, and diabolical malice; the French are subject to violent passions, whose suddenness, and fury proves very dangerous: but those people that live beyond the mountains, are possessed with hereditary hatred, and as if vengeance were one of the sweetest things belonging to life, they lengthen and continue it, as much as they can, when they have once gotten their adversaries in their power, making them endure many torments, whose prolongation is worse than a thousand deaths, which made that cruel Emperor Domitian say, that he would cause those, whom he tormented, to feel themselves dye, and being petitioned by one of them, that he might be quickly dispatched by death; since when (answered he) is this man entered into favour again with me. Although death be the last of all worldly pains, yet some deaths are fare worse, than others, and which by their lingering length multiply deaths: and therein doth consist the tyranny of those vengeances which preserve life, but only to lengthen pain.  
Ceraste a Gentleman of Milan continued a suit for many years with Trophime a Lord of great note, and also bearing the title of Earl, because the said Ceraste would not acknowledge to owe him fealty: at length by the decree of the Senate of Milan, he was acquitted from this homage, and his land declared free, it was but little, and lying within the County and Earldom of Trophime, whose great courage could not there suffer a fellow, wherefore what he could not obtain by law (which was to make Ceraste his vassal he thought fit by violence to take revenge thereof. Now this Ceraste was grown something ancient and either by the intemperancy of his youth, or by issuing from a gouty generation (for this disease is said to be hereditary) he was so afflicted with the gout, that he could hardly go, beside he was so indebted, that if the gout decayed his body, creditors did no less to his purse, whether it were that ill husbandry had caused it, or else along continued quarrel which he had had with a neighbouring Gentleman whose name was Procore, so it is that he felt himself extremely diminished in his estate, but he was delivered out of all these miseries by an extraordinary means as you shall here in the sequel:  
Upon a day being mounted on a little mule, as he was taking the air about his grounds, Trophime who watched for him, as a vulture for his prey, came well accompanied, and suddenly surprised him. Ceraste who thought no other, but that his throat should presently be cut, for to move Trophime to compassion, cried him mercy and begged for life. Thou shalt have life (answered Trophime) because thou dost beg it, but thou shalt not have death when thou wouldst, this being said he caused him to be led unto his house, and cast into a dark prison where he made him endure pains less sufferable than death. Cerastes mule was found grazing in the field, but as for tidings of him none could be heard, his wife, and two children, caused all the enquiry, and search to be made that possibly they could, but never were able to discover what was become of him, upon the quarrel that he had had with Procore, many conjectured that he had killed him.  
On these weak surmises the justice seizes on Procore and a lusty fellow who ordinarily weighted on him armed with sword, and dagger, for want of witnesses they are both put upon the wrack, where the vehemency of torments made them confess, what they never did, accusing themselves to have murdered Ceraste, whereupon Precore was beheaded, and his man hanged; not long after this Trophime caused miserable Ceraste to be led by night unto a strong castle, which he had on the banks of the lake Maior, and thereto be locked up in the bottom of a tower, where he saw no other light, but through a little hole, at the top, and was fed by the house keeper with nothing save bread, and water, the ground being his bed, and the roof for his coverled: in these obscurityes and miseries he often desires them to put him to death, but he that took delight in his pain would not grant him this cruel favour: he remanied there until the death of Trophime which was about thirteen or fourteen years after his taking, who left this hatred, and vengeance for an inheritance unto his son Castalio, who succeeding his father in cruelty prolonged the imprisonment, and bad usage of Ceraste.  
During this time Cerastes wife died, and his two sons having divided the estate, made away the best part thereof to pay his dets, thinking themselves to have lost their Father also: when behold the power of heaven whose eyes are ever waking on miserable creatures, and who suffers not the rod of the wicked to continue on the heads of innocent persons, by an unexpected means opened a way unto the liberty of Ceraste.  
Castalio being in mind to repair some ruins about the castle wherein Ceraste was rather buried alive then imprisoned, it happened that the Masons working thereat digged so deep about the foundations of the tower, that they made a little trench therein, through the which they perceived this miserable man, who at the first affrighted them, but at last he moved so much pity in them, that having heard the History of his disaster, they made him a passage for to escape away: this happened after nineteen years imprisonment.  
Presently he repairs to his own house, meager, pale, and in the worst case that can be imagined, where no body at the first knew him, at last he was known by his children, unto whom he related the time, and manner of his taking, and his long continuance in that miserable prison, whereupon a great suit is framed against Castalio, who for such a barbarism begun by his father, and continued by him, was condemned to pay all the debts of Ceraste, who by this means reentered into all the lands, which his sons had sold, and became master of that Castle wherein he had so long been a captive, and where by the benefit of hunger, and 
A good remedy against the gout.  misery he became cured of the pains of the gout.  
He lived some few years after his deliverance, free from creditors, and without Physicians: An admirable spectacle whereby to behold the omnipotency of the divine providence which doth not only help in calamity, but also draws profit out of tribulation. An Italian Bishop in his pleasant, and curious discourses, whereunto he hath added the title of Caniculary days relates this Event, which he assures to be true as having learned it from the own mouth of Ceraste, who was then delivered from his so long imprisonment, and from debts no less troublesome than the gout was painful.   

THE UNLUCKY WORD.  
The Eleventh Event.  
LIfe, and death, are in the power of the tongue, the mouth which tells a lie killeth the soul, much more when it blaspemeth or speaketh rash words, out of a desperate hastiness, from which the Prophet prayed God that he would preserve him. This makes St. james compare the tongue unto fire, whose least spark being scattered by carelessness causeth great burning and consuming, he calls it likewise an universal iniquity, as being a thing that defiles the whole body and soul, like a ton full of must or new unrefined wine, which fowls itself with its own foam; he adds moreover that it is harder to be tamed then the fiercest beasts, yea worse than Serpents, Tigers, or Lions, an unquiet evil full of deadly poison, and the place from whence proceed cursings, and blessings; indeed as there is nothing so light, and slippery, so there is no faculty in us whereunto we ought to take more heed, seeing the greatest part of sins come from thence: for very often doth it happen, that men utter so many, and inconsiderate speeches, that they are taken at their word, and they remain punished for the same, before they can have so much time, as to crave repentance therefore. The history I am about to relate will show you, that the predictions of the wicked do often turn to their own ruin.  
In a City of Swiss which the relation nameth not, a Surgeon as expert in healing of bodies, as he was ignorant in curing his own soul of the wounds of vice, although he had a fair and very honest wife, not content to quench his concupiscence with her alone, had still some giddy passion or other in his soul, which stole away his heart from her, who only had the lawful right to possess both it, and his body, he led a most dissolute and deboist life, which abandoned his health bringing it unto shameful maladies, and his reputation for a prey unto tongues, his wife perceiving his evil courses, laboured at first, by all the gentlest, and most convenient means she could devise, to withdraw him from those bottomless pits wherein he was sinking, both soul, body, and estate, yet his untractable mind amended not by all these remedies, but on the contrary, as sweet things (according to the Aphorism) be most easily converted into choler, and as oil feeds the fire which is quenched by other liquors, so her sweet admonitions made him more choleric, and the gentler he was handled, the worse did he sting. Patience leaving this woman, whose head was troubled with a just jealousy, she fell to reproaches, and threats, which more vexed her froward husband, who replied with sharp words seconded with such heavy blows, that the poor woman was half brained thereby. This harsh usage made her complain to her parents, who made their moan unto the Magistrate, he finding himself obliged to redress this disorder, caused the Chirurgeon to be cited before him, and rattled him with so good a lesson, and withal caused him to pay such a fine, that he amended him, if not in effect, yet at least in show, and commanded him on pain of imprisonment to leave of his accustomed haunting of such suspicious houses, where if ever he were known, to go again, he would cause him to be punished as an adulterer.  
Here now becomes the sinner humbled, and he who rejoiced in his evil, and gloryed in his fault, endeavoured to hide his dissoluteness, to avoid scandal, murmur, and the punishment wherewith the judge threatened him; yet could he not long abstain, for since the wicked hath cast down his eyes from beholding heaven, and is fallen to the very bottom of the Abyssus, he despiseth all humane advertisements, having played bankrupt with his salvation, but now he finds other tricks, he makes his journeys by night, and by stealth. And to his jealous wife, who had over him as many eyes as Argus, he finds out thousands of lies. And like another Mercury pipes her asleep, with a flattering tongue, and counterfeit kindnesses; nevertheless she still mistrusts him, knowing that as the Ethiopian cannot leave his blackness, nor a Leopard the spots of his skin, howsoever they are washed, so it is likewise hard for him that hath taken a habit of evil to leave of his vicious customs.  
Hereupon she sets diverse spies, but the malicious man multiplies his deceits, and finds more inventions to cast himself away, than his good careful wife hath to save him, yea he so jndustriously doth hide his naughtiness, that although he minded nothing else, yet his neighbours think him to be reform, and if his wife complain, they mock her suspicions, and accuse her of causeless jealousy.  
At length having gathered together his affections & rather having settled his infections on a lost creature whose only frequentation had been sufficient to defame those that resorted unto her, being one, that made an infamous traffic of herself, he made his heart, and his body one with this woman. This stinking fire could not be kept so secret, but that it shown itself by its smoke, and blackness, his wife had already gotten some small knowledge of this matter, and already did the neighbours about the place, where he haunted begin to perceive it, and what veils soever he invented to cover himself withal were merely as spider's webs which discovered him in covering him.  
One of his most probable excuses was to frame some journeys out of town, whereupon getting upon a Mule which he kept he would ride forth of the City, & come late in the night unto the adulteress whom he frequented, this craft being discovered, by continuance, his wife reproved him for it, and threatened to certify the judge that he still continued his lewd courses, to the end that fear of punishment might cause him to refrain, but he being altogether obstinate in his vice, and as it were fallen into a reprobate sense, jested at her admonitions, and with blasphemous oaths, and horrible imprecations laboured to cover his fault, as if adultery (saith that ancient Lawyer) could be purged by oath: but heaven doth not always laugh at the perjuries of those, that are blinded with the foolish passion which they call love, but when the measure of a sinners iniquities is come to its full heap, the arm of the most high turns down on his shoulders, and makes him feel the weight thereof, by punishments no less strange than terrible.  
This man being arrived at the full period of his abominations, and his fault drawing along with it it's inseparable shadow punishment, got on evening upon his Mule, saying, as he had often before done, that he was riding forth of town about a very important cure, his wife who misdoubted the stratagem, asked him where it was that he was going, thy jealously (said he) that puts a thousand hammering suspicions into thy head, makes thee imagine that I am now going to some lewd place; but think whatsoever thou wilt, I will be my own master, and free as I list, neither will I give any body account of mine actions.  
His wife knew by these speeches that he was going to the place whereunto his unjust concupiscence drew him, for even as ulcerated bodies will not endure to be touched to the quick, so likewise will guilty minds be nettled, and moved unto anger being reprehended for their faults: well she proceeds in her exclamations, rails, & threatens him, he who had hardened himself in malice, disputing with this furious woman, rendered her word for word, threat forthreat, & at last said unto her, if thy curiosity must needs be satisfied: know then, that in despite of thee, and of thy railing I am going to a bawdy house.  
With these words he leaps upon his Mule, and spurring him hard to get from the bawling woman, who began to raise a rumour about her gate by the complaints which she made unto her neighbours. This Mule being something untoward feeling himself extraordinarily pressed by the spur, began to kick, fling, and leap, with such violence that he cast his master from his back, whose foot hanging in one of his stirrups, and the Mule setting himself to run with all his force dragged this adulterer in such a manner on the stones, that his head shattered into many pieces, and his brains lay in the streets, this humorous beast stayed not till she came before the door of that infamous house, whereunto he had so unluckily said he was going, and where his accustomed haunt was, there did the Mule stay with his unfortunate master who stark dead, and much broken remained there a long on the ground. Thus through divine permission by the death of this miserable man was discovered the commerce, which when he was living, he had kept so secret, and thus was preached on the house tops what he had committed in a close chamber, so was verified what the holy Scripture teacheth us, that all creatures which breath on the face of the earth fight for God's justice against those senseless persons, that violate his law, and stray from his ways.  
Presently this was bruited all over that part, where this horrid spectacle was, and so fare were any from bewailing this disaster, that contrariwise every one adored and praised the Almighty's justice in his chastisement, according to that of the Prophet, that he will make abundant retribution unto the proud, and that good people rejoicing to see his vengeance, shall wash their hands in the blood of the sinner.   

THE JUSTIFICATION by Crime.  
The Twelfeth Event.  
POliticians hold that sometimes a particular justice takes best effect, where a public justice ought to have been executed: & that the rigour, and severity of the Law, which many are made to feel, brings pain to some, fear to many, and keeps all persons in their due obedience, and allegiance. There are ulcers which are incurable, if the extreme remedies of fire and steel be not applied thereunto; and there are also crimes which cannot be expiated but by extraordinary chastisements, yet oftentimes cunning must be used, where force cannot avail, and the Fox's skin supply the shortness of the Lions. It is true that according to the Maxim of the Casuists, Evil must not be done that good may follow thereof, yet it may so happen that justice authoriseth some particular actions, which cannot be justifiable but by the good they bring to the weal public. All this will verify itself by the following History, where you shall perceive a man to be declared innocent, and his crimes pardonable, by an increasing of one fault on the head of another.  
When as Pope Sixtus the fift sat in the chair of Rome, Italy was found so full of thiefs, and robbers, which there they call Bandits, that commerce was much hindered thereby, because none might travel safely, nor scarce be in the country without danger, for those villains assembling in troops, kept the high ways, robbing the passengers, and without mercy killing those that made any resistance. This torrent of villainies did so overflow, that nothing could oppose its fury, the Provostes nor archers durst not resist them, and already were they grown to such a head, as they sought not to hide themselves in woods, mountains, nor caves, but held Villages, Castles, and Hamlets, this danger almost menacing Cities, no remedy could be found to be applied unto this extreme evil, and all human wisdom was too weak to find out means for the extirpation of this accursed crew. The Princes who saw the dissolution of their States to approach very near, if some speedy remedy were not found, began to consult together for the taking of these people; at length they resolved to put arms into the Commons hands, and give them free liberty to fall upon those monsters, who like vipers gnawed the bowels of their country, but this popular violence having made them more furious by despair, seeing themselves pursued with extremity like wild beasts, they set fire on all places where they came, and made such havoc and such slaughters as cannot be read in history without horror.  
Hereupon a grave and wise politician gave this counsel, which at first was thought something strange, but experience shown it to be profitable: and this was to set a price upon the heads of these cutthroats, and to promise impunity and general pardon to those, that should bring them either alive or dead before the Princes: this put such a division, and mistrust among those rascals, that they were in continual suspicion each of other, which broke that intelligence, wherein consisted their greatest strength: And as God in times past for to destroy the Madianites made use only of their own hands, for these villains daily killed one another, some to get their repeal from banishment, others to have the reward proposed unto those that should bring the head of a Bandit: now amongst the most resolutest, and boldest tricks, which are related thereof here is one execrable indeed in its execution, yet with a remarkable stratagem, wherein the hand of God is seen to accompany the wicked. There were three of these thiefs, which held always together, and made their enterprises, and preys common amongst themselves, they roved up and down about the Apennine mountains where they committed wonderful villainies; a merchant falling amongst them was robbed in whose male they found about a thousand crowns, now one of these three not corresponding in courage unto the other, was nevertheless as eager after the booty, as any of the rest, who exposed themselves unto all dangers, which bred in them such an indignation against him, that they resolved to be rid of him, this they kept secret until this notable robery of this merchant, in parting whereof this coward (who had served but as a sentinel whilst the others did the deed) became very obstinate to have his third part, one of the others said privately to him, that had assisted him, what shall we do with this base fellow? he shuns blows, and will not hazard himself, yet requires as much as we who hazard our lives, the best way will be to rid our hands of him, and to part the spoil betwixt us, beside thou hast an extreme desire to return into thy country th●u mayst carry his head, and so procure thy pardon, and moreover a hundred crowns which thou mayst send me for aiding thee in this execution: there be some souls so corrupt, and so abandoned unto all vice, that show them a vice, and they will fly thereunto like fire to sulphur: this proposition pleased the second thief well, because he saw therein two notable advantages, they then agree betwixt themselves to murder the third and to execute this wicked design in going along, the second promised to begin, and the first promised to make an end of him, in case that he killed him not with the first blow, as they rid thus along upon good horses, and contesting in the sharing of this Merchant's money, he that had promised to begin shooting of his pistol hit the coward in the head, and made his brains fly about, he that had given this counsel shooting of his in pretence of dispatching him, discharged of purpose in the head of this murderer, and struck him stark dead on the ground: in this manner he remained sole master of the booty, and besides possessor of his two fellows heads, whereof he gave the one to a Bandit of his acquaintance, which got him his pardon, reserving to himself the hundred crowns, promised over and above for the said head, the other head he carried himself, for which he had together with another hundred crowns a general pardon for all his crimes. And thus was he, as it were, made innocent by heaping many horrible faults one upon another. Who doth not see, in this example, an evident testimony of the weakness of humane justice, constrained to use such strange means to destroy the race of the wicked? but the justice of God goes in another manner, because that all is in his hand, and there is no place where the guilty can seek shelter from his wrath. For not long after as this bloody author of so many murders proud of his impunity walked, not at all repenting, but boasting of his wickedness, and making a glory of his confusion, the Merchant who knew him again grieving for his loss, seconded by some friend, set upon him so fiercely, that after he had received some wounds, he was forced to seek his safety by flight, and by the just judgement of God, by his flight he met with his death, for having gotten into a house whereinto he was followed close by his adversaries, thinking to leap down from a gallery, and thereby escape, he shattered himself in pieces, dying in rages, torments, and despairs most dreadful, so he that had escaped the judgements of men fell into the hands of God, before whom crimes do not justify.   
FINIS.   

CERTAIN MORAL RELATIONS SELECTED out of the two Books written thereof in French, BY The right Reverend Father john Peter Camous Bishop of BELIE, Anno Domini 1628.  
Faithfully Translated into English.  
LONDON, Printed by Thomas Harper for William Brooks, and are to be sold at his shop in Holborn in Turnstile Lane. 1639.   

The Author to the Reader.  
Dear Reader, take these moral relations as a continuance of my singular Events, it is the same style, the same manner of writing, and to the same intent & purpose, nothing differs but the Title, and the matters different in show, not in effect, my chief intention being by all these examples, which I gather here, and there in the things that pass in the world, to correct vicious manners, and encourage to virtuous courses. If I fall short of this my purpose, my weakness must be excused & my good will not blamed.   

The Translator to the Reader.  
TO the end that I might avoid reiterations, out of all the Authors large Preface unto this Book of moral relations, which would only have been tedious, not pleasant to the Reader, I have only given you a little taste of the latter part, the reason chief is, that because I join these singular Events, and Moral relations, in one volume, you have an Epistle at the beginning which at large informs you of his intents, reasons, and motives, which I think ma● suffice; my intents, and wishes shall ever equal, and accompany the Authors, in these his worthy, and my poor labours,  
Farewell.  
T. ●.   


THE HONOURABLE INFIDELITY.  
The First Relation.  
AT one side of that ancient City of the Gauls, where the old Druids dedicated a Temple unto her, who being a Virgin, brought forth a Child, a Country lieth bearing the name of Perch, this Province as shady, as the Beausse her neighbour is uncovered, sheweth how great the advantage is which nature giveth unto those Countries where wood groweth in abundance, since it serves for a remedy against the scorching heats of Summer, by the pleasantness of its shade, and against the sharp coldness of Winter in feeding fire, which is one half of life during that rigorous season: amidst the groves which serve as a necessary ornament unto the Region whereof I speak, there standeth a Castle bearing such rank as few are before it, but diverse hehind it in magnificence. This Castle giveth name unto a Family sufficiently known, and the which we will veil under that of Fleuranval; the Lord of this place was one who governed his Family with no less prudence than authority, which made him to be dreaded not only in his own Lands, but also in the neighbouring places, for if either of these two qualities separated be sufficient to imprint respect, and fear in those that consider them in any person, what may they do being both conjoined together in one? Every one seeks to keep in favour with the wiseman, and soon grows distasteful of the prudent, because that he cannot be surprised; and if it be so that the subtility of his wit pass unto craft, he is able both to surprise and harm; and as for the valiant, it is his property to strike terror even into the minds of the most-esteemed, since that if they will not yield to reason, he maketh them stoop thereunto by force. The Lord of Fleuranval had made himself famous both in the one and the other of these, and knew how to make himself be feared by those, who would not love his austere virtues.  
But if the bodies of children do never so perfectly resemble those that begot them, but that there may be found some notable differences, there are muchmore diversities in the minds which draw not their original from earthly Fathers; This was it that made Zotique, eldest son to this Lord, so far from the humour of his father, the good man extremely hating deboysenesse, and principally that kind wherein are used deceit and cheating. Zotique was extremely given to gaming, which exercise much displeased his Father, not only because he knew that a wise man never submits his means to hazard, but also that he was assured gaming to be the widest gate for a Family to pass to its ruin; & he that is infected with this disease, much resembling that of wirters, to wit; the itch of the fingers ends, shall find in the end, though having won, yet he hath lost much, since the loss of time is such, that it can never be recovered: It is true that Zotique excused himself, saying; that being as he was, his Father yet living, he could lose but little, and might win much: but he might have been answered with the words of an ancient Philosopher, who reprehending a youth for gaming, and he saying, that his play was but for a small matter, replied; My Son, Custom is not a thing of small consequence. Zotique had yet another excuse far more unreasonable than the former, and which ministered occasion to think ill of his dealing, for he complained of his Father's severity (so did he disguise the name of avarice) which he thought would be too outrageous, & said, he allowed him not means sufficient; yet wanted he nothing that was needful, but would have reached unto superfluity, which was a thing that the Lord of Fleuranval intended not, knowing that to fill a bottomless pit, and to satisfy the disordinate desires of unruly youth is all one.  
Zotique then made traffic of his play, and gained more thereby then if he had had much money in bank, but by what art, that must be imagined; for if Usurers use so main crafty devises to veil their unjust practices, you may believe that Cheaters, fear nothing more than to be called by their names, nor are there any injurious speeches that they will take so much exceptions at, nor any thing so terrible as to be surprised in their sleights. Zotique was reported to use this infamous trade; infamous indeed in all persons, but chiefly in a Gentleman; who together with honour, aught to have loyalty and sincerity in high esteem: but how many be there in great Cities, who under the name of Academics, live only by these manual sophistications, losing the body of true honour, whilst they follow the shadow of false; for, to maintain themselves honourable, say they, they pull pigeons in gaming houses, will not I affirm for certain, that Zotique practised this odious commerce, for who can judge of these deeds of darkness so closely concealed? but I may say with the common voice, that he had the name so to do, and it was this ignominious reputation, that grieved his father, and made him use sharp and threatening reproofs, but to as much purpose, as the washing of a Blackmoore, to seek for to root out of him that habit, which by little and little was converted into nature; and beside, wherein he found profit, a mor●ell so dainty, and so delicate a bait, that all fish will bite a● it; and a rock which few persons seek to avoid▪  
As the Father mantained his house with lustre by Just and right ways of good husbandry, so the son by crooked paths appeared Gallant, in attendants, in apparel, in feasts, in horses and in all, with such magnificence and great splendour, that either he must sink himself into debts, or by bad yet subtle ways, ruin those with whom he played. Now, the first of these appearing not, to wit; that he ran into debt, the second was believed to the great decay of his births glory, and the prejudice of his reputation: Idleness as all men know, is the nursery of all vices; play is the occupation of idle persons, and as the spring from whence are drawn diverse bad channels: money is the nerves and sinews of wickedness as well as of war; now as Venus is cold without Ceres & Bacchus, so without the help of Pluto, who is the God of that mettle, which the avarice of mortals hath plucked out of the Earth's bowels, riot cannot last; but what vein of gold would not be drained dry by prodigality, since it is a bottomless gulf: truly unto those that be very fortunate in play, gaming serves as a spring, to uphold their great expenses. But where are these children of good fortune, who feel not sometimes her turnings and cross and by experience in playing, find not that cards and dice are more uncertain, than Arms? I believe truly, and my belief is not without ground, that the most fortunate gamesters do in the end lose all, if a wise retreat prevent not their ruin. As for Coggers and Cheaters, if they hold out a little longer in this exercise, it is because they dexterously hide their tricks, but being once, though not found out, yet but only suspected, they are avoided as Serpents hidden under flowers, and people shun their company as persons infected with some contagious disease, like unto an excellent Master of defence, with whom no man will fight, not so much for the esteem of his valour, as for fear of his dexterity.  
If play led Zotique into diverse disorders, think you that love the child of play, of past-time and of the purse, had no access in his mind? Truly this passion, unto which is attributed bored hands, made no small havoc, in his mind; and if he cheated men with Cards and Dice to draw from them gold and silver, think you that with these metals which pierce the strongest Towers, and by which thousands of places are not impregnable, he could not cunningly cheat, or overcome the modesty of the most resolute? How many Danae's did he surprise with this shower? how many stains did this unlucky rain make in the honour of diverse inconsiderate Women? But in fine, this mettle is not a Loadstone unto all hearts; there are some so noble, that what others highly esteem, they courageously despise. Those former who adore these metals, show themselves to have earthly and muddy minds, and very weak eyes to be dazzled by their glittering; but it is these other brave spirits that never buckle to any dishonourable thing, what necessity soever press them, and whom ambition or desire of gain never turn from the old path of virtue; you sh●ll see this verity lively painted out, with diverse colours in the sequ●l● of this Relation.  
True it is, that Zotique burning only with a light sensual fire which soon quenched after enjoying, had like a furious wild Boar made a prodigious spoil in the vine of many women's honesty, whereof some he had inveagled with promises and fair speeches, but most of them by gifts, whose effects are much more pressing and powerful than words, dvers had laid hold of his baits, and yielded to his allurements, his conversation having in it strong charms to move affection, principally in the Country, where Women are not so crafty as in Cities, and therefore more subject to be deceived and surprised, for as poverty reigns there more imperiously, so is the gate easier to be opened unto corruption, chief when gold darts its rays into these Country souls; beside, Nobity and Gentrey in the Country do often pass from authority to violence, not content to be Lords, if they stretch not, as it were, from Royalty to tyranny. I allege all this upon the subject which I am going to treat of, to wit; the intemperance of Zotique; he was informed that in a Village near neighbouring unto his Father's Castle, there was a Maid, who under a Country habit made show of a wonderful beauty, all those that had seen her reported of her, but with admiration, which made blind desires breed in this Gentleman's mind, whereof the passage seemed too full of sulphur so susceptible it was of this secret fire. he who sailed on the Sea of sensuality, seeking but fair Rocks whereon to make notable Shipwrecks, failed not to transport his eyes fraught with curiosity on this rare object, which in a moment fills him with a thousand flames, and that which flattereth his design is the facility of conquering her, who was reputed to be no less chaste than fair; but he was of opinion, that if he could not charm her mind by feigned words, yet the powder of gold would make her sensible of his torment, and bring her to his wil  
He settles himself then on this pursuit, tending to no other end, but to content his bruitest appetite at the cost & charge of the honour of this Maid, whom for her invincible and glorious chastity we will name Castule. But as all the deceits wherewith evil spirits entertain Sorcerers, do vanish away at the appearing of the day, so before this Star of beauty and honesty all Zotiques illusions were as Candles in the presence of the Sun: She shut her ears like an Asp to the voice of this Enchanter, it was not so much through dulness of wit, as through subtle prudence that she avoided this Man's encounter as much as in her lay, knowing that the talk of the wicked doth breed gnawing Ulcers in the souls of those that give ear unto them: Notwithstanding, Zotique whose fire was increased through difficulties, judged by the small means he found to speak unto her, that it was not through want of wit, nor Country stupidity, that she answered not his discourses, for by her short replies, she shown her dexterity and wisdom, which surpassed the ordinary, both of her age and condition: In fine, having used the words, gestures, and other artificial tricks of a seducer, to as little purpose as if he had cast his discourses into the wind, he would then employ the great engine for battery, gold and presents, but he met with a courage resembling the sea, who vomiteth up unto her borders all the wealth that shipwrecks have left floating on her waves.  
If he be esteemed happy in holy scripture, who hath preserved himself clean from all spots, who hath not run after gold, nor settled his hopes on treasures: what glory shall we give unto this maid, who in an estate rather abject than mean, and in the frailty of a weak sex, could trample under foot that gold wherewith the greatest monarches make their Crowns. Truly she is a strong woman, whose price ought to be sought for unto the farthest and extremest parts of the earth, if there be any price worthy of a chaste soul, which the Wiseman setteth above all esteem. Zotique no less stung by the virtues, than by the beauty of this Castule, after he had felt the rages that evil love is wont to breed in the souls which it possesseth, in fine changed this impure flame into one more holy, but not less vehement: the dishonest illusions that had troubled his imagination, separated themselves from his mind, and seeing that he could have no access unto the possession of Castule, but by way of matrimony, he resolved to prefer virtue before nobility and riches, seeing that Nobility is but a ray or beam, or rather a reward of virtue, and riches are her Servants. Whilst he hatches his designs in his heart, he covers them as close as possible he could, knowing that once vented they would find invincible obstacles; he declares them notwithstanding to his dear adversary, in whose credence he found so little place, that although he spoke very sincerely, and from the very bottom of his soul, yet he could never persuade her that which he desired she should hold for an oracle: he had beaten her ears with false oaths and vain protestations, wherewith he used to gild over his former deceits, he had tempted her courage by promises, by offers, by presents, in brief, he had so many ways testified his intent and desire of her undoing, that when he began a lawful and honourable suit, his discourses were taken for traps, and his oaths for snares, or to be as the little pipe wherewith foulers call or entice silly birds to their destruction. This is it which deceivers and liars gain, to cast all persons into mistrust of their faith, and not to be believed when they speak truth.  
Now is Zotiqu● in a perplexity, which may better be imagined than described, and little wanted he of despair, seeing all passages shut, both lawful and unlawful, to arrive unto the end of his pretensions. Having thus lost all credence with froward Castule, she shunned him no less when he spoke freely, honestly, and with good intent, than when he cogged, flattered, lied, and intended ill. He then resolved to speak unto her by the mouth of another, unto whom she might give some manner of credit: he found none fit in his conceit, than a servant of his named Anastasius, and son of a farmer, who was tenant unto his father: the wit, the courage, and the fidelity of this young man were so well known unto him by experience, that he could have no reason to doubt thereof. To him he uttered his mind, and set out his passion unto such a point of extremity, as it seemed the possession of Castule was to be the beginning of his life, or the privation of her to be the end thereof; conjuring him, that if he loved the preservation of that life, he should assist him in that enterprise. He further declares freely the intent he once had to undo her; the art, promises, and presents which to that end he had employed, and how all had done as arrows shot against a rock, turned back their points, and that since he hath had modester and juster thoughts, to desire to marry her, but that his savage mind had started back from this proposition, which notwithstanding might be so advantageous unto her, that therefore he had need of his help to persuade this maid not to ruin her own good fortune, but to receive more graciously the occasion which with a smiling countenance presents itself unto her. Hitherto Zotique was heard with patience; but as it is a hard matter to keep constantly in one sort of language, when there is dissimulation in the mind, which makes liars often cut themselves in their speeches; at last blackness and smoke appeared in the fire, which this Lover had said to be so clear, when as he sought to induce Anastasius to help him in his unjust pretence, assuring hi● that if he could not conquer Castule that way, he would then betake himself to that of marriage; Anastasius amazed at this variation, protested that his life and all that little means he had, was at his service, but for his honour he would share it with no man. And who attempts unto your honour, saith Zotique? What Sir, replied Anastasius, are you blinded even unto this point, as not to see what kind of practice you desire I should employ myself in? the respect I own unto your quality retains me from speaking otherwise, and stifles the words in my mouth: if I had thought you would have conceived so bad an opinion of my fidelity, you should never have been my Master.  
Then dissembling Zotique, who could alter and change himself like the Pourcountrell or Prekefish, as if he had awakened from a sound sleep, said, My dear Anastasius, pardon my passion, thou knowest that this tyrant over reason leaves not a man's judgement free; it is true that I have loved Castule otherwise than honesty would permit, but I have since purified my desires, my flame is now irreprehensible, since its fuel is the pretence of a lawful marriage, and herein do I pray thee to assist me; it is an employment so glorious, that the greatest lords do hold it an honour to bear the message thereof, seeing it is honourable in all those that contract it, and those that treat it. Sir, said Anastasius, I esteem nothing base but what is unjust and shameful; there is nothing so abject but I will embrace to do you service, I will follow you on foot, I will dress your horses, I will dress your meat, I will till your land, my birth is not such, but that I may hold it an honour to be borne your subject, but acts contrary to honesty will I never do, and should it cost me my life, for I had rather die with honour on my brow, than to live with ignominy: but seeing you do me the favour as to discover your thoughts truly unto me, I am not so void of sense as not to distinguish between the actions that proceed from passion, and those that proceed from reason; and as the former deserve compassion, being diseases of the mind, the later shall be followed by my obedience; and if you will permit me to represent unto you that which is conformable to reason, I believe I shall do nothing contrary to your service. Trust me Sir, I will say nothing against the virtue of the beauty, nor against the beauty of the virtue of this wise maid, for that were the way wilfully to offend truth, and wrong your judgement, which would not have made choice of that mistress to settle your affection upon, if you had not found qualities fitting. I will not speak of the condition of her birth, her want of means, and the inequality betwixt you, for although all this be, yet love hath hoodwinked you so as you perceive it not; and beside, it is the property of this passion, to unite equals, and to equal the unequal: if you were free and independent of any but yourself, it were easy for you to pass over all these considerations, and to that as fittest that were most pleasing, but if you think on this, that you depend on another, & that you are in the subjection of your father, whose will ought to be to you an inviolable law, and that his consent will never accommodate itself to your desire in this match, I am sure you will cast water on your fire, and that the boiling heat of your love will be, if not quite cooled, yet at lest something slacked: Then think thereon, good Sir, if there remain any spark of light in your understanding, and by an inconsiderate ardour, which passion will presently quench, do not overrhrow your fortunes, which depend on a better match, and on the advantages which you may hope for from the goodness of your father. Moreover, you may judge with what success both for you and me, I may deal in an obscure negotiation, I will not say unlawful, for that would I not do for any thing, but I mean that will be hidden from your parents, and that cannot appear without putting you into disgrace with them, or loss of life, you know the severe humour of my Lord Fleuranval, that whether this matter come to perfection or no, if he know that I have meddled therein in the manner that you desire, and not acquainted him therewith, nothing will stay him from cutting me in pieces, since that power and authority make a thunderbolt which reduceth into ashes all that it touches: but for my part the matter is not great, being that an escape away may shelter me from this tempest, and that I may by a voluntary exile buy a service which may be acceptable unto you, your interest toucheth me more than my own; if you pass forward secretly into this marriage, your father hath power enough to force you to a divorce, then will an honourable maid be undone and defamed by my procurement: if you accomplish it openly, and against his will, he will surely disinherit you. You know his austere humour, which will become inflexible, being backed by humane law, that permits parents in this sort to punish their disobedient children, then are you one of the poorest and unfortunatest gentlemen of this Province, whereas remaining dutiful you may be one of the richest: My friend, said Zotique, I am not resolved to contend with thee in this, I have the Sun flat in my face, defending as thou dost the cause of reason, whose force I cannot resist: thou resemblest those who from battlements of a wall need do no more but let stones fall on them that are below, all the advantage is on thy side, I have none on mine but passion, whose weakness is apparent: use me therefore like a sick man, and not like one that is in health, bear with my infirmity and condemn me not till thou art as well stung to the quick as I am; this is all that I can reply to thy allegations, if I had a quarrel thou mightst be my second, without searching so exactly whether right were on my side or no, for so it is that one friend should help another, and not spend time in reasons, which under outward appearances do witness a hidden refusal and decay of friendship: let me see then if thou wilt help me in the state wherein I am, without standing upon so many circumstances, which kill me in stead of convincing me, and raise up my spirits, rather than abate them. Master, replied Anastasius, Cooks are bound to dress their meats according to the taste of those whom they serve, provided that it be not wholly depraved; for to present them dishes of meats corrupted and spoiled, that were not to serve with fidelity, but to undo, under show of obsequiousness. Nevertheless they must sometime refrain from presenting unto liquorish palates meats hurtful unto health, in hope that their strength and appetite will reduce all to good nutriment: it shall be to please you, rather than to serve, that I will go about this employment, whereunto your absolute comm & doth thrust me; & I entreat you that your repentance, which I foresee, may not cause my disgrace with you, since following therein your will, and not my own, I shall not so much be author as partner of your misery. This is all that I can desire of thee, my dear Anastasius, said Zotique, go then, put the irons into the fire of thy persuasions, and make me no replies, but remember that as thou servest me in this, I will at my death procure unto thee that which shall be for thy advancement. Anastasius who knew with whom he had to do, went forward with this commerce with so much prudence and discretion, that he purchased all the credence that he could desire in the mind of Castule, as there was more likeness in their states and conditions, so this maid, who though chaste, was neither insensible froward, nor disdainful, avoided not his approach with so much art as she did that of Zotique, for the shepherdess who gathering a garland in a field, meeteth with a serpent lying among the flowers, starteth not back with more fear and sadness, than she did when this gentleman under his flowered words hid the aspe of his bad designs: yet she began to take another opinion upon the faith of An●stasius, who spoke with so much ingenuity of the honourable passions of his master, that flattered by his natural inclination (which each one hath to advance their fortune as high as they can) her looks were no more so harsh towards Zotique, already mildness had tempered her countenance and courage, when Zotique seeing a calm appear after the tempest past, did as Mariners (return to their old insolent customs) after the storm which had drawn from their mouths so many prayers and vows, and so hard a thing it is to lose or hide an evil nature that he returned to his vomit, I mean to his bad pretences wherein he imitated the Lizard or Newt which raceth out with her tail, the marks which with her hands she printed in the sand: as long as honesty, respect, and justice were in his words, Anastasius served him with as much loyalty as he could expect of a faithful servant, & Castule heard him with an ear as chaste as his discourses were honourable, but when the stink of the smoke had discovered his bad fire, he had no greater adversary than Anastasius, nor nothing more contrary than Castule, for this young man quite turning his style when his Master had strayed from the right way of virtue, began to cry out against his inconstancy in the ears of this Maid, and to give her counsel as a Man no less jealous of her chastity, than he had formerly shown himself desirous of her honourable advancement.  
Castule who had still kept the Bridle in her own hands as a wise maid ought to do and who by a prudent mistrust had still held as suspicious the protestations of Zotique seeing that Anastasius changed his note said unto him. I believe Anastasius that you have no part in the treachery of Zotique, since you detest it so openly, with directions to give vent unto his mind, which tended to the overthrow of ny Reputation. And truly as my obligation unto you is great, for foreseeing to procure my good so long as you thought he desired me for his lawful Wife, so that which I own you for giving me notice of his intended surprises can be no less, being he who preserveth honour, doth more than he that preserveth life; this favour shall never die in my memory where I will carefully feed the remembrance of your Virtue which doth abhor all that tend to a dishonest end: Anastasius no less admiring the good with then the fair face of this beautiful creature, besides the eye of respect wherewith he had ever beheld her, when he treated with her of the just affections of Zotique he opened that of love, but of a love entirely pure, and borne twins with a holy jealousy of the protection of her integrity.  
Anastasius not content then to have discovered unto her the treacherous designs of Zotique, who would have seduced her under the promise of Marriage, or by a secret one which he would have disavowed or denied, with the same impudence as he excused himself in play whensoever he was surprised in his tricks, discovered likewise unto her the new inclinations of his own soul, which were kept back by the pretenions of Zotique all the while he thought them to be Just: In the same sort as the presence of a Diamond doth suspend the effect of the Loadstone upon Iron. Whether it be that Marriages are written in heaven before they be made on earth, or that a natural sympathy met in these two souls they found themselves united before they perceived the bonds of their union, for Castule without respecting scornfully the offers of good will which Anastasius made her with so much ingenuity, acknowledged them with a mutual corespondency, much more esteeming the affection of a virtuous poor man, then of a vicious Gentleman, wherein she shown no less her worthy courage, by despising riches in vice, then by esteeming Virtue in poverty, even than did they knit betwixt them a perfect knot of affection; And Anastasius being assured of the reciprocal love that Castule bore him, became not more insolent by this good encounter, but made it serve him as a spur to become more complete, that he might preserve by merit, that which good hap had purchased him. And as she promised to love him honourably and solely, so he swore unto her afidelity and protestation inviolable, protesting as he would never envy her a better fortune, if it presented itself unto her beauty, so he would employ as freely his blood and life, to keep her from the violence, and deceit of those, that by bad ways would attempt unto her honour.  
As their pain increased daily by their Communication so the impure fire of Zotique increasing unmeasurably became insufferable, he enters into a desperate rage, and doubting that he was betrayed by Anastasius, this suspiton altars his countenance towards him, the faithful servant se●i●g that his Master looked on him with an eye, far different from the former look, took occasion one day to say unto him as followeth. Sir they deserve not to be well counselled, who would have those that give them good counsel, to warrant them the events thereof, for loyalty and prudence are those that frame good friends, but the success depends on Fortune, who to authorise herself at the costs of virtue which she hateth, delights in overturning that which she undertakes: if you see not your designs succeed according to your desires, it is not the defect of my diligence, nor of my loyalty; you have seen that when you spoke honourably, you were heard favourably, why do you find it strange, to be rejected since you have changed your style and your humour? as long as your thoughts were chaste, I have served you with integrity, and you have tasted some fruit of my industry in the favourable entertainment received from Castule: but when she sees that you turn into your old tract, if she shun you, and show you no good countenance, if she repulse you, what doth she therein but as a discreet maid (who hath her honour in estimation) ought to do? and truly as I have counselled her to hear you, when I believed you beheld her with the eye of a husband, and you treated with her in honourable terms, if I were now of her counsel I would persuade her to abhor your proceed which tend to her ruin; but she is prudent enough and jealous enough of her renown to let you have no hold on her as long as you deal with her at fire and sword; I mean as with a creature whom you would undo, I do not believe that of so bad a seed you can reap better than repulses: what said Zotique, in a chafe, I see than it is by your advice, that she arms her eyes with disdain, and her courage with rigour.  
Sir replied Anastasius, it not my advice which leads her to that, but the force of virtue which is well-ankored in her soul, and as she is fare wiser than I, so I believe she will use you more rigorously than if I counselled her, she avoids your company for fear you should alter the purity of her mind, by some impressions contrary to honesty, and that your frequentation, although exempt from evil should whither her reputation; and this you call rigour, and disdain, because you are pleased to name her actions according to the conceit of your passion, and not according to the Motions which produce them in her: it is a natural thing to fly from evil, and shun those that seek to deprive us of goods, honour, or life, that if this flight be guilty, the guilt is in nature, which printed these inclinations in all minds; as for me I promised to be faithful, so long as you should have honour before your eyes, but if you play bankrupt with it, the infidelity will be honourable that shall cross you in your designs, I will be loyal unto my Master, but where there is wrong done to honour, there must be no more talk of service, although Zotique had no just cause to be offended with so bold a remonstrance, nevertheless▪ he did like those barbarous people, who shot Arrows against the Sun, when the rays thereof being too hot scorch their backs, he entered highly into choler against Anastasius, outrageously abusing him with injurious words, and threats, (and as he was surly and apt to strike) little wanted of blows, among other things in this fit he told him, he was very presumptuous to use such discourse to his Master; not remembering that he is truly a slave who lets himself be mastered by his passions, and he rightly free who hath reason for his Mistress; he added further that he took him to serve him, but not as a Schoolmaster, and that he was willing to have him speak unto him as a servant, but not as a Corrector: O poor young man whose soul is full of wounds, and yet flies the hand that dresses them, and hates the salves of his cure, even so do many Masters take upon them, not considering that Servants are humble friends, who may very well put those they serve in mind of their duty, otherwise Kings should never receive instructions from their subjects, nor great persons be so admonished by the lesser, at least servants may be put in the (rank of neighbours. Truly of all sorts of Maladies those are most deplorable which fly their remedies, and scoff at the Physicians directions, for what can a man do unto those that think themselves in health, and will not be healed? Is it not true that of all Fools he is most fool, that thinks himself wise? such a one may Zotique be said to be, since that being carried away by the folly of his passion, he yet thinks he hath reason to reprehend him, that seeks to acquit him of his frenzy; altoough it were only choler that blind and inconsiderate motion, which spoke through the mouth of Zotique, yet to end this insolent sally suffered with incredible patience by Anastasius he must be put away, in reward of his service and for speaking the truth, with no less sincerity than modesty. Truly they are unworthy ever to meet with good servants, which so ill acknowledge their fidelity, advancing none but such as serve or flatter them in their vices, like unto those Figge-trees that grow in the top of a dangerous steep cliff whose fruit is eaten by filthy birds, but never by reasonable creatures.  
Anastasius was very glad to be rid of serving a bad matter, but when he went to take his leave of Zotiques' Father for to retire himself home unto his own, the Lord of Fleuranval who had put him to his son and knew his deserts, retained him to wait on himself in his Chamber: this Father had already smelled something of his son's passion for Castule, which much troubled his brain, intending not that by any means his blood should be mixed with the blood of a Country Wench such as Castule was esteemed to be, and therefore was he very glad to retain Anastasius to penetrate further into the matter by his instructions, but he behaved himself reservedly and with so much Prudence, that no whit exasperating the Father against the son, he satisfied the curiosity of the one without prejudice to the other: mean time he continues his honest intelligence with Castule, and advertising her of the enterprises of his Master's son he gave her means to avoid them? Zotique whose fire was come to the last degree of its violence, strives by extreme means to attain unto his pretensions, he who daily cheated in gaming, made no great conscience prodigally to spend oaths, thereby to gain entrance for his persuasions into the credence of Castule, but she had so much precaution against these allurements that her heart was impregnable to these attempts, fear and distrust served as a fortress and buckler against Zotiques' letters, which were as many promises of marriages to dazzle her by this fair hope, she opposed thereunto the antidotes which were suggested into her by the council of Anastasius; In fine, the excess of Zotiques' love grew to that pass, that it made him bear himself openly a servant unto Castule, and he said plainly, that he would either have her for his wife, or never marry. Here now is the father more troubled than ever, and resolved to hinder the match by all manner of ways: what natural severity soever be in a father, it is always indulgent for his child, he hath ever a secret advocate in the heart of his father, who pleads there his cause, and obtains him sentence of absolution. Although all the fault be in Zotique, whose passion raises reason from his bounds, and cannot be excused but by the excess of his love; nevertheless his father casts it all I know not how upon Castule, who indeed is the cause, but innocently, in the same manner as the Rock is cause of the ships splitting, but the tempest or small skill of the Pilot are causes of the wrack. We always excuse the faults of those that appertain unto us, and whatsoever they do we believe it with reason, or that they hav● been surprised.  
If the Lord of Fleuranval had taken time to see Castule, or to talk with her, I assure myself he might have seen even innocency in her face, and through the modesty of her words, her prudence would have shined; but seeing her only by the eyes of others, and not knowing her but by false reports, he takes her for a tattling subtle huswife, who makes a trophy of his son's affection, and by her allurements and charms keeps him in his dotage. And although Anastasius assure the contrary, yet his mind preoccupated by a good forecast, since it is not the part of a wise man to say I had not thought, he deals with the Magistrates, and draws them to forbid Castule to pretend any thing in the marriage of Zotique, nor to suffer his suit unto her. No sooner comes this sentence to the knowledge of this maid, but she protests to wish for nothing of Zotique, but to be delivered from his importunate pursuits, entreaing that this act of justice may be signified unto him, to the end he might refrain his insolent soliciting. For the reverence due to the Magistrate, she renounceth, viva voce, and by writing, all claim or pretence to this marriage, whereof through humility she declares herself unworthy. Although that if virtue were esteemed according to its worth, she deserved a better match. Zotique hath likewise his share in this sentence, whereat he scoffs, according to the ordinary custom of youth and nobility; chiefly of great ones, who laugh at the formalities of justice, knowing that laws are but spiderwebs, which stay but the smallest flies, and are rend by the big ones. Contrariwise, as there is nothing that stingeth the mind like contradiction, nor that provoketh desire so much as forbidding, this sentence was as oil on the fire, and glorying in his shame, I mean his rebellion to the magistrate, and disobedience to his father, he leaves no means unattempted, to attain to the end of his pretensions, and still talks of marriage, as being a fair and lawful gate to pass thorough unto his design.  
The father seeing this madness possess the soul of his son, casts the cause thereof on the charms of Castule, publishing that she hath enchanted him; and indeed if he had taken beauty and virtue for enchantments, he had had the more reason to think so, seeing there is nothing which so much charmeth souls: but he takes it in an ill way, and says that she deals in magic, so little doth he know the sincerity and simplicity of this maid. Mean time, as there is no wound so slight but serveth for exercise unto surgeons, so there is no pretext so weak, but may yield great employment to magistrates and officers. The Lord Fleurenvall by right of neighbourhood was very familiarly acquainted with the Lord of the place where Castule made her abode, he makes him become susceptible of his opinion, and partaker in his cause: Castule is taken, and without being heard, or any other manner of proceeding, is cast into prison. Thus must innocency groan under setters, whilst the guilty go free through the world: since the providence of heaven doth so ordain it, we ought to adore his government, and not murmur there●●. But here is a slippery step, If one consider that Zotique commits faults, and Castule bears the punishment thereof, the wife is shut up, and the mad is left in the liberty of his desires, the sentence pardons ravens, and lays hold on doves, how then may it be said that innocency is a wall of brass, and a strong buckler against all the malices of this world, since you see the poor afflicted, whilst the wicked holds up his head gloriously. But iron is never cleaner than when it comes out of the furnace, nor brighter than when it hath been under the sharp teeth of the file, the sun never shines clearer, than when it comes from under a cloud, the coal that hath been covered with ashes is thereby hotter and quicker: Although innocency be shaded in the obscurity of prisons, yet nevertheless she comes out in triumph, radiating with glory. All the fault of Castule was in the false opinion of the Lord of Fleurenval: notwithstanding her imprisonment is diversely censured by the judgements of the world, every one hath liberty to speak his mind thereof, but it touched Zotique and Anastasius to the quick, yet very differently, and truly the difference must be drawn out of the variety or rather contrariety of their affection, and the more that of Anastasius was sincere and honest, the more smarting aught to be his pain; nevertheless he represses it in his heart, and veils it with a modest silence, which makes it the sharper, in the same manner as fire redoubles its heat, being restrained within a furnace. Whereas Zotique thunder's flashes, threatens, makes a great stir, but in fine he imitates the sea, which after much storm and tempest leaves but a little froth in its borders. Anastasius makes less noise, but more fruit, for privately visiting the judge who had caused her to be apprehended, he remon strates unto him the injustice of his proceed, having begun ● cause, by the execution only to follow the passion of an erroneous opinion, rather than equity, he casts fears into his conscience, which made him repent himself of his decree, and seek ●eanes to blot out his fault, without dis-obliging those that had made him commit it.  
It is good reason to dissuade those that fear the face of great men, and that are subject to be touched with favour, not to take upon them any office of judicature, lest they should commit scandalous and unjust actions through weakness, rather than malice. Who hath ever seen a weak vessel tossed at one time on the sea by two contrary storms, looking still to be overwhelmed and swallowed up under the waves, he hath seen this judge betwixt the commands of his lord and the Lord Fleuranval, and the threats of Zotique, the least whereof are to cut him in pieces, and to make his hounds and hawks eat him. As it is easier to commit an injustice, than to maintain it, so it is easier to commit a fault in the administration of justice, than to amend it; and prisons are like ships, not so easy to get out of, as to enter into. It is not without reason, that the sacred Scripture threatens the mighty to be mightily tormented, because that here on earth they have committed great tyrannies: in the countries far from the Prince's sovereign justice, thousands of violences pass, which would be rigorously punished, if they came unto the knowledge of the dreadful tribunals, little ones sob under the oppression of the great, and although overwhelmed with wrongs, they dare not so much as complain in their sufferings; but the Eternal saith he will rise up because of the misery of the poor, ●and the groans of the oppressed. Whilst Anastasius covertly solicits the delivery of Castule, and that the judge who had so highly decreed her imprisonment, finds no witness in the information, which accuse her so much as of the shadow of this black diabolical crime of magic, whereof she is accused by the author of her imprisonment, he says openly he will set her at liberty, and in effect preferring the discharge of his conscience, before the favour of his Lord, he signs her enlargement: but the bird is taken, and the keys of the cage being in the hands of the master of the manor, she is retained by force. Whereunto Zotique is resolved to oppose his strength, since it is permitted by all laws, to repulse one violence by another. Whilst he prepares himself to this project, Anastasius, whose eye was every where, watches so narrowly, that he discovers an evil plot by a stinking match; Zotique under the cloak of justice will commit an execrable act, he resolves to draw this maid out of prison, with the assistance of the Provost marshal, and works so well with some of his archers, that they promise to put her into his power, as soon as they had gotten her out. You may imagine, if in that heat which consumed him, he would not have gathered by fair means or foul, that which he so impatiently desired.  
Anastasius seeing that this stroke tended to the ruin of her whom he held so dear, and being not able to oppose it by force, sought by prudence to put it back, he goes strait to the Provost Martial, who had no part in this pernicious project, and having prayed him to contribute his power to the deliverance of this innocent prisoner, he further conjures him not to take her out of one misery and leave her in a greater, and desires him to be as much protector of her honesty, as of her innocency: which the Provost promised him on his honour, and effected it as an officer should do that acquits himself worthy of his charge. Nevertheless it was not without difficulty, because that the Lord who retained Castule in the prison of his castle, would not suffer the visit of a Provost therein: yet on the other side he feared to become guilty by so manifest a rebellion against justice, to avoid the one and the other, he resolved to deliver her up willingly at the gate of his house, but it was there where the Provost had something to do, for to combat the disloyalty of his own followers, who had promised to deliver this prey into the hands of Zotique, from whom they had received gifts: but the protector of innocence and purity sent his help in tribulation, because that the number of the Catchpoles which were free from this combination, were found to be greater than those that were corrupted, they could not perform their wicked promise.  
The Provost put this maid safe into the hands of her father, who was a husbandman: but the poor man fearing the plots and violence of Zotique, had by the counsel of Anastasius entreated a great Lady thereabouts to take his daughter into her protection. This was the sacred sanctuary where this Virgin sheltered herself, experiencing the truth of this, that he who hopes in the help of our Lord shall find an assured protection, and a city of refuge, he will deliver him from the hunter's snares, and will hide him under the shadow of his wings; his truth shall cover him as a buckler, and plagues shall not approach his dwelling.  
Now doth Zotiques' fury turn into madness, because that having no more access unto Castule, nor hope to see her, much less to get her into his power, he knows not what remedies to apply unto his smarting burns: We must confess, that when passion gins to lose hope, it causes strong convulsions in the mind; This man forgets the respect he ought to bear unto that honourable Lady in whose house Castule had sheltered herself, and threatens to put her house and all to fire and sword, if he be not permitted to see and converse with this maid. The Lady complains to the Lord of Fleurenval, of his son's insolency. The father, whose severity was sufficiently known, promises her to take such order with him, as she should have cause to be contented, and to rest free from fear. He arrests Zotique and imprisons him in one of the chambers of his Castle: It was there where this fond young man had time to digest his liquor, as the saying is, and to take upon him other exercises than of play, women, and feasts; he found his father to be rough, a gamester that his cheating tricks availed nothing against him; in lieu of his conversation amongst companies to champ on the bridle in a solitary place, and in lieu of good cheer he hath but the water of tears, & the bread of sorrow: what repentance soever he shown, the father rrelinquisht nothing of his austerity, prudently judging that he sung this song only to get out of the cage, and that he wouId soon change his note, if he could recover the liberty of the air. During this imprisonment, which lasted three or four months, there happened unto Castule a fortune, by so much the more admirable, as it was wholly unhoped for.  
There died in Touraine a certain gentlewoman whom we will call Martiniane: she was something an ancient maid, and in full possession of all her estate, she made her will, and thereby declared, how in her father's life time she had contracted a secret or clandestine marriage with a young man of Britain, who though a younger brother & poor, yet a very complete gentleman; how by him she had Castule, whom by a very trusty person she had caused to be conveyed out of the country, and brought up by a husbandman of Perch; how that her said husband died in Britain: she says also, how that since the death of her father shame had retained her from declaring this truth: and withal, rehearses all the circumstances necessary for the finding out and knowing this daughter, and declares her her heir; and in default of her leaves all to an hospital. She made executor of this her will a certain Clergyman of her own kindred, a man of good life and great authority, who took a journey expressly into Perch, that there with his own, and not with others eyes he might seek out this maid, by the signs and tokens given him he came into the house of this good husbandman, who had thitherto been taken for the father of Castule, he acknowledged that at such a time such a manner of man had delivered unto him a little girl of such an age, clothed in such a manner, and such marks: and further showed bracelets of gold, with certain cyphers or characters on them, and said how he had received a good sum of money for the bringing of her up, with promise of a greater if he did preserve her carefully. All this was found conformable to that which Martiniane had said on her death bed, and had also declared in her will. From thence he went unto the castle where then Castule made her residence, and found on her face so many features of resemblance unto those of the deceased gentle woman, that he doubted no more of that truth which strooke into his eyes, he receives her then as his pupil, and having largely rewarded the husbandman who had kept her so long, he prepares to lead her into Tourain, there to take possession of the fair inheritance that was befallen, which was held to amount unto the worth of 20000 French crowns. This wonder being divulged, and come to the knowledge of Zotique and of his father, it made even then the film to fall from their eyes, and the one wish to have Castule for his daughter in law, and the other to desire her for his wife.  
But whether it were that this new fortune had puffed up the courage of this generous maid, or whether it were that she had a just indignation against the father, who had caused her to be imprisoned as a sorceress, and against the son who had solicited her with so much insolency, and attempted so often and so impudently against her honour, she would never give ear to this match. Then did Zotique reconcile himself to Anastasius, conjuring him to use his best means, and employ his credit towards Castule to get her to like of his suit. And truly this faithful servant failed no whit in his duty, being as desirous of Castules advancement, as of Zotiques' good, he laboured to persuade her to give ear thereunto, alleging the ancient nobility and great estate of the house of Fleurenval, and besides all that, the extreme affection of Zotique towards her, whereof, said he, she should expect no less than all manner of good usage: but he was so far from furthering any thing therein, that Castule had nothing so frequent in her mouth, as the detestation of cheating, and other defects which defamed the reputatiof Zotique. And as Anastasius found not that as he sought, he unawares met with that which was not in his thought to seek. For wealth was so far from altering the heart of Castule, or from making her forget the promise which she had made, to love him inviolably, that contrariwise her colour rising, and likewise her voice, even to a tone which witnessed the true thought of her soul, she said unto him, How now Anastasius, what find you in me unworthy or unpleasing since fortune smiles on me, hath wealth changed my face or my manners? do you take the words of a maid for the wagging of a leaf? and will you who have so often blamed the false oaths of Zotique, make me guilty of the like sin? are those which I have made unto you of an inviolable love vanished out of your memory? why pitiless of yourself do you forget your own cause, to embrace that of a traitor, who hath caused me a 1000 harms? what have I done so displeasing to your eyes, that Ishuld now be nothing unto you? truly as far as I see, unconstancy is a blame not unworthily laid upon the humour of men, since it is their nature so to be. And will you Anastasius, whose faith I esteemed as a rock, be in the number of the rest? as for my part, I am still the same for you as I was, the change of my state hath not changed my will, I have so deeply engraven in my soul the remembrance of so many notable obligations whereof I stand indebted to you, that I behold you, not merely as a man, but as a tutelary Angel since you have been both my liberator and guardian of my integrity, preserving me from the Ambushes and violences of barbarous Zotique.  
She would have proceeded further when Anastasius kneeling down and taking her by the hand, which he watered with tears, and said with a trembling voice, interrupted by fears and sobs, from whencesoever this discourse proceeds it is able to kill me suddenly with grief or joy, with the one if it be feigned, with the other if it be true; if it be the first the trial is very violent, if the second, I confess as weak brains cannot bear much wine, so my heart is not strong enough to bear so great felicity, the change of your fortune had made lose my hope of attaining unto your affection, but had not taken from me the inviolable desire of your good, therefore seeing some equality betwixt you and Zotique, I wished you Mistress of that house, to spend my days in the rank of your domestical servants: no further did the bounds of my ambition reach, but since you raise it up even unto yourself, by a bounty beyond example, I were unworthy to be lighted by the brightness of your eyes, if the mists of my birth's obscurity, cleared not under so favourable aspects, and though I were but a weak vapour if I raised not myself up as high, as it pleaseth the rays of your favours to elevate me.  
But is it possible that so much constancy should be found in you, and that in so great a change of estate you have not affected a change, and that wealth hath not altered the integrity of your affections? O soul fare above ordinary, you show unto the world how all that which is called greatness, is fare below your thoughts, he had followed that point longer if excess of joy had not made him lose breath, and from thence borne him into a swoone, and indeed as great sorrows are mute, so likewise are excessive joys, only mean ones permit the use of senses, or speech because they may be felt and expressed, whereas others do astonish the mind, and dull or benumb the feeling, when Castule it may be by bathing his face in the water of her tears, had fetched him from his trance, she confirmed unto him that which she had said before, and made him new protestations of love: but of a love tending to Marriage: if Anastasius had not been very prudent doubtless letting himself go on the wings of the wind, his heart had soared up into some vanity which would have wrought destruction, as well as that of Icarus, but he imitated wise Pilots who strike half their Sails, when the wind is to strong for fear lest the Ship should overturn, this love must by all means be kept close from the care of the new Guardian, till such time as Castule had been in Touraine and taken possession of what was befaine her by the will of her Mother, which done, and she established therein, she promised to send for Anastasius to give him the possession of her estate and person a reward of her fidelity, and honesty, and it was so done; no sooner did the new star appear on the Horizon of Touraine, but her rays strooke into the eyes of diverse Astrologers, I mean of diverse Suitors, who would gladly have had her for the ascendant of their fortune's nativity, but the horoscope destinated her for Anastasius, to whom under hand she conveyed means to fit himself of all things like a Gentleman, & so to become a suitor as the rest, and having wrought the mind of her guardian to this point, that of all those that sought her good will, he would leave her at liberty to take her own choice, since nothing ought to be more free from compulsion than marriage, she gave her voice to Anastasius, who thus saw himself preferred before many Tourengeaux who beheld not without envy the good fortune of this stranger.  
When the Guardian understood how infinitely his Pupil was obliged unto Anastasius, in lieu of growing angry at the unequality of the party, he praised the prudence and justice of this maid, who though she could not more worthily reward him, that had preserved heramidst so many hazards then in giving herself to him: now with what ear Zotique heard the tidings of this marriage I leave unto the consideration of him, who will represent unto himself, the rage of his love converted into that of wr●th. Notwithstanding time the Sovereign Physician of the soul's diseases, will moderate all his pains, and his Father having married him else where he lost in this new match the remembrance of his old flames; mean time Anastasius who of a faithful servant was become a Master, might rightly term himself a good Artist, who had wrought his own good fortune, and that only by the means of virtue, whereof he was become so constant a partaker, and to say truth it is good to hold with virtue, for although her way be enclosed with thorns, yet it ends in Roses, and early or late, Fortune is constrained to stoop her ensign before her, and acknowledge herself vanquished, the Sun may be obscured by clouds, but never extinguished, disasters may cross or rather give an exercise to virtue, but never stifle it, it resembles the Vine which profits by its cutting, and the more it is beaten the less it is hurt, in my opinion the principal thing remarkable in this History, is the honourable Infidelity of Anastasius, who was really and truly for Zotique, as long as his pretences were honest, but revolted as soon as he perceived that malice had overturned the heart of this Gentleman, and that his projects were unlawful; for if they be blame worthy, who are faithful in evil enterprises, and make themselves guilty of another's fault, this Infidelity or disloyalty must needs be honourable, which playeth Bankrupt to evil designs.   

THE FRUSTRATED INTENTIONS.  
The Second Relation.  
IT shall here suffice me to name the Province of Champagne, and to say that in one of his chiefest Cities, there was a widow Lady, who having four Children, two Sons, and two daughters, laboured to bring thē●p in the fear of God and good manners, and although she was left young enough with a Husband, even at such an age as would have permitted her to m●rry, yet she would persevere in her widowhood, and remain ●●uly a Widow, that is to say, flying ●●light and occasions of being wooed or sought ●●ter for marriage: but as it is the common desire of 〈◊〉 to advance their Families, and tor●ise their Children unto honour, she having not power to do any thing for hers, but preserve that  they had, and by sparing make them feel the fruits of her Wardship, bethought herself by a human prudence frequent enough in families, to destinate two of them to the Church, thereby to make the other two, richer and greater, and more advanced in the world; but even as the end which is last ●● in the execution, is first in the intention, so the intention which is first in the thought is last in the effect, and between thinking and doing is a great distance, the divine disposings agree not always with human purposes, forasmuch as the East is not farther distant from the West, than the ways of God are from the ways of men, this good woman Priscilla was led herein by the advice of her kindred, and chief by a man of justice, and authority, who was substituted to the Guardianship of her children, such are the disignes of a subject, whose balances have a weight, but weight and balances deceitful and without equality, because they make the elevation and riches of the one, by the abasement and poverty of the other; the means of these younger children was remarkable, for each one of their parts amounted to twenty thousand French crowns, besides the right of the eldest (I speak as knowing the particulars thereof) well then the youngest brother, is destinated to be a Ward, a Knight of Malta, and they stay but only until he be of age, to give him either the Co●vle or the Cross, the younger D●ughter is pu● into a Monastery, there to be brought up among other little girls, with intent to make her a Nun, hoping that she will not contradict the will of her Parents therein, as for the eldest Daughter a great portion is promised with her, whereby she soon becomes the object of desire unto many Suitors, as there is no beauty so great whereunto painting may not add something to prove it; so ho● noble, fair, & virtuous a M●id be, yet the rich Dowry doth ever augment the desire of possessing her; among diverse Matches proffered for this eldest, one was very advantageous, and forasmuch as the two youngest, destinated to the monestary were yet far from the age not only of profession but of vesture, the friends durst not give in marriage with this more than twenty thousand French Crowns which was her assured part, and her Suitor took her with that upon the infallible hope they gave him that he should get another like son, from the succession of those two creatures which were to be sacrificed for the greatness of the two eldest: they must put the younger brother into a Monastery but his humour ●uteth not thereunto, the Cowle is too troublesome, he had rather have a sword, the Cross of Malta doth not so much dislike him but he knoweth not well yet what to choose; whilst he takes time to think and deliberate thereon his Parents must take patience. Let us now come to the youngest daughter who is the principal subject of this relation; she makes not so much resistance but what judgement hath a Girl of some ten or eleven years of age; she is put into a Monastery where a great Lady of Picardy is Abbess there she is brought up with intent to make her a Nun, ten thousand franks are promised with her part at her vesture, the rest at her profession, this Abbess was often visited by one of her Brothers a comely young Gentleman, but yet a younger Brother which is as much to say as ready to catch, and who had nothing but only valour; indeed we must grant the case of younger Brothers of quality to be deplorable, in that they have as much courage as the eldest, as being borne of the same blood and brought up with the same care and greatness, but the foundations fail them, and they have not wherewithal to uphold that generosity, which is natural unto them; therefore we commonly see, that to attain unto riches there are no manner of hazards whereunto they precipitate not themselves, nor any manner of means which they attempt not for gain; this young Gentleman cast his eye upon this Girl which was put into this Monastery, who although she were lowly enough yet twenty thousand French crowns portion, raised as well the features of her face as his courage, he projects on this match and acquaints his sister therewith. She approves thereof and becomes his confederate therein, he sees this young Gentlewoman when he will by his sister's permission: In fine, the Brother and sister spend two or three years' time on hammering of this young Maid to work it into their fashion, and frame it unto their will, but all this while whether through natural Antipathy or for fear of offending her parents, this Girl whom we will call by the name Marcionille, could never firmly settle her affections on Salve Brother to the Abbess, she knows that she is destinated unto the Cloister, and so hard a matter it is to take from a vessel the taste of the first liquor that was put into it, that she could not blot out of her mind the first impressions that were put therein, yet she sees herself betwixt the anvil and the hammer: all the letters that her mother writes her, are so many exhortations to dispose herself to receive the veil. Mean time the Abbess reads her a lesson of the felicity of marriage, and pleasures of the world, representing to her the contentment she shall have with her brother, a proper complete gentleman, who would honour & love her infinitely: alas what could this young mind have done, tossed betwixt such different blasts?  
This Abbess made her write letters conformable unto her will, whereby she gave her mother Priscilla to understand, that she felt herself no way inclining to a Cloisteral life, and that she would not take upon her a yoke which she thought herself not able to bear with honour and perseverance: That a particular vocation was requisite thereunto, which she felt not in herself, and that she had rather not vow, than afterwards not to keep promise. These letters, which the Abbess had dictated, she accompanied with letters of her own, counselling Priscilla to take her daughter into the world again, because she was no way fit for any Order whatsoever, but it were better for her to enter into the state of marriage. That the life could not be embraced by all persons, and none must be constrained thereunto against their will; and many other fine reasons, as fair in show as in effect far from truth. Mean while the time of taking the Novices Veil approaches, Priscilla requires her daughters final resolution; the Abbess answers for her, or if she answers for herself, it is by the organ or direction of the Abbess.  
In fine one day Marcionille far from affection to Salve, pressed by her first desire, and imagining with herself, that if she remained in that monastery, the Abbess whose intentions she frustrated would never use her well; on the other side foreseeing, that if she returned into her mother's house she should there be ill handled, resolved to write at large to Priscilla, and to discover unto her filially as unto her good mother, the true feeling of her soul, and all the turnings and windings of her mind, entreating that if she loved her rest, she would be pleased to put her to be in some other monastery, disavowing all the letters which the Abbess had made her write, for to attain unto the end which she had plotted, which was to make her marry Salve. By this letter Priscilla discovered that there was contradiction in the city, and knew clearly the art that had been used to win the mind of her daughter, and to lead her into a design far wide from her intention; she confers thereof with Isidorus her subrogated Guardian, who advisedly as a man of affairs made a countermine against that of the Abbess and Salve, to reduce their projects into smoke; but in the end both his counsel and Priscilla's, and also the intentions of the Abbess and Salve shall be turned top-side-turvy. Priscilla goes to fetch her daughter out of the monastery: Isidore advised her to say that she would lead her home to her own house, to settle her in the world by some good match. But as women cannot keep a secret, much less forbear speaking what is forbidden them to say, she could not conceal that they had stifled in her daughter the desire of a single life, but that she could make it revive again, by putting her into another monastery. Hereupon from word to word the Abbess and she began to enter into contestation, and at last Priscilla revealed all the mystery of Salve, and cast it in the teeth of the Abbes, adding thereunto sharp & stinging words, where with my pen will not black this paper. There is now all the cabal discovered, & poor Marcionille in the greatest confusion that can be imagined, seeing herself as it were the butt or mark of the contradiction both of her mothers and the Abbesses tongues; this glowing iron of choler is beaten on her back, her grief may better be imagined than described.  
Salve being without, and hearing of this jangling, was in extreme agonies, seeing his plot discovered, that he despaired of ever being able to upholdit: he bethinks himself, that if the maid once get out of his sister's hands, he shall no more approach her nor conquer her mind, much less get the good will of her friends, who would look on him rather as a seducer than a lover, and for his part he had nothing but his sword, and Priscilla nor Isidore are not persons that will give the one her daughter, the other his pupil, to a younger brother, whose part amounts unto nothing but hope, he finds means to speak with his sister, and persuades her to retain Marcionille by fair means or by force. The Abbess believed his counsel, and how loud soever Priscilla gaped, yet she was fain for that time to go back without her daughter. Presently she complained to the justice, and presents her petition, showing the violence which is done her. The Abbess answers, That contrariwise she seeks but to hinder violence, that the will of this gentlewoman be not forced, who hath no will to be a Nun, but only to please her mother, or for fear of being ill used by her: That if she will be so, she is ready to receive her according to the agreement made thereof; in brief, not to make here the draught of a lawsuit, in lieu of tracing an history, this maid caunot be gotten out of this convent but by the authority of justice, who gave order that she should be put neither into the hands of her mother, nor into any other house, but sequestered in the house of Isidore, who was both her kinsman, and subrogated guardian, to the end that with all liberty and freedom she might there declare what manner of life she would choose to lead. Being there bred with much tenderness and suavity among the children of Isidore, there often resorted a young man, son of a great friend of Isidore, who in regard of his father and his own proper merit, was there very welcome: by I know not what encounter of humours, which Philosophers call sympathy, there was wrought such a correspondence between him and Marcionille, that in short time their love was grown to such a point, as nothing could be added to its perfection, but only consummation of the marriage.  
As they went on simply in their proceed, this affection was soon perceived by Priscilla, who laboured to divert Marcionille from it: but it had taken such root in her mind, that all former thoughts of a Cloister were quite banished from thence. Isidore advertised hereof, and glad to oblige his friend by this match, persuades Priscilla that it is both against nature and reason, thus to press some Children to cast themselves into monasteries, thereby to enrich the rest, that she should do far better to hearken unto this marriage, than violently to force the will of her daughter. This mother yielded thereunto, and in few days, notwithstanding the violent passions, subtle devises, and oppositions of Salve, Marcionille came into the possession of Eugenian, in whose arms she now leads a happy and contented life. Her former desires of being veiled, were rather weak motions, than absolute wills, inclinations which the persuasions of others and the weakness of her age had bred, rather than designs framed by a mature and settled judgement. Thus the Abbess saw herself frustrated of a good bit, Salve of a better, the first project of her mother wholly annihilated, which was to make this child a Nun; the first counsel of Isidore was changed, and he who first gave it to veil her, gave it likewise to marry her. Eugenian grew so pleasing to the eldest brother of Marcionille, that he became better contented to have him for his brother in law, than to enjoy the inheritance of his sister. The younger brother seeing his sister out of the Cloister, would not himself enter therein, neither would he take upon him the Order of Ma●ta; saying, My elder brother hath enough to himself withal, I need not strip myself to give him my apparel. There was none but only he that had married the eldest sister, who grieved and murmured a little at this: but he may learn henceforward, not to depend upon another's dish when he desires to dine; so here are many intentions frustrated, there is none but Marcionille whose feet are now out of the snares which were set for her.   

THE HAPPY STAY.  
The Third Relation.  
BAsse or Low-Brittaine, is a corner of the earth which gets fare into the Ocean, and makes almost an Island, the Inhabitants whereof speak a particular language, so strange or if I durst say it, so barbarous, that it is understood but only by those, who are borne there, it having nothing common with that which is spoken in France, the manners follow the language, & are there so rude & savage, that if the low Britain's travel not forth of their own native soil, they resemble a people of another world, a Gentleman of that Country named Rogat, whom Fortune had favoured with a good estate, loath to see his Son spend his youth in his own Chimney corner, sent him to be polished at Paris the spring of all virtue, and Mother of all gentleness; for this little world is not only the centre of the State, where all the lives of the whole circumference do meet, but moreover the language is there most pure, the Court is there in its lustre, and there are the Acadamies where young Nobility is taught, and trained up in exercises befitting their state, and quality, they are no whit behind these of Italy, if they surpass them not, Maximian being sent thither, with a pretty wit and well shaped body, soon stripped of his old skin, and put on a French aspect, with gesture so pleasing, that one could never have imagined him to be borne under so harsh a climate as that of low or Basse Armorica.  
Whilst he grows complete in those exercises which fit and prepare young Gentlemen to the trade of Mars, Venus who accords well with the God of war would needs possess a part of his mind; but it was not that adulterous Venus surprised by Vulcan & made a fable among the Gods, it was a Venus wholly honest and chaste breathing nought but honour, and tending to no other end but Hymen; the eyes of Hermile were the lights which guided him safely into the port out of that tempestuous sea of love wherein so many perish; his consideration was no less stayed by her virtue, than his senses charmed by her beauty, her birth and faculties were but mean, she was daughter to a Merchant whose greatest riches was his honesty, nevertheless he contented himself in his low estate without raising his ambition higher than his traffic, he affected nothing so much as the fear of God and a good reputation in the world, he taught nothing else unto his children, but to take heed of offending, assuring them that they should never want so long as they were firm in this Maxim; this verity, and this blessing of God upon the head of the Just, shall appear in this following discourse: The beginning whereof is the love which Maximian beareth to Hermile; it is said that the differences of apparitions between good Angels and bad, are known by this, that the good give a terror in appearing and leave a comfort or consolation in the vanishing, the bad do the contrary, and transforming themselves from darkness into light, have a sweet arrival, but their end is bitter as wormwood; the good propose nothing but what is virtuous, and tending to salvation, the bad do but invite to unlawful passions which darw unto eternal ruin; there is the distinction betwixt the Hiblean and the Heraclian honey, that the first is good and wholesome being gathered upon Thyme a bitter herb, it is a little unpleasing in taste, but good for the stomach, whereas the second being gathered upon the sweet but venomous herb aconitum, hath increase of sweetness which is mortal, for it provoketh swimmings in the head, & strange convulsions, and in fine death if it be not speedily vomited up; even so it is with good and evil love, the first free and plain, but the pure hath I know not what in it rough and simple, but it troubles not the soul nor overturnes not the Oeconomie of its health, which consisteth in the right use of reason and of all its faculties, whereas bad love is sugared full of acquaint wantonesses, fair smooth speeches sweet but dangerous mortal unto reputation, pernicious unto salvation, and quite contrary to reason, which she puts out of order, to establish in its place the tyranny of an unruly passion.  
Now as it is the end which giveth the beginning unto a thing, the means being justified by the intention, I generally call that bad and unjust love, which hath not marriage for its end, and which by wanton woo, letters, presents, and other such arts, tends unto the entire ruin of honesty. I call that love good which is lawful and honourable, and hath the eyes of a Dove, yea of a Dove washed in the milk of purity, whose teeth are of Ivory, the symbol of its integrity, whose lips are bound with a red ribbon in sign of pudicity and modesty of speech, whose cheeks are like the opening of a pomegranate, it witness of modest shame, whose feet are seated upon bases of gold for a foundation of cleanness; In brief, whose thoughts, words, countenance, actions and intentions, are all pure, upright, and sincere, all clean and honest. It there were ever any of this sort, we may be sure that the love of Maximian to Hermile had all these qualities. At the beginning of their frequentation the father of Hermile was troubled in mind, & Hermile herself had a good share in that trouble, because that considering the extreme disproportion which was between the quality of the one and the other of the parties, they could not imagine in what manner heaven could tie them together. But nothing is impossible to him that hath made heaven and earth, and hath set such a tie amongst the elements, whose qualities are not only different, but contrary each to other, depending them on divine providence, who hath wrought greater miracles. After a thousand protestations of purity, of intention and honest pretention. Hermile was permitted by her father to hearken unto Maximian, and not to reject after a froward manner the vows of his love and service. Under the aspect of this star of fatherly permission she embarked herself in this affection with so much staidness, and discretion, that she proved the Proverb a liar, which saith that Wisdom and Love never go together. The eyes of her mother were always spectators of her carriage, although her ears could not always understand the words wherewith Maximian entertained her: which although full of modesty, might have lost their point, if they had had less liberty: in conclusion, their love went on so far, that nothing wanted but marriage to put it in its apogeon: but forasmuch as the public laws forbidden children to contract it without the consent of their parents, the consent of Rogat was absolutely necessary, that of Hermiles father being sure enough. Maximian, in whom love and desire bred great unquietness and impatience, writ unto his father, that being engaged in an affection which he could not cast off but with his life, he humbly entreated him to give thereto his consent and blessing, whereby he might make him the happiest gentleman in all Britain. Rogat, who went not so fast on in a matter which cannot be too much thought upon, having inquired of the qualities and condition of the maid, I mean of those which the world chiefly regards in marriages, to wit blood, which is the riches of birth, and wealth, which is the blood of life, and having learned how extreme the inequality was between his son and this party, like a prudent man as he was, he would not wholly cut off his son's hopes thereof, for fear of raising his spirits to drive him unto some great extremity: but he imitated Physicians, who turn back a rheum which by their remedies they cannot wholly dry up, he cunningly takes time to think upon it, and in that time seems desirous to see his son, to confer with him viva unce on this matter. Lovers easily believe what they desire; for what do they not hope that love? This deceitful language seemed unto Maximian to be a kind of consent, and he concludeth with himself so dexterously to husband the mind of Rogat, that he will work him to condescend unto his desires. The father sends him word, that for his own part he is now in an age which dispenseth him from great voyages, but that Paris is not too far a journey from Britain for a young Academic. Love of the Country, desire to see it, and paternal invitation, sets on the back of Maximian such wings as are attributed to the god of Love: he promiseth an inviolable loyalty to Hermile, in presence of her father and mother, and takes leave of her, but only to go and take leave of Rogat, to be wholly hers. He depends thereon as on a thing already done, yet reckoning without his host he may reckon twice. Hermile accompanies his departure with sighs and tears, sweet and chaste witnesses of her affection, exhorting him to constancy, and to take heed that wind and absence bear not away his faith and promise. It 〈…〉 to tell you the vows and protestations which this Britton made of an immutable stability; yet so it is as effects have shown, that he spoke even from the bottom of his heart, and that his speeches were oracles. Being then arrived in Britain he found not in the mind of his father that condescendence which he imagined: Contrariwise he met with reproofs which he expected not, and whereunto his soul was not prepared; he resembled them in war, who thinking to retire among those of their own party, see themselves engaged in the hands of their adversaries; in vain did he allege the beauties and virtues of Hermile. Rogat sees them not so far off, and beside he thought there were beauties and virtues in Britain, as well as in France. Moreover, that which he desired in a match were beauties of silver and virtues of gold, which Hermile wanted. Then did Maximian judge that his mind would never yield, and that those gentle letters which he had written were but only lures to call him back into his country, from the object of his passion, and cause him by absence to forget her, and indeed this was the intent of Rogat. Contrariwise Maximian renews the vows of loyalty in his soul, and also in writing: for not content to write letters unto Hermile by every ordinary messenger, he over and above sent her a promise or contract of marriage, thereby to tie himself unto her with such bonds as he should not be able to break, without losing the quality of a man of faith and of his word. The father keeps him at home, and labours by all means to divert him from his love: but as the son cannot win the Father, much less can the Father alter the will of the Son, the one remains steadfast in the negative; the other destinated in the affirmative. Rogat judgeth that he shall not be able to draw out this nail but with another, and that the way to root this affection out of the heart of Maximian is to marry him, matches are not wanting in his neighbourhood; Daughters are plants which grow but in too great a number, but although they have greater portions, yet have they not in Maximians opinion such graces, neither in body nor soul as Hermile, Hermile alone hath first possessed his affections, and Hermile only and lastly shall possess them even unto the grave: the wind puts out small fires, but great ones augment thereby, absence and contradiction extinguish common slight flames, but strong and excellent ones take vigour by time and opposition. Maximian refused all the matches, which were offered him, being resolved never to marry, or to have her whom he desired.  
Some Physicians say, that there is a certain disease called Exotique, otherwise Melancholy of love, which ought to be dealt withal after the manner of the Hyppocondriacks by condescending in some sort unto the fantasies of these craized brains, Rogat made use of this industry to heal the sick mind of Maximian he found out a young man that could artificially counterfeit all manner of hand writing, than caused he a report to be spread, that he was upon marrying his son Maximian, that all was agreed upon, that the wedding day approached, and made this report fly unto Hermile; and her Father by a suborned passion, and such subtle means with so much likelihood, that it passed in their credence for a truth; then wholly to accomplish this deceit he made the fore said young man dexterously to counterfeit the hand of Maximian, and in his name write letters to the Father and daughter, whereby he excused the breach of his word, and promise upon the constraint used by his Father, who forced him to a match against his will, and inclination; and after many protestations complaints, and exclamations against this violence, witnessing much sorrow for the breach of this band of love, so often knit by oaths: He leaves Hermile at liberty to take her fortune, protesting that being he could not by any means have her for his wife, he would eternally love her as his sister; these letters fell so patly into the hands of Hermile and her Father, whose minds were preocupated with the news of Maximians marriage, that they made no more doubt of this change, which they attributed to the difficulties and oppositions, and with all too inconstancy so natural in men. The Suitors which Hermile had refused, for to keep her word with Maximian, hearing of this rapture renewed their suits amongst the rest an ancient Captain, who had been caught by the eyes with the face of Hermile, shown himself most earnest and above all made her the most advantageous proffers, this wise maid who saw but through the eyes of her Father let him choose for her, & guide the Articles of this Marriage at his pleasure, being resolved to yoke her desires, and never to have any particular inclination seeing she had lost the hope of possesing Maximian; in few days all was agreed upon and concluded and ready to pass on a public betrothing, when as Hermile received by the post of Britain a letter from Maximian, the style whereof was so fare wide from the precedent, that she could not imagine how the self same character could be capable of so different imaginations; true love never goes without suspicion no more then without fear, the last letter wholly conformable to so many former, continues his affection with a constancy which abhorreth nothing more than change, the date is latter then of the other, therefore there must needs lie hereunder some falsity and deceit, which time father of truth may draw forth of Democritus well.  
The betrothing is deferred until they hear again from Maximian but under other pretences, and how earnestly soever Captain Severin pressed the Master, he was still put off with delays; both Father and Daughter writ at large to Maximian, and dispatch away a man expressly, who lets him see his counterfeit letter, he cries out on the falsity, and without any more words, reporting that he intended to ride a hunting, steals from his Father's house, and making no other answer to his letters, taketh post to Paris, where as soon as he ariveth without any other counsel, but what he takes of his anger, he challenges Severin, who meets him at the place appointed, Hermile having notice thereof without any regard either to her sex or condition repairs thither to part them, where a flash of her beauty so much honoured by these two great courages, hinders them from passing further on; so much they feared her indignation more than death, whose affrightful grim face scared them not.  
They return home, each of them leading her under an arm, you would have taken her for a Venus' taming Lions, and fastening them to the Chariot of her triumph, being come to her Father's house, there matters were scanned, Rogats shuffling laid open, and his deceit discovered, and declared, the Captain acknowledges that without open injustice he cannot pretend any thing in Hermile thus tied to Maximian, and Maximian to her by so many promises and vows; mean while Rogat missing his Son, doubts not but that this Iron is fled to its Loadstone, he would fain recall him, but he is not a bird of Lure; he leaves him without means, but the young man places himself with the Governor of Britain, a Prince who can be no other than a Caesar, since he is born of the blood of Great Henry, this Prince entertains him and allows him means, so is he now at Court, and near the object that gives life to his affections, he remained there some years, expecting either the death or consent of his Father: Mean while age grew on Hermile, but her virtues which decayed not by years, made her still more acceptable unto Maximian, at last Rogat fell sick, and Maximian made haste unto him to yield him the devoires of a Son.  
The father feeling his end approach, conjured his son as much as he could, to cast off this affection, and to take a match more fitting and advantageous. But Maximian who made more account of his word than of all the wealth of the world, would never renounce his love. Rogat in despite thereof made his will, and instituted the younger son his heir, in case that Maximian should ever happen to marry Hermile. Hereupon he dies, and Maximian as eldest takes possession of the inheritance: the younger brother makes protestations conformable to the will, which being examined by the judges was declared void or nullified in that respect, as made in the hatred of a marriage, the soul whereof was freedom, seeing that Rogat thereby would extend his paternal power unto a time wherein he should no more be. Then Maximian being master both of his means and person, went to the Court with a brave train, where at the age of three and thirty years he married Hermile, who was two and twenty. All the world extolled his constancy and loyalty, and he was held for a rare pattern of love and faithfulness. To tell you with how many joys these crosses were recompensed, and what felicities followed this long attendance, would require the lifting up of Hymen's veil, which were not seemly: those unto whom these thoughts are not forbidden, may stay thereon; whilst I shall observe that Hermile hath lost nothing by her staying, since that from a mean condition she sees herself raised to the degree of a Lady, beloved and cherished by a husband who adores her, and in a wealth far above her hopes: but in truth there are not Maximians to be found by dozen, few young men keep their first flames so constantly. Yet on the other side the conservation thereof may be attributed to the honesty of Hermile, who like a Vestal could so carefully keep the fire of true love by purity, that it is no wonder if the success thereof hath been happy, Fortune being at last forced to fall down at the feet of Virtue, whose partakers are ever crowned with honour and glory.   

THE FOOLISH BOAST.  
The fourth Relation.  
OF all vanities, Boasting is the idlest, and discovers most the weakness of mind and debility of brain; it is so ridiculous among judicious persons, that as soon as a man brags, he is taken to be impertinent: but above all, when he decks himself with borrowedfeathers, and things which he hath done, and in fine, of all brags the foolishest is, that which sets upon the reputation of a weak sex, who have no other weapon but tears to oppose the detraction of evil tongues. I am sorry that Berard a Noble man of our Nation, hath fallen into this baseness of spirit (I had almost said unmanliness) which at last caused the loss both of his reputation, and life together: he was naturally fair, and so curious in husbanding by Art what beauty nature had given him, that he equalled therein the care and curiosity of women, he consumed so much time in the mornings in tr●cking and trimming his head, ordering his hair, setting his ruff, and , that ere he were quite polished, the day was half passed: I hold it superfluous to say that this new Paris half man was given to court women, since these abovesaid employments show plain enough; wooing belongs unto Paris. It is thy right trade, said that ancient Poet, speaking of the fair son of Priam, that unlucky and fatal torch or destruction of his father's City and Kingdom: our Berard had so great an inclination to this passion, that he seemed to be a S, whose sun was beauty; for wheresoever he met with any ray thereof, he burned after such a manner, that what Poets fabulously write of Clitie, was in him a true History: this so general an inclination, made him unconstant, and in this case he could not keep from change, one might as soon have fixed quicksilver, as stayed his vows long upon one object; his heart was like a lookingglass, which presently receives the image of what is represented before it, and as soon loses it.  
The first that for a time stayed his pretensions, was Stratonice, a Gentlewoman much esteemed for her beauty, in one of the principal Cities of the ancient Kingdom of Arles, where all happened that I shall speak of in this Relation, she was the common desire of many wooers, but because her means was not correspondent unto her beauty and comely grace which amounted unto a high point, some could have wished her for a Mistress, who would have shunned her for a wi●e, for few will buy a frail pleasure with a long and troublesome necessity: Berard raising his head as fare above his rivals, as doth the Moon in her plenitude above the smallest stars, which the obscurity of night causeth to glimmer in the sky, was likewise looked on with a more particular attention▪ the care which Stratonice had to conquer him, as well to establish her fortunes by marrying him, as for any inclination she had to his person, put so much vanity into the head of our spruce younker, as he imagined that not only Stratonice, but all other Maids looked on him with an eye of desire: after he had prattled away some time with Stratonice, and taken pleasure in scattering and dispersing of his competitors, although in all the time of his access unto her, she never permitted him but only common and well-beseeming favours, which honesty forbids not: this vain man raising his head into the sky, imagined greater ones should be permitted him, he called rigour and disdain what the holy law of Chastity did forbid him to sue for, which law this wise Gentlewoman alleged and used, as a buckler against his pursuits: upon these contestations, he takes snuff, and as his wild affection held but on a small thread, he broke it off easily, and growing cold, left wooing there; yet thus fare is there nothing much : for people should know before they love, and therefore are honest conversations permitted, but to break with violence, or rather to tear and rend what moderation counselleth to unsow, is a thing which cannot be excused without approving of injustice; this man not content to rep●y with contempt the courteous entertainment which he had received of this honest Gentlewoman, betakes himself to scoffing and detraction, knowing that the honour of a Maid is tender as a flower, as soon withered as touched, it resembles a lookingglass which dims even with ones breath: the detractors tongue is a sharp two-edged sword, the venom of the Asp is under his lips, and the world hath this evil quality to take the grossest detractions for undoubted truths, and true praises are taken for flatteries.  
Our unconstant man glorying in the evil which he had not done, boasted of certain private favours which the wisdom of Stratonice, never had so much as a thought to permit him, and although the wisest persons made but a mockingstocke of his vanity, yet the weakest spirits remain doubtful of the honesty of the Gentlewoman: O fair flowers of reputation are you thus exposed unto the hurtful hail of evil tongues? although that this for a while dispersed those that had an inclination of love to Stratonice; yet time father of truth, consumed those mists, and brought back unto light the face of her innocence, and she was served as aforetime, for as tempests purify the sea, so did these storms justify her reputation. Berard whose natural inclination was to love, sailed not long ere he found a new rock, whereon he made shipwreck of his liberty: it was at the feet of Ginnesinde that he yielded himself, and although his fickle and detracting humour made women doubtful of him, yet his quality and means bore such a lustre, that they hide these defects unto those, who hoped to make a fortune by him, and besides it was thought that he might be cured of these imperfections, and that if he could once be fastened with the indissoluble bond of marriage, he would be constrained by the law of Hymen, to be constant, and likewise to be more reserved in speeches, for fear lest others might speak ill of his wife, as he hath spoken ill of others: and indeed it must be granted that Hymen is a sovereign remedy to stay a fickle man, and to stop his mouth, it is time for him then to be wise or never: on this persuasion, and by the like permission of Parents, Gunnesinde no less virtuous than fair, received the proffers of his service, and gained such great advantages on his spirit, that it seemed this chain could never be undone, but who can hold the wind in his hand, or stay a mind wherein lightness is not so much accident as substance? Gunnesinde had neither more merit, nor more charms than Stratonice, and therefore no wonder if she had less power to retain this man under her laws; pride like unto smoke is always mounting, the more this man sees himself made of, the better opinion he takes of himself, and this presumption leading him forth of the bounds of duty, bore him unto such insolences, as a well-bred Maid could not suffer without anger and indignation; presently he enters into a chafe, and as the prick of blood-letting cureth the heat of a Fever, so the heat of this man's love was allayed by the sting of despite; and whereas contrariety sharpeneth the desire in others, this man's was extinct by opposition; proud imperious spirit, who would have all stoop to him, and under the name of servant, would take the authority, not only of a husband, but of a Master and a tyrant. Gunnesinde whose noble blood was accompanied with a great spirit, seeing herself affected among diverse other by one Servulle a young Gentleman, whose humours pleased her well, and who honoured her with submissions, approaching even unto idolatry, could not suffer the haughty humour of Berard who would reign alone and absolutely, as if he should give a law unto her from whom he ought to receive it, often did he complain unto her of the jealousy which Servulles presence bred in his head, and would have her not only to shun him, but to drive him from her, by a kind of affront, whereunto Gunnesinde would never condescend, unwilling so unworthily to reward the manifold respects, and honourable services which she received of this young man. Berard unable to bear this jealousy, and seeking but only some fair pretext to pass from the love of Gunnesinde, unto that of Macrine, whom he had already chosen for the object of his humour, made use of this occasion to break the bands, and forsake Gunnesinde; from a tongue like to his, accustomed to sharpness and gall, nothing could be expected but scoffs or murmurings, true it is, they were but as arrows shot against a rock, for Gunnesinde by a severe manner of proceeding, had established such a foundation unto her reputation, that all Berards' brags were as so many spittings vomited up against heaven, which to his shame, fell back upon his own face, notwithstanding Servulle, who had a fare more sensible feeling of these words darted against her whom so fervently he loved, than she herself had retorted back in so many places such biting replies unto Berard, that had he had but as much care of his credit, as of his hair he▪ would have sought to redress it with an iron.  
Servulle seeing he had to do with a man who either understood him not, or seemed not to understand him, was on the point many times to give him the lie to his teeth, or to challenge him, but he was kept back by Gunnesinde, who strictly forbade him, wisely knowing that calumnies despised, vanish away, whereas vexing at them, seems to acknowledge them▪ now is our Berard in the third quarter of the wain of his liberty, which if he easily lose, he gets again with as much facility, Macrine grown wise at the others cost, often twits him with his former fickleness, thereby to keep him from stumbling at the same stone, and the more she wils him to return back to his former suits, the stronger he fastens his affection on her. This Maid was under the power of a brother, who watched her like a Dragon, and would willingly have seen her settled on Berard, because in effect the match was very advantageous, but to have her exposed to the tattling of tongues, was a thing he feared like death: this brother's name was Accurse, a man very valiant of his hands, but hot brained, he had had many quarrels, and had issued out of them advantageously; his sword was to be feared; Berard before this had been a Paris before Achilles, it may be heaven reserved him to prevent the brags and detractions of Berard, who at first stood in more awe of the sister's eye, then of the brother's hands, but in the end the chance will turn, & the sword of Accurse shall be more hurtful to him, than the looks of Macryne. To take away the blackness of a Moor, and the spots of a Leopard's skin, are two things noted for impossible, to take from an evil tongue and unconstant man his evil custom, is in my opinion the like: it seemed unto Berard, that having to deal with a Maid who was not under the subjection of a father nor mother, he should have more freedom and power: but he found his insolency abated as well by the honesty of Macrine, who was not of an humour fit to endure fooleries, as by the severity of Accurse, who loved honour more than life: to speak of marriage to an unconstant man, is as much as to threaten a vagabond with imprisonment: Accurse one day said roundly and dryly to Berard, that if he intended to marry his sister, he should make haste and end it, if not, he might go elsewhere to divert his fantasy. These raw words were of a hard digestion to so weak a mind as Berards', that made him presently change countenance, for there is nothing so stings a proud heart, as a repulse; the roughness of the brother, made the conversation of the sister less sweet unto him.  
Macrine, who made the will of her brother to be a law unto herself, being commanded by Accurse to let this man know that she would not be made the fable of the world, nor become the subject of detraction, she prayed him if he loved her, it might be with the honour and respect due unto one of her birth, otherwise that he should seek elsewhere subjects whereon to exercise his vanities and tyrannies. Here is now our beauteous Medor stung to the quick, and gins to whet his tongue like a Serpent, to transpierce therewith the reputation of this honest Gentlewoman, but he shall fall into the pit that he is going to dig, and shall be caught in the snare which he sets: all that he had formerly said of Stratonice and Gunnesinde, were but flowers in comparison of the thorns wherewith he means to prick and tear the reputation of Macrine, he boasts of things that never were, and which ruin entirely the honour of this Maid: a poor and foolish revenge for a man, yet what else can be expected from an effeminate man. Accurse let's not these discourses fall to the ground, but resolves to punish him memorably for them, and to strike diverse strokes with one stone; he talks with the suitors of Stratonice and Gunnesinde, Servulle and Eufrace, and having disposed them to revenge with him the outrages they had received by the detraction of Berard toward the persons of their Mistresses, they plot together to send him a challenge, and to invite him to take two seconds, that all those three might be seen at one and the self same time with their swords in hand, for one and the self same quarrel: Accurse made the challenge, whereunto Berard would fain have answered otherwise then with the sword (for commonly those dogs that bark most, bite not best) but seeing himself defamed if he accepted not this proffer, he resolves thereunto, and drawing strength from his weakness, shown more courage at his end then was expected from him: he chose for seconds two stout fellows, or at least such as were reported so to be, but it fares with Lovers as with Gamesters, whom chance (some time) more than play, makes to win. Being all six met, Servulle in three bouts laid his man on the ground, than came to help Eufrace to disarm his, there remained none but Berard, who was very ill led by Accurse, and seeing three men upon his hands, what could he do being so ill handled by one alone? for he had already received two or three hurts, and bid him yield up his weapons, and retract his slanders of the three honest Gentlewomen; this he might have done without prejudice to his honour, since he had done all that a man can do for his defence, but whether he held himself for dead by the wounds which he had already received, he would never yield up his sword, much less retract his words, but falling desperately on Accurse, he gave him a great thrust in the arm, and was ready to have stabbed him, when as the other two strooke him in diverse places, and made him let go his hold, they forced his weapon out of his hands, and might have killed him if they would, yet they had rather have him retract, than end, but his obstinacy was such, that he would never ask of them his life, nor revoke any of his words; they thus left him in that place, spewing out his soul with his blood. In this story you may behold the just punishment of detraction.   

THE TREACHEROUS BROTHER IN LAW.  
The fifth Relation.  
WHereunto dost thou not bear the heart of men, thou accursed thirst of gold, cries out one of the Ancients? O metal, worse than iron, thou breedest war in all places, by reason of thee there is no safety in the world; the son in law undertakes against the father in law, and the brothers are at division. I will show you in this relation of the treacherous brother in law, that there are men whose alliance or friendship is like unto that of the Ivy, which fastens upon a wall, but to eat and ruin it. A Gentleman of Aquitai●e, whom for his cruelty we call Tigris, having a company of men in one of the old Regiments which France always maintains, be it peaceor wa●re, and being in garrison in one of the Cities of the Lyonnise Gaul, betook himself unto the employment of idle persons, which is wooing. This younger brother a child of fortune, had no other revenue but his place whereunto he had attained as well by the favour of his friends, as by his valour: this was a hazardous estate, and weakly established, for besides the hazard of arms which makes those that follow the trade thereof to be reckoned among accidental things. He had no certain place of abiding, living after the manner of the old Nomads, sometimes here, sometimes there, and to be every where, was no where; he cast his eye on a Gentlewoman, who with one only brother lived yet under the government of her mother, a very virtuous Lady, who lived in a Country house she had near neighbouring unto the town where this Captain lay in a Garrison, he used such means that he introduced himself into this Castle, and by means of hunting, wherein he was exceeding perfect, grew to such inward familiarity with Nilamon, brother unto fair Crispin, that this young Gentleman could not be without him: they daily made new matches, wherein Tigris was still so fortunate, and taught so many secrets of this fervent exercise unto Nilamon, that he made he made him one of the expertest Huntsmen of all the Country. Crispin also by little and little, grows to affect the sport both of Hawks & Hounds, and learns so well to shoot with a Piece, that those who beheld her, admired to see so much dexterity in her sex: these beginnings were happy unto the designs of Tigris, who by this bait perfectly gained these two hearts, but it is nothing if he conquer not the mind of old Eutrope their mother, unto whom these two children are dearer than her eyes. Nilamon, who on the one side desired nothing more than to see his sister well married, and on the other side is so taken with the conversation of Tigris, that he desired nothing more than to have him for his brother in law, he is a comely proper gentleman, can use his sword well, hath a good charge, is well known in Court, and well willed by great Ones, a man of courage and fortune, though as a younger brother he have no land, yet it may be that marriage bringing him to good husbandry, he may gather wherewithal to purchase in the province where he shall take a wife.  
These are the reasons which invite Nilamon to this match for Crispin, whose will is none other but the will of her friends, yet if her inclinations were weighed they would go down on Tigris side, because he was a master in the wood, Diana's exercises, whereunto she is affected: the mother only dislikes this match, or it may be seems to withstand it, to have occasion thereby to be entreated, holding therein the nature of women, who will have their authority and power to be courted, when their beauty and age puts their persons out of season to be wooed. But Tigris over and above his ordinary submissions, set so strong an engine on work that in the end he got the place which he had so long besieged; it was by the mediation of his master De Camp, a Nobleman of note, and the King's Lieutenant in a neighbouring province. Under this great man's word the Net was cast, the Fish taken, and Crispin came into the possession of Tigris by the gate of marriage, in lieu of portion money he took a piece of Nilamons' inheritance, so that he is now become both his neighbour and brother in law, but even as the sick of the dropsy augment their thirst in drinking, he not content with his part, cast his eye, but an eye of conquest and rapine on the rest of the estate of Nilamon, who had brave land, and very lordly; and because he could not get them by any lawful means, began to think on unlawful ones: the children which made him a father, and which Crispin brought him almost every year, put into his head the evil design which he conceives in pain, nourishes in deceit, and brings forth in iniquity. Unhappy man, who knows not that bloody and deceitful men are threatened with short life and eternal ruin, and that their seed shall perish.?  
He is in E●tropes castle as in his own house, his children are there brought up, his wife there kept, he there as a son in law, or second son, in fine, he is what he will, and yet not at ease, if he be not all and have all: but those that think iniquity shall be confounded, he knows, that seeking to make away Nilamon by poison, or by sword openly, were the way to lose himself, and to trouble his own feast. As the just man walks by strait ways, the unjust walks by those that are crooked: So is the Son unto that subtle Serpent who was a cruel murderer from the beginning of the world; and every one seethe how that Animal still goes byasing, and advanceth forward but by cranklings and windings in and out. Tigris treads these paths, seeking means indirectly to make away Nilamon, he knows that a neighbour thereby, a gentleman of no less quality than his brother in law, goes a wooing, and he counsels Nilamon to encroach upon his bargain, that is, to be a suitor to the same party, a thing that cannot be suffered by a lover, or a man that hath never so little courage. It was but only to expose his brother in law to the hazard of a duel, to gain his inheritance if he were slain, or the confiscation, if by killing he were constrained to fly. It happened as he had projected, Maxim challenges Nilamon, taking it ill that he should come to interrupt him in his suit. But the fortune of arms was  to Nilamon, and Maxim was slain in the field. Nilamon is forced to fly to Italy, into a voluntary exile: for to avoid the rigour of Edicts lately renewed against Duels.  
The friends of dead Maxim● prosecuted the matter so hard, that they obtain a decree of death against Nilamon, and cause him to be executed in effigy, [that is, if an offendor whose fault deserves hanging escape, yet is he by the custom of France adjudged to the gallows, and his picture hanged thereon, a sign that whensoever he is taken, he shall be trussed up in person] Tigris according to his desire obtains the confiscation of his brother in law's estate: but in fine time having mollified minds, and slackened much of the rigour of the edict, Nilamon makes such means that he obtains his pardon: but to re-enter into his estate, he was fain to let go another good piece thereof to Tigris: who seeing that this artificial plot succeeded some what to his mind, meditates on another, and how to set a snare for Nilamon, who thinking by a good match to repair the breach those broils had made in his affairs, intends to be a suitor, where Tigris seeming to assist him uses means that he hinders the concluding thereof. He represents the affairs of Nilamon to be in far worse case than they are; To be brief, he useth the matter so, that all Nilamons' endeavours to marry, are as so many mines without effect, for Tigris feared no stroke so much as this, knowing full well that all the children which Nilamon should have by a lawful marriage, would be so many heirs to frustrate his pretensions.  
During this troublesome business of Maxims death and Nilamons' long absence, he had made some debts▪ and amongst his most pressing and importunate Creditors, he that tormented him most was one Appolinaire a gentleman of that province, whose purse by report was better than his sword, and could use counters better than weapons. This man sets a seizure on Nilamons' lands, to be paid oft what was due unto him. This put Nilamon into an extreme passion of anger; the Nobility and Gentry of the country are so accustomed to right themselves by the sword, that they cannot suffer the formalities of the pen. Nilamon presently challengeth Appolinaire, Tigris blows to kindle this fire, it is all he seeks, to see his brother in law at hazard to lose his life. Appollinaire being challenged, answers that he will be paid before he fight, and that it is the part of a Ninney to hazard the loss of his life and money both at one time, and that he will not convert a suit or cause civil into a criminal, nor repair with his blood the pleasure he hath done to Nilamon in lending him money in his necessity, that is an ungrateful acknowledgement of a courtesy, to send a challenge in lieu of a payment. Nilamon in a greater fume than he was before, vows to kill him wheresoever he finds him. Tigris by his persuasions increaseth this will in him, and promises faithfully to guard and assist him in this enterprise. Mean time he underhand advertises Appollinaire to go always well accompanied, and in fine desiring but the death of his brother in law, he plots with Appollinaire as it is thought to lead him to the slaughter. They go a hunting, and as Nilamon and Tigris were together, they were told, that Appolinaire was passing a pretty way off them thence: he had eight or ten horsemen with him. Nilamon, in whom anger boiled, goes like a mad man to set upon him, having none with him but Tigris and one servant who accompanied him on hunting. Tigris swears and assures that they three are able to hack these rascals in pieces. Nilamon falls on, thinking to be seconded, but Tigris playing at false company saved the mould of his doublet, and left his brother engaged in a fray, which being rashly entered, he was in a moment so pierced through with bullets and swords, that he died presently. Now is Tigris at the end of his pretensions, who by the right of his wife enters into the full possession of Nilamons' inheritance, the good woman Eutrope being dead before this accident happened. But God▪ who never leaves a wickedness unpunished, and who rewards in their season the secret of hearts and things hidden in dark esse brought to light, and to the confusion of Tigris all that he had plotted against Nilamon: for this man being now grown insolent by reason the sails of his desires were swelled with the wind of good fortune, began to use his wife ill, not considering that all the wealth wherein he gloried proceeded from her, and that although he were now a Lord, but for her he should be but a simple Captain. And as arrogance is never without impudence, he had been so unwise as to declare unto his wife the stratagems whereof he had made use to cause Nilamon to perish in the snares he had set for him. This woman provoked by the i'll usage of her husband, could not hold her tongue, but one day being overcome with grief, she upbraided him with all his treacheries, laying them evidently open. And as a mischance never goes alone, it happened that one of those who had assisted Appolinaire in the murder of Nilamon, being taken for another crime, before his execution confessed likewise this, which he did declare to have been done by a plot between Tigris and Appolinaire. The words of Crispin and of this man joined to the conscience of Tigris, which was to him as a thousand witnesses, cast such a terror into his soul, that like another Cain he went his way wand'ring through the world, imagining that the blood of his brother in law cried still to heaven for vengeance against him. His place was given to another, and he thus voluntarily banishing himself from the sweet air of France, and the conversation of his wife and children, fled into Germany, where at wars he died, in an encounter, this was the miserable success of his wretched designs; and how God would not permit him to enjoy that wealth, which to purchase had made him violate the laws both divine, and humane, and profane, the most Sacred bonds that are in nature; he that by just labours, and lawful industries, gathers up any thing shall see his goods prosper like a tree planted near the current of waters, which brings forth fruit in its season, but it shall not be so with him, that wrongfully heaps up riches; for he shallbe set like dust in the face of the wind, and all that he hath gathered shall be scattered and consumed, this proverb proving ever true, that ill gotten goods go away in the same manner.   

THE FORTUNATE Misfortune.  
The sixth Relation.  
MArcel, a gentleman of Touraine coming from Saumur was returning to his house, not fare distant from the River of Indre, it was in the long days of Summer, when the greatest heats make the shades to be more affected, his man who carried his male, and his two footmen being more thirsty than their Master, were stayed at a Tavern to drink, and refresh themselves, mean while Marcel went on dreaming, and arrived alone at the River side, and as he stayed there for his men to pass over with him, there came a young man reasonable well clothed, with a comely face, who proffers to take the bridle off his horse; this fair presence stroke into his eyes, and takeing pity on his youth's fortune who had as good a countenane as ever he beheld, questioned with him what he was? the young man with a voice able to enchant the Rocks; said, Sir I am an Orphan having neither Father nor Mother, and of the Country of Boulonnis, forsaken by all there, am going to Chasteleraud to find out an Uncle of mine, Brother to my Mother, and see if he will take pity on me, or find me out some place, where by serving I my get my living; youth said Marcel it is easy to be seen, that you have not been brought up to serve, at least wise in painful offices, it is true said he if it had pleased God to have spared me my Father, who was an honest Merchant, I should not be reduced to this misery, but Merchants are not known till they die, his shop was fair and his credit great, but as soon as he died all failed, and his debts were found to be fare greater than all that he had, so that being destitute of any means, I must make a virtue of necessity, and seek to eat my bread by the sweat of my brow, Marcels heart was mollified at this youth's disaster, and resolved to retain him in his service, imagining that he had on his forehead a certain ray of freeness and fidelity, weary with staying for his men, he goes into the boat with this youth who named himself Geronce, he had a little Satchel on his back, long Flaxen hair waving on his shoulders, a Suit reasonable good, but a ravishing grace, he held the Horse raines after such a manner as it was easy to be seen, his only courage upheld his weakness, Marcels Castle was from thence some two little leagues, wherein Geronce found himself but a bad footman, yet on the way he entertained his new Master with such good discourses, that the time seemed not long.  
Being arrived home, and saluting his wife, he said unto her, Madam, I bring you a new guest, whose good countenance serves for letters of credence. I have destinated him to wait on our son, (this was a child of some nine or ten years of age) I believe he will keep him neat and clean, and if this little boy take after him, he shall neither want comeliness nor good behaviour: this Lady looking on Geronce, found him to be perfectly acceptable, and praised her husband's judgement for applying him so worthily as to wait on their son: Sulpice (for that was the child's name) was in a short time so taken with the conversation of Geronce, & Geronce be took himself with so much care & diligence to tend & serve him, that father, Mother, and Son were equally satisfied therewith: all the Bees run to the hony-comb; Geronce was one, and both Master, Mistress, and Servants, strove who should love him most; there was nothing so modest, so gentle, nor so beautiful as this young man's qualities, which charm the savagest spirits.  
But alas, beauty that acceptable gift of heaven, is a dangerous thing, this pleasing illusion of the sense, this snare of the soul, this short tyranny extendeth his power even over the heart of Fursee, for so will we call the wife of Marcel. Good God, with what convulsions was it tormented, this poor thing tossed between love and honour, at one and the self same time, the one of them striking it with cold fear, and the other with burning desire: do you not pity the violence of this fever? what endeavours did she not use for the combat, the safety of this illusion? but they were vain, for she had rooted this poison so deep into her heart, that she was forced to yield: how unequal is the wra●●ling between reason and passion in a weak spirit, and what steadfastness soever is imagined to be in the weaker sex, it is but of glass, and breaks at the first stroke. I will not stand to describe by particulars the confusions, the troubles, the shames, and the contradictions of this troubled mind, nor to represent by what means she made Geronce know, that which she had so often tried to stifle by silence; the brevity which I prescribed to myself in these relations, permits me not to extend myself unto these particularities, I will only say that which I cannot omit, without blotting out the principal features of this picture; to wit, that having need of a confident person to guide this business unto the end she desired, she made choice of one of her maids named Leobard, and having with such shamefacedness as cannot well be represented, made known to her with what disease she was infected, and how she was forced to seek remedy from the Serpent that had bit her; she happened so unluckily, that even as the Bird who maketh the Lime which fowlers use afterwards to catch him withal: for this Maid was struck with the same dart; then may you imagine, if to trust her rival with her secret, were not in a manner as to thrust a knife into her own bosom. Leobarde to wove her treason with more facility, promiseth all manner of assistance unto Fursee, although her thought were quite contrary to what her mouth uttered, and thinking to have found out a means so to oblige Geronce, that he should no longer continue the disdain wherewith he had hitherto repaid her love, she declared unto him the passion and affection of Fursee towards him. Geronce who had diverse times shown unto Leobarde, that those discourses were horrid unto him, rejected this also. Leobarde seeing then that she could not obtain credence in his mind, counselled her Mistress to speak herself if she would be understood, this froward youth having no ears for her persuasions; what grief felt Fursee to see that she had in vain declared herself unto this Maid, whose answer was a sad presage of the small hopes she might have to bend Geronce to her desire; what new pains took she to pull this thorn out of her soul; but at the first sight of this fair object, all these endeavours vanish into smoke, and new fires took possession of her heart: It is not without re●son, that those who writ of the cure of maladies of the mind, say that not to avoid the occasions, is to be still in the disease; for so he that is not in the City, is in the suburbs; and to present a person that loves with the object that sets him on fire, is as to approach the fl●me unto a smoking Torch; this youth was one of Fursees domesticals; alas, how could she have healed up a wound that opened again, as often times as she opened her eyes: there is nothing so much inflames the hurts of the body, as to apply honey thereunto, nor those that any affectionate passion makes in the heart, as honeyed words O you Lovers, fly both the sight and speech of your beloved, if you will recover your former health! ah Fursees what do you, the rankling of your wounds will increase by the remedies which you apply: she talks to Geronce, and with troubles and stuttering like unto those of a guilty person before a judge, she labours to make him susceptible of her torment. Leobard had brought them together, and to give her Mistress scope, retired herself into another chamber, which almost amazed fair Geronce, to see himself alone without any witness, by a woman which uttered unto him such language as he could not hear without extreme perplexity, the different changes of his colour sufficiently witnessed by his face, the alterations of his mind, his eyes bending to the ground, his silence and his  countenance gave unto Fursee an answer which was not favourable. Her presents were spread, her promises large, her entreaties unseemly, her sighs vehement, her tears in abundance, but these winds, and these waters, were as storms against a rock; Geronce appeared insensible, like the statue Pygmalion fell in love withal; the heat of love pierced by a bloody contempt, commonly turns into a furious wrath. Fursee was upon the point of this change, when Geronce to conjure his tempest, and cut out the root of this disease at its first breeding, resolves to unmask the counterfeit, and cause pity of himself, in her who craved it of him. Madame, said he, unbuttoning his doublet, behold these Breasts, and ask no answer, except you will see me dye at your feet with shame: men are not better known by the Beard, than women by their Breasts: this sight left no manner of doubt in the soul of Fursee, but that Geronce was a woman, and as it is said that thunder falling upon a Serpent, in lieu of taking away life, doth but take away his venom, so this sudden clap rooting out of this woman's heart all the poison of her bad desires, took not away her love to Geronce, but left it there with pity, and this pity bred a desire to know the fortune of this man Maid, that she might seek to yield her some assistance in her disaster, and with this intent said; seeing heaven hath made me fortunate by this knowledge, and changed the rock whereon I would have made shipwreck into a Haven of safety for mine honour, I do promise you for your freeness towards me, to conceal your sex as long as you please; and if you desire any help, you may as freely discover the cause of your being in this state, assuring you that you shall find in me all the assistance which you can expect from a woman desirous of the preservation both of your honour and your person.  
Madame, replied Geronce, mischiefs are so contagious, that the very recital of them doth ever breed some alteration, even in the calmest spirits: Let me therefore groan under the burden of my misfortunes, and suffer not your felicity to be troubled by the hearing of them, rest contented to take pity on a poor Maid, who puts her honour and her life into your protection: this evasion did but whet in Fursee that curiosity so natural in women, and gave her occasion to reply thus, as Physicians heal no diseases, but those they know, so likewise cannot I assist you in your misfortunes, if you discover not unto me the cause thereof, to the end that knowing who you are, and in what manner you came to be in this disguise, I may behave myself towards you, as I ought, and since there is a remedy for all things but death, strive to re-establish yourself in the degree from whence it seems fortune hath made you fall, for you have a ray of Nobility on your brow sh●nes through the clouds of your present condition, and makes it appear even to the weakest understanding, that you have not been bred after a common manner: Madam replied Geronce, my woes are past recovery, since they proceed from a death, and therefore being my miseries ought to be put among incurable maladies, let me entreat you to cast away that needless care which you take to cure me, and let me pass away under your protection my small remainder of life, as well I feel that sorrow and grie●e for my fault do undermine it by degrees, and will not let me long survive him, without whom the fairest days are to me as darkest, and like a lingering death, in saying this, Geronce let fall from his eyes, tears resembling those drops of rain which the ardent heat of the Sun doth squeeze out in the fairest days of summer; but so fare was Fursees curious desire from being quenched, that this water resembled that which Smiths put on their cinders, whereby the fire is increased, and not put out, therefore extraordinarily pressing Geronce to disclose unto her his adventures, he was constrained to content her, but not without extreme striving, and having dried up his eyes, and obtained a truce from his sighs, began in this manner. I am of Austrasi●, daughter to a Gentleman, one of those who are called of the ancient knighthood, his name is Gaudence, he hath diverse children, and I am the second of his daughters, and the cause of this dishonour and trouble of his house; Baptism named me Saturnine, which was the name of my mother, who died when I was but six years of age: it must be granted that daughters lose all when they lose their mothers; in such tender years they are ships without North-star, Rudder, or anchor, and what diligence soever widowed fathers use to find out good governants, they never find a●● whose eyes be so vigilant over their daughters as their mothers, and beside, their power is so weak that the contempt of their commands is the gate of liberty, through which at last maids go astray. My sisters and I shaken off the yoke of ours, to follow the desires of our own hearts, and walk after our own giddy humours: Love assailed us and took us, yet there was none but I surprised, after the manner that you shall understand.  
My eldest sister loved a young gentleman whom she wedded not, but to obey the will of our father she wedded an old gentleman whom she never affected: she made me such strange complaints of being tied to a man whom she loved not, that it seemed she endured the torment which that tyrant inflicted, who fastened dead bodies to the living, till they died in this cruel languishing manner. I mistake, for she described unto me her torment to be equal unto that which is suffered in hell. And indeed such may one call a marriage wherein the parties do neither agree in the wills of the heart, nor the delights of the body, this misery which I considered in her, made me resolve to avoid the like, how dear soever it cost me. But alas, to shun one gulf I cast myself into another, and I may say, if my sister's marriage were a hell, the ●uries carried the torches at mine, and conducted me to a disaster worse than hell.  
Volusian a young Gentleman, but a younger brother of our neighbourhood, had my first, and shall have my last affection: we lived some years in so perfect a correspondency, that if my father would have matched us together, the Elysian fields could never have equalled our felicity. But that unlucky temporal respect that cutthroat of so many pure affections, was the hangman unto ours. For because this young man was not rich enough, my father would never yield his consent unto our union: but I fearing a lot like unto my sisters, would needs spin my destinies with my own hands, and so have I fashioned the cord which hath dragged me to the misfortune wherein I am. Volusian ever behaved himself towards me with an incomparable modesty, so that it was not so much by his solicitation, as by my own proper inclination, that we made reciprocal promises of marriage, accompanied with so many solemn oaths, and such horrible execrations against the party that should violate the same, that if I had had but the least thought of breaking, I should not have believed heaven sufficiently furnished with thunders to strike me according to desert. We must confess that oaths, writings, promises, frequentation, liberty, and facility, are strange baits to lead blinded youth to its ruin, to lay coals to the fire with a will not to have them kindle, is to desire impossibility, the body being but the accessary of the heart, and in marriage the sensible union being but a sollower of the will, you may imagine if I easily yielded unto the desires of him who possessed all mine, and if I could think myself to be lost by casting myself into my beloved's arms. We then consummated our Clandestine marriage, and resolved whensoever I should find myself loaden with the fruits of Lucina, to take flight with my husband, rather than to undergo the thunder of Gaudences anger. This happened not, but a more terrible tempest overtook us, which brought me to the wrack wherein you see me. Minard a Gentleman of Austria, who had been in marriage but three years, and was not above thirty five years of age, found I know not what in my face that liked him. He was a match so advantageous, that to see me, to desire me, to ask me of Gaudence, and obtain me, were all such sudden blows, that I had neither time to foresee them, nor to shield myself from them. My father without consulting my will, told me he had given me to Minard, and that I must dispose myself to receive him for my husband within few days. If a thunderbolt had fallen at my heels I should not have been more astonished: I made no answer to my father, for what could I have said that would have pleased him, and oppose cold excuses to his resolutions, had been as to make bullets of snow against the Sun beams, I resolved suddenly to make effects speak, and that was all that I could in so pressing a necessity. Gaudence took my silence for a consent.  
Next day my amorous Widower came to see me, and after the compliments of a first interview, he would have offered me his service, under the allowance (said he) of my father. My father (said I) hath not willed me to receive your service, but your commands obliging me to behold you as a Master, this proceeding is to be admired, thus to give away free persons without their own consent. I am borne his daughter, and not his slave: howsoever, I declare unto you that I belong to a greater master, having made a vow to him that hath made heaven & earth, never to be any bodies but his. If it had pleased you to have seen me before you had spoken to my father, I had saved you the labour of ask a thing which you cannot lawfully get, nor possess without sacrilege. Never was any man more amazed than Minard, when by this free declaration he saw his hopes undermined to the very foundation. He feared God, and therefore I could not oppose any thing of more force to stay his desires. For answer I had none other, but that he was sorry to have been troublesome to my designs, yet he believed a dispensation might remedy all this, if I would give ear thereunto. I told him that a dispensation presupposed some reasonable cause, and that I saw no necessity to revoke a vow which I had made without necessity. He sees my father and communicates my answer unto him: who instantly falls into anger, and from thence into injurious words & threats. He had once gotten knowledge of my affection to Volusian, and had interdicted me the commerce thereof, and now presently believes that in despite of that I had made this vow, and (such is the tyranny of paternal authority) he imagined that I could not vow without his consent: he falls to consultation with a Civilian, who gave him to understand, that nothing was more easy then to get a dispensation of his vow, he who was no les desirous to have Minard for his son in law, than Minard to have me for his wife, takes this counsel and dispatches presently to Rome, for this dispensasion which being come, and all the preparations made for our public betroathing, and the articles signed between Minard and my Father, what should I have done? declare my Clandestine marriage consume●ed with Volusian, no, I had not brass enough in my face to undergo so much shame, beside I should have exposed my husband's life to manifest danger; the counsel which we took was to retire disguised from Austria into some part of France, he had formerly borne Arms under a Prince of the house of Austria, who was Governor of Bittaine and died in Huugaria, drowned with many victories, gotten on the Turk, he had made some acquaintance in that Province and though we might live there at shelter, & in case of pursuit that from thence we might sail into Ireland or Scotland, and hide ourselves from the fury of Gaudence in those extremities of Europe, he clothed me in man's apparel as you see, and in this manner we leave Austria, and p●ssing through Champagne and Burgundy. Enter in Burbonnois to get unto the River of Loire there to embark ourselves for to land in Britain.  
But Fortune my capital enemy to end on me the last stroke of his vengeance, permitted that as we crossed a Forest we were set upon by four Thiefs, who had given Volusian two wounds before he could set himself in defence, as soon as he had drawn his sword he ran him through, who had first stroke him, the others to revenge the death of their fellow made an end of him presently, affrighted as I was and dazzled with the glittering of so many swords, I fled into the thick of the wood, where I remained till midnight with dolours of fears, which cannot be expressed at last under the Moon's pale light I began to seek what I feared to meet with; alas, I found Volusian naked (for these thiefs had taken away his very Shirt, and pierced through in so many places, that it is to be thought their rage had extended to give him many thrusts after his death) at his feet lay also their fellow stretched along naked, whose face they had mangled that he might not be known; I was so overcome with sorrow that had it not been for a secret fear of eternal damnation which seized my soul, I had a thousand times struck a knife into my heart, I passed the rest of the night in griefs, which cannot be imagined, and in troubles unconceivable; for me to return to my friends after so gross a fault, was a thing whereunto I could not resolve nor on which side to turn, in an unknown Country I knew not; at last I resolved to give myself over unto divine providence, & to tend towards those in Britain whereof my husband had so much told me; and after I had wet him with tears I fled from this in famous wood for fear of being apprehended as guilty and so to be discovered; having passed the River of Loire, I happened I know not how to be at the river of ●udre, when my Master arrived there to pass, I helped him down from his horse, and afterwards to get up again when we were on the other side he asked me when? I was I made him believe what I would to cover my true disgrace, under a feigned history, he had taken me to serve your son, a place proportinable to my strength, and wherein I intended to expect with patience how God would dispose of me, but you would needs through pity take some part in my pain; I Madam all the pity I humbly entreat you to take thereof, is to keep close that secret which you have commanded me to discover unto you, and to have care of preserving that small remainder of honour in this miserable creature whom excessive, but lawful love of a husband hath borne into the extremities, whereunto you see her reduced; Geronce ended in this manner, the recital of her Fortune falling down on her knees before Fursee, who in compassion mingled her tears with the tears of this disconsolate woman, and kissing and embracing her, promised never to forsake her, and to have the same care of her, as if she were her own daughter after that time: Reason took place in the affection of Fursee; from whence it had been drawn by passion, her actions were better ordered, her flame sweeter, and more moderate, it was not so with Leobardes which augmented daily by the shuning, refusals, and contempts of Geronce, which this foolish Wench attributed unto the pride which she thought he took in the enjoying of his Mistress, and although that Fursee without discovering the secret of Geronce assured her that her love was converted into friendship, and Geronce was the most chaste and most virtuous youth in the world, this Maid heated by another fire, imagined that Fursee held this discourse, but to cover her game whilst she possessed her Adonis, and to say true Leobardes' suspicions were not without some show or likelihood of ground; for Fursee now beholding Geronce but as a woman used so much freedom with him, made him come into her chamber, at such suspicious hours that the least credulous, would have been tempted to take it ill; and this was that put Leobard into a desperate jealousy, which peevish humour, made her do a base and treacherous act that caused a tragical event, & a misfortune which gave birth unto a prosperity; and thus it was: After she saw that all her solicit of fair Geronce were lost labours, imagining that the refusals were disdains, and stung with anger at these imaginary contempts, she resolved being she could not content her love, to satisfy her revenge, and undo her rival Mistress together with him that would not corespond unto her affections; it was by a moral advertisement given unto her Master, of the bad dealings of Fursee and Geronce, whereof she shown such apparent colours that Marcel nothing doubted, but that he was dishonoured by his wife.  
Immediately then how to revenge it at full he makes show of lying forth and by the help of Leobarde hides himself in a closet near the chamber of ●ursee, this woman who took great delight in conversing with Geronce, and in making him him relate perticularities of his house and Country, of his love, and fortune, failed not to make him come at night for to put him into his discourse and to fall a sleep thereon, but whilst she is in bed and Geronce sitting at her bed's head talking to her, Marcel is preparing fire and sword to revenge the injury, which he believes to be but too apparent, he starts forth of his ambuscado and comes with his pistol in hand crying with full mouth, ha' accurfed woman now is the time that thou shalt wash my spotted honour in thy blood, and that thou and thy adulterer shall both of you pay interest for the wrongs you have done me, and without hearing any answer, shoots off his Pistol thinking to pash out Fursees brains, but she turning her head a little, the shot went into the feathers without any other effect, but only that it burned the cheek of this poor Lady, who in this trouble, misdoubted the cause of her husband's wrath, had no more leisure but to cry out, O Sir Geronce is a woman whereat Marcel whose sword was already drawn to end therewith what the fire had spared, as if a flash of lightning had dazzled his eyes stood in suspense at these words when Geronce more dead than alive cast herself at his feet, and with the discovering of her breasts assured him that Fursees words were but too true; & presently to clear his understanding, of so many confusions wherewith his soul was troubled, Geronce though trembling related unto him the whole history, as you have heard of her miffortune, and pitiful adventure which drew tears from the eyes of Marcel, and made him infinitely repent what he had done; mean time remedies were applied to the burn on Fursees face, which besides the pain threatened her with a great deformity, but whether it were the inflammation that redoubled, or through the extreme terror which she had felt in hearing a Pistol thunder in her ear, and see herself near losing her life, she fell into a strong fever, which in three days laid her in the grave, Marcel lamented much for her, both because he truly loved her, and for that he saw himself to be the cause of her death, he had almost discharged the burden of his wrath on Leobarde and sacrificed her, to the Manes of her Mistress, but when he knew that she herself had been first deceived and that the conjectures of the evil had been so strong, he was contented only to drive her away from his house.  
Mean time Geronce having changed her habit and being become Saturnine, appeared so fair in the eyes of Marcel, that love being entered into his soul by the two gates of beauty and pity, he resolved to marry her as being a Gentlewoman of a good descent, and the widow of a Gentleman. Saturnine seeing her fortune to be desperate, if she with open arms received not this occasion laid hold on her foretop, and consented to Marcels will by a solemn marriage, and since Gaudence Father to Saturnine being dead: Marcel had that part of the inheritance that fell to her thereby, which amounted to as good a portion as he could have had with a wife, chosen out of his own Country; thus in the secular or civil life, the harm of the one is the profit of the other, as in the natural the corruption of one body is the engendering of another; so the misfortune of inconsiderate Saturnine was by divine providence changed into a good fortune, and that moment of time intended for her death, was to her a beginning of a happier life; it may be that the patience which she shown in that extreme adversity of the loss of Volusian, and her wise carriage and behaviour in the government of Marcels son, brought her to this felicity, not without great wonder to little Sulpice, who saw his tutor in a short time changed his mother in law.   

THE IMPUDENT ATTEMPT.  
The seventh Relation.  
NOt pride only, but also temerity ever mounts, there be men who cannot play foolish pranks, but they must extend them to the uttermost point of impertinency, impudence elevating them so much the higher, by how much the lower she means to cast them down; doing by them as the Eagle by the Tortoise, which she carries up into the air, but only to let her fall on the point of some rock to break her in pieces, and then devour her: Speusippe a Gentleman of the Province of Aquitaine, will show us here the image of an impudent traitor, whose attempt unworthy of a man of honour, was punished by heaven's permission, when he had thought to take his prey in his hand, and to triumph insolently in the honour of another. This man in the wars had entered in friendship with another Gentleman of the same Province, named Liberat; and this friendship was grown so great, that they called brothers, and the one had nothing but what was the others. Peace being returned to France by the victorious hand of great Henry, sent every man back under his own figtree, and under his own Vine, and changed swords into Sythes, and headpieces into hives: these two friends with drew themselves to their houses, which were not so far asunder, but that they saw each other often enough, living with a freedom and familiarity wholly fraternal; Liberat took a desire to marry, and wedded a fair and virtuous Gentlewoman, whom we will call by the name of Mela, for the honeyed sweetness of her disposition, her conversation being wholly without bitternsse: it was a Dove without gall, but a chaste Dove having no eyes but for her mate: Speusippe failed not to express at this wedding how much it joyed him to see his brother of alliance so well matched, he called Mela sister, and this young Lady who saw but through the eyes of her husband, knowing how much he esteemed Speusippe, could do no less than hold him in estimation, as the best friend Liberat had in the world, she called him likewise brother, and cherished him in the same manner, as if she had indeed been his sister.  
It is to be believed that the first months of this marriage passed with much innocence on Speusippes' part, and that he thought only to honour Mela, as his sister of alliance, but traitorous love who blindeth all, and surpriseth even the most wary, and is so good an Archer, that he hits none but hearts, setting himself in ambuscado in Melas eyes, hit the heart of Speusippe with a mortal str●ke. Now though all that Liberat had were in his power, excepting his wife, yet he desired what was prohibited, and despised what was permitted: this stinking flame burned not long ere he made the blackness and smoke thereof appear to Mela, who being as full of mildness, as discretion, laboured to quench it by the most prudent and most reasonable remedies she could devise, unwitting that prudence and reason cure not a folly which is not capable thereof; this mildness was oil in Speusippes' fire, his hopes which would have been extinct by a rougher usage, were inflamed by the swavity of this humour, so natural in fair Mela, he passed unto importunity and insolences, whereupon Mela shown him the wrong he did unto his friend, so impudently to undertake against the honour of his wife, he replied that the advantages of love were so fare above friendship, that albeit he cherished Liberat as a brother, yet she had beauties which constrained him to be perfidious, for to satisfy his passion; behold how this blinded man would be victorious by what he confessed himself vanquished, and make his triumph of his perfidiousness: Mela being herself reduced unto great extremities by the pressing fooleries of this impudent man, threatened him to tell her husband thereof. Madame, said he, you may work means to make me dye, but not to leave loving you: your husband may take life from me, but not love, and yet will I give him half the fear too, if he set upon me like a man: it lies in you to avoid this mischief by yielding unto reason; (so did this brutish man call his foul desire) at length Mela who fearing to bring a bloody quarrel on her husband's hands, having tried by her patience, by her mildness, by her persuasions, by her entreaties, and by all manner of honest means to put this incurable spirit into his right senses again, constrained by the persecutions of this furious creature, whose rage passed into actions so insolent, that they were insufferable to an honest woman, disclosed unto Liberat, Speusippes impudent attempt against the reverence of his marriage, and the honour of his bed, although Liberat had cause to seek by arms the revenge of so great a wrong, yet giving unto his eminent friendship, and the violence of love, a pardon which could not have been wrested from his anger, he was contented only to forbid Speusippe the entrance of his house, till absence had put water on his fire, and time had made him wiser, although this presumptuous man bore this forbidding without much impatience, as if he had been banished for ever from his Country: nevertheless he dissembled his discontent, resolving to attain unto the end of his enterpriseat what peril soever; his flame must needs have been great, being it lasted without having the sight of its object to feed it; passing away his sad days in obscurities and incomparable disquiets. After he had tried in vain all manner of means to approach Mela, he be thought himself of an industry wherein the Fox's skin should precede the Lions, roaming night and day about Liberats house, he learned that this Gentleman was on a point to take a journey from home for some days: he took occasion on this absence to play his stratagem, which was this, he caused his beard to be cut after another fashion than he used to wear it, and having blacked himself with a certain compound, he had quite changed the countenance and complexion of his face. Then disguised like one of those that carry bone lace in boxes about the Country to sell, he came to Liberats house: Mela having occasion to buy of this ware, caused him to come in. He unfolds his laces of diverse sorts and at cheap rates, which invites this Lady to buy a good quantity. Speusippe seeing himself in the chamber, steps to the door, locks it, and discovering himself, gins again to press her according to his former importunities, to take pity on his languishing torment. Mela seeing herself surprised, sought by her accustomed sweet persuasions to appease his mind: but this Tiger growing more fierce by this harmony, and intending to hazard all, draws out a poignard, which he sets to her throat, threatening to kill her if she yielded not. Mela affrighted cries out. This cry was heard by a maid that was in a Wardrobe near: she comes to the noise, and sees her mistress calling for help, and defending herself courageously against this impudent man, the maid runs against the chamber door, gets it open, and set all the house in an uproar: the servants flock thither, encompass Speusippe on all sides, & hinder him from ravishing Mela. He lays hold on the collar of one, and in a desperate rage stabs him through diverse times with the poignard he had in his hand, and so kills him. Mean time Mela got away, leaving Speusippe bestirring himself among these servants, like a wild Boar among a kennel of hounds, he hurt more of them, and was hurt himself, and in the end taken and put into a chamber which served him for a prison until the return of Liberat: who to do good unto this perfidious man, in stead either of punishing him according to his deserts, or causing him to be punished by justice, he got him healed of some sleight wounds which he had received, and lest the Magistrates should lay hold on him for the murder of the man, and the attempted rape, he gave him means to escape, only admonishing him to be more stayed thenceforward, and pardoned him his folly, which he attributed to the rage of an excessive love. Wherein this good man resembled the Goat in the fable, who suckled the young Wolf, which being grown great did afterwards devour her.  
This furious and impudent attempt so friendly forgiven, could not yet mollify the wickedness of his heart: but seeing all passages shut, and no way left him to approach Mela, who shuns him as the sheep doth the wolf, he sends a challenge to Liberat, whereby he lets him understand, that his extreme love making him more worthy than he to possess fair Mela. He calls him to combat, to see unto whom the fortune of arms will give the conquest. Ah Fool, who knew not that by the Law a woman cannot marry the murderer of her husband, but she must make herself accessary and guilty of his death. Liberat pressed as well by this foolish and false rule of honour, which passeth for a maxim among the Nobility and Gentry of France, as by the desire of punishing at once so many wrongs which he had received by this insolent man, goes to the place assigned, where after he had upbraided Speusippe with his perfidiousness, they began a terrible combat: for if Speusippe, set on by love and despair, two enraged passions, bestirs himself with might and main, as a man that will overcome or die; Liberat pressed by the representment of so many indignities, which he had received from this impudent creature, was no less eager to make him feel the point of his sword. Already they had hurt each other in diverse places, and their blood served to animate them more on; when fortune, which is not always on the right side, permitted Liberats sword to break in the middle against the hilt of Speusiippes' dagger. Speusippe then seeing the life of Liberat at his mercy, began to tell him that he must yield him his wife, or else he would presently kill him. Thou mayst take away my life, replied Liberat, but never mine honour, I will die with that on my brow, and thou shalt live with the greatest infamy wherewith a gentleman can be covered. You dispute the case too long, said Speusippe, I must by the loss of thy life break the knot which is betwixt thee and Mela, the only obstacle to my desires, that I may possess her alone. Saying so he presses Liberat, who did but ward, and at last seeing himself out of combat, he seeks his safety in his legs, and betakes himself to flight. Speusippe followed him, and as he went to thrust his sword into his back, it happened that Liberat fell, and Speusippe stumbled over him, and hit his nose so hard against the ground, that he lay quite stunned with the fall. Liberat losing neither time nor judgement, gets upon him, stabs his poignard three or four times in his belly, and made him yield up that unlucky soul, which after so many perfidious impudencies and desperate furies went into its place. Such was the execrable end of this frantic man's attempts, an end which makes us see a just judgement of God upon his head, worthy indeed of a more cruel and of a more ignominious punishment. For what shameful execution did not he deserve, who with such an enraged presumption violated the laws of friendship, of honour, of pudicity, and of piety, and did so many actions contrary to reason and equity? for my part, I expose him to the view of the world, as a man worthy of public hatred, and whose memory ought to be detested by all those that profess an honourable friendship.   

THE UNLUCKY FEIGNING: OR, Counterfeiting.  
The Eight Relation.  
WE must never feign, because feign ever end with complainings, and although that sometimes one feigns in sport and merriment, these laughters as are commonly followed by tears, and dissimulations, is accompanied with true chastisement. Not long since in a City of Celticke-gaule a Gentleman, named Basian, having undergon all the harshest things that love causes any to suffer in a lawful wooing, at last obtained in marriage, a Maid whom we will call Ephese the beginning of this alliance was so happy, that nothing could equalise the felicity of these two conjoined persons, for Basian resembling those that find honey fare more sweeter, after the taste of wormwood, likewise after so many difficulties of getting, what he so greatly desired, he enjoyed it with a contentment surpassing expression, but even as diverse reject those meats being in health, which they extremely desired being sick; so the facility of conjugal society slackened, at last the ardent passion which Basian had felt from Ephese before he possessed her; it is true, that Ephese was partly the cause of this disgrace, by taking into her service a Gentlewoman whose name shallbe Leonille, and whose admirable beauty could not be considered without an interior alarm, this object appeared before the eyes of Basian when the fervency of his first affections were entering into the wane. Ephese thought she held him fast by her former charms and believed she had conquered his heart that nothing could be able to alter his affection towards her, and upon this she heeded not how in takeing this Gentlewoman into her house, she received therein the horse of Troy which should be the ruin and destruction thereof, and indeed this young beauty of Leonille accompanied with graces and behaviours able to breed many illusions, presently strooke the senses of Basian, and turned his heart from the right way to lead it after adulterous imaginations, he so long desembled his passion, and hide it from his wife with so much circumspection, that she perceived it not until remedies were out of season, add moreover that Leonille charmed by Basians presents and by the hopes of his fair promises lent him so favourable an ear, that he hoped in short time, to win this fort which began to come to a Parley, the bargain is half made with a second Merchant when the first is distasteful unto one, it was impossible for Basian to hide his fire so well, but that some sparks thereof appeared, and what means may be used to hide what is, from the sharp sight of a jealous woman, who often sees what is not; when this Lady using the authority of of a Mistress would have put away from her house this arrogant Agar, grown haughty by the favour of her Mistress she then knew by Basians resisting it, that there was betwixt them some secret intelligence which could not but be prejudicial unto her, with what eye did she since behold this rival servant I leave it to your consideration; Basians two eyes were not enough to behold this rising sun whose bright shining dazzled him so, that he had no looks left for Ephese, but such as were languishing, and weak, contrariwise this woman through jealousy became capricious and clamorous, and brawling, and filling her house with unquietness put Basian into so bad an humour that he began to storm about her, and to use her very harshly, alas one sprig of wormwood is enough to alter the sweetness of a great quantity of honey, and one cobweb enough to in tangle the whole* Oeconomy of a Hive, the house wherein jealousy takes footing goes quite backward, and very unfortunate is that family, where this plague breeds, it is a worm which gnaws the fairest fruits, it is a wind which raiseth nothing but tempest, and those tempests lead unto assured wracks, indeed Basian did ill to give Ephese so much cause, but Ephese was not well advised in thinking to drive unlawful love from the heart of her husband by her harshness, & reproachful speeches; if one nail drives out another, she should have laboured to make herself more lovely, to be the better beloved; but despite suggested unto her a malicious invention revealed by flesh and blood, and which had the evil success that you shall understand; she had taken the Son of a poor Gentleman to serve her in her Chamber, to wait on her abroad, and to carry her Cushion to Church and such like, and had clothed him in Page's apparel, this child could not be above ten or eleven years of age, and was very beautiful, she affected him for his pretienesse, he Sung well and and she took care to make him learn many honest exercises; she was of opinion, that by cherising & making much of this Boy, before her husband's face, she might recall him to her again by the hammer of jealousy, or at least give him a part of that torment, which she left by reason of Leonille; she then behaved herself in such a manner, and did such immoderate actions with this innocent, whose age & strength was not capable of any evil, that it was ill taken of Basian, who dissembled not unto her his dislike thereof, and she who thought then to have attained the end of her intentions, redoubled her blandishments with so much unseemliness, that no patience was able any longer to suffer them; But when Basian perceived that she did play these pranks more to spite him, then for any evil she committed with this Child, he resolved to punish her by a Feigning or Counterfeiting likewise, and to scare her so, that she should lose the custom of seeing these things which passed not without some kind of scandal.  
He buys one of these Poyniards which Players use to commit feigned murders in their tragedies, and to deceive the eyes of the beholders, the blade hides itself in the handle, when the point leans against the stomach, so that the spectators think that it enters into the body, he put a little bladder of blood at the end of the haft, and one night as his wife began more licentiously than ever to hug, kiss, and make much of her Adonis, he comes to her with his Dagger in his hand, as if he had been transported with anger, strikes this page three or four blows therewith, and made the blood of the bladder spurt on his wife's face, then throwing by the child, comes to her and gives her so many stabs on the breast and on the head that this poor woman believing herself to be run through on all sides (though she were not at all) conceived such fear that without any manner of wound or hurt she fell stark dead at his feet: presently the report fled all over the City that Basian had stabbed his wife having taken her in adultery with her fair Page; if Basian were amazed to see his feigning bring so unfortunate a conclusion, you may judge; the Magistrates came to inquire of the fact; and he declares the truth according as I have related it, he shows the poignard and the blood which he had put to it, Ephese is visited, and found without any manner of wound and so is the child likewise who being not capable of so much fear, had no harm at all, notwithstanding the first impression that ran about the world of this murder was so strong that it was impossible to blot it out; every one held Ephese for an infamous adulteress, neither considering the age of the child uncapable of committing it, nor receving the truth as Basian declared it, diverse being of opinion that it was so said for to save the honour of the children and kindred; the world being full of malignity ever takes actions in the worst part, and if it gives a bad interpretation to the best, what will it give to those that have in them some show of evil; mean time the matter stayed not there; for although the Magistrates grounding their judgements upon very probable conjectures left Basian without punishment, the Physicians attributing the cause of Epheses' death to the force of imagination which had given her the stroke of it, whereof they alleged diverse examples, Euloge brother unto this Lady a Gentleman of great courage and who through some secret hatred had formerly opposed this marriage when Basian was a Suitor, being not able to suffer that his dead sister should be defamed by detracting tongues, nor that Basians Feigning should remain without a true chastisement he challenges him.  
And not withstanding that Basian made show unto him of much sorrow and affliction for the death of Ephese and that he published her to have been an honest woman worthy of honour and praise yet nothing would satisfy Euloge but Basians blood which he drew out of his body together with his soul, cooling in this manner the immoderate heat of his affection to Leonille whom it was thought he should marry; it may be these adulterate affections drew on him the hand of God by Euloges sword; which verifies this that the unjust deceitful man shallbe overtaken by an unlucky end.   

THE DOUBLE FRATRICIDE.  
The ninth Relation.  
IT is not thirty years since one of the most famous Cities of France was the stage whereon the tragical accident which I am going to relate was acted. If the love of wealth could arm blood against blood, as we have seen in the relation of the treacherous Brother in law, that if sensuality breeds here a reciprocal fratricide; the scandal whereof I will hide under borrowed names, without losing the utility of the example.  
Widows who in the use of marriage have learned ways to allure men, do doubtless cast forth more dangerous attractions than doth the simplicity of maids. These neat mourning weeds wherewith they curiously adorn themselves, are nothing behind the finest ornaments wherewith those do deck themselves that either have or desire to have husbands. Contrariwise even as the Sun coming from under a cloud casts forth its rays the more ardent, and as the coals are quicker and brighter that come from under the ashes, so likewise those looks or rather darts that are cast from under the Cypress or veils wherewith Widows cover themselves, with more desire to see and be seen, than to hide themselves, do make in men's hearts impressions that are not slight. I advance all this in regard of Permene a young Widow, who having been but three years under the yoke of marriage, and having not yet attained but unto the twentieth of her age, bred more desire of her new conquest in those who considered her beauty under so many black attires, than pity of her widowhood, and to say truth, her sparkling eyes, her ruddy cheeks, her studied countenance, her pleasing speeches, and her ordinary conversing among companies, sufficiently witnessed that she was not of those right widows separated from men both in body and heart, but that her frequentation was not so much a diverting from sorrow, as a desire to find a rock whereon in the bands of Hymen to make a second wrack of her liberty. It is true, that as soon as she was a widow, going into a monastery, to receive some consolation from a kinsman she had therein, she received there as it were a kind of prediction that she should no more be married: A thing which she scoffed at in her heart, when she had resolved the quite contrary, as she testified since by her demeanours.  
This Widow being the North star of many, who in respect of her embarked themselves on the tempestuous sea of love, yet was by none adored with so much submission, nor more loved than by Prelidian, who was a gentleman of thirty years of age, having neither father nor mother, and being in full possession of his estate, had both matched his sister according to her quality, and discharged the part of Babilas his younger brother, who was in the six and twentieth year of his age, and according to his boiling courage, was gone to seek occasions to make himself known in the Armies of Flanders, the Theatre of war for the space of these threescore years. Whilst Babilas is in the rough exercises of Mars, Prelidian is amongst the tents, or rather amongst the attends of Love: For this little Archer hath his Soldiers, his Champions, and his Armies, as well as the brother of furious Bellona. And truly Prelidian had no small battles to fight, to purchase the first rank amongst those that sought the conquest of the fair Widow, because that each one of these suitors putting themselves to expenses, strove which should appear bravest, and which should yield her most dutiful and acceptable service. This woman was well resolved to marry again, but not so soon: she would a little taste of liberty first, and be sometime her own woman, before she would put herself again under the power of any other.  
In her first marriage she had followed the will of 〈◊〉 Parents, rather than her own choice. In this second which she meditates, she will fully use her own freewill, and follow the motions of her own mind, and her own election; true it is that the multitude overcomes her, and the plenty of matches puts her to the same trouble, as would a scarcity, she can belong but to one, and it is this one that she is troubled to find out in the plurality; mean while she feeds her vanity with the delight she takes to see herself courted, adored, and so well served and attended. She does with her suitors as with Counters, for she makes their value to be according as she respects, or advances them in her honest favours, and often times the most advanced were the least beloved: she had of all sorts of them, some high in Nobility, others elevated in honours and greatness, others eminent in riches, others whose comely grace, beauty, dexterity, and valour, supplied the want of wealth and birth; and according to the sundry motions of her mind, she was sometimes borne towards the one, sometimes towards the other: and as it is said the Sea changes colour according to the winds that sway on its surface: so according to the regard Parmene had to wealth, to honours, or to pleasure; she took sundry counsels, but counsels so insolent, that what she would have in the morning, disliked her in the evening, her head having no fewer quarters then the Planet that governs the night: with what knots could this Protegus be held? women's minds do commonly tend to extremes: they will have men extremely noble, or extreme rich, or extreme pleasing and complete, and all these extremes are seldom found together; for all things are not given to all persons; nevertheless Prelidian insinuateth himself into Parmenes favour by a mediocrity representing unto her how great births call on great expenses, and that from thence proceeds the ruin of many houses, and a shameful necessity in age, which hath most need of assistance, that great riches without honour, satisfies not generons hearts, and that beauty without means and birth, is a flower which suddenly sadeth as a Rose, and leaveth nothing behind it but thorns of repentance. Prelidian afterwards reducing all these to a mediocrity to his own advantage, shown her how he had nobility, sufficient to honour the birth of a Gentleman, that he had means sufficient honestly to maintain the lustre of his nobility, and for the rest both of his qualities and person, Parmenes eyes were to be judges thereof. In fine, so well pleaded he his cause before the tribunal of this imperious Mistress, that he deserved not only to be heard, but also to take a place in her favour, not as one of the least, whilst he feeds himself with these fair hopes (which is the perfume of Lovers) and believes that perseverance and loyalty will crown his pretensions with a happy end. His younger brother Babilas returns from war loaden with laurels, and with a ●eputation quite other than his brothers. All his friends highly applauded him at his return, and as if be had triumphed, there were none but gave great praises unto his valour; and beside, his soldier's countenance which he had brought from among the Armies, bade I know not what in it that was stately, together with his flourishing age, advantaged by a beauty that was not common; as soon as he heard where his brother was a suitor, he failed not to se● Parmene, whom he entertained with Prelidians' merits, promising her a perfect felicity if she confented unto this match. This widow, whose changing humour was disposed to novelty, met with so many charms in the comely grace and converfation of Babilas, who among other qualities babbled well, that presently all the thoughts she had had for Prelidian, and for many others of her suitors vanished from her mind as shadows vanish with the Sun: she had nothing in her head but Babilas, his only Idea swims in her brain, and fills her imagination: she thinks no more on honours, nor on riches, the only countenance os this younger brother bears away her heart; she labours to get this Bird into her net, and to make him susceptible of the same flame for her, as she suffers for him, but he resembles the shadow which flies from those that follow it: whether he understood not, or whether he seemed not to understand the dumb language of Parmenes eyes and countenance, which spoke very advantageousty for him; he would never answer thereunto, wherefore this woman was forced to express herself more plainly, which she did one day when Babilas pressed her to give an end unto his brother's suit; that shall be, said she, when you give a beginning unto yours: how a beginning unto mine, Madam, replied Babilas, who hath already told you news of my invisible Mistress? in troth I am so in love with liberty, that I never yet had any mind to marry: I cannot tell said Parmene, if your Mistress be invisible, but I know a very visible Gentlewoman, who is very much your servant: in fine, not to spend time about relating the particulars of these discourses, she made him understand that she loved him, and that she would prefer him not only before his brother, but before all the rest of her suitors, if he would marry her: whether it were that Babilas had not then any inclination to marriage, or whether he held it an enormeous disloyalty to encroach upon his brother's bargain, he turned these discourses into merriment, saying unto Parmene, it was to make a trial of his constancy, that she had put forth this proposition: but at last this woman having assured him by oaths, and by all the persuasions which can purchase belief, that she spoke but truth: Babilas entreated her to excuse him, and to believe that if it were not in regard of his brother, whose interest therein was but too visible, he would esteem her affection for a great honour and happiness, seeing she offered him together with the possession of an eminent beauty, a fortune more worthy an elder brother than a younger. Parmene represents unto him how the care of his own preferment should be dearer to him, than his brothers, and how therein he expressed his fraternal affection by a blame-worthy excess, and that for her part seeing it was so, she would content them both by receiving neither the one nor the other; not the elder because she would not have him, nor the younger, because he rejected her in that manner.  
Madam, replied Babilas, justice requires that the first entered into service, should be the first rewarded: all the world would blame me if I should play so treacherous a part by my brother, as to encroach upon his design: there is no treachery in that said Parmene, being you have no intent to supplant him: if there be any fault, I shall draw it all on me, since it is I that make choice of you, being free to choose whom I please, and if it were so, I should prefer my suitors by the order of their coming, your brother should take place among the last, for many were before him; but I see you would colour your coldness with a false veise, and colour your contempt with a kind of justice; if it be a contempt, that which draws me from your service (replied Babilas) I desire that heaven may never forgive me that offence: I have eyes to see your beauty, and to see it and to love it would be but one & the same thing, were it not the obstacle which I have proposed unto you. I have judgement enough to know your wealth, and the merits of your person, but to drive my brother into despair, is a thing which I cannot do without horror; use means that he may give over his suit, and I am yours. These last words cast forth of Babilas' mouth without well weighing, caused much mischief, for Parmene to purchase him, betook herself to use Prelidian so cruelly and disdainfully, that if his love had not been stronger than all these outrageous abuses, he would have cured himself by a just despite, but as winds increase flames, his increased by this rough usage, and the more she strove to drive him from her, the more he laboured to approach and to please her; in the end, the cruelty of this woman wearied the patience of Prelidian, who losing all hope of conquering, he resolucs to turn Capuchin, and he kept the design so secret, that even his brother had not so much as a mistrust thereof, so that they sooner knew of his vesture, then of any intent he had to enter into that order.  
Parmene hearing of the resolution of Prelidian, believes herself to be arrived unto the end of her pretensions for Babilas, and the first time she saw him said to him, Well, do you now remember your promise? What promise Madam? (says he) To be mine (replies Parmene) as soon as your brother should give over his suit. Madam (saith Babilas) he is indeed entered into the Capuchins, yet is he not there after such a manner but that he may come forth again, being as yet but in the beginning of his Noviceship. His inheritance looks not on me, until such time as a solemn profession hath made him renounce all that he possesses on earth; till than I can say nothing, for if I should be a suitor to you before that time, would it not give him occasion to conjecture that I have been the cause of all your ill using of him, and consequently of the despair which hath driven him to this flight? whereof would ensue a reason to deprive me of the inheritance which now I may expect, if he sees my fidelity. Parmene seeing him drive time out to such a length, accused him of little affection towards her, and thinks him to be engaged in the love and pursuit of some other: Nevertheless she keepcs her hold with the impatience of a woman, more accustomed to be entreated than to entreat, & to command than to request. Mean time Babilas continues his visits at her house, and although she believes it to be but in the way of compliment, yet so it is, that insensibly he engages himself to love this Lady, whose passion he sees to be so great for him, and building his fortunes on his brother's spoils and on his great match, he already swims, in hope of being one day well at ease. Mean while he makes war with the eye, and not discovering his game he hath too much prudence for a Lover: he will have the one, and not lose the other, but his fate will give him neither the one nor the other of his pretensions. Whilst he goes slowly on, Parmene is so disquieted in mind that she ca●not be at any rest, the more she presses him to resolve, the more he defers his resolution. At last (said she) Let me hear some favourable answer: I can make no other, said Babilas, than that which I have already made, I cannot speak before my brother be professed. But shall I have no other assurance, replied Parmene? I sell not the skin of a Hare that's running, said he. Whereat mistrustful Parmene imagined that without doubt he was engaged elsewhere, seeing there was no means to heat his ice, and that after the profession of Prelidian, it would be an easy matter for him to forge some other excuse, and so she should remain mocked and frustrate of both. Whereupon despite seizing on her heart, to see herself despised, she cast off her affection from Babilas, when as the young Gentleman found himself fare engaged in love, and was resolved to declare unto her, that he cou●d have no affection for any other but she. Not without reason did that ancient Philosopher say, Concord and Discord to be the beginning of the universal world, being we see it is all composed of interchanges, when the one goes another comes, he that is borne thrusts another into the grave, the birth of one affection is the overthrow of another: The world is of a round form, whose end joins to its beginning, when as Babilas resolves to be a suitor to Parmene, making account that shame would be as strong to retain his brother in the Capuchins, as despair had been powerful to drive him thither, and behaving himself already as a master in Prelidians' inheritance; Parmene being sorry to have paid with disdain the fruitful and violent love of the elder, and to have so much esteemed the ingratitude of the younger, begins to change battery to what she had desired, and to desire what she had fled from. It is an easy matter to pluck up a tree that is new set, and to beat down a wall that is new made. A little Letter overthrew all the intents of Prelidian, and this spark aided by the wind of temptation, made him repent the enterprise that he had begun: in lieu of stopping his ears against this fair enchantress, this Siren that would call him back, to cast him away by a lamentable wrack, the Idea of this beloved face gave him so many alarms in his Celestina, that his resolution yielded unto the flattering violence of its assaults; and notwithstanding all the remonstrances or admonitions made unto him by the Master of the Novices, he resolved to return.  
Now is Prelidian out of the Monastery, and Babilas frustrate of his double expectation, of the inheritance whereon he had fastened his affection, and of the beauty which had wounded his heart: as for the land he must yield it up because the law is stronger than he; and although he be very sorry in his heart for his brother's return, yet nevertheless he colour's his face with a feigned joy, and congratulates his coming back, a dissimulation common enough in this age: but as for his love, which had already taken root in his heart, that was a thing that he could not so easily cast off as his coat, but contrariwise sticks firmer to it, by reason of the double interest of pleasure and profit. Foreseeing himself weaned from the succession of his brother, he makes account by the possession of Parmene to recompense that loss, and thinks that the establishment of his fortune depends thereon: he now betakes himself to visit this woman carefully, and blames himself towards her, with extraordinary respects and submissions. Parmene imagines all this to be as at the beginning of their frequentation, and that he courts her for his brother: but falling into this discourse she hears him sing another note, and sees that he speaks for himself. This much perplexes the spirit of Parmene, and indeed it was able to perplex a stronger than hers, for recalling to her mind the sweet thoughts she had formerly framed on the fine qualities of Babilas, she presently falls into a relapse of her first fever, and the heat of love driving out the coldness of despite of the loyalty of Prelidian, seemed to her but a fantasme. How mutable a thing is a woman? even so variable, that they may be said to build on quicksands, who lay the foundation of their hopes on the faith of this sex. Now were her eyes in few days changed towards Prelidian, they are but disdainful and ominous Comets for this elder brother, but for Babilas they are lucky and favourable planets. Yet if she had sought out some pretext to excuse her sickleness, and colour her change, or if she had discreetly dissembled her design that Prelidian might not so suddenly have felt the effects thereof, it may be that this stroke foreseen might have given him leisure to prepare himself for to suffer it; but to see himself suddenly fallen from those gracious favours wherein he gloried, and at the same instant to behold his brother so cherished, so much made off, and in possession of that which he thinks to be due only unto his imcomparable fidelity, is a thing he can neither digest nor comprehend.  
Parmene so arms herself against him with disdains that she will neither hear him nor see him, and contrariwise she cannot live but in the conversation of Babilas, whom she openly calls her servant, and makes of him her Idol, which breaks Prelidians' heart, a strong jealousy takes possession of his brain, and presently draws thither furies, wraths, rages, and vengeances, so that neither blood, nor the long respect which Babilas had born him, nor any other consideration able to satisfy his mind, from whence reason was banished; the rage of passion turmoils his judgement, he walks by no other light but the fury's Torches, who like unlucky night-going fires lead him to precipitations, yet did nature play its last part violently obtaining a truce in his spirit, to accost his brother in a temperate manner, but as soon as he was entered into discourse with him, the trouble of his soul arising, made him vomit out a thousand outrageous speeches against the perfidy, treason and treachery of Babilas who had so supplanted him in the affection of Parmene, this cloud of words burst out into a thunder of threats, that if he did not abstain from seeing her, reason requiring that he should yield him place, and forbidding him to encroach upon his Suit; Babilas like a winning gamester, whose mind is ever more stayed than the others, who looseth both money and wit, answers him in a temperate manner, that even before he cast himself among the Capuchins, he had as much access in the favour of Parmene as he could have wished for to thrust himself into his place, but that his respect to him had held him back.  
That the first affection in Parmene had caused the disdain which had driven him into a Cloister, that even when he was yet under the Monastique habit, he had refused this good fortune, only in consideration of him, which refusal hadbeen the cause of his repeal, that if this be disloyalty he knows not what loyalty is, that if since his return whether it were that he illhusbanded the mind of Parmene, or whether this woman changed it, he found himself to be more in her favour then before, he wonders to see him attribute unto perfidy the love which this Lady shows unto him, as if it were in his power to dispose of this woman's Will according to his mind, that he takes a wrong course in seeking to force love from this widow, whose inclinations are free, and whose election cannot be forced, that if she will not have him, he loses his time in seeking to get her, and that i● this case he was doubly to blame to interdict him the Suit, first because that he too much expresses his envy, in forbidding him to purchase a good, which himself cannot have, secondly undertaking to command him as if he were his Father or his Master, being that majority putting him in possession of his right made him free f●om all subjection, and set him at liberty to take his good fortune wheresoever he could find it, that he is very willing to respect him as his elder, but he will not suffer his eldership to transform itself in to a tyranny which is insupportable, that for his part he should be very glad Parmene would turn her affections and should no way envy his brother this good match, if it befell him, and therefore ought he reciprocally not to envy him this good fortune, if she made choice of his person, and would have him for her husband; certainly if there had remained any spark of reason in the mind of Prelidian he had lent a more favourable ear unto the speech of Babilas, but when once a soul is possessed with fury and jealousy noething is capable to satisfy it but vengeance; resist a bacchant when she is in her frantic fit (saith that ancient poet) and you will make her but more enraged and furious, oppose banks unto a great torrent of waters and you will make it to swell and be more terrible, so this answer in lieu of appeasing the boiling wrath of Prelidian made him believe that he was supplanted by treachery, and that his brother by a secret mine had blown up all his hopes, he once more commands him to retire from Parmene, and to go to Mars, or otherwise if he find him near her, he threatens to make him feel what an elder brother can do to a disobedient younger. These terms could not the Soldierlike humour of Babilas endure, he cannot frame himself to believe that the right of eldership extends itself unto sovereignty, and he who like that King of Athens, thought none greater than himself so long as he had a sword by his side, answered his brother with such haughty words, that he gave him to understand he was no whit afraid of his threats, and that whensoever it should come to deeds, he would make him partaker of half the fear.  
Hereupon they part and Babilas forsaking his brother's house, where he was wont to make his abode, went and lodged at afriends house in the City: his love linked to the advancement of his fortune, makes him follow on, and keep his course to wards the fortunate Lands of Parmenes favour, he continues his visits, with daily frequentation, which wonderfully increased their flames and ventured so fare as to promise each other Marriage, and that nought but death should separate them, so Babilas is preferred before all his competitors, and Prilidian quite cast off, hereupon he wonderfully stomaches this repulse, so that he can no longer hold, but the imposthume must burst, he had also been less sensible of this affront had it been done by any but his brother, in fine, he was so rejected by Parmene, that she had forbade him entrance into her house, yet ceased not he to walk up & down before it, feeding his eyes with the sight of the walls, wherein this disdainful woman was enclosed, and by this means he sees Babilas go in and out at all hours, with such reverences and congees, as by words cannot be expressed.  
Babilas looks down from the top of fortune's wheel, and smiles to see Prelidian stand Sentinel, and watch, whilst he is in Corpses de garde: their looks which pass from each other, were very stern, as lightnings presaging some great thunderclap: these were indeed too true presages and forerunners of a thing so horrible, that I cannot write it without trembling. On a night as Babilas was coming triumphant from the conversation of Parmene, with all the verbal assurances that he could wish to have of this woman's saith (whose fickleness being stayed, had no more vows but only for him) he was met by Prelidian, (who like an angry Lion watehed at Parmenes gate) and inflamed with despite and jealousy, presently draws his sword, and comes to run it through Babilas, who immediately draws to defend himself, and although he cried out unto him, brother, what do ye? and that the other replied, I will take away the life of a traitor that seeks to rob me, whether it were that Prelidian was blinded with his own passion, or with the shadow of the night, I know not, but he ran his sword quite through the body of Babilas, and that with such force, that he ran his own belly upon the sword of Babilas, and so fell down stark dead, Babilas likewise fell on the ground in a swoone, with his brother's sword remaining in his body. At the noise of this encounter, people came running forth, and find this horrible spectacle of the two brothers swimming in their own blood, the one quite dead, the other having but a small remainder of life: afterwards the sword being drawn out of Babilas his body, he lived until the next morning, but so seeble, and languishing, that he could no further come to himself again. A tragical event caused by the fury of blind love, which is nothing else but jealousy. It is not mine intent to relate the sundry judgements which passed on this subject; every one construing this action according to their own minds, and laying the fault on which fide they pleased. Now Parmene sees herself a widow of her second marriage ere she had scarce contracted it, and every one casting the blame of this double fratricide on her inconstancy, whereupon she conceived so much horror thereof in her mind, that she remained as one dismayed and distracted.   

THE DOUBLE RAPE.  
The tenth Relation.  
NOw let a double rape follow a double fratricide, wherein we shall discover diverse chances as delectable and remarkable as can be wished. And out of this mixture of humane actions, by distilling them through the Limbeck of understanding, we shall extract this healthful water of wisdom, whereof they do drink, who make profit of all occurrences. In one of the Provinces of Gaul, which borders upon the inferior Germany, Metell, a poor Gentleman, but one of the valiantest of his age, borne on the wings of his courage, rather than upheld by the wealth of his fortune, raised his affections unto Aldegond, daughter to a Lord of note in the same Province: unto this house he had success because of his valour, and was there held in the same good opinion which he had purchased unto himself over all the Country: beside, he had aided Philapian, father of Aldegonde, both in public war, and in private quarrels, where he ever made it appear, that his courageous mind was worthy of a fare better fortune. Well, he insinuated himself into the favour of this Gentle woman, by such ways as do commonly breed good will; humility in his carriage, modesty in his actions, respect in his speeches, sighs, fans of his flame testified his ardour, and his tears the torments which he felt betwixt the violent motions of his desires, and the smallness of his means. O what pain endure they, whose poverty sur mounteth their magnanimity? nevertheless his heart being so well seated, as to dare aspire unto a match whereto he could not attain by all likelihood of humane capacity, but fortune was so favourable to him, that Aldegonde rather casting her eyes on a man wanting riches, then on riches wanting a man, settled them on Metell, a person so complete, that it seemed all valiantness to be gathered together only in his heart, and all the graces on his face, beside, he had so fine a wit, and so charming a conversation, principally among women, that he seemed to be born but only to shake the constancy of the most stayed. He whose thoughts were only upon the means to become pleasing to Aldegonde, found them so well, that there was no place in the heart of this Maid, but was filled with the Idea of his perfections, in this mutual correspondency, they fed themselves with desires, and their words passed even unto promises, but when they began to reflect upon the invincible obstacles of the contradiction of Philapian, and others of the kindred who would never consent unto this match: they endured unspeakable sorrows which cannot be conceived but by those who are in the like anguish: those hurts are most sensible, that happen unto the tenderest parts of the body, and those wounds, that is to say, those pains that be in the tenderest faculties of the soul, which are the affections, are not they the sharpest? whilst these lover's seed on sorrow and tears, (an oil which maintains their fire) and the more they endure, the more are they constrained to hide their torment. Imagine what havoc this close kept secret flame made in their breasts, being it is most certain that silent sorrow, even as an enclosed ardour, doth continually augment and increase. If Philapian had but never so little perceived that Metell had been so foolhardy, as to have raised his thoughts towards his daughter, or if he had had the least suspicion that Aldegond had bowed down her mind so low as this Gentleman: doubtless he would soon have made an end of the business: a banishment for ever must have deprived Metell of a sight dearer to him then the day, and for which alone he preserved his affections, and yet to dye through a hidden languishment, without hope of remedy, was a thing whereunto these young spirits could hardly frame themselves, for who can hide quick coals in his bosom, and not be forced to discover them, but as they are in this state like a ship at sea wanting wi●de, and so becalmed, that it cannot go either backward or forward, they find no better remedy than pa●ience, and by a sweet and gentle conversation, they moderate the violence of their wishes, but the world is a Sea which remains not long quiet, and here comes a boisterous blast that will trouble that little calm which they have. Epolon an old Lord os the same Province, whose warlike humour could not long be at roast, had been to seek the theatre of Mars amongst the rebels of the Belgic Provinces, and weary of this exercise, some what ill befitting his age, which then required nought save good cheer, and tranquillity, he came back unto his own house, where he was in great ease and magnificence, by reason of his large possessions. This man had been some few years a widower, and had children which might seem to oblige him not to enter any more into marriage, but single life agreed not with his inclination, which was no less amorous than martial, whereof here is a sufficient testimony. Some little time before his voyage into Holland, he was ensnared by the beauty of Barsim●e a young widow, who flattered by the ambitious desire of being a great Lady, had given ear unto this old man's suit, which began three months after the death of her husband, even when she was yet in her great mourning. Epolon pressed by the heat of his affection, like dry straw, which is as soon consumed as kindled, desired to have this marriage forth with solemnised, but Barsimee retained by a certain shamefastness, and by the consideration of public decency, would by no means yield to marry before the year of her mourning was expired; but the old man could not suffer so long delay, and Barsimee was also unwilling to lose so good a fortune, at length her foolish imagination dictated unto her a means to accord these contrarieties, which was to permit unto Epolon what he desired upon a promise which he made unto her to marry her as soon as the year of mourning was consumed. Truly in this occasion she shown but little discretion, in not foreseeing that this restless heat of the old man would presently be quenched by enjoying, and that being powerful as he was, It would be very difficult for her to constrain him to hold his bargain, the soldierly humour being commonly brutish and capricious. The good man's appetite was soon satisfied, and his warlike fantasy returning, he went into Holland, as well to content his mind in war, as to rid himself of this widow, whose facility and ambition caused her since to be despised and mocked: a fair lookingglass for foolish inconsiderate women, who venture their honour (which should be dearer to them then their life, since life without honour is a living death) upon the vain promise or oath of a lover. Well, Epolon returns from his military affairs, but no more remembering Barsimee then the sins of his youth, and no sooner saw he Aldegond in a company wherein he also was, but he felt himself taken with her beauty, and so stung to the quick, that his life seemed to depend in that object, but he was not alone wounded by that dart, for Tharsis a Gentleman of that neighbourhood, favoured by a wealthy fortune, advantageous enough to aspire unto the conquest of Aldegond, had wholly set his affections on this M●id: he was also an intimate friend of Victor, brother to this Gentlewoman, who passionately desired to have him for his brother in law, and had wrought the matter, that he had caused Philapian to like thereof, but as the greater light dims the lesser, so as soon as Epolon appeared in the lists, whose quality and wealth fare surpassed those of Tharsis: and the golden rule by which all things are measured, made Philapian prefer him before young Tharsis, whereupon the ●●●●●ment is soon made between Epolon and the 〈◊〉 of Aldegond, because this amorous old man yielded to all conditions whatsoever he propounded. Philapian hereupon speaks to his daughter of this business, who assures him that Tharsis and Epolon are alike indifferent to her, and when her father would have excused the age of Epolon, thereby to make her swallow the bitterness os this pill, by guilding it over with the consideration of so great wealth. Sir, said Aldegond, the youth of Tharsis doth not tempt me, nor the age of Epolon distaste me, I will let you treat according to your pleasure, with either of them both which you shall best like. The father taking this for a perfect obedience in his daughter, praised her much for showing herself so tractable, but he found afterwards how this sex can so well fain, that what is in their lips, is commonly very fare from their heart. Now Tharsis seeing himself cast off by Philapian, went presently unto his dear friend Victor, who being vexed that his father should break his word, and that an old man charged with children, should enjoy his sister, yielded unto the desire of Tharsis, which was to steal her away, making no question but he should be able to make his peace when the action was done, and could not be irrevocated, being it was grounded on a commission given him by Philapian, to be a suitor to Aldegond, but whilst they prepare themselves for this design, let ut look back to another Mine that is in digging. The widow Barsimee having intelligence of the marriage that was intended to be between her perfidious Epolon, and fair Aldegond, went on a day to this Gentlewoman, and having first obtained liberty of telling her some matters of consequence in private, she freely declared unto her under the protestations of secrecy, all that had passed betwixt Epolon and herself, upon the promise of marriage which she likewise shown her. Aldegond (who desired nothing so much as to meet with some lawful occasion whereby to break off the propositions of marriage, as well of Epolon, as of Tharsis, by reason of her dear Metell, to whom she intended to prove constant) counselled Barsimee to make an opposition by virtue of Epolons' promise: but this widow who feared the formalities of justice, and the credit of Epolon, could not resolve with herself to do that, but she requested Aldegond to assist her in the execution of a deceit both good and laudable, for it should tend to justice, and end in marriage. It is reported said she, that Epolon desires to marry you privately by night, without any show or preparation. I do therefore entreat you to put me in your place, and let me go to Church in stead of you, and there in presence of all the assistants, I will show him his promise, and oblige him to marry me. This was in the winter season, when the nights are at the longest; and the Church wherein this marriage should be celebrated, was reasonable fare from Philapians Castle. Aldegond consents very willingly to Barsimee, whom she promises to receive into her closet some days before the time, and hereupon she frames an other design, which she puts in execution with her dear Metel. Mean while Victor and Tharsis (whose brains were not idle) make an enterprise no less courageous, and that was to steal Aldegond on the way, as she should be led from the Castle to the Church: which thing they hoped with ease to accomplish, assisted by the darkness of the night, and assuring themselves to dispose all things to their own advantage.  
This night (so much desired by Epolon) being come, Aldegond entreats Epolon and her father to go before and stay for her at the Church, whilst she would make herself ready and presently take Coach after them with her mother. Hereupon she goes into her closet, and having dressed Barsimee in her , this Widow masked and covered with a great scarf because of the night air, went onwards to the Church with Philapians wife, who took her to be her daughter. Mean while Aldegond losing no time, gets up on horses which Metel had caused to be in readiness at the garden gate, and thus rid away with her beloved, who soon set her on the territories of Flanders, at the same instant, and which is to be admired at, without having any intelligence. Tharsis was in ambuscado in the way between the castle and the Church, who comes presently with his men and incompasses the Coach, and takes Barsimee, thinking it had been Aldegond. Mean time Victor playing the good son and the loving brother, was at the Church with Epolon and Philapian, whom he held in discourse, and seemed to be amazed, when his mother entered in crying like a mad woman, that her daughter was carried away from her by force. What should they do? or whether should they go in the dark? At last they returned back to the Castle, and there spent away the rest of the night in meditating on all these confusions.  
Day being come, whilst Epolon and Philapian like mad men know not what order to give to this disorder, nor which way to turn them in the finding out of their lost child, let us a little see the amazement of Tharsis; who being arrived some three long leagues from the place where he committed this rape, and entered into a Castle belonging to one of his friends, which he had chosen as fittest for his retreat, found Barsimee in his hands in stead of Aldegond.  
This woman no less affrighted than he, and being not able to imagine from whence this blast of whirlwind should come, which had borne her away from the Port whereunto she tended, in fine having gathered her spirits together, and understood a part of the stratagem by Tharsis, she freely discovered unto him her design, and in what manner she happened into his power; and without disclosing any thing of the private matters that had passed betwixt Epolon and herself, she shown him the promise of marriage which he had made her, and the which she intended to have shown in the face of the Church, if she had arrived there as her purpose was. Tharsis accounted himself fortunate in his misfortune, having at least wise met with so just a cause to hinder the marriage of Epolon and Aldegond: and enquiring where Philapians daughter was, Barsimee answered, When she had dressed me in her apparel she locked herself up in her Closet, where I believe she attends the issue of my action. Tharsis knowing that the right remedy for the sting of a Scorpion, is presently to crush him in pieces upon the wound he hath made, resolves to return instantly with Barsimee to Epolon; so he puts her in a Coach, and having promised her all the assistance that a Knight owes unto an afflicted Lady, they arrive at Philapians Castle, which they find full of trouble and discontent. Barsimee having Aldegonds  on, and her face masked, was presently taken for the daughter of the house; but as soon as she came into the presence of Philapian, and Epolon taking off her mask, her face made her known not to be Aldegond; the amazement was so general, that all present, believed themselves to be in an enchanted Castle, and that what they saw was only illusions. Then Barsimee, grown bold by the extremity whereunto she saw herself reduced, holding Epolons' promise of marriage in her hand, related from point to point the stratagem which she had devised with Aldegond, yet shame retained her from declaring what Epolon had enjoyed. Tharsis on his side to justify his action, excused himself by the excessive love he bore to Aldegond, and on the permission which was given him to be a suitor unto her before Epolon ever saw her. Further protesting that he brought back Barsimee as entire as he had taken her away, and that he held her to be a very honest and worthy gentlewoman. At these words Epolon began to laugh, and intending to mock both him and poor Barsimee, said, It was a thing hard to be believed, that he should have so fair a gentlewoman in his power all night, without giving her some proofs of his valour, and that for his part were she his wife, he would not deliver her into the keeping of such a gentleman as Tharsis was without very strong security.  
Tharsis (who swore seriously and truly) grew angry at the old man's flouts, and redoubling his protestations, yet more solemnly than at the first, that Barsimee had been no otherwise used by him, than with all manner of honesty and respect, and that she was too wise to suffer herself to be surprised. The conquest of her (replied the scoffer Epolon) were more difficult for young men than for old, and she had been less favourable to you than to me, who have not found her so untractable. These words highly offended Tharsis, who finding himself obliged to defend the honour of this lady, gave him this reply, Sir you spit upon your own face, and this Lady being your own true wife, according to the promise which you have made her thereof; you dishonour yourself in touching her credit. She is not my wife, said Epolon, neither is her honour mine, yet if she had been wise, it may be I might have kept my promise, but I will have none of your leave; if you like her take her, I grudge you not my part. These outrageous speeches constrained Tharsis to reply in this manner; She is neitherthy leave nor mine, but deserves a better than thou art, and if thou wert wise thou wouldst keep thy word; never any honest man broke it, nor never any man of honour wronged a gentlewoman so cruelly. The protection which I own her as a Knight, and the just pretention I have to Aldegond, makes me wish to see thee and I together with our swords in hand, that I might wash the honour off the one in thy blood, and make thee with the loss of thy life lose the hope of the other, and it shall be when and where thou wilt that we shall meet. Furious Epolon could not hear out the end of this discourse, without laying hand on his weapon. Tharsis failed not to reply in the same accent, and before Philapian and Victor could separate them, Tharsis had run the old man into the body: presently they were parted but it was too late, for Epolon had received a wound which left him but one days life. Victor being an intimate friend to Tharsis, helped him away; who knowing he could never get his pardon, fled into Germany, where he died in the Emperor's Army.  
Epolon lived until the next day, Heaven having lent him so much time as to call him to account, and to make satisfaction for the wrong he had done. Barsimee, to repair her honour he gave her his land in sign of marriage, but such a marriage whereof death soon unloosed the bond.  
The same day it was assuredly known that Aldegond rather followed Metel, than that he had stolen her; and that if it were a Rape, it was done by her consent. Philapian overcome with so many disorders, whether of grief or of an apoplexy (which as was thought seized on him) died suddenly. Not long after Metel having married Aldegond in Germany, brought all to a good pass again, and wrought his peace with the mother, who tenderly loved her daughter, and dissuaded her son Victor from attempting to right these affronts by the force of Arms.  
Here the folly of Barsimee and the disloyalty of Epolon, serve to elevate or to make the loyalty and constancy of Metel and Aldegond show the fairer. In brief, the variety of accidents which happened in this rape, do show unto a good judgement the sundry lustres of good and evil, even as the neck of a Dove being exposed before the beams of the Sun, doth show in its feathers sundry transparences.   

THE JUST RECOMPENSE.  
The eleventh Relation.  
ALthough the Maxim of this wicked world be contrary, yet such is the belief and opinion of the wisest men, that it is the nature and property of a base abject courage, not to be able to suffer a wrong without some evident revenge. The same wise men also teach us, that the greatest courages are the most prone unto acknowledgement; and that it is as difficult for them to endure a good turn without requital, as for a base mind to put up a wrong without revenging it to the uttermost. Which made the Tuscan Poet say, That love doth never dispense with not loving the person that loveth. From thence comes the common saying, love that thou mayst be beloved, but with a stronger tone: when a man hath given all his goods, and all his substance for love, he still thinks he hath not done so much as he ought so precious a thing is love, you shall see the effects of this verity in the relation, that I am about to describe.  
In Ascoly a city of Poville a Province of the Kingdom of Naples, an honest Merchant's son, whom we will call Metran, fell in love with a Citizen's daughter named Valeria, who bore away the palm of beauty from all the Maids of that city, now as there was much equality in wealth between the parents of both parties, so there happened yet to be a greater concordance of humours & dispositions, so that the match seemed to be framed in Heaven, even from their births, but as many accidents happen betwixt the cup and the lip, so these two lovers were like unto those ships which lying at Anchor in the road, and staying but only for the tide to bring them into the desired haven, see themselves unawares by a wind from the land driven fare into the sea, and in short space at a great distance each from other. The Father of Valeria was much obliged to an Earl that dwelled in the City, whom we will conceal under the name of Armentaire, this Citizen was under the particular Protection of this Nobleman, who on diverse occasions had showed him much assistance, which was the cause that amongst those that the Father of Valeria invited at the betroathing of his Daughter, he entreated the Earl as his good Lord and Patron to be there, whereunto Armentaire condescended as willing to honour this Citizen whom he entirely loved, the assembly was come together with much pomp and magnificence, and there Metran promised unto Valeria, and Valeria unto Metrau to take each other in the face of the Church, on the day that it should be agreed upon betwixt their parents: now wanted nothing but only to proceed upon the solemnities and consummation of this Marriage, the term of few days was prescribed to prepare and end it, the content of these parties had exceeded, had not the adjourning of the day (wherein they should have been united) put water into their wine, and moderated their joy by ensuing troubles, for here comes an unexpected tempest to cross their quiet navigation, whether it were that Valeria had added unto her natural beauty the art of ornaments, which made her exceed all the company, or whether the Earls eyes were more open that day than they were formerly, so it fell out that the flash of this fair face dazzled him so that he lost both judgement and knowledge of himself, he was very ancient, and beside extremely troubled with the Gout, whether it were that he had it as inheritance, or that it proceeded from his former intemperancies, all this aught to have dispensed him from inrouling himself under the Standards of Cupid, where the old and gouty are scarce welcome, old fools are reckoned amongst things unfit for use▪ of which Armentaire shows himself to be one by the foolish part he plays. After he had made a weak resistance unto the assault, made by this innocent beauty, he yields, resolving to cure himself of this importunate desire by Marriage, hereupon he goes forthwith to Bonit the Father of this fair conqueress, and weeping like a chlid represents his grief unto him, in such a manner that this good Citizen his ancient friend took pity thereof, & counted it a great honour and grace that he should request to have his daughter in marriage, but my Lord (said he) you know she is betrothed to another, and this promise cannot be broke but by the consent of both parties. I shall (replied the Earl) deal so bountifully with Metran that in obliging me he shallbe the better all the days of his life, and I will so well provide for your daughter that both she and you, yea and all yours shall be glad thereof. This news was carried by Bonit to Metran who poor young man received it as the sentence of his death, and indeed to rend so strong a love from his heart was no less than to tear his soul from his body, he cannot answer but with tears like to the Stag when he stands at a bay, (Bonit pressing him to an answer) he fell presently in a swoon showing thereby that he could not grant so hard a request but by death, here pity gave new assaults to the soul of his Father, and truly he had been very barbarous if he had not been touched with compassion seeing his daughter so extremely beloved of him whom he had chosen to be his son in law, then goes he to his daughter to try her mind, who had no other answer but sighs and sobs; at last amongst many interruptions he learned that her will was in the hands of Metran, and that having given herself unto him she could no more dispose of herself, her Father having left her she opened the ●●●dgat● of her tears, tore her hair, & had almost spoilt that fair complexion which nature had set on her face; so much did she hate that beauty which seemed pleasing to any other then Metran● eyes▪ than Bonit returns to this young man who having with incredible convulsions of mind digested the bitter thought of the ruin of his love which he saw to be evident▪ took at last a courageous resolution, and such an one as taken contrary to the true intent may seem blame-worthy, but understood aright shall appear excellent. Philosophers distinguish between loves & say that that which is perfect hath no other end but the good of the person beloved, and that which is imperfect tends to thee utility of the person that loveth. Metran would show the perfection of his love to his dear Valeria, and seeing the Marriage so evidently advantageous for her, freely took the bit out of his own mouth to put it into Armentaires, this was the sum of the answer he made to Bonit, who tenderly embraced him and mixing their tears together he promised ever to account him as much the raiser of his house as the Earl, being that herein Armentaire sought nothing but his own content, and on the contrary, Metran deprived himself of his, only in consideration of Valeria's good▪ this news was presently carried by Bonit to his daughter who incredulous desires to here it from her beloved's own mouth, whereupon Metran being come into the presence of Valeria could hardly endure her looks which seemed to upbraids him with disloyalty so to forsake her and to give ●●● over unto another; and before they could speak, both of them fainting, fell to the ground, paleness seizing on their faces, their lips were forsaken by their natural colour, and they were thought to be yielding up their lives, but at length being a little recovered and come to themselves, Metran made it well and sufficiently appear unto Valeria, that she deceived herself in accounting that for baseness of heart and disloyalty, which was the greatest act of magnanimity that his heart could show, to renounce its own proper interests and pleasure in favour of the thing beloved.  
Valeria could not at first conceive this subtlety, her soul being united unto the soul of Metran, that she believed death itself could not divide them: what, (said she) hath caused thee so easily to forsake me, and so willingly to give me unto another? Ah Metran, Metran, call you that loving, and perfectly loving? as for my part, I should not only have preferred you before an Earl, but before a King also, for I esteem not men for their wealth, and their greatness, but for their own proper merits. Dear Valeria (replied Metran) the affection I bear you, being as strong at death, works now in me the same effect, since it separates me from you: my vehement desire of your greatness, makes me deprive myself of the greatest contentment that I could have wished, and without which my life hence forward shall be but a death: live then great, honoured, happy, rich, most dear Valeria, and by marrying with Armentaire, become the glory of your kindred, whilst I go miserable, poor, unhappy, and forlorn Metran spinning out the remainder of my sad days amongst the lovers of solitude: much ado they had to pluck these lovers from each others presence: a heart as hard as Adamant, could not but have relented at so hard a separation.  
The words of betrothing being rendered back, the very next morrow, Valeria is promised to Armentaire, who in few days makes her a Countess, and withal becomes so idolatrous of her, that both his eyes were not enough for him to view her withal; mean while Metran, who could rather have died, then endured to see his Mistress in the arms of another, went his way wand'ring through Italy for the space of some few years, often changing place, but never heart nor affection. Armentarie had but one son, and he was married, but had no child, and that was partly the cause why the Earl did marry again to get issue, but age and the gout opposed themselves to his desire.  
Moreover, it was generally reported that he was so charmed by the love of a Courtesan, that he disdained his lawful wife: but as the kind of bad women resemble the materia prima, which is never satisfied with forms, what expense soever Hilaire was at for to stay the covetousness of this creature, she still flew out, and daily bred new distractions in his brain, so that on a time being throughly vexed at her, he used her like a woman of her trade, and marked her face with the slash of a sharp Razor, which they there call Coustillade. This lewd creature seeing herself deprived of that little beauty which made her to be esteemed, grew so desperate, that she caused Halaire to be murdered by another of her lovers, with whom she embarked, and got into the Venetian Territories, a receptacle for such sort of wares. This his son's death unmeasurably afflicted the Earl, seeing himself deprived of heirs, and out of all hope of having any children; yet the love he bore to his young wife, was a charm to all his griefs. But indeed this praise must only be attributed to the virtuous discretion and carriage of Valeria, that she could so well frame herself to his humours, and so win his heart, that he had been insensible if he had not acknowledged her respects: the gout by little and little wasting the Earls natural vigour, brought him to the threshold of his ●om be, and what could he then do better in the acknowledgement of the service received from his prudent mate, then to make her his heir? (as he did by his solemn will and testament) and after that he went the way of all flesh, which is the way to the grave: so long as he lived, Valeria strove all that she might against the Ideas of her first love which she had borne to Metran: but when death had broken her bands, and set her at liberty to make her own choice, even than resumed she her first flames, and resolved to show Metran an example of her constancy and loyalty: hereupon she sends to the father of this young man, and prays him to acquaint his son with the death of the Earl, and to cause him to return home again, with assurance, that she would communicate something unto him that should give him content.  
Metran was then at Genues, labouring to divert his melancholy amongst so many stately Palaces and delights wherewith this beautiful coast of Liguria doth so abound; but neither the sweetness of this air where Spring lasts all the year, nor so much wealth and magnificence, wherein this opulent City triumphs, were not charms strong enough to sweeten his sorrow, he continually catries the shaft about him that hurts him, but this news of the Earl's death was a forcible dittany to drive this arrow out of the wound, and he began to hope well of his fortune, this obstacle being taken away, forthwith he returns to Ascoli, where he was so courteously welcomed by Valeria, that he well perceived honours had not changed manners in this woman, and that her love had been true, seeing it was so constant, she than tells Metran, that because he so generously yielded her to another, whereby she became a rich Countess, she would therefore render him the like, by a mutual & reciprocal friendship which was to make him partaker of her fortune, hereupon she promises to marry him, after the year of mourning should be expired because she would not infringe the laws and customs of civil decency; at the end of which term, she performed her promise, and as Metron by going away had made Valeria a Countess, so she by recalling him had made him an Earl, preferring him by a just recompense before so many suitors, who proffered to augment her riches and honours.   

THE WEAK CONIECTURE.  
The Twelfth Relation.  
FOolish is the Gamester that on aweake Card, venter's all he is worth, and more foolish he who on a weak conjecture, blindly hazardeth his life, as we shall see in this Relation, but what if love be strong as death, jealousy is a rage as horrid as hell, and incessantly and without hope torments those that are in its flames, so jealousy drives into fury and despair those whom it over takes with violence at foot of those high mountains which take their names from the fair Pyrenea and which serve as abarricado to France against the arrogance of Spaniards, a-Gentleman one whom we will conceal under the name of Fabian, had a daughter that was one of the fairest of the country, she was the cause of envy in many of her sex, and of desire in many Suitors, and also of a jealousy which will give occasion unto the murders, wherewith this tragical relation shall be bloodied: of all those that loved her and sought to have her, jule, Audifax, and Adiute, were strucken most to the quick, at least wise if by the effects we will penetrate unto the force of the cause, jules fortune was inferior unto Eleusipes, but yet was the best beloved, Adiute was a party equal and suitable unto her, but Audifax as much exceeded these two in birth and means, as a cypress tree exceeds little bushes in height; Fabian who according to the common desire of parents hath nothing so much in heart as to see his daughter richly and honourably provided for, wishes nothing more than to see her great by matching with Audifax; the very humour of that Nation being near enough neighbouring to the Spaniard participats in the vanity which reigneth universally beyond the Pyreneans, it had been good, and had not raised so many troubles, if these three competitors hoping to come all at one time, this Father had made choice of the greatest to bestow his daughter on: but the diversity of times making diversity of pretenders, each of them had his particular reasons, not to yield his suit unto any, jule the first in date had so possessed the affections of Eleusipe that there was no place left therein to receive neither the merits of Adiute, nor yet the greatness of Audifax, and this love was not grown without the approbation of parrents, for Fabian had been willing that jule should be suitor to his daughter, & his wife was so content therewith that she favoured him above all others, which was no small prop unto Iule's cause: Adiute came since to woo, borne thereunto by his own proper merit, and beside by a great man who had great power over Fabian.  
Audifax, the first in greatness and the last in i'm, came with such asplendour, as Fabians eyes ●were so dazzled thereby, that he forgot all the permissions which he had given, and all the promises which he had made unto others. These breaches of word were bad examples in a gentleman, and from thence came the original of all debates: for Audifax of a lofty and jealous humour, being not able to suffer that the others should approach her whom he wooed, caused Fabian to dismiss them. But he not able to get his daughter to do the like, by reason of the affection she bore to jule, forged some cold excuses, wherewith as with false coin he sought to pay these two gentlemen.  
The love they bore to the daughter, and the quality of the father of their common mistress, which they respected in Fabian, stayed them from quarrelling with him, & each retired without any stir, intending not to give over their design, but to thwart the desires of Audifax as much as possible they could.  
jule, as we have already said, had taken such possession of Fabricies good liking, that she gave him permission and also opportunity sometimes to see her daughter, whose inclination she knew to ●end wholly towards this gentleman. Add thereunto that the arrogancy of Audifax displeased her extremely, for already under the name of servant, he usurped the authority of a master, and took a command in the house of Fabian as if he had been in his own. Besides, he was so jealous of Eleusipe, that he glossed on all her words, on her looks, on her countenance, and on the smallest of her actions, a torture unsufferable unto this young gentlewoman, who complained thereof unto her mother, and the mother took pity of her. It was in the depth of Winter, and in that season which covers all the mountains with snow, and which invites the Nobility of the Country to take up their abode in cities. Fabian with his wife and daughter went to pass their Shrovety de in a city near the principality of Bearn, the three lovers were the heliotrophes or turne-soles whose sun was Eleusipe. Audifax only accompanied her openly thither, but the other two arrived in the town by several ways. The time invited to feasts, to good cheer, to conversations, to dancing, maskings and mumming, every day some assembly was made, where Eleusipe with her brightness dimmed the lustre of those beauties which were in the City. jule and Adiute left no occasion of seeing her, which much vexed Audifax, but he could not remedy it, because they saw her not in Fabians house, but in such placesas where he could not forbid them to come. Some affairs forced Adiute to an absence for some few days: during which time jule invented a mask in favour of Eleusipe, and caused her to be invited to a friends house of his, where being masked he might entertain her at will. Among those whom he entreated to be maskers with him, was one Fluriel young man, who danced exceeding well, and had formerly been page to Adiute; the Masque goes on, it is not for me to relate the invention, it sufficeth for my history to say that it was done with the admiration of all the spectators, although they were ignorant both who was the principal author, and for whom it was made: so secret had jule been in his enterprise. Audifax was there present, being come in that company where he knew Eleusipe was to be. In masks the liberty of Masquers is very great by reason of their disguise, they may as long as they please entertain with discourse those whom they choose out, and it were a gross incivility to interrupt them in their conversation, they being not bound so much as to answer any one that speaks to them, except they please, that so they may not be known by their speech. The mask being ended, jule made use of the privilege, and having taken Eleusipe aside, talked with her in secret so long, till jealous Audifax was offended thereat. He had still kept both his eyes upon the actions of this S, who was talking to Eleusipe with the countenance of a passionate man; which put Audifax into a fume, and for to break off their discourse he bethinks himself to pray Eleusipe to dance: she excuseth herself, in that she cannot without the Masquers permission, who seemed to be unwilling. This provoked Audifax, and was the cause that thrusting the S, and calling him importunate man, would have taken Eleusipe from him, the masquer counterfeiting his speech▪ said that he made use of the masks laws without any importunity, but that he for his part did violate them with as much indiscretion as incivility.  
Audifax stung with these words, and more yet by his jealousy, presently laid hand on his sword; but jule was not without defence, for he made a Pistol ring in his ear, which had shot him through the head, had he not stopped it. The other Masquers bestirred themselves likewise, so that there was an horrible confusion. jule was in the house of his friend, who helped him at need: Audifax was slightly hurt, but evil fortune would, that as the Masquers were retiring, poor Fleurid got a thrust with a sword in the back, whereby he fell dead on the stairs. Being unmasked and known, Audifax made no doubt but that this mask had been made by Adiute, in consideration of Eleusipe: The reason of this conjecture was, that Fluriel had been his Page, and that commonly he had made use of him when he would make any mask. The absence of Adiute since some days shown the contrary, but the jealousy of Audifax made him believe that it was but feigned, and that it was so given out, the better to cover the mumming. Thereupon Audifax resolved to challenge Adiute, who being returned to town, saw himself saluted by a letter of defiance, which marked him out the hour and the place where he should come with a second to make satisfaction for the affront which Audifax pretended to have received from him. Adiute, who would willingly have paid dear for a good cause of quarrel against Audifax, receiveth this challenge with a free courage, ask no better than to decide by combat which of them should have Eleusipe. Further, being nettled by the death of his Page, he resolves to fight both for his Love and for his revenge, two strong spurs to animate a spirit. He goes into the field with a second, where before they went to it he protests by great oaths unto Audifax, that he had not made the mask, but that he was two days journey from thence when it was made: that he knew not what satisfaction Audifax would draw from a wrong that was not done by him: that he had courage enough to accost Eleusipe openly without hiding himself under a mask. This (replied Audifax) is the language of a coward, who to avoid strokes frames frivolous excuses: we are not come hither to stand and do nothing, I am but too certain that it was thee who didst make the Masque, & entertain my mistress, notwithstanding that thou wert forbidden so to do: the death of thy page hath been the beginning, and thine shall be the end of my revenge, trifle not out time thus, we must fight.  
The wrong thou even now didst me (replied Adiute) in giving me the name of coward, which belongeth not unto me, would make me lose a thousand lives rather than want the washing of its spot in thy blood: the blood of my page killed treacherously asks this vengeance, the love of my mistress commands me to punish thy temerity, and my own honour obliges me to make thee lie. This said, they went to it, and it appeared in three bouts, that the greatest talkers are not the greatest fencers, because that Adiute extraordinarily provoked, pressed Audifax so lively and strongly, that he never made thrust but hit, so that without having the least hurt himself, he laid him on the ground at the third, making his soul pass out at a large wound, and presently goes to help his second, who had reduced his man to bad terms. They made him yield up his weapons, and so left him in the field, from whence being brought back he died the next day; Adiutes Second having but a flight wound in the arm.  
Audifax was of so great parentage, that after this it behoved Adiute to take flight towards the Pyrenean mountains, and to seek shelter in the territories of Spain, from the justice of France, although he went unto this duel being challenged, and had been provoked against reason, and unmeasurably wronged in the field, and that his act was rather a defence of his honour and his life, than an assault: yet the power of Audifax parents, made him feel the rigour of the edicts, which oft times falls rather on the least fortunate, than on the most culpable: he was be headed in efsigie, his goods were confiscate, and he was constrained to change his native country for a strange land.  
Thus is jule rid of both his Rivals, and might have said as the Raven in the Fable, who seeing the wolf and the dog fight, on which side soever the victory falls, the profit shall be mine: he had a new permission to be a suitor to Eleusipe, whom he had much a do to comfort on the loss of Audifax and Adjute, and being favoured by the mother of this gentlewoman, who without intermission pressed Fabian to conclude this marriage: it was in fine resolved, and ended, to the contents of the parties. jule gathering the harvest of what the others had sown in their blood. Thus rowles the event of humane things, and thus the harm of some is the profit of others, mean time we will principally observe in this relation, the folly and blindness of Audifax, who on a weak conjecture, on a thought ill cleared, put his life to the hazard of a duel, his extravagancy not to admit the just satisfaction, which the true excuse of Adiute presented him, his rashness and his arrogancy having been the two wings of wax, which melting, hastened him unto the grave: certainly this Oracle cannot lie, which says, who loves danger, shall perish therein.   

THE VANQVISHED Man's Trophy.  
The thirteenth Relation.  
LEt us continue this matter of Duels, whose extravagancy is so great, both in form and in cause, that I cannot better compare it, then to the Labyrinth of Crete, and to its Mynotaure: it is a Labyrinth where men's spirits twirl about and stray into acts so unreasonable, that they end in folly; it is a minotaur, for there are none but men beasts who uphold this brutishness: for to do their selves justice, to make themselves judges in their own cause, is a maxim which strikes at all the rules of equity, and yet is it the fundamental faith of all Duels, therefore how just soever the cause appear, it may be called unjust justice, and we shall in this relation see this unjust justice chastised by a just injustice, it being so permitted to punish the pride of an insolent man, and make the vanquished bear away for a Trophy, the cause of the combat, and the fruit of the victory, you may well think it is not many parts of France are so unfortunately fertile in these single combats, that we will go to seek this history; Champagne was the theatre thereof, by the occasion which I am going to relate.  
An old Knight named Project, who had in his time made fair proofs of his valour, but having followed a side which was not so much for his credit as it might have been, his services were but ill acknowledged, he then withdrew himself into his own house, where all he could do, was to make the Serpent's head join to the tail, I mean, make the first day of the year touch the last without borrowing, then could he not hoard up much, neither could he forgo any part of his land without much inconveniency, a weak body being very sensible of the least shock. His sons went to wars, thereby to augment their fortunes, and the fortunes of three daughters which he had; two of them were put into Monasteries, the eldest and the youngest, the middlemost called Callinice, which was likeliest to be put off, remained in the world to expect when her beauty, rather than her father's money would purchase her a husband: she was perfectly fair, and beside, so virtuous and modest, that if deserving were having a good match, she had been the best provided; but how beautiful soever a Maid be, some would have her for a Mistress, that would fear to take her for his wife, if she brings not wherewithal to make the pot boil. She had many complementors and admirers, few suitors; thus passed she her time in long attendance, supported by small hope; I say passed her time, because already the age of twenty and two years, put her in the number of tall, if not of ancient Maids, although she were in the prime of a beauty, mature, and complete, which appeared with a great brightness; this iustre hit into the eyes of Thyrse, a Gentleman of forty, or it may be more years of age, who had done well in the Armies where he had been a Commander, and had had good issue in many good occasions: he was of these discreet men, who fear the yoke of marriage, and whose reflecting spirits find fault in all things. Atlast, the graceful carriage of Callinice surprised his prudence, he was touched with the virtue of her beauty, and with the beauty of her virtue, the age, stature, discretion, conversation, and all, liked him in this Maid; and if he be to make shipwreck of his liberty, it must be at this fair rock. He was accommodated with a sufficient forrune, without expecting much from a wise, and this goes well for Callinice, who hath so little, that this little is as nothing, at least wise our wary Thyrse shall not sell away his power or mastery, being he shall not have a great portion, nor can his wife cast much in his teeth, seeing she brings him not much wealth. Upon this resolution he imbarks himself in this suit, where he was received with open arms. Dry ground doth not so much desire rain or dew, as Project wished to see his daughter provided for; but to see so advantageous a match for her as Thyrse, that is it which transports him with joy, because it surpassed his desire and his hope, and beside, he believes this son in law may help him in his need; all these interests joined together, with the age of his daughter, and his own which pressed him, cause the conclusion to be soon made, and the agreements soon past: before our prudent lover embarked himself, he had taken leisure to know the humour of the mind, and had found it so to his liking, that he knew not which he loved most in her, either the mind or the body, and indeed Callinice, who between the wisdom and the virtue of Thyrse saw her fortune evident in this match, so discreetly managed her behaviour, that she charmed him quite, but it was by the good and right charms of meekness and honesty: never was the like correspondency, and Thyrse had reason to believe that he had met with a match, whereof he might hope for a marriage without thorns: but here comes some that will prick him to the blood, & will show him that in this world, Roses are not gathered without hurt: the agreements being made up, there chanced to come into that Country, a young Gentleman of a good house, but a younger brother, whom we will call Vincent, he newly returned from Holland, with his head so full of wind, that in regard he had been in some sieges and encounters, he thought he had part in all the victories of Grave Maurice; he told many fair tales, he had been in all places, and by his own talk he was able to lead an Army, and he had fought so many duels, he ha● killed, he had given life; and thus did he giddy every ones head with his bravadoes, like unto those students, who returning from the Universities, spit out at their mouth, the superfluities of their memory; and to show they have studied much, it appears they have no judgement, and that their learning is rather heaped up, or gathered together confusedly, than well ordered.  
Yet true it is, that this young Gentleman had courage, but his valour was as yet like unto a green and tart fruit, which time might both have ripened and seasoned: he was a good horse man, and very good at fencing. As soon as he came, he begun to roll up and down from house to house, and to visit the neighbourhood as the manner is among Gentlemen in the Country: he came to Projects house without any other design, then to salute this old Knight, and to render him the devoirs which youth oweth to the ancient, he was there welcomed; and as young folk delight not much to be among old, because they are too serious and too grave for them: Vincent passed on presently to the young Gentlewoman, where he meets with this beauty of Callinice, which gave him a check, and soon mute-strucken with this lustre, as with a thunderclap, he remained quite astonished, and he whose tongue before giddied all companies, became now mute as a fish: all the faculties of his soul being as it were gathered together in his eyes, the more amply to contemplate so many wonders, being now in the number of the vanquished, he ceaseth to sing his own victories: in brief, being young and full of ardour, he in an instant becomes a passionate lover, having not the judgement nor the discretion to moderate the flame, and to hide his design, he made it known to Callinice, who so fare rejected him, that he was thereat wholly amazed, and in truth, this Gentlewoman had been very ill advised, if being not only promised, but also engaged in affection to Thyrse, she had never so little ●ent ear to the new compliments of this giddy bra●●●, but he looseth not courage for this repulse, but continues his pursuit, at last, learns that Thyrses wooing having preceded his, had preocupated the mind of Callinice, and that she could not have inclination to him, as long as Thyrse was on foot. judge a little on the violent humour of this youth, who would have all yield to him, faith to be broken, Thyrse to leave him the place, and all to make way for his desires, who like a furious torrent, cannot suffer banks, yet let us see if he have wherewithal to counterbalance the means of Thyrse: no such matter, for a younger brother, and poor withal, are too inseparable qualities. He hath nothing but his sword and his hope, which is Alexander's part, and herewith he would pass for a brave fellow; and because he makes himself skilful, and understanding, he would have every one think he hath much merit, Project had been ill advised if he had given his daughter to this Gallant for to put two poverties together, had not that been a marriage to have begotten necessity, therefore they make him understand that he loses his labour, that the place is taken, and that he is come too late, and that he shall do well to retire. He that believes that Maids are to be disputed for like the towns of Holland at the sword point, turns this unjust colour against Thyrse, gins to talk ill of him, taxeth his coldness with unableness, his moderation with pusillanimity, his prudence with cowardice, and because he had some grey hairs on his head, he calls him old man, a name hard to be borne by one that aspireth to marriage.  
Notwithstanding that all these insolences come to the ears of wise Thyrse, he dissembles them with prudence, and receives these nips as coming from the hand of a child, holding himself no whit hurt thereby; and casting all the fault thereof on the weakness of age, and force of love, he sends this tendril to school again; in fine, this furious youth seeing them prepare for publieke betroathing, and that the marriage was going on, resolves to venture his rest, and without any other cause then for the possession of Callinice, he challenges Thyrse to decide by the loss of his life, or of his rivals, unto whom the fair Maid should remain, he sends him a letter of defiance, so outrageous, that even snow would have been heat thereby: Thyrse goes unto the place assigned to chasti●e the insolency of this novice, and make him feel the strokes of a Master, but outrageous fortune, enemy to virtue, is not commonly on the best side. This young Gallant was so nimble, and could so well handle his weapons, that he hits Thyrse where he list, and uses him like a Quintaine-bagge, flouting him as he lards him, sometimes in the arms, sometimes in the thighs, at last, weary with paying him in jest, he gins to fall on in earnest, and with such fierce assaults, that Thyrse having two thrusts in the body, fell on the ground, weakened by the loss of his blood, and was fain to yield up his arms, and beg life of this younker: who for an addition of victory, made him swear to seek no more after Callinice, and yield up all his pretensions to him. Thyrse having a poniard held at his throat, was forced also to pass through this extremity. Hereupon proud Vincent retires, bearing away the blood, the arms, and the faith of his rival; could he have desired a more ample victory? Thyrse being carried home, a Surgeon dressed his wounds, which were not found ●o be mortal, but the grief and shame to have been subdued by a child, to have begged life, to have yielded up his arms, to have renounced the possession of his fair Mistress, did so torture him, that if he had not dreaded eternal torments, he had like another Cato, torn his wounds, and received death by his own hands; how many times did he wish that he had suffered himself to be killed in the field, rather than so shamefully to owe his life unto his adversary? whose insolent triumph representing itself before his eyes, he resolved to fly to the furthest part of the world, rather than to endure the sight of it; and in effect, as soon as he could get out of his bed, having gotten up a good sum of money, he stole away from the Castle, whereunto he had caused himself to be carried, and in the obscurity of the night, he took the first way that he met with: it was not likely that any should know where he was gone, for he knew not himself whether he was going: at last, being come to knowledge of himself, he went into Germany, and from thence through Bavaria, he came and descended into the state of the Venetians, and being at Venice, he embarked himself in the first ship that set up sail for Constantinople: let us leave him sailing in full sea, to come and see what Vincent is doing; he wheels about like a Peacock, but he shall soon be forced to close up his tail, and hide his beautiful feathers.  
Thyrse appearing no more, and Vincent boasting that he had vanquished him in a duel, that he had had his blood and his arms, that he had made him beg life, and renounce his pretensions of Callinice, in stead of applauding this boaster, it was presently thought that he had murdered him treacherously, and that having cast his body into some secret place, his vanity thus triumphed on his reputation. The conjecture is strong, he had Thyrsis weapons which he shown, and his own stained in his blood, as he said, if he be not dead, where is he then? that he should be gone to hide himself for shame, there is small likelihood of that: for the law of duels is such, that arms being hazardous and uncertain, the honour of the vanquished is washed in his own blood, whether he die or dye not. Vincent who believes that praises are perfumes, which should be burnt but only upon the altar of his merit, goes all about holding up his head as conqueror of Thyrse. Mean time the brothers and sisters of this absent man, think him to be dead, and divide among them his inheritance, whereof they would have thought themselves unworthy, if by way of justice they should not seek to avenge his blood. Vincent who knew that he had not killed Thyrse, hides not himself, but shows himself in companies, yea and he appears even before Callinice, who respects him and abhors him as the murderer of her lover, at last in a fair morning he saw himself seized upon in his bed by the Provost, who was set on by the heirs of Thyrsis.  
Now is he in prison, where he yet continues his bravadoes and boastings: his parents labour to get him forth, but he gets not so easily out of the hands of justice, the formalities go on, he answers the judges with assurance that he hath fought with Thyrse, and gotten from him what advantages he desired, he shows his weapons, denies to have killed him, but that he made him beg life, and renounce his right to Callinice, the cause of their combat: he acknowledges to have wounded him in diverse places, and knows not whether he be dead of those hurts or no. Thyrse is so fare off that he is not like to appear, the suit goes on and is brought to a hearing, the judges declare Vincent criminal, for that he had challenged, fought, hurt, and probably killed Thyrse, and they condemned him as having violated the Edicts, to lose his head. This sentence pronounced in the morning, was executed ere night, and our triumphant Younker saw himself led in a cart, accompanied by the hangman unto the place of execution, where his head full of wine made as many rebounds as a Baboon; there was the triumph of his vanity and of his folly.  
Thyrse stayed two years in his voyage of Levant, and in the end time having moderated his displeasures, and beginning to wax weary of his abode among Infidels, he resolved to return back into Christendom, he arrived in Sicilia, and thence he came to Rome, from whence he made known unto his brother and sisters▪ that he was not yet dead, entreating them to have a care of his means, and to send him a certain sum of money. This news was reported to Project and Callinice, who thereby resuscitated their hopes. Thyrse soon received what he had sent for, together with relation what had passed in the punishment of Vincent: he also had Letters from Callinice, which made him know the constancy and fidelity of this maid, and wherein she recalled him from his long exile, and conjured himto come and end their marriage. Thyrse being returned to his better senses, and judging that he had done in his combat as much as a valiant man could have done, flattered a new by the Idea of Callinices' beauty, and by that so natural love of the country, which cannot die but with us, took his way again towards France by Lorette, and from thence by Bologne, Milan, Swiss, and Lorraine: he came into Campagne, where he was received by his friends, as a man risen from death. Short time after he married Callinice with unspeakable contentments. So the Vanquished bore away the cause of the combat for a trophy, and shame and death remained for the conqueror.   

THE IDEA.  
The fourteenth Relation.  
ALL the Ideas which pass thorough our minds are not always so frivolous as some think. I will believe that the imagination, which is a very light faculty of the soul, and as it were the ship of a thousand Chimeras, doth forge a quantity of vain and shallow ones, and which have subsistence but only in the vast, or rather in the void room of extravagancy: as blind men shooting may hit the mark without seeing it, even so dreams which are but species and images altered by the shadows of the night, often serve us as presages.  
I here propose unto you an Idea, which you will find very strange, and which some will attribute unto some consultation of a Soothsayer, or to some invention. But it happened unto so honest a man of my acquaintance, and I will say more, mine ally, that on his word I fear not to set it down as a certain truth; for I know he is a person who hates falsity as death, and whose piety and purity are capable of greater revelations. Salviat (let us call him so) being left an Orphan very young, remained until his full majority under the power of his tutors: being come unto the time which by the law put him into government of his own means, he took it in hand, and for to be assisted therein by the fidelity of a person interessed, he took into his house one of his sisters a maid of government and judgement, the confidence he had in his wisdom as much as in her blood, was the cause he concealed none of his affairs from her, and that he left her the free managing of all that belonged unto him: a desire took him to see Italy, in an age ripe enough to make profit there of the good qualities of Italians, and to keep himself from the contagions of the bad ones, as he was in the Court of Rome esteemed to be a very wise and discreet man. He had left his sister in one of the principal Cities of France, in the house that had been their fathers, and in the managing of all his revenues. Moreover, he had had by inheritance exceeding fair household stuff, and especially plate▪ which amounted unto a great sum. In great cities the great robberies are committed, as in great rivers the greatest fishes are taken, some prying fellows having espied that there was store of fair goods and plate in the house, which was inhabited only by maids and some little lackeys, believed that if they could enter by night they might get a great booty: hereof they failed not, and having before under colour of showing some mercery wares to sell, spied out and marked the ways and places of the house, they got in by night, and besmooted their faces that they might not be known, and seized on this gentlewoman and her dismayed maids, which were easy to be terrified: they locked them up in a chamber, threatening to cut their throats if they cried never so little; mean while they open all, choose out the fairest and best, make up their packs, and go their way at pleasure. The next day these maids which were thus locked up, durst not yet cry, thinking still to have the knife at their throat: at last being fare on in the day, hearing no manner of noise in the house, they call out for help, they are delivered, & it was found that the best things were stolen and carried away. Never could they discover either wind, smoke, track or mark of this robbery. Oderife, let us thus call this gentlewoman, she writ there of unto her brother, who the same night that it was done (which they verified by the date of a letter) had dreamt it in his sleep, and which is admirable, the very features of the faces, and manner of the thiefs apparel were perfectly presented unto him, and remained so engraven in his imagination, that during so long time as passed between the deed and the tidings he had thereof by letters, they could not be blotted out. He writ at length unto his sister▪ that she should make enquiry thereabouts, if there were not such manner of men, clothed in such manner and fashion: the search was made, the thiefs were grown so bold believing to have so well covered their mumming, that they have not removed from their ordinary dwelling, presently they are taken upon so weak a conjecture, but before they saw the prison gate, they confessed more than was required of them, they related the whole circumstance of their theft, whereof they had wasted a very small matter, notwithstanding their restitution they were executed. We will observe in this Idea an evident mark of divine justice upon the wicked, whose chastisement it can further by admirable means, by reason whereof God watches over those that do evil, for to blot their memory out of the earth: had I not been well certified by the self same person unto whom this kind of revelation didhappen, I would not have given it place amongst these relations, but the certainty, which I have thereof hath made me set it down as an event worthy of consideration.   

THE UNCONSTANT ambitious Woman.  
The Fifteenth Relation.  
THose who sail one the sea of this world, which the wind of ambition commonly make woeful shipwreck, if Arduine passionately loving, over extremely beloved of Leopert, had been contented with the mediocrity of her fortune, wherein she enjoyed a repose and a felicity, which are not found in the most eminent estates, we should not now have cause for this tragical relation, wherein her example will show us how those that will soar up into the air of fame by evil means, often find themselves precipitated into a bottomless pit of shame, Westphalia saw the the birth of this Maid, and even in her tender years she shown forth rays of beauty, which made many judge this Sunne-rise would produce a noontide of perfection, wherewith Leopert a Gentleman of the same country was the first touched, and having not sown his affection in ungrateful ground, they bred reciprocal love in Arduine, as he aspired but unto her so she respired but to him, and this wooing was carried with so much judgement on both sides, that although the parents found some difficulties in this match, yet were they overcome by the constancy of these lovers, the agreements than were made, and in short time they were betrothed staying for to accomplish this marriage, but only till such time as the preparations, which were to be sumptuous should be made, but as betwixt the road and the port ships sometimes run great hazard, so this match so long pursued so ardently desired, so constantly expected, had like to have been thwarted by a tempestuous blast, Adelard a Lord of great quality and whose lustre dimmed all the merits, which Leopert could have found in himself was so fiercely overtaken by the graces of Arduine, that he resolved to have her for his wife, and to attempt all means possible for to break off the promise betwixt Arduine and Leopert, yea and for to make his mind plain he addresses himself to the parents knowing that on the maid's side preoccupated by affection, thee place was impregnable and out of buttery, these who had but unwillingly consented to the alliance of Leopert having in their eyes the bright sun of Adelards' greatness were easily persuaded to uphold his design and to seek means to hinder Leopert from marrying Arduine, but they found not therein so much facility as they expected for Leopert besides the love wherewith he was inflamed, had so great a courage that he would never yield to Adelard how great soever he were above him, and Arduine in this occasion shown that amaides' constancy is not always a leaf which turns with the least wind, for as her betrothed became inflexible to break his word, so she would never break hers, so that notwithstanding all the persuasions of parents and all Adelards labouring the marriage was consummated withal the solemnties necessary thereunto:  
These contrarities did but redouble the coutentment of the two lovers who saw themselves by these indissoluble bonds arrived at the top of their desires, but it fell out with Arduine as with those blades of steel which break not with the greatest blows, and yet snapp in pieces sometimes, when they are bended, as if they were of glass, those marriages which have a great order of love for foundation, are not always them that last longest in vigour; they must in this wise bargain, beled by more judicial reasons that will have it to succeed well, Adelard was greatly discontented to see himself frustrate of his pretensions, and if Leopert only had been an obstacle in his way, he had sought way by violence to have been rid of him, but seeing that the mind of Arduine was so fare from him, that made him less desirous to make away his rival, imagining that it would rather purchase him the hatred than the love of Arduine not knowing how wholly to extinguish the flame which he had conceived for this Gentlewoman, he continues to testify unto her that his affection was not dead and to seek indirectly that which he could not pretend by lawful ways. Arduine satisfied it may be with the pleasures which she promised unto herself in the possession of Leopert, began to turn her eyes towards the mountains of ambition, without considering that high places are subject to tempests & accompanied with downfals in short time this thought which was but a fly, became an elephant and representing unto herself how she had refused to be great by matching with Adelard, sorrow & repentance seized her and presently made her think on means to recover what she had lost. I might (said she in her heart) have had the same delights which I have with Leopert I had been adored by Adelard, who loves me with an extreme affection, and beside I have gone beyond many of my fellows, which I behold now above me; how unadvised was I, not to prefer such great wealth and such eminent state before simple delights which pass away so lightly? truly there is nothing like unto being in honour and eminency.  
Charmed by these illusions she gins to witness by evident signs unto Adelard that if he suffered for her she endured not less for him, she lends an ear unto his compliments and makes him affected answers, she inflames him by attractive looks and  entertainments, in brief, she attributes to her side all that Adelard could have wished for to undo her▪ unto this new affection for Adelard succeeded a cooling of good will for Leopert, a humane heart is too little to lodge two vehement passions at one time, Adelard helped much thereunto, for judging that he could never make himself Master of her will, if he brought her not to despise her husband, he neglected not to put this contempt into her soul, and moreover to breed therein a hatred, and such a hatred as arrived unto this last point, to desire his death, ungrateful woman whofor so much love as this man had showed her, recompenses him with such an aversion; she notwithstanding managed the passages of Adelard in such manner that without giving him any advantage on her pudicitie she retained him in the desire of marrying her, giving him no hope of enjoying her but through that gate, some would counsel Adelard in the crime of poisoning Leopert, which this fury (for what other name can I give to this cruel woman) did with so much cunning that the ground covered her fault before the justice of men could discover her treachery. Leopert being dead (some months after) for she stayed not the revolution of the year of mourning, she married Adelard, and by this means mounted up to the top of that greatness which she had so much desired, but if the delights which she had tasted with Leopert, had seemed light unto her, these honours seemed unto her but as smoke, and she learned by experience the truth of this sacred sentence, that all that is here beneath is but vanity and affliction of spirit: some time after Adelard considering that he slept by a serpent who might one day as cunningly give him his death as she had done to Leopert began to enter into distrust of this woman, and not to hold himself in assurance near her.  
Arduine finding some coldness in the love of Adelard, labours by diverse blandishments and wanton tricks to rekindle his fire, and to melt his Ice, but this increaseth the suspicion of Adelard, who knows that dangerous Women cover their treacheries with their embraces by little & little, this suspicion changed into belief, this belief into indignation, this indignation burst out into reproaches & threats, in fine, they were constrained to come unto a separation of bodies, Adelard being not able to live in quiet near this creature, of whom he stood in fear as of a fury, he sends her into one of his houses in the country, where Arduine seeing herself in a profound solitude, had no other company but her griefs which made her detest the blindness of ambition that had borne her to make away so good a husband as was Leopert, for to marry with this second, who contemns her, among so many & sundry sorts of thoughts wherewith her spirit was tossed, she gave way to this one which hath lost many imprudent Women, and that was to breed jealousy in Adelard, for to recall him to her again, among the gentlemen of that neighbourhood, she chose out one capable to make a hammering in Adelards' brain, she invites him to see her often which Melin holds for a great favour, and not knowing the design of this traitoress, this poor bird following the call of her prattlings, runs into the net of a violent love, attracted by the bait of hope, he believes that this Lady ill used by her husband; seeks in him revenge, which he desires, but Arduine who wol●make use of him but as of a lure to bring back Adelard to her fist, held his beak to water, and obliging him but with common and apparent favours, fed him with smoke, and vain expectation, mean time she was so fare from hiding her kind usage of him, that it being done only to appear, she made a show fare worse than the deed, resembling those that having Lions, Elephants, and other strange beasts to be seen, hang out pictures fare more extravagant than the beasts themselves, to allure in those that behold them, Adelard having notice of what passed betwixt Melin and his wife, presently believed that she was false to him, and that she that could commit a murder would make no conscience of adultery, he sought many times to catch both together, this true amourist and this counterfeiting Woman, but the evil being not arrived unto the effect, he was not likely to find out the occasion thereof, mean time he feared that this perfidious Woman should by some subtle poison send him to keep company with Leopert, for to enjoy her new Medor at will, having then in his opinion, gathered witnesses sufficient to convince her of adultery, he puts her in suit to have her condemned, he causeth Melin to be seized on, who is put into one prison, and Arduine into another, not to lay abroad the proceed of a suit, I will only say that it was easy for Arduine and Melin to clear themselves of a crime, which they had not committed, but the divine justice which leaveth nothing unpunished permitted the tongue of Arduine to be converted into a sword, which cut her own throat, for making her plaints in the prison, against the malice and ingratitude of Adelard, she happened to say that he had persuaded her to poison her first husband, and that for to bury that wickedness in oblivion, he wished to see her dead, such like words fall not to the ground in prisons, there are Echoes which say them over again, and which bring them to the ears of the judges, whereof God makes use for to execute his vengeance against those that have provoked his wrath, she is examined hereupon, & varies in first her answer, being pressed further she acknowledgeth it in her second; in fine, truth manifested itself through her mouth against her will there being a witness that Adelard had persuaded her, he easily purged himself thereof, casting all the crime on Arduine alone, a moreover that the greatness of Adelard gave him so much credit both at Court, and before the Magistrates, that it was easy for him to over turn all the misery on the head of his accusatrix, which made her lose her life by sentence, not as an adulteress. For Melin was cleared, but as the murderess of her first husband, leaving a memorable example unto posterity, that punishment as a shadow follows in all places the body of this crime, and that early or late he cannot fail of chastisement, who hath committed such an offence, behold whereunto ambition elevated this Woman, and see the precipice wherein she cast herself, a lesson for ambitious persons not to mount up unto honours by crimes, if they will not descend by shame.   

THE AMAZON.  
The sixteenth Relation.  
IT was in the time of Alexander Farnese Prince of Parma, that the marquis de Varambon Knight of the golden Fleece, one of the greatest Noblemen of the County of Burgoigne, and who for his courage and experience, had at that time fair employments in the armies, received commandment to besiege Bliemberg, a very strong little town, and near Rhinberg. This brave Captain made his approaches, and without making here a long description of this siege, which I leave unto these that have at large written the history of the troubles of the Low-Countries, it sufficeth me to say, that well assaulted and well defended, the place was battered, the breach being reasonable, a general assault was given so furiously, that the assailants repulsed diverse times, at last launched themselves with so much violence through the blows the bodies of the dead and of the hurt, that they forced down the defendants and entered into the town, which taken in this sort, suffered all the insolences and outrages which victors were wont to practise upon the vanquished, who have been subdued with their weapons in hand. Let us add moreover, that the place had so obstinately held out, that those within would never hearken unto any composition, but resolved to dye rather than to yield unto the Spaniard, it sufficeth to say that it was entirely sacked, and that they pardoned neither age nor sex, nor honour, nor riches, all was desolate, when the marquis made himself absolute master thereof, and that order was given to bury the dead, for fear that the infection should corrupt the air, and overthrow health, two soldiers were found on the breach so straight embraced, that even in this state which hath no more strength it was hard to part them. The vanquishers ardent after prey and booty, for to have the spoils of these two who were reasonably well clothed, stripped them quite naked: one of them as white as snow, and of a wonderful beauty, was found to be a woman. Presently amazement ran through all the troops, and curiosity laboured to know the success of this memorable adventure: it came unto the ears of the Marquis, and as a man that made much account of valour and of love, hearing talk of the death of this armed Venus, who had been found fastened with her Mars. He passionately desired to know who were these two lovers, for to honour the memory of their courage and of their fidelity. A soldier who had made proofs of an incomparable generosity, and who being wounded in diverse places, had yielded himself under the faith of a Burguignon Captain, who in favour of his virtue took care to have him dressed, said that he was alone in the City, and it may be in the Country, that could satisfy the curiosity of the Marquis, and of so many others who had an extreme desire to know the truth of this amorous and warlike history.  
This hurt prisoner being not able to stir, the Surgeons having but an ill opinion of his wounds, the Marquis went to see him, accompanied by diverse Captains, for to learn from his mouth the particulars of this event. The sick man resuming an extraordinary vigour, made the discourse thereof in this manner in his natural tongue, which was high Dutch, and which the marquis and most of those that were about him, understood very well: My Lord (said he) I render thankes unto heaven, that hath given me but so much life as I wish for, to yield in so honourable a company the glorious testimony which I own to my love, and to my friendship, which done, think it not strange if I die, for the causes that made me live being no more, it were a cruelty, and not humanity, for to dress my wounds, and the way to prolong my death, rather to preserve my life, I can no more live without friendship, than enjoy the light of days without eyes, and without sun▪ even from my birth, I have had an inclination to love, but an inclination so strong, that I remember not to have ever lived without some particular affections, but I had never any stronger than for these two lovers, my friend, and my mistress, which have been found dead and embraced on the breach: O happy couple! why must the order of wary have separated our affections, and make me fight in another place? how freely for to save you from death, would I have suffered myself to have been hewed in a thousand pieces! or at leastwise I had been your companion inseparable in death, as I have been in life, but you have outstripped me of a small time: Stay for me dear souls, and I shall soon be at you. Alas the desire to see you, rather than to preserve my life, made me yield my arms unto this young man, in whom my courage hath bred pity, but being you are no more in the number of the living, I will be blotted out from thence, and remain there no longer time than needs must, for to consign unto men's remembrance the memory of our friendship. He made this fine speech with so many sighs, sobs, and tears, and with so great a voice, that falling suddenly into faintness, they thought he was expiring his last. This was attributed unto the pains of the wounds of his body, but it may be those of his heart were rather the cause thereof. Yet so it is, that the Marquis for fear this disturbance should kill him, retired into another chamber, resolving to put off this matter until he might be stronger, but when he was come to himself again, and that he saw no more this fair troop which had appeared about his bed, he entered into such sorrows and plaints, for that he could not disburden his mind, as moved so much compassion, that the marquis being pierced therewith, came back to see him: who after he had with opportunity craved favour to be heard, proceeded in a more stayed manner, and with a grave and hardy countenance said thus; My name is Aleran, my birth noble, my country is the Lantgraviat of Hessen, the place that saw my entrance into the world is Melsignam near unto Cassel, the seat of my Prince being in his Court. I bond myself in so strait a friendship with Incmar a gentleman Native of Rottenburgh who had been bred up as page unto the Landgrave, that we were commonly called the Inseparable: those impatiences which lovers feel when they are from their mistress, we felt when we lost sight one of another: being together days were unto us hours, and hours were months when we were asunder, a moment was unto us an age, even in sleeping, sleep which is a benumbing of the powers, was unto us tedious if we were severed, by reason whereof we commonly made but one bed, we had but one purse and one table, one and the same house, the same servants, the same Liveries, the same retinue, and when any of our servants were asked unto whom they did belong, they answered, Unto the two friends, if those that are but one may be called two: We went sometimes to Rotemberg, sometimes to Melsingnam, to see our common parents, he was at our house as at his own, and I at his as at mine, in brief, we lived in an incomparable union.  
It happened once as we were at Melsingnam, that my friend saw in a company a fair maid named Yoland, whose graces so won his heart, that he did nothing but think on her, and talked to me thereof out of the abundance of his thoughts. Presently I judged him to be stung with her love, and he acknowledged so much unto me at my first ask, for he concealed nothing from me. Truly, said I to him, I am very glad that your affections have addressed themselves in a place where I may yield you assistance; for besides that it is in my native Country, I am something allied unto this gentlewoman, and although it be a fare off, yet this affinity gives me a more particular access unto her, and by me you may with more facility, and more commodiously introduce yourself into her company, and from this frequentation pass into her favour: you have so much merit, that to see you, know you, and love you go together. Then Incmar with tears in his eyes (but they were tears of joy) said, Dear friend, thou thinkest that every one considers me as thou dost, and that thy passion communicates its contagion unto others; I have not so much presumption as to think to breed affection in this virtuous mind, but it shall suffice me that she suffer me to honour her, and that the torments that I endure for her being acceptable, may be a testimony of the sacrifice which I make unto her of my heart.  
Thou art already replied I: in those terms of Idolatry which grow in the mouths of lovers, and which (as I think) proceed but from the top of the lips, otherwise these compliments would offend heaven and would be so many blasphemies: for they speak but of altars, of sacrifices, of adorations, of flames, of victim, of goddesses, of temples, of vows, of praises, of perfumes, and other such idle things wherewith they entertain their craized imaginations, thus replied Incmar, do those that are in health laugh at the actions of them that be sick of hot diseases, in stead of having compassion on them: but if thou hast any compassion on mine, for every lover is wounded, I pray thee to lend me thy help, and to believe that the greatest proofs that thou canst give me of thy incomparable friendship, shallbe thy assistance in this occasion, my love being to me no less precious nor considerable than my life: then did I promise to yield him all sorts of good offices, and because I feared that the issue of this design would not succeed according to his desires, after that I have laboured in vain to dissuade him this enterprise wherein I believed he should unprofitably lose his time, seeing that the obstacles which I represented unto him augmented his ardour, and that the difficulties animated him the more unto the pursuit, I swore unto him to pass over all considerations for his contentment; being nothing was so dear unto me in the world as to please him. I then found means diverse times to make my fair kinswoman be seen by my friend who having declared unto her his affection and discovered that this maid had an inclination to acknowledge it, entered into great hops the element of lovers, to see his pretensions arrive unto the port which he desired.  
I was every day at Yolandes' ears relating unto her the commendable qualities of Inemar, and my own affection making me eloquent, it was easy for me to persuade her what I myself believed, for it is requisite that the Orator be moved, who will move others: to inspire love, one must have a feeling of its sweet flame, this young bird by little and little suffered herself to be brought on by my pipe, and to be taken by the inevitable baits of Incmars' conversations: now was he wholly in Yolands' favour, but yet although the heart were won for to arrive unto the possession of this fair body one of the ornaments of nature, these were obstacles which appeared invincible, but what is there difficult what is there? impossible unto those that will, and that love? Graciana step Mother unto Yoland had married Raoul Father to this Maid, on condition that a son that she had by her first husband should marry this gentlewoman; when as age had made her capable of marriage, Raoul without any consideration but of gold, whose dust dasleth the eyes of the clearest sighted, obliged himself unto this promise, not regarding that so to force the will is rather the part of a tyrant than of a Father, and then what obedience could have obliged, fair Yoland to give herself unto a monster, and to love him, who had all the causes which can give horror, he had a back higher than his head, capable to ease Atlas of his burden as well as Hercules, if he had been tall enough and strong enough, but he was so little as one would almost have thought that since the day of his birth, he had not grown in any part but his hair, besides that he was so swollen and so round, that one might have taken him for a great hand worm, or a middle sizd Bowl, his complexion a little whiter than an Ethiopians, approached unto the colour of a sick Spaniard, his lips big, his cheeks flat, his eyes sunk in, and a nose, enemy unto all other noses, to avoid it, one should have had a buckler or rather a rampire of perfumes, for though it had no smelling, it was to be smelled, his stature such as I have described it, upheld by two legs, so small that the ears of corn which totter in the field, with the least breath of wind, have firmer foundations: those were the columns of this Hercules which forbidden me to pass on further in his description: with all these remedies of love, what could he breed in the spirit of Yoland but hatred, I believe that this aversion helped not a little to lodge Incmar in her affection, because that coming to compare so many deformities, with so many graces wherewith my friend was rightly stored, she found him as worthy of her love as the other to be deprived of it, whilst these things pass in this manner, and that lovely Incmar possesses the affections of Yoland, in the same sort as she possessed his: Hugolin that is the name of the beautiful fellow, which I have painted you out, adding unto all these deformities that of jealousy, perceived this correspondency, and well judging that this new love made a shadow on his persuasions, he advertised Raoul thereof, who to keep his word, and to see his daughter richly matched unto this only, but singularly ill favoured son, promised him to discard this brave Courtier, he meant Incmar, that thus put crickets into his head, and in effect he forbade his daughter to see him any more, but seeing this forbidding was to no purpose, because that Yoland replied that she could not hinder this gentleman from coming into those companies where she chanced to be.  
Raoul talked to Incmar himself and advised him to frame no design on Yoland, because she was promised unto Hugolin, and that this ware was no more for sale which was already agreed for, and retained. This discourse very much angered Incmar who had vomited up his gall against Hugolin, and had spoken more harshly to Raoul if the love of the daughter had not kept him back, in respect to him whom he intended should be his Father in law, and it had been the way wholly to ruinated his project if he had vexed this man who was naturally subject to choler and apt to strike, he therefore struck sail as gently as he could yet without obliging himself neither to see nor love Yoland, not to deprive said he his eyes & his heart of the fairest object and the loveliest in the world, but because he came to know that continuing to see her according as it fell out it caused her to be ill used by her Father and stormed at by her step Mother, which was a domestical fastened unto her collar, stirred up thereunto by jealous Hugolin, who already took upon him the power of a husband over her that was but promised unto him, he abstained from seeing her by going to cassel, where the pleasing objects that the court could furnish his eyes with all seemed unto him but as the small stars which night lays out in the sky in absence of the light which makes the day mean while, I kept his p●ace at Melsingnam near Yoland, who knowing the strait friendship that tied us, discovered the feelings of her spirits as sincerely to me as she would have done to Incmar himself, I informed him day by day of the invariable fidelity of this maid, in whom since absence nor contradictions changed not affection, but as it is hard to be long in the sun without being tanned, and in a perfumer's shop without drawing from thence good odours it happened unexpected that the conversation of my kinswoman, but kinswoman in such a degree as I might have married her without offending the laws, framed I know not what inclination in my soul which became love, ere I perceived it, I felt not myself, and her attractions and charms struck so deep into my heart, that I was a long time in balance, tottering betwixt love and friendship, not knowing unto which party to yield, at last after strange combats, friendship had the victory, honour bearing it away over sense, and reason over passion, the perfect friendship which I had long before contracted with Incmar represented unto me that if I fastened on Yoland I should commit the most notorious treachery that can be imagined, & that I should beheld for aright Chelme which was the cause that making an effort within myself I cast of these flattering thoughts, wherewith the beauty of Yoland tickled my imagination for to be faithful to my friend, contenting myself to love her as a sister whom I wished to see wife to him that I loved as a brother, and verily I may well put among the proofs of the greatness of my friendship to Incmar this victory over myself, and this continual war which I made against myself being near Yoland, unto whom I did speak of my friend with the same presentment which I had for myself.  
Yet did jealous Hugolin penetrate into our proceed and as none were ignorant, that Incmar & I were but one, he had reason to believe that I spoke for my friend, and that under the veil of kindred I entertained my kinswoman with another alliance than his. Now doth he make unto Raoul the same complaints of me as of Incmar, the stepmother beholds me with cross looks when I am near her daughter in law, and if Hugoline had had as much courage as jealousy he might have done me an ill turn: what endeavours soever he used, he could never cause Yoland to be prohibited seeing me, nor make Raoul forbidden me to see my kinswoman. Blood hath I know not what which ties persons with a strain so strong that it is hard to break it, true it is that Raoul in a more moderate manner then his humour did bear one time represented to me the marriage determined to be betwixt his daughter and Hugolin entreating me not to speak to her of Incmar for fear lest the merits of this knight one of the gallantest of the court should make her see clearer than need was into Hugolins' imperfections which were but too apparent and that therein I should do him a pleasure and the duty of a good kinsman, the duty of a good kinsman (replied I) is to bring back his kinsman unto reason, when he strays from it, now it seems to me signeur Raoul that you go from it a little, in going about to make a marriage and destroying the foundations thereof, which consists in the union of two wills, and if you constrain the will of your daughter this constraint being diametrally opposed unto freedom, you make the marriage vicious: knowing than that she hath great aversions from this little misshapen creature (not to say any thing more cruel against Hugolin than what our eyes teach us) I cannot them without breach of the duty of a good kinsman fail to advertise you thereof, that as a good Father you may seek to make your daughter less rich and more contented.  
I know said he how fare paternal power doth extend, and my daughter is not ignorant of what obedience she owes me, it doth not belong to Maids to meddle in the choice of their husbands, they ought therein to rely on their parents, and to have no other will, than the will of those that command them, and for that matter it is resolved on, my word is past, the state of mine affairs & good of my house requires it, whether she will or not it must be so, & she must not put any other affection into her head, but of Hugolin, whose mother I should never have had, if I had not promised her to make this other marriage of my daughter with her son: seeing that this man was so settled in this his resolution, and that it would be but labour lost to seek to remove it out of his mind. I left him with good words and compliments which satisfied him, mean time the beauty of Yoland daily purchased her beholders, admirers, and new servants which gave many alarms unto Hugolin, who seeing himself surpassed by all, in all manner of things excepting riches, feared infinitely to see before his marriage, so many enemies on his hands as rivals, & after his marriage more friends than he would have: at last to make himself of a doubtful possessor an absolute Master, and intending to take such order with Yoland that he should breed him no more suspicions he resolved to consummate his marriage, although he had not attained unto the twentieth year of his age, and that his stature being less than little, & his person weak, made him seem like a child, Raoul who desired no better then to continue the managing of his estate by his alliance, easily consented thereunto: the fatal day is appointed for this wedding, I informed Incmar thereof, who presently came posting to meet Siguen to put by the blow with his best endeavours, he sees Yoland secretly, and in my presence they renew their vows of fidelity, I for my part promised all my assistance to their desires, and vowed to sacrifice myself in the service of their common flames, in the mean time Incmar left no means unattempted to turn away the storm which menaced the hopes of his love with shipwrecks, he demands Yoland in marriage of her Father, but he is flatly denied, than he picks a quarrel with Hugolin, but this little dwarf would not fight with this man, who by him appeared a Giant. Incmar seeing he would not come to it, threatens to beat him into powder: whereupon his refuge is to justice for shelter from this tempest, and Raoul who was much esteemed by the Landgrave, goes to Cassel, to complain of the violence of Incmar, who thus came to trouble the marriage of his daughter. Hereupon the Prince calls Incmar, and after a harsh reprehension full of sharp words, he forbade him to pass on any further in seeking to get Yoland, yea he ordained that she should marry Hugolin, according to the promise which Raoul had made thereof when he wedded Gracian. This decree from a Sovereign's mouth was without appeal, there was Incmar out of Court, and out of plea, and moreover menaced with the indignation of the Prince his sovereign Lord and master, if he troubled the match.  
It availed not, though he represented unto him the violence of his love, the maid's affection to him, and the horror she had of Hugolin, whom he describes to be like a monster, fit to be smothered betwixt two beds, as a reproach of nature, than to lie in the arms of Yoland: These were words cast into the wind, and which in lieu of nullifying, the Prince put him into such a chafe, that he commanded him to be put in prison, for to teach him to speak more discreetly; but in fine, some of Incmars' friends which were present obtained his pardon of the Landgrave, who consented to his enlargement, upon condition that he should be wiser. Incmar assured the Prince, that he would rather voluntarily banish himself from his presence and country, than to commit any thing therein that might be displeasing to him: but he humbly entreated his Highness to dispense him from swearing that he should no more love Yoland, because he could not so easily cast off this affection as his doublet, referring unto the benefit of time the blotting of this Idea out of his memory.  
The Prince contented himself herewith, attributing all these discourses which he called extravagant, unto fooleries, which excess of love puts into those heads which are possessed therewith. Raoul returns to Melsingnam, for to end with speed the marriage of his daughter with Hugolin. Behold now whereunto despair carries the souls possessed with its turbulent passions! there was no more than three days to the day appointed for the unlucky wedding. Yoland was resolved to die, rather than pronounce this sad I, which should have tied her to a monster with an indissolveable knot; and Incmar resolved to lose his life, rather than to leave his Andromede in these bonds: thereupon it was easy to persuade Yoland unto a flight, being it was the only gate to get forth of a misfortune: so enforcing themselves without me, nothing could be done. judge now the force of my friendship, it hoodwinked my eyes from all considerations, for to serve my friend against the honour of my own blood, I in an instant renounced my country, all my means, the favour of my prince, and all hopes of Fortune, for to follow the blind desire of these lovers, both which I loved with incredible passions. It was I that in the obscurity of the night, which favoured our enterprise, drew Yoland forth of her father's house through a window, and having cloath●d her in one of my suits, led her to Incmar, who stayed for us in the fields. With good horses we rid till day with a good speed, and did so well, that we got out of the Lantgraves' territories ere any justice could lay hold on us; and because we knew that the hands of Princes are long, finding no safety in high Germany, where our Prince is of that account, as every one knows, we came down disguised into this inferior Germany, where we remained not long, ere that little was consumed which the sudden haste of our departure had permitted us to bring from our country. We could not hope for secure from thence, being we durst not let any there have tidings from us, for fear the Lantgraves' wrath should yet come and persecute us by his Agent, in these united Provinces, necessity constrained us then to inrolle ourselves under the State's Colours. Behold now unto what degree of courage Love doth elevate a soul which is inflamed with it! Yoland who had taken man's apparel to follow her Lover, found herself so well in that habit, and took such delight in all the exercises of arms, that she became an Amazon; she learned in short time to shoot with a piece, to fence, to ride a horse, in brief, she had a dexterity in all this fare above my reports, and there were none but took her to be the compleatest gentleman that was in the troops: she makes herself Incmars' comrade, and under the name of Roland a brave ancient Palidin, and near approaching unto that of Yoland, she made herself famous in many encounters. Incmar and I were as we had always been, inseparable, Roland being joined unto us, it was an invincible Geri●n, who meddled with one of us, had us all three on his hands. To tell you that Incmar married Yoland in my presence I think it not needful, being that you may imagine it, and that gave them a privilege which is neither honest nor permitted, but unto those that are bound with this band. When I saw them in the possession of their desires, it was then that I did discover unto them those which I had had, and with how much labour and pain I had overcome their violence, in consideration of the friendship I bore to Incmar: They admired this victory which I had gotten over myself, and Incmar swore he loved me the better for it (if any thing could be added to what was infinite) since I had suffocated my love in favour of his friendship; and Yoland judging the force of her charms which had touched my spirit, beheld me as one of her slaves, and protested to me, that saving her honour, after the love due to Incmar, she loved no man better than myself; I swore unto her the love of a brother, & she swore to me the love of a sister, and out of nobleness of humour both she and Incmar gave me leave to call her my mistress, and she called me her servant, and there was all the favours that ever I had of her, besides that of sometimes kissing her no less valiant than fair hand.  
She had a beauty of face annexed unto such a majesty, that if the one inflamed me with love, the other freezed me with fear, and I may say, that the friendship of my friend, and the love of this chaste mistress, reigned in my heart with such an equal counterpoise, that to die I would not have done any thing to the prejudice of either. And that was it that did sweep away from my spirit all the unjust thoughts that since might have there increased, in revolting itself against reason. To tell you something of what passed in our Country after our flight, we heard by some secret friends unto our parents, that the prince unmeasurably incensed against us, ordained that the law should proceed as against ravishers, we were condemned to lose our heads, but it was in effigy, our goods were confiscate, in brief, we were there used with all rigour, so that having no hope on that side, we settled it all on our own valour, and committed our fortune to the hazard of arms. Incmar and I had done therein upon occasions all that soldiers can do which venture all; and brave Roland hath in all places shown, that love which gave her courage, ●aised her strength beyond the vigour not only of her sex, but of men. After many encounters we shut ourselves up in Bliemberg, resolving to show in this siege the proofs of a courageous valour in extreme events, where there hath happened what you have seen; military command having separated me from them, they have been killed on the breach; & as it may be thought, Incmar being first dead, Yoland being not willing to survive him, hath been killed on his body, and expiring embracing him. As for me I would have died in the forefront of the combat, if the brave but too pitiful Captain, who would not suffer me to be made an end of, had not caused me to be brought where I am, the loss of my blood having laid me among the dead. Now that I have satisfied both your curiosity and my desire, I will no longer live bereft of the light of mine eyes, those twin stars, my Friend and my Mistress. Aleran thus ended his discourse, and had like the same time to have ended his life, so extremely did grief oppress his heart, but the marquis pitying his great courage, gave order unto his doctor and his Chirurgeon to labour in this cure with all the industry which their science could dictate unto them, yet was art and cure overcome, for whether through the extremity of his sorrow, or of his wounds, poor Aleran died within two days after, and was by command of the marquis interred with honour by Incmar and his wife, under a Tomb bearing this inscription, the three Lovers inseparable in life and death. Many remarkable morals may be drawn from this history; first, how ill Fathers do in destinating their daughters unto young men which they abhor, next whereunto despair carries amorous and unhappy souls, then, whereupon love raiseth the courage of the weakest sex, its fire being no less admirable in its effects then that of thunder. In Aleran is seen the image of a faithful friend, and of a lover imparalelled who makes known the victory of friendship over love: this tragical end discovers an admirable valour, and the generosity of the marquis honouring of the memory of these whom he had vanquished, serves for a ground which graceth or setteth out the gloss of all the other colours of this picture.   

THE HAPPY Almsdeed.  
The Seventeenth Relation.  
STudying the law in the University of Orleans, I learned of a Tourengean scholar this following history, which he had from the mouth of the self same person unto whom this event had happened. A young man of Poictou called Cyran the son of a Merchant was by his Father sent to Tours, about some negotiation, which concerned his commerce, this young man by nature pitiful, and from his youth prone to give Alms without distinction of persons, it is true that the honour of the King of glory, which is advanced by good works ought to be tried by judgement, for discretion is the golden rule of human actions, and it is not enough to do good, but it must be done fitly, Alms being one of the most illustrious acts which can be done by those unto whom God hath given means, it must be done also with a judicious distribution. Otherwise it were rather a dissipation than a distribution, & unto such might & do many give alms, who do as it were put a sword into a mad man's hand, and give him means to commit excess: it is true that virtues are in a middle, equally distant from vicious extremities, and as to give blindly is rather a profuse wasting, than a liberality, so to take heed unto so many circumstances when one gives an Alms is rather niggardliness than judgement, we must not search so narrowly into the quality of those persons unto whom we bestow our charity, so we must not wholly shut our eyes thereon, and among these uncertainties, we must raise up the intention and not look what the right hand doth give, nor unto whom we give, but unto God alone, for whom we give, and who hath said whatsoever you shall do unto the least of the poor, I will keep a just account thereof, even unto a glass of cold water. There be hearts so hard and so close fisted, that they find some fault with most part of the poor miserable persons which ask Alms of them, this one is strong and able to get his living, that other is a shifting fellow, the other is not so old, the other is vicious, the other is a rascal, all in their opinion are unworthy of an Alms, and it is only to save their purses that mettle, whereof they make their Idol without purchasing the blame of avarice, there are others whole hands are bored, and more for honour then through pity, or more for pity then with judgement give indifferently unto all comers, without considering that it is the way to maintain the idleness of many beggars who have more needs of a spiritual alms, by a good reprehension, then of a temporal, which they abuse in dissolute courses & strange deboisnes, but who can have this spirit of so just decerning, since there is nothing in he world so deceitful as appearances? as for example, about the streets in Cities, and up and down the Countries there goes so many vagabonds, who under the name of poor soldiers returning from wars into their own Country, ask something to carry them home, and sometimes they are thiefs who in begging seek but occasion to commit theft, murders, and rogueries, those people have God in their mouths, and the devil in their hearts, and yet out of the midst of this kind of bandiliers may sometimes issue a good thief who may deserve an alms as you shall hear.  
Cyran going through the streets in the City of Tours, which appears a flower in the midst of the garden of France, met with a poor soldier, who being but in bad array, had notwithstanding a good aspect, & begged an alms of him with such a grace that he felt himself moved to give, but extraordinarily moved, he put his hand into his pocket, and thinking to draw out a Sol, which is little more than an English penny, and gave it him with a good will, and with words of honour and consolation, wished him a happy return into his own Country, and a better trade than war, where most commonly is nothing to be gotten but blows and lice, the soldier in a modest and civil manner answered him, Sir God make me able to do you some good service, and confirm me in the desire I have so to do, you bestow a liberality on me in my pressing necessity, which shall never die in my memory; you do little less than if you gave me life, after these words of compliment they parted, and a while after Cyran having ended his affairs at Tours took leave of his friend, and returned towards his own Country, as he was crossing a Wood there steps forth of a Coppice three thiefs, whereof one lays hold on the bridle of his Horse, and the other holding his sword at his throat commands him to alight and follow them into the thicket of the Forest, when they were far enough in, they search him and take from him all the money that he had, which was about a hundred French crowns with his cloak and best things, after this they begin to deliberate whether they should kill him or no? let us kill him said one, I know by his tongue that he is of this Country, and may discover us or cause us to be pursued, you say right said another, if such had killed him whom they robbed, they should not now hang on gibbets making mouths at passengers, the third which was he unto whom Cyran some days before had given the alms of sixpence in Tours, said fellows what good will his life do us, his blood will cry vengeance against us louder than his voice, thou playest the preacher said one of the other two, those that use our trade shut their eyes unto such considerations which are good only for old wives and children. The dead bite not nor speak not, the voice of blood hath no sound, he will be quite rotten before he be found in this place.  
My friends, replied the good thief, I beg his life of you, and will rather give you my part of what hath been taken from him: he is a gallant man, pray let us not kill him, I will teach you a good way both to save his life, and to provide for our safety: Let us bind him to some tree and leave him to the protection of God, lest we should be spotted with his blood.  
This counsel was followed, Cyran was bound to a tree with the bridle of his horse and his garters, and the thiefs took his horse and his things and left him there. The good thief as he was binding of him said in his ear, Friend take courage, this night will I come and unbind thee, I have not forgotten thy alms deed. Cyran remained in this case all the rest of the day, hoping still in the mercy of God, and in the promise of the good Thief. But towards night he entered into terrors of death, when as it began to be dark, and he heard the Wolves howling in the Forest, whereof he saw two pass close by him, and were a good while looking on his countenance. For besides the cruelty of this beast, he is likewise so extreme crafty and distrustful, that even when a train is laid for him, yet is he hard to be taken, and is afraid of all things: he shuns snares, he looks, he hearkens, he considers, he watches. Already they began to approach nearer, for to smell him, and that they might set on him in a troup and eat him up, they called their fellows together by howling, wherewithal the forest did ring, and the echoes multiplying their voices, made Cyrans' ears believe that there was a legion of Wolves coming to devour him. Surely if the good thiefs help had stayed a little longer, it is likely that it had come too late, and out of season, and had found poor Cyran torn to pieces by Wolves. But God who helps in tribulation, and whose assistance comes in fit time, made him arrive at the very instant, which was needful to deliver Cyran not only from the fear of death, but from the death of fear, for terror had almost borne away his soul. I leave to your consideration, with what words he thanked the good thief, who had twice in one day saved his life, first in drawing him forth out of the jaws of Lions, which were the other two thiefs, and then of Wolves, which are Thiefs that live but by rapine; he proffered the Soldier to use him as his brother, and to give him such part of his means as he should therewith be content, if he would go with him, and leave this wicked course of life, which could not lead him but to a shameful end. To give over this thieving life, said the soldier, that is a thing that I am resolved to do, having long since conceived such a horror thereof, that it seemeth to me a hell. My intent is to be a religious man, to repent for so many evils which I have done in this unlucky trade: it is true that I did never kill, but I have been present at many murders; I began to rob, pressed by necessity, but I have continued by a certain malignant delight that therein is to be taken, seeing it serves to maintain wickedness, finding not safety enough in France, where I should ever think justice to be at my heels, I do entreat you to pray to God for me, that he may continue in me his good inspiration, and may give me grace to put this good design in execution; there is the part which I have had of the hundred crowns that were taken from you, I restore it you with a good will, & in so saying he would have put a hundred Franks into his hands. Yet Cyran would never take them back again, but gave them him in alms to help him in his pilgrimage, offering to give him yet more, if he would go with him to the next City. The penitent soldier (for I should make a conscience to call him thief after such a change) thanked him, and having mutually embraced each other, and mixed their tears together, Cyran took his journey one way, and the soldier the other; whom he never saw since, but the other two he did, for about some three months after being discovered by the Cloak and horse of Cyran, and accused of some other thefts, they fell into the hands of the Provost Marshal, who did them good and speedy justice, and so they were fastened unto an unlucky tree called a gibbet, from whence they came down by hangham.  
The good fortune of Almesdeeds shines in this relation with such splendour, that although there were were no other motive to use liberality towards miserable persons, this were argument sufficient to draw it forth of the hands even of Avarice itself.   
FINIS.   

Errata.  
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